Page 1 of Laird of Steel
Prologue
Castle Darragh, Scotland
Autumn 1156
Fifteen-year-old Merraid stood on tiptoe, peering between the merlons of the castle parapet. She gazed into the distance, waving her kerchief. How she wished it were the silk scarf of a titled lady instead of a maidservant’s nubby linen rag. Despite her brave salute, her chin trembled. Her eyes filled with tears.
Gellir Cameliard of Rivenloch, her beloved champion, was leaving her. Going home.
But home was a hundred miles away, near the east coast of Scotland. He might as well live on the moon.
Her spirits sank. How would she survive without the dashing warrior who’d stolen her heart? Would she ever see him again? If by some miracle their paths did cross, would he even remember her?
Her throat tightened. She choked back a sob.
She knew she should be glad for the time they’d had together. Gellir’s clan had helped return the castle to its rightful ruler, Laird Dougal mac Darragh. After a fierce battle, the grateful Laird Dougal had even married Gellir’s cousin—the beautiful and clever Lady Feiyan—uniting the two clans.
The marriage had been a godsend for Merraid. It meant seeing more of Gellir. The Rivenloch folk lingered at Castle Darragh for several fortnights, helping the newlyweds set their household to rights. And seventeen-year-old Gellir was put in charge of training Darragh’s new army.
In that time, Merraid had fallen helplessly in love with the Rivenloch warrior. Not only for his brave and thrilling fighting skills. Not just for his dark and dramatic looks that took her breath away. But for his chivalry and kindness. His unmatched courage and heart.
She’d made up her mind to make him fall in love with her.
Unfortunately, she was not well-schooled in the art of persuasion. Despite her best efforts, summer passed in the wink of an eye. In the end, she found herself no closer to winning his affections.
If only she could turn back time, she’d do things differently.
She wouldn’t waste time hiding behind doors. Stealing peeks at him. Lowering her eyes with shy blushes. Stumbling over her words in his presence.
Instead she would speak her mind. Reveal her heart. Bare her soul.
What she felt was nothing like her brief and childish infatuation with Laird Dougal. Nor her crushes on several other clan lads. Her affection for Gellir felt real. Lasting.
From the battlement, she watched her hero ride slowly away.
Curse her timid blood! She should have seized the moment. Acted on her impulses.
Now it was too late.
Even at this distance, within the retinue of his clan, she could recognize Gellir. His noble bearing was unmistakable. His back was straight. His shoulders were broad. The early autumn breeze flirted with his lush, dark hair.
“Farewell!” she sobbed out. But her voice was weak and thin. Faltering with heartbreak. He’d never hear her.
Her throat ached. This must be how noblewomen felt, watching their knights ride off to war. Uncertain of their destiny. Tormented by longing. Haunted by…
“He’ll be back,” came a wry voice behind her.
Merraid gasped as she whirled toward Gellir’s cousin, her laird’s new wife. “M’lady.” She clapped a startled hand to her chest and bobbed a curtsey.
It was troubling the way Lady Feiyan could steal up on a person. Doubly troubling was the knowing smile that graced the lady’s face.
Merraid had done her best to hide her feelings for Gellir. But she was sure her adoration was obvious. As obvious as the orange hair on her head.
She forced a casual shrug. “Will he?”
“Of course.” The lady’s silvery gaze softened. “One day.”
Merraid carefully lowered her eyes to hide the spark of hope.One day.Maybe not next month. Maybe not next year. But ifone dayhe’d return, she’d wait for him.
