The Highlander's Tempestuous Bride by Cathy MacRae

Author:Cathy MacRae [MacRae, Cathy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00P89UHME
Goodreads: 23499779
Publisher: Short Dog Press
Published: 2014-11-10T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Gilda absently twirled a strand of her hair around one finger as she stared into the distance. From her high perch along the parapet, she could see the treetops of the forest, already exposed to the morning sun’s piercing rays as mist fled before the radiant onslaught. It promised to be a beautiful day.

I cannae abide sitting here any longer. Her insides quailed at the thought of spending yet another day cooped inside the castle. Tensions were running high and heated tempers simmered just below a façade of brittle politeness. Conn and Ryan had reached a grudging truce, but Mairead couched numerous complaints and demands in a longsuffering, yet apologetic way that was slowly driving Gilda and all around her to impending madness.

“How are ye this fine morn, my bonnie bride?”

Gilda whirled at the sound of Ryan’s voice and, to her dismay, burst into tears. His arms enveloped her and his cheek brushed against her hair as she gulped back her sobs.

“Here now, a stor. Why are ye greetin so?”

Wiping away the unexpected tears, Gilda snuffled. “I dinnae mean to do that. I am just so tired of being cooped up in the castle. Mairead has been here less than a week but it seems like months!” She grasped the front of his shirt. “Could we please take a walk outside today? There have been no signs of pirates, the weather is clear, and I will die if I have to listen to that woman’s complaints even one more day!”

Not giving Ryan a moment to reply, she pushed away from his embrace and began to pace the stone, bitter words tumbling from her mouth, her tone pitched high to mimic Mairead’s voice. “‘I know ye are busy, but the candles in my room have burned down almost halfway and I require new ones. And there is no way ye should know, but the smell of burning tallow makes my head ache. I dinnae suppose Ard castle has even a few beeswax candles…’”

She raised a hand dramatically to her brow. “‘Nae, dinnae trouble yerself on my account. If there are no beeswax candles to be had, I am sure I will simply endure until I return home.’”

Gilda halted on a quivering, half-wailing note, glaring at Ryan, fisting her hands on her hips. He said nothing, and for a moment, she was sure he would chastise her for mimicking Mairead in such a manner. But instead, he shook his head and reached for her.

Reluctantly, she allowed him to pull her close, and he cupped her face in his hands. “I believe Cook may need some berries for pastries. Do ye think there are any left on the bushes?”

Hope rose in her. “The season is not yet over.”

“Ye are the best berry-picker I know.” Ryan’s mouth curved into a smile.

Gilda beamed with happiness. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, then flung herself away, twirling with excitement. “Can we leave now? Before the others are up?”

Lissa’s voice piped from the doorway.

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