All things taken into consideration, the keep was in good repair. As with all castles, the corridors were drafty and the corners were draped with cobwebs, but at the end of the tour Gillian was duly impressed. The last place Donald took her was to the kitchen, where he introduced her to the cook and left her.
The tense silence that ensued prompted Gillian to say, “I doona intend to interfere with your cooking or menu. The kitchen is your domain, and so it shall remain. I know naught about cooking and menus.”
Hanna visibly relaxed. “Did your mother not insist that you learn about such things?”
“My mother died when I was born. My father left me to run free. My favorite activity was engaging in swordplay with my brothers.”
“Oh, aye, I heard that you challenged our laird on the battlefield. That was foolish of you, lass. He could have slain you with a single blow.”
Gillian bristled. “I was holding my own until my father interfered and called for a truce.”
Hanna, a round woman with apple cheeks and rust-colored hair streaked with gray, chuckled. “If you say so, lass. Mayhap you should tell me if you have any favorite dishes so I can include them on the menu.”
“If the wedding feast you prepared is an example of your skill, I vow I will like anything you cook.” She worried her bottom lip, wondering if she should mention her breakfast preference.
“What is it, lass? Spit it out.”
“I amna fond of porridge. I prefer to break my fast with eggs and a bit of meat, either bacon or ham. Would it be possible to—”
Hanna cut her off in midsentence. “Say no more, lass. I will personally fix your eggs every morning and cook your bacon.”
Gillian grinned. “Thank you.”
Hanna cocked her head, gazing intently at Gillian. Then she shook her head.
“What is it, Hanna?”
“You are nae so bad for a MacKay. I am thinking the laird did verra well for himself, although I am sure Seana willna agree with me.”
“Thank you again. You are nae so bad for a MacKenna. And I like your daughter. As for Seana ...” Gillian shrugged expansively, “I doona care what she thinks. This marriage isna what I wanted; nor is it what Ross wanted. If he prefers Seana to me, so be it.”
“Methinks Ross will honor his marriage vows. He is that kind of man. Mayhap you should—”
“Doona give advice when you know naught about the flame, Hanna,” Gizela proclaimed from the doorway.
Startled, Gillian whirled about. “Gizela, I didna hear you behind me.”
Gizela shuffled over to Gillian and patted her hand. “Beware, lass: There are some at Ravenscraig who wish you ill.”
“Almost everyone at Ravenscraig wishes me ill,” Gillian replied.
“Oh, nay, I like you well enough,” Hanna exclaimed. “And so does my Alice.”
“Your flame burns bright, Gillian MacKay. You are strong, but so is the laird,” Gizela proclaimed. “Be mindful of danger, lass.”
“What kind of danger, Gizela?”
“Och, doona listen to her, lass,” Hanna said. “No one here wishes you harm.”
“So you say,” Gizela muttered.
“Doona frighten the laird’s new wife, Gizela.”
The light in Gizela’s eyes flared, then dimmed as she turned and walked off, muttering to herself. Gillian hastily crossed herself, certain that the old crone was a witch.
“Sit down, lass; your eggs will be ready in no time.” Hanna placed a loaf of newly baked bread on the table and cut off a generous slice. “There’s fresh butter on the table. Help yourself.”
Since Gillian had left the hall hungry, she didn’t hesitate to spread a thick layer of butter on the bread and bite into it. It tasted delicious. When Hanna placed a plate of eggs and ham in front of Gillian, she dug in unashamedly.
“Milk or ale?” Hanna asked.
“Milk, please.”
Gillian ate with relish, savoring the milk, which was a rare treat. Most households saved the milk for their bairns. But there didn’t seem to be any bairns at Ravenscraig.
Gillian cleaned her plate, thanked Hanna, and wandered into the hall. To her dismay, the first person she encountered was Seana.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Seana cooed. “I thought we might share confidences about Ross. Did you nae find him a magnificent lover? He made me swoon with delight each time we mated.”
Gillian wasn’t as adept at exchanging barbs as she was at swordplay. Had Seana challenged her, she would have trounced her soundly. This kind of warfare was new to Gillian, but she was a fast learner.
“I doona have time for idle chatter, Seana,” Gillian said coolly. “Since the weather is so fine today, I thought I would ride my mare over the moors. Silver needs the exercise.”
“Och, doona be shy, Gillian. Did Ross nae please you in bed?” Seana persisted.
“What takes place in my bedchamber is none of your business.”
So saying, she pushed past Seana and headed out the door. The weather was pleasant compared to the day before, when sleet fell to dampen her wedding. The sun was shining and the air mild enough for a brisk ride across the moors.
When Gillian found the stables and asked to have Silver saddled, she was told that her mare hadn’t arrived from Braeburn yet. The small annoyance didn’t bother Gillian overmuch. She blithely entered the stables and looked over Ross’s stock. She selected a spirited black gelding named Raven and asked to have him saddled.
“I wouldna recommend Raven, mistress,” the lad said, pulling his forelock. “He is a handful. No one but the laird ever rides him.”
That made Gillian more eager than ever to ride the gelding. “Saddle him. If Ross can ride him, so can I.”
Raven pranced about a bit when he was led out, but Gillian didn’t think him particularly dangerous. She patted his nose, spoke softly to him, and soon had him gentled. With the lad’s help, she mounted Raven, seating herself astride him. Then she urged him through the gate into open countryside.
Gillian maintained a slow gallop over the moors, which were still ablaze with heather, then gave Raven his head. The gelding didn’t disappoint. He practically flew, his hooves barely touching the ground. Gillian threw back her head and laughed, her hair trailing loose behind her like a flaming banner. She hadn’t felt this free in ages.
Gillian was still flying over the moors when she spotted a lone rider racing toward her. She slowed Raven to a more sedate pace. The rider began waving his arms, as if trying to attract her attention. When Gillian recognized Angus Sinclair, she drew rein.
“Gillian, what are you doing out here?” Angus asked when he reached her. “Riding alone in open country is dangerous, though I admit I am happy to see you.”
“This land belongs to Ravenscraig,” Gillian replied. “And beyond that lies MacKay territory. I am safe here. More to the point, what are you doing here, Angus?”
Did Angus still have feelings for her? Gillian wondered.
“I just left your father at Braeburn,” Angus explained. “I know you were forced into marriage with the MacKenna, and wanted to ride to Ravenscraig to inquire about your welfare. But your father convinced me I amna welcome at Ravenscraig.”
“As you can see, I am fine. But thank you for caring. If you hadna taken so long to sign the betrothal agreement, I would be your wife instead of MacKenna’s.” She stared into his eyes, wondering if she still cared for him as she had once thought she did. Had one night in MacKenna’s bed changed her opinion of Angus? Surely not, she told herself. “I wish it had been you.”
“I will regret the delay the rest of my life,” Angus said. He moved his horse closer. “You doona have to stay with him, Gillian. The man canna be trusted. I wouldna be surprised if he broke the truce. He doesna want the feud to end. He will attack your family when they least expect it.”
Gillian felt strangely compelled to defend Ross. “You doona know that, Angus.”
Reaching out, he grabbed her reins. “Aye, I do know, lass. Come away with me now.”
Gillian tried to jerk the reins from his grasp and failed. “ ’Tis too late; I am already wed. Besides, you know what will happen if I leave MacKenna.”
“Bride stealing is a time-honored tradition among the Scots. If you were mine, I wouldna let you ride about the countryside without protection,” he said darkly, starting to lead her horse away.
“Stop! Are you mad? The feud will resume if I go missing. ’Tis as if you are eager to see the bloodletting continue.”
Angus sneered at her. “Are you so eager to return to the MacKenna’s bed?”
Gillian’s cheeks burned. Returning to Ross’s bed wouldn’t be an onerous chore, even though she heartily disliked the man. “You know ’tis not that.”
“Then I see no reason for you to stay with him. If the feud resumes, Clan MacKay and its allies will eventually rout the enemy from Ravenscraig and claim victory.”
Gillian bit her lip. “I amna so sure ’tis what I want.”
Angus did naught to control his anger. “I never took you for a traitor, Gillian.”
Gillian bristled. “I didna want to wed MacKenna. ’Twas you I wanted. But I had no choice. Now I am a married woman and the feud is over. All I must do to keep the peace is remain at Ravenscraig. There is not even any need for MacKenna to bed me again, now that the marriage has been consummated. He keeps a leman. Seana McHamish can satisfy his base desires.”
“If you were mine, wouldna need a leman,” Angus vowed. “You
will
be mine, Gillian. I doona care about your sham of a marriage.”
Snaking an arm around Gillian’s waist, he tried to transfer her from Raven’s back to his own mount, but Raven shied away, forcing Angus to release his hold on Gillian.
Neither Gillian nor Angus heard the horse pounding toward them. Alerted by a shout from behind her, Gillian turned to glance over her shoulder.
It was Ross, and he was not sparing his horse to reach them. Angus cursed violently, but before he could turn his horse and race away, Ross was upon them.
Ross had been searching for livestock on a nearby hill when he recognized Gillian, clad in her MacKay plaid, riding below on the moors. He was startled and more than a little concerned when he realized she was riding Raven, whose disposition was anything but placid. But when he noted how well she handled the gelding, he ceased worrying. He was about to turn away when he noticed another rider approaching her. The moment he recognized the Sinclair plaid on the man, he started down from the hills.
Even from a distance Ross noted how intimate their conversation appeared, how Sinclair edged his mount close enough to embrace Gillian. His temper flaring, Ross dug his heels into his mount.
Surely the lass hadn’t arranged this meeting so soon after their wedding, had she? His mouth flattened. With Gillian, anything was possible.
“Hold, Sinclair!” Ross shouted when Sinclair finally saw him and would have fled. Ross reined in sharply beside him. “I’ll thank you to keep your hands off my wife.”
“Our meeting was accidental,” Sinclair replied, keeping a wary eye on Ross. “We were merely discussing old times.”
Ross slanted a speaking glance at Gillian. “Why didna you tell me you wanted to go riding? I would have found you a proper mount until your own horse arrived from Braeburn. Go home, Gillian. We will discuss your behavior later.”
Gillian stiffened her shoulders. “There is naught wrong with my behavior. As Angus said, we were merely socializing.”
“From now on you will socialize in the hall, like a civilized person.”
Gillian bristled. “Are you suggesting I amna civilized, MacKenna?”
“I am suggesting you are acting inappropriately for a married woman. Some might misinterpret your
accidental
meeting.”
If Ross didn’t know better, he would have sworn he saw flames shooting out of Gillian’s head.
“You canna tell me how to act, MacKenna,” Gillian charged. “Wife or nay, I will do as I please, and it pleases me to converse with Angus. If not for your agreement with my father I would be Angus’s wife.”
Ross clenched his fists at his sides to keep from reaching for Sinclair and beating him to a bloody pulp.
Angus backed his horse away. “’Tis best you return to Ravenscraig, Gillian. I fear for your life if you continue to defy the brute you were forced to wed.” He turned to Ross. “If you beat Gillian, MacKay will call off the truce.”
Ross knew precisely whom he wanted to beat, and it wasn’t Gillian, although a thorough tongue-lashing might ease his temper. “I have yet to beat a woman, but that may change verra soon.”
“I’d like to see you try it,” Gillian dared him.
Ross spared her a withering look. “Go home, Gillian. I want a private word with Sinclair.”
Ross’s fierce expression must have convinced Gillian, for she reined her horse around and galloped off. “Foolish lass,” Ross bit out. “Raven is the devil’s spawn. She shouldna be riding him at breakneck speed.”