Page 4 of Laird of Steel
Fifteen-year-old Merraid would have been elated.
Nineteen-year-old Merraid was not.
She was mightily peeved.
The knave couldn’t have chosen a worse time.
Even the measured movements of thetaijiquan—themorning ritual of martial arts Lady Feiyan had taught her, the ritual Merraid currently performed atop the western wall walk—couldn’t calm her ire.
She bent her knees and slowly circled her arms with as much grace as she could muster. But her mind roiled with exasperation. With an angry puff that made fog in the chill air, she blew back the tendril of fiery hair that kept dripping down over her brow.
Why now? Why, after four years of avoiding Castle Darragh, had Gellir chosen to return at this particular moment?
Four years ago, Merraid would have given Gellir everything. Her heart. Her body. Her soul. But that had been once upon a time. When she was a young and foolish lass.
How she’d raced to the courtyard on the day Gellir left to find the gift he’d given her. She’d discovered Lady Feiyan waiting for her, empty-handed. Gellir’s gift, the lady said, was protection in his absence. The lady intended to train Merraid in combat.
At first, she’d been confused. Protection? Did Gellir think she was a child? Completely helpless? Or was it something else?
In the end, she convinced herself it was a sign of his devotion to her. He’d come from a clan full of warrior lasses, after all. For Gellir, such a gift was surely the greatest expression of love a Rivenloch man could bestow.
He must be readying her to join his clan. Making certain she was worthy of the Rivenloch name. Once she was brought up in the ways of a warrior lass, he’d return to claim her as his own.
Her heart full of promise, she’d thrown herself into training. Mirroring Lady Feiyan’s movements. Following her intellectual pursuits. Learning to read and write and do sums. Molding herself into the kind of woman Gellir could respect and admire. A woman like his cousin Feiyan. Fierce. Brave. Educated. Independent.
When he came back, she meant to impress him with her accomplishments.
But he never came back.
In that first year, she’d been so sure she’d see him before Yuletide. After all, over the magical summer they’d spent together, every time a lusty lad looked at her sideways, Gellir had charged to her rescue. Surely he’d return to be sure his ladylove was safe.
When he didn’t appear, Merraid decided it was due to his turning eighteen and preparing to be officially knighted. No doubt he was preoccupied with earning his spurs.
In the year following, when he still didn’t return, she figured it was because he was fighting. Defending the border, which Lady Feiyan grumbled was ever shifting at the whim of King Malcolm.
In the third year, it was clear he’d become singularly focused on his reputation. Obsessed with winning a name for himself on the tournament field.
At that, he’d succeeded. Sir Gellir Cameliard of Rivenloch’s prowess in the lists had become the stuff of legends.
Merraid had heard the tales. Everyone had. News of his latest exploits reached the castle every fortnight, it seemed. The magnificent son of Rivenloch was undefeated. In every tournament in the past year, he’d emerged as champion.
There were some saying Grim Gellir was the greatest warrior who’d ever lived.
There were rumors the king might reward him with his own Border holding. Land. A castle. A wife.
It was those rumors that awakened Merraid to the harsh truth. And it felt like a hard slap across the face. After years of pining, Merraid realized Gellir wasn’t coming back for her. He’d never meant to. He probably didn’t even remember her.
A common maidservant like Merraid had no possible future with the son of a laird. A tournament champion. A noble warrior. She’d been daft to ever believe that.
She wasn’t daft now. She’d come to her senses. Listened to reason instead of her heart. And to her surprise, the surrender to the truth had come as a relief. It seemed the chains binding her heart had been broken.
So now that she saw the future more clearly…now that she was beginning to find her own path forward…now that she’d scrubbed his image from her mind as thoroughly as she scoured soot from the hearth…
Nowhe was returning to Darragh.
She sighed, staring across the silver-blue firth with its white-tipped waves. A pair of gulls circled in the sky.
His timing was deplorable.
