Page 114 of Laird of Steel
Surely his honor demanded he be wedded as the contract of marriage decreed—to the daughter of the Laird of Dunlop, at the pleasure of the king.
How could a loyal vassal walk away from that?
The idea was inconceivable, especially for a man like Gellir.
Yet it seemed that was exactly what he’d done.
She struggled with that impossibility for nearly an hour, until a handful of Darragh men came to see what had become of the bridegroom and found her chained in the armory.
Flinching against the sparks the armorer struck as he pounded his sledgehammer again and again to break the iron chain that bound her, Merraid struggled to accept the fact that Gellir was gone for good.
Lady Feiyan carefully questioned her after she was free. But Merraid feigned ignorance. She refused to betray Gellir’s secrets. Nor would she reveal anything about her own misguided attempts at matchmaking—the love notes she’d dictated, the promise she’d made to Carenza to accompany her to Rivenloch, or her desperate plan to shackle herself to Gellir to keep that promise.
She wouldn’t breathe a word about Carenza’s secret bairn. Or about Hew’s efforts to reunite her with her lover. And she would never confess her own deep feelings for Gellir. Feelings that had led her to swive him on the night of Beltane.
Unwilling to expose so many unforgivable transgressions, she was tormented by uncertainty. Conflicting emotions raged inside her, alternating between remorse and anger, worry and woe. The hours dragged on, filling her with crushing guilt and immeasurable sorrow. Jaw-clenching fury and crippling anxiety.
The Laird of Dunlop was beside himself with worry. His face was ashen. His mouth was tense. He’d already lost his wife. He couldn’t lose his daughter. Though he didn’t blame the Rivenlochs for her disappearance, Merraid knew the fault would lie with them if Carenza wasn’t found.
Laird Dougal assured him that the Darragh men would find his missing daughter. Laird Deirdre offered up the best trackers of Rivenloch. Several contingents were sent to search the surrounding countryside.
Hours crawled past. Eventually twilight descended. Clouds obscured the rising moon and painted the sky with an ominous glower. From the wall walk, Merraid watched the darkening woods, chewing on a fingernail. One by one, the groups of trackers returned. Their steps were downtrodden. Their shoulders slumped. Their faces sagged with disappointment.
“He’ll be fine,” came a soft voice beside her.
Merraid yelped and nearly jumped out of her surcoat. How long had Isabel been standing there?
“Och, sorry,” Isabel exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Merraid was more frightened by the fact she’d let her guard down. She gave a quick curtsey. “I suppose my mind was far away, m’lady.”
“Fretting over Gellir?” Isabel guessed.
Merraid frowned. “O’er…all o’ them.”
Isabel gave her a knowing glance. “But especially my brother.”
Merraid looked away. She couldn’t let Gellir’s little sister see the emotions on her face. After all, her feelings for Gellir were too strong. Inappropriate. Sinful. “Nay, m’lady.” But she couldn’t resist adding, “Why would ye think that?”
“I have a gift,” Isabel said with a shrug, twirling her blond braid around one finger. “I can see when there’s a bond between two people.”
“He’s my friend,” Merraid explained.
“Och aye. But he’s more than that, isn’t he?”
Merraid stiffened. “Nay, m’lady,” she lied, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she spoke with vehement force. “Anythin’ more would be improper. He’s the heir o’ Rivenloch and Lady Carenza’s bridegroom. I’m only a maidservant.”
“I see.” Isabel nodded and leaned over the parapet, gazing into the distance. “Still, it may do your heart good to know he’ll be fine. My brother is strong and resilient. He knows Scotland like he knows his scars. And he’s guided by loyalty and honor.”
Isabel turned her lovely fair face toward Merraid then and gave her a sweet smile of sympathy and understanding.
Merraid’s return smile didn’t reach her eyes. Knowing Gellir was guided by loyalty and honor was not the reassurance Isabel thought it was. Indeed, Merraid suspected it was loyalty and honor that were going to get him into trouble.
On the second morn, a missive from Hew arrived in the hands of a breathless messenger. Hew wrote that he had found Lady Carenza and wished to assure the Laird of Dunlop that she was safe and sound. Merraid noted he carefully omitted any mention about returning her. And if he stayed true to what he’d secretly declared in the armory, he didn’t mean to return her at all. He intended to reunite the lady with her lover.
To Merraid’s dismay, there was still no word of Gellir. And fretting over him left her so distracted—forgetting her duties, misplacing things, and pacing aimlessly across the great hall—that Feiyan ordered her to the tiltyard to work off her restless energy, tossing and catching a bag of chain mail. Feiyan chose Gellir’s brother, Brand, to practice with her.
Brand could not have looked more displeased as he slogged onto the field. Notoriously obsessed with swordsmanship, he clearly thought doing such a menial exercise as tossing chain mail—with a lass, no less—was beneath him.
