Read Online The Highlander's Tempestuous Bride by Cathy MacRae - Free Book Online
Authors: Cathy MacRae
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heir.
Ryan offered a short bow to Lady Macrory. “My lady, I am honored to make yer acquaintance.”
Lady Riona inclined her head. “The pleasure is mine, sir.”
“My lady.” Ryan next slid his gaze to Gilda who stared straight ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line. A moment of silence passed, then Gilda jerked. Had her mother nudged her beneath the table?
Gilda’s mouth barely moved. “The-pleasure-is-mine-I’m-sure.”
This time Ryan couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his lips at Gilda’s rebellious attempt at civility. He bowed his head briefly.
“Ladies.”
Lady Macrory and the laird dismissed him with a short nod. Gilda bit her lip.
Pivoting on his heel, he crossed the room to Conn’s side.
“Well, did I not tell ye? And ye thought I was daft.” Conn snorted in vindicated mockery. Ryan ignored him and reached for a mug sitting on a tray at the end of the table. He took a fortifying gulp of ale, pleased to find it not watered down. With a nonchalant gesture, he half-turned to view the laird’s table and caught a glimpse of burnished red hair as Gilda vanished into the recesses of the back hall.
He clamped a hand on Conn’s shoulder as he shoved the mug back onto its tray, paying no heed to the ale sloshing over the side. “Stay here.”
“Why?”
Ryan spared his friend an impatient look. “We arrived together. If the laird looks up and sees ye, he may presume I am nearby.”
“Are ye not?”
“Nae.”
“Where are ye going?”
“To find Gilda.”
* * *
Gilda slipped past the guards posted behind the laird’s table and into the back of the hall. She mingled with those busy trundling food and empty platters to and from the kitchen. Her midnight blue gown sparkled with silver embroidery at the low, square neckline and full, belled sleeves, making it difficult for her to blend in with the servants or be of any use in the kitchen where she sought to hide.
She cast a hurried glance over her shoulder and spied a dark-haired young man pushing through the throng behind her. Her heart quickened. Ryan had seen her. Darting to her right, Gilda slipped into the kitchen where organized chaos reigned. Cook directed her perfectly ordered dinner, far too busy to pay attention to someone unable to assist.
Gilda rushed around the edge of the room, managing to make it to the door on the far side of the room before an extended arm effectively blocked her path.
Ryan’s amber gaze met her furious look, but he did not flinch. Standing close, much too close, his hand on the door frame just above her head, he kept her from moving away.
“Remove yerself, sir.”
“Gilda, I would talk to ye.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Most lasses like talking to me.”
Gilda nearly choked. “You arrogant, presumptuous…”
“Och, Gilda, ye know I only tease ye. Let us go somewhere we can talk.”
“I dinnae wish to go anywhere with ye.”
Ryan ducked his head close and whispered, “Ye also dinnae want to create a scene, do ye?”
Gilda peered surreptitiously around the room. Servants’ gazes were beginning to turn her way.
He grasped her hand and tucked it over his arm before she knew what he was doing and led her outside into the garden. Gilda took two steps past the door with him before she snatched her hand away, fully intending on returning to the kitchen.
Ryan smoothly snagged her other hand as she whirled, using her momentum to spin her back around, drawing her close.
“Temper, temper,” he chided in her ear.
Gilda stiffened at his words. “I dinnae wish to walk with ye.” She raised mutinous eyes to his.
He chuckled. “Ye are marvelous, lass. Let us call a truce.”
“Are we at war?”
“I believe we have been at war since we met. Come walk with me. I promise to behave.”
Lifting a brow in disbelief, Gilda at last gave a brief nod. “Follow me.”
* * *
Surprised at her change of heart, Ryan followed Gilda deeper into the garden where moonlight filtered through the
Ryan offered a short bow to Lady Macrory. “My lady, I am honored to make yer acquaintance.”
Lady Riona inclined her head. “The pleasure is mine, sir.”
“My lady.” Ryan next slid his gaze to Gilda who stared straight ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line. A moment of silence passed, then Gilda jerked. Had her mother nudged her beneath the table?
Gilda’s mouth barely moved. “The-pleasure-is-mine-I’m-sure.”
This time Ryan couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his lips at Gilda’s rebellious attempt at civility. He bowed his head briefly.
“Ladies.”
Lady Macrory and the laird dismissed him with a short nod. Gilda bit her lip.
Pivoting on his heel, he crossed the room to Conn’s side.
“Well, did I not tell ye? And ye thought I was daft.” Conn snorted in vindicated mockery. Ryan ignored him and reached for a mug sitting on a tray at the end of the table. He took a fortifying gulp of ale, pleased to find it not watered down. With a nonchalant gesture, he half-turned to view the laird’s table and caught a glimpse of burnished red hair as Gilda vanished into the recesses of the back hall.
He clamped a hand on Conn’s shoulder as he shoved the mug back onto its tray, paying no heed to the ale sloshing over the side. “Stay here.”
“Why?”
Ryan spared his friend an impatient look. “We arrived together. If the laird looks up and sees ye, he may presume I am nearby.”
“Are ye not?”
“Nae.”
“Where are ye going?”
“To find Gilda.”
* * *
Gilda slipped past the guards posted behind the laird’s table and into the back of the hall. She mingled with those busy trundling food and empty platters to and from the kitchen. Her midnight blue gown sparkled with silver embroidery at the low, square neckline and full, belled sleeves, making it difficult for her to blend in with the servants or be of any use in the kitchen where she sought to hide.
She cast a hurried glance over her shoulder and spied a dark-haired young man pushing through the throng behind her. Her heart quickened. Ryan had seen her. Darting to her right, Gilda slipped into the kitchen where organized chaos reigned. Cook directed her perfectly ordered dinner, far too busy to pay attention to someone unable to assist.
Gilda rushed around the edge of the room, managing to make it to the door on the far side of the room before an extended arm effectively blocked her path.
Ryan’s amber gaze met her furious look, but he did not flinch. Standing close, much too close, his hand on the door frame just above her head, he kept her from moving away.
“Remove yerself, sir.”
“Gilda, I would talk to ye.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Most lasses like talking to me.”
Gilda nearly choked. “You arrogant, presumptuous…”
“Och, Gilda, ye know I only tease ye. Let us go somewhere we can talk.”
“I dinnae wish to go anywhere with ye.”
Ryan ducked his head close and whispered, “Ye also dinnae want to create a scene, do ye?”
Gilda peered surreptitiously around the room. Servants’ gazes were beginning to turn her way.
He grasped her hand and tucked it over his arm before she knew what he was doing and led her outside into the garden. Gilda took two steps past the door with him before she snatched her hand away, fully intending on returning to the kitchen.
Ryan smoothly snagged her other hand as she whirled, using her momentum to spin her back around, drawing her close.
“Temper, temper,” he chided in her ear.
Gilda stiffened at his words. “I dinnae wish to walk with ye.” She raised mutinous eyes to his.
He chuckled. “Ye are marvelous, lass. Let us call a truce.”
“Are we at war?”
“I believe we have been at war since we met. Come walk with me. I promise to behave.”
Lifting a brow in disbelief, Gilda at last gave a brief nod. “Follow me.”
* * *
Surprised at her change of heart, Ryan followed Gilda deeper into the garden where moonlight filtered through the
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