Page 69 of The Rogue's Bride
Sorcha hurried out into the bailey, Eoghan balanced on her hip. She was pleased to see the rain had finally stopped although the sky was still the color of lead.
Picking her way around the large puddles, Sorcha approached the bedraggled crowd that had just entered the muddy courtyard. Caitrin was among them, her blonde hair curling in wet tendrils around her face. She walked, hand in hand, with Alasdair MacDonald, leading their horses behind them. A lanky grey wolf hound trotted along at the chieftain’s heels.
Sorcha halted, gaze widening. The chieftain and Lady Caitrin holding hands—this was a sight she’d never thought to see.
When she spied her hand-maid, Caitrin cried out, leaving Alasdair’s side.
“Ye are back!” Sorcha greeted her. “I can’t believe it.”
“Aye.” Caitrin threw her arms around Sorcha and Eoghan, and hugged them both tight. Drawing back, she smiled, her eyes gleaming. “What a sight ye both are. Let me have a look at my wee laddie.”
Sorcha handed Eoghan to her. Caitrin spun the lad round, laughing as he squealed in delight. Sorcha saw then that her mistress’s cheeks were wet with tears. Eoghan wrapped his soft arms around his mother’s neck as she hugged him once more. Caitrin buried her face in his soft dark hair and inhaled deeply.
“How I’ve missed ye, Eoghan,” she said softly, her voice choked with emotion. “Yer smell, the chirping laugh ye make when ye are happy … how ye say my name.”
“Ma,” Eoghan gurgled happily, not understanding what his mother had just said.
“I know sweetheart,” she whispered, and Sorcha started to weep at the love she saw shining in her mistress’s eyes. “I’m home.”
Caitrin carried Eoghan away, heading back toward the steps leading into the keep, while Sorcha attempted to compose herself. She didn’t want the chieftain’s men gawking at her or making fun. The others were approaching now, and she suddenly felt self-conscious for weeping.
Captain MacNichol was heading her way.
“Welcome home, MacNichol.” Sorcha scrubbed at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand and favored him with a watery smile.
“Good day, Sorcha.” He stopped before her, and although he was rain-soaked and mud-splattered, she realized with a jolt just how handsome he was. His leather braies and léine were plastered against his hard, muscular body, and his wet blond hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck. “We return with happy news, as ye can see.”
Her gaze searched his face. “What happened?”
He stepped close, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “I’m not really sure,” he murmured. “One moment we’re watching Clan-chief MacLeod parade suitors before his daughter, the next we’re standing in Dunvegan chapel watching MacDonald and Lady Caitrin wed.”
Sorcha’s eyes widened. “They’re married?”
“Aye, the day before last.”
Sorcha gasped. “But I thought they hated each other?”
Darron’s mouth lifted at the corners. “Clearly, they didn’t.”
Sorcha was about to reply, when a loud voice boomed across the bailey. “Good day, bonny Sorcha.”
She glanced right to see Boyd MacDonald striding toward her. Like Darron, he was wet and dirty from his journey. However, he wore his usual irrepressible smile.
“Greetings, Boyd,” she replied warmly. “It’s good to see ye back too.”
Boyd grinned. “How about a kiss then … to show me how pleased ye are to see me?” He stepped close, and Sorcha immediately shrank back.
“What’s this?” Boyd’s grin turned mischievous, and he reached for her.
Sorcha ducked out of reach, stepping back into a muddy puddle in her haste to avoid his grasping hands. She didn’t enjoy being grabbed at like she was a spring lamb he was trying to catch.
“Coy, are we?” Boyd’s grin turned into a leer.
“Leave the lass be, MacDonald,” Darron rumbled, a warning note to his voice. “Clearly, she doesn’t want to kiss ye.”
Boyd snorted, drawing back. His gaze narrowed as it settled upon Sorcha. “That’s not very friendly, lass.”
Sorcha swallowed and took another step back, not caring that she now stood ankle deep in cold water. Her pulse raced. She’d been happy to see both Darron and Boyd—but the latter’s behavior had put her on edge. Boyd had never taken such liberties before.
