Read Online The Highlander's Tempestuous Bride by Cathy MacRae - Free Book Online Page B

frowned as she gave her skirt a final tug. She straightened, smoothing her features into a serene look.
    Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Did ye fall?”
    Gilda lifted an eyebrow in indignation. “Certainly not. I hopped down and slipped on the damp grass.”
    He let out a sigh. “I believe ye vex me, too, Gilda Macrory.”
    “Be that as it may…”
    A brisk wind tossed her hair and interrupted her words. She raised a hand to wipe the billowing strands from her face, catching at the silver band threatening to slip from her head. The wind redoubled its efforts, lifting the hem of her gown. With a gasp, Gilda shoved the fabric down.
    Ryan stepped close, blocking the churning wind, and Gilda gave him a grateful look. For a moment neither spoke. Ryan leaned closer.
    * * *
    Dried leaves scurried across the garden, but Gilda was oblivious to their patter. She was sheltered and warm, overly warm in fact, but it was a sensation she’d only experienced near Ryan and it left her head as airy as though she’d drunk too much wine. Perhaps she should pull back, seek a way out of this Macraig man’s spell, but her limbs would not obey her, and she simply smiled.
    Ryan bent closer, the scar across his cheek a dark stripe in the moonlight. Gilda lightly touched its length. “Ye’ve no’ been tilting at bears again, have ye?”
    Ryan grinned. “I leave the wild animals to the red-haired Macrory lass who tames them.”
    As Gilda’s gaze slid from the scar to Ryan’s amber eyes, her hand stilled against his cheek. “Me?”
    “Aye. I saw ye tame a wolf. It clenched my heart to see ye do it.”
    “Why did it clench yer heart?” Gilda’s fingers drifted to his chest, twitching the pleats in his plaide over the spot in question.
    “Ye are special, and I dinnae want to see ye hurt.”
    Her heart gave a lurch. “What is special about me?” Her voice slipped past her lips, scarcely above a whisper.
    Ryan lowered his head. “Yer silver eyes.”
    His breath was warm on her face and Gilda’s lashes fluttered. She felt his mouth gently touch her eyelids, one and then the other, and she drew back, startled. Her eyes widened as she met Ryan’s slow smile. Her insides churned.
    Ryan trailed his fingertips over her cheek. “They are verra special. They tell me what ye are thinking.”
    “What…what am I thinking now?”
    “That ye would like me to kiss ye again.”
    Gilda wanted to deny it, but lying had never been her strong suit. She’d relied on charm and wit to avoid trouble most of her life, and now, when she most wanted to tell him she certainly did not want him to kiss her again, knowing she shouldn’t allow it, she couldn’t form the words.
    His gaze lingered on hers then dropped to her mouth—and Gilda melted.
    Ryan’s arm slid around her waist as she sagged against him. She lifted her face, waiting for his lips to press against hers. The suspense built unbearably and her heart pounded in her chest.
    And then, Ryan kissed her.
    * * *
    “Ye were missed,” Conn hissed between clenched teeth as Ryan scooted onto the bench beside him.
    Ryan leaned his elbows on his thighs, and peered past Conn. His father sat a few feet away, and though he stared straight ahead, Ryan rather suspected his father knew he was there.
    “What did ye say?”
    “That yer head was botherin’ ye.” Conn turned slightly. “’Twas the truth. Yer head has been addled since ye met the lass.”
    “My thanks.” Ryan gave a low snort.
    The Macrory laird stood before them, extolling the ravages the pirates laid to the coastline. Ryan’s attention wandered. Pirates always pillaged coastal villages. The Macraigs would be glad for the alliance to help keep the pirates at bay until they were either killed or convinced to find easier game elsewhere.
    “The MacEwen’s nephew, Acair, has rallied the scattered clan,” the Macrory stated. “He has no fear of retaliation or war. He encourages us to do battle with him.”
    Laird Macraig rose to his feet.