sweeping, underhanded arc. It struck a partially submerged stone and bounced high in the air again, landing several feet out into the incoming tide.
“It dinnae go so far.” Lissa’s voice piped scornfully and Finn whirled on her.
“It did! Ye dinnae see how far it went under the water.”
Gilda grabbed Finn’s shoulder, hauling him back from the argument in time to turn a sweet smile on her protector. “’Tis not I who needs watching, Fergus, but this wee loun with the atrocious manners.”
Lissa gave a regal shrug. “Ach, he is just a lad. I dinnae expect better.”
Gilda’s smile froze on her lips. ’Twas good the lass dinnae say, ‘just a Macrory.’
Fergus ignored the children’s banter, his eyes fixed on the two young men. “Where aboots are ye from?” His question rang with challenge, barely civil. Gilda cringed.
“We are from up the coast. ’Twas a pleasant day and my sister had been too long cooped up for fear of pirates.”
Gilda flashed Ryan a grateful look for his calm answer.
Fergus’ eyes narrowed. “Macraigs?”
“Aye,” Ryan answered easily. “I fear we have trespassed. I beg yer forgiveness.”
Fergus’ gaze scanned the group. With heightened awareness, Gilda glanced around her. Surely he would see little wrong with their innocent conversation? Finally, he advised gruffly, “Be gone back to yer clan’s holdings. We dinnae tolerate the likes of ye here.”
Gilda’s heart fell. What would Fergus say to her ma?
* * *
“He is not like his da.” Gilda struggled to keep her tone light.
Her ma sighed. “It doesnae matter. He isnae welcome at Scaurness.”
Gilda swallowed her dismay. Truth, she’d expected that sort of reply, but she’d hoped, oh, how she’d hoped her ma would understand.
“I dinnae meet him on the beach on purpose.” But, heaven help her, she planned to meet Ryan at the blacksmith’s tomorrow.
“Mayhap not. But ’tis not the point. Yer da would have a fit if he knew ye were friendly with Laird Macraig’s son.”
Gilda shrugged and looked away, trying for nonchalance. “Och, he showed Finn how to skip a rock, and his sister seemed nice.”
“Gilda. I know ye think it would be good for the clans to end their feud. The Macraigs were offered a chance and not only dinnae take it, but were arrogant about their refusal. Dinnae push this.”
Lifting her gaze, Gilda met her ma’s concern. “I know why ye and Da dinnae like the Macraig laird. ’Tis because he wanted to marry ye but dinnae want me because I am a bastard.”
Her ma gasped, one hand flying to her throat in an astounded gesture. “Gilda! Ye must never say such a thing!”
“Och, I know Da has never treated me as such, and I thank ye for not marrying Laird Macraig. But ’tis the truth, though it was harsh of him to demand ye give me up.”
Tears glistened in her ma’s eyes and Gilda ran to her. She threw her arms around her waist and gave her a fierce hug. She leaned back in the circle of her mother’s embrace and peered at her.
Her ma seemed to hesitate some before she stated, “Yer da has had an offer of marriage for ye.”
“Really?” Gilda tried to ignore the sudden hole that bore through her stomach. “Why dinnae he say something to me?”
“He hasnae come to grips with the young lady ye are becoming.” Her ma smoothed back a curl from Gilda’s face with a wistful smile. “He still thinks of ye as his wee Gilda.”
“I am not a bairn anymore.”
“I know. If he takes the offer seriously, he will talk to ye.”
“Who was it from?” As apprehensive as she was, Gilda couldn’t stop the curiosity spreading through her.
“Laird Maclellan on behalf of his son.”
Gilda wrinkled her nose, her brows furrowed in distaste. “Laird Maclellan makes me feel eerysome .”
“I agree he is a bit overbearing. But he is a powerful man and wouldnae be laird if he was soft and not respected by his enemies.”
“I dinnae want to marry his son.”
“Och, I should not
“It dinnae go so far.” Lissa’s voice piped scornfully and Finn whirled on her.
“It did! Ye dinnae see how far it went under the water.”
Gilda grabbed Finn’s shoulder, hauling him back from the argument in time to turn a sweet smile on her protector. “’Tis not I who needs watching, Fergus, but this wee loun with the atrocious manners.”
Lissa gave a regal shrug. “Ach, he is just a lad. I dinnae expect better.”
Gilda’s smile froze on her lips. ’Twas good the lass dinnae say, ‘just a Macrory.’
Fergus ignored the children’s banter, his eyes fixed on the two young men. “Where aboots are ye from?” His question rang with challenge, barely civil. Gilda cringed.
“We are from up the coast. ’Twas a pleasant day and my sister had been too long cooped up for fear of pirates.”
Gilda flashed Ryan a grateful look for his calm answer.
Fergus’ eyes narrowed. “Macraigs?”
“Aye,” Ryan answered easily. “I fear we have trespassed. I beg yer forgiveness.”
Fergus’ gaze scanned the group. With heightened awareness, Gilda glanced around her. Surely he would see little wrong with their innocent conversation? Finally, he advised gruffly, “Be gone back to yer clan’s holdings. We dinnae tolerate the likes of ye here.”
Gilda’s heart fell. What would Fergus say to her ma?
* * *
“He is not like his da.” Gilda struggled to keep her tone light.
Her ma sighed. “It doesnae matter. He isnae welcome at Scaurness.”
Gilda swallowed her dismay. Truth, she’d expected that sort of reply, but she’d hoped, oh, how she’d hoped her ma would understand.
“I dinnae meet him on the beach on purpose.” But, heaven help her, she planned to meet Ryan at the blacksmith’s tomorrow.
“Mayhap not. But ’tis not the point. Yer da would have a fit if he knew ye were friendly with Laird Macraig’s son.”
Gilda shrugged and looked away, trying for nonchalance. “Och, he showed Finn how to skip a rock, and his sister seemed nice.”
“Gilda. I know ye think it would be good for the clans to end their feud. The Macraigs were offered a chance and not only dinnae take it, but were arrogant about their refusal. Dinnae push this.”
Lifting her gaze, Gilda met her ma’s concern. “I know why ye and Da dinnae like the Macraig laird. ’Tis because he wanted to marry ye but dinnae want me because I am a bastard.”
Her ma gasped, one hand flying to her throat in an astounded gesture. “Gilda! Ye must never say such a thing!”
“Och, I know Da has never treated me as such, and I thank ye for not marrying Laird Macraig. But ’tis the truth, though it was harsh of him to demand ye give me up.”
Tears glistened in her ma’s eyes and Gilda ran to her. She threw her arms around her waist and gave her a fierce hug. She leaned back in the circle of her mother’s embrace and peered at her.
Her ma seemed to hesitate some before she stated, “Yer da has had an offer of marriage for ye.”
“Really?” Gilda tried to ignore the sudden hole that bore through her stomach. “Why dinnae he say something to me?”
“He hasnae come to grips with the young lady ye are becoming.” Her ma smoothed back a curl from Gilda’s face with a wistful smile. “He still thinks of ye as his wee Gilda.”
“I am not a bairn anymore.”
“I know. If he takes the offer seriously, he will talk to ye.”
“Who was it from?” As apprehensive as she was, Gilda couldn’t stop the curiosity spreading through her.
“Laird Maclellan on behalf of his son.”
Gilda wrinkled her nose, her brows furrowed in distaste. “Laird Maclellan makes me feel eerysome .”
“I agree he is a bit overbearing. But he is a powerful man and wouldnae be laird if he was soft and not respected by his enemies.”
“I dinnae want to marry his son.”
“Och, I should not
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