Surrender (14 page)

He felt sorely tempted to do it.

And, aye, he had to admit he felt lust
apleanty. Just the memory at the well of her plump breasts beneath
the wet shift made riding difficult. His stones hardened and his
tarse swelled near to bursting. Would that she was here to soothe
them!

The idea made him groan. It was not likely a
wife would take her husband's tarse into her hot mouth to soothe.
For such a thing, he'd have to dally with one of the laundresses'
daughters. 'Twas their favorite pastime afore they swived a
man.

His daydreaming made him near miss hearing a
horse pulling a cart on the forest path ahead of him. He pulled off
the road and blended in with the trees. He wanted no one to see him
and report a lone man riding. Every lawless lout would be on the
lookout for him. For a man without a master, even worn out boots
would be worth stealing.

He reached forward and rubbed his hand along
his horse's jaw, distracting and soothing him. Between the leaves,
he made out a cart with produce from a garden. A husky but
not-quite-right-in-the-head lad shuffled behind it. He carried a
club, ready to swing at anyone or anything the old man driving the
cart would order him to.

He had no quarrel with them. But if the man's
helper spied him in the woods, the boy would probably charge into
the underbrush swinging his club thinking he was thwarting a
robber. Graemme didn't want to hurt the poor lad, but he didn't
want a delay, either.

Soon the man and boy were gone, and he
continued on the north-eastern road. The loch was easy enough to
cross. The men he'd left to protect the women met him in the woods.
They'd seen him coming, for they were adept at climbing trees and
spent most of their days as lookouts from one.

"Well, 'tis about time ye got here. If we
dinna make haste to Clibrick, yer rock-headed brother is liable to
try to force Muriele. She is not a lass who takes kindly to demands
made by any man."

Graemme noted Esa clutching something in the
pocket of her outer dress. He would bet it was a sharp knife, for
she moved to keep between him and Grunda, as if protecting her. To
test his theory, he moved closer to the old crone. Esa eased
between them, her eyes never leaving his face.

"I mean ye no harm. Sweyn would cut off my,
er, head if aught happens to either of ye." He flashed a smile,
hoping to reassure her. She seemed to relax her shoulders a slight
bit.

"I knew ye would come today, so all is in
readiness to leave." Grunda said.

Glancing around, Graemme saw small cloth
bundles carefully tied and waiting neatly beside the door.

"I cooked oat cakes enough to last us two
days, then ye'll need to hunt for hare. I banked the fire when I
heard ye within a league of the hut."

Grunda looked at the two guards with squinted
eyes. "Did ye saddle yer mounts and fill yer water gourds?"

"Aye!"

The two men nodded and near bowed, anxious to
show respect to the old woman. No doubt, they'd heard of her dire
threats to the louts' prized possessions when the Gunns first
captured Muriele and took her to Kinbrace Castle.

Graemme shrugged, seeing no reason to linger
since everything was in readiness. The faster they left Gunn
territory, the better for their necks. Besides, 'twas near dusk. A
bright moon would guide them back the path through the forest. They
could travel most of the night, cross the loch and be on solid
ground way afore the sun rose.

He tossed Esa up behind the youngest warrior
and Grunda up behind the burly one. It would distribute their
weight and be easier on the mounts to carry two people.

They left as quietly as possible, riding at a
slow pace until they were well away into the night. As dawn began
to dim the sky, they picked up speed. For the next sennight, they
rode hard. When the mounts needed resting, they put kilts on the
ground for the two women to relax as well. On the fourth day, he
thought it best to make loops to put over the women's hands and
attach them to the saddle. Doing so would allow the man to keep his
hands on the reins when the women fell asleep. He feared in their
exhaustion they would slip from the back of the horse and do
themselves an injury.

Once in Morgan territory, they slowed their
pace and rested at night. As they had ridden during the day, the
men had used their bows and arrows to bring down game for their
meals. They ate well when they rested at the noon break, then
finished off the days food afore they went to sleep at night.

When they stopped to rest each evening,
Graemme thought he'd never had such agreeable company. Grunda
amused them with tales of Muriele when she was young. His brother
was going to marry a woman worthy of him. 'Twould be a good
match.

One night, the old woman had him stand and
again paced around and around him, studying him from the tip of his
head to his bare toes.

"Ye know, dinna ye, this Elyne of Raptor
ye're to marry will not accept yer rule without a fight?"

"How do ye know of the lass?"

"I see things. She also does."

"I know ye are a soothsayer and see hints of
what is to happen, but I think ye are wrong about Elyne."

"Nay. I am never wrong."

"It seems to me she but mimics the poses and
gestures of women of sight such as yerself."

"'Tis different ways for different seers. She
has dreams which she knows are telling her what is ahead."

"She also tries to make herself appear an old
crone. She paints ashes around her eyes, streaks cherry juice on
her face and blackens her teeth." He stopped and frowned. "She also
tangles her hair and streaks it with ashes. She has fooled her
other suitors and Chief Broccin, but she didna fool me."

"She is yet young. Her understanding of her
dreams has not fully grown." Grunda nodded, her eyes showing she
thought ahead. "When ye return to Raptor, I will travel with ye and
guide her."

Graemme spluttered and shook his head.

"I dinna want my wife to believe her fanciful
dreams." He gritted his teeth then burst out, "She believes I'm a
wolf come to eat her for my noon meal or some such nonsense!"

"If ye were a youngling in a keep who saw yer
father near beat yer brother to death and then abandon him for over
fifteen years, ye'd have developed gifts to help keep ye alive. And
this Ranald of Raptor Castle has special powers."

Graemme snorted. She ignored it.

"Aye. His first year at Kelso, his raging
fevers affected his brain."

"Chief Broccin warned I am to have the devil
as my brother-by-law."

"Nay, not the devil. But if a fool causes his
temper to unleash, he may lose control over his gifts."

Disbelieving her, Graemme raised his brow and
smiled.

"Watch him. When he and his father are
together and argue. Ye will see wind blowing objects when there is
no wind. If his father doesna stop, ye'll see Ranald's eyes heat
and anything they touch will alight. If he loses control, doors
will slam, platters will fly."

"Why are ye telling me this?"

"Because, Ranald will protect Elyne. He'll
not let Chief Broccin force her into marriage. Or to be thrown in a
convent and locked away."

"She must marry me. No other man will have
her after we were seen together bare arsed on the ground."

"Do what ye have to do." She grinned at him.
"But if this Ranald doesna want Elyne pushed into wedding ye, be
sure ye are not atop the keep at the time. 'Twould be a nasty
spill."

It was too much for Graemme to take in at one
time. He didn't believe in seers. Yet here was one who had proved
it. He didn't believe in a man who could control objects with his
brain and eyes. Yet she was telling him to watch Ranald for the
truth when he returned to Raptor.

Most of all, he didn't want to believe the
beautiful lass Elyne was truly a seer of another kind.

He should believe Grunda. But everything he
heard was not possible. Though not as rigid as Magnus, he was
practical and logical. 'Twas hard to accept happenings that had no
rightful explanation.

Hmm! What could be more unusual than a woman
like Elyne? She'd made him laugh at her make-believe crone in the
middle of the night—and made him furious enough to kill when she'd
dosed him the next day.

Cold trickles of sweat ran down his backbone.
He truly hoped his imaginative to-be-wife was sleeping
peacefully.

Dreamlessly!

At Raptor Castle, Elyne had done all she
could to talk her father out of this betrothal. As they were eating
their supper in the great room, he turned a baleful look on her and
said she had two alternatives.

"One! Ye shall marry this Graemme of Clibrick
in a fortnight and learn to be an obedient wife. He is kindness
itself to ye, allowing ye to take the mangy cur. The dog is good
for naught but to keep the squires busy covering his shite in the
bailey."

As if by habit, he picked a scrap of food and
threw at his feet. Squat wolfed it down.

Lady Joneta winked at Elyne. "The poor little
beast's stomach is unsettled and you dinna help feeding him from
the table. He needs only barley water to soothe his stomach and
naught but gruels," she said.

After Squat broke wind loud enough to have
come from one of the knights, Broccin waved his hand in front of
his face.

"I've added a bit of savory to prevent
building up his wind," Elyne said while she too fluttered a small
piece of cloth with rose water under her nose.

"It isna working!

"These things take time, Brother." Joneta
patted his hand and stifled a grin. "Eat the pigeon pie afore it
gets any colder. I do wish the kitchens were closer to the great
hall."

"Stop trying to distract me from reminding
Elyne she is soon to be wed. Ranald and his family will be here
afore ye know it. I think he intends to meet young Graemme afore
the wedding, though if he doesna like him, 'tis Graemme's bad
luck."

"Father, please believe me. Graemme means me
harm."

"The only harm ye are in is falling off the
battlements with yer crazy sleep walking."

"I have not moved from my bed for the past
sennight!"

"Aye. Now Ysabel sleeps with the other
unmarried lasses, a firm rope tied around yer ankle keeps ye
there."

"Pish!"

Elyne had to admit she had been dreamless
these past fortnights, but she wasn't going to give her father the
satisfaction of telling him so. She bit her fingernails until there
was nothing left to catch between her teeth. The thought of
traveling to the land of the bestial Highlanders turned her
stomach.

She had heard they ate like pigs, preferring
their food half-cooked, the meat still dripping blood. She near
gagged at the thought. The only saving grace was Muriele would be
her sister-by-law, though she wouldn't live at the same castle.
When things got too bad, she could always run off and join her at
Blackbriar.

The thought heartened her a bit. Then she
kicked herself under the table for even considering going through
with the wedding.

Not many nights later, her sleep was again
fraught with nightmares.

'Twas but four days afore her wedding day.
She dreaded seeing Graemme's coming with foreboding. She twitched
in her bed. Her legs thrashed and tried to reach the floor. Sitting
up, she found the knot in the rope.

In few quick swipes, she was free to run as
fleet as a doe to the top of the castle. She could hear the horses
in the distance. She stood from the tallest point watching the
forest path. A man and his horse burst from the trees. His face was
a blur, but she knew it was Graemme. He seemed triumphant, for he
reared his horse. The magnificent beast's hooves clawed the air,
and the man let out a warbling war cry from deep within his chest.
An army of savages followed him, riding horses shooting fire from
their nostrils. Each warrior seemed taller than the other, some
with hair over their faces, others with pointed ears and long,
sharp snouts. They were a clan of half-human, half-animal
giants!

Elyne stood on solid ground and grasped the
stones on either side to steady herself. Looking down, she found
him directly below her. His shadowy face showed his fury, for
though guards had lowered the drawbridge, they had refused to open
the great teeth of the barbican entrance.

"Ye will marry me this day," he snarled,
"else I will destroy every stone betwixt us!"

"Huh! I am not such a fool. If I married ye,
ye would soon feed me to yer hungry army. Why they drool at the
mouth when they look upon me!"

A dog's frantic barking caught her attention
away from him. She looked around the ground, thinking he had
brought a devil hound with him to help in his hunt for her.

"Order the men to raise the teeth of the
portcullis, woman, or I will destroy ye afore ye can move!"

When she did not, his eyes became narrowed
slits. Blue lights glowed from them. Fury turned his face as red as
the hottest fire. The wind ruffled pale, gold hanks of hair below
the edge of his helmet.

The hanks of gold hair distracted her until
the dog began to howl. Could it be the specter of a dog and not a
live one? The man's next words drew her attention back to him.

"I am warning ye. Do not thwart me in this. I
have vowed ye would be my wife. As the Devil is my master, ye will
wed me this day!"

As he slowly lifted his sword, fear paralyzed
her. She couldn't move. He pointed the sharply honed tip at her.
She watched, fascinated as it began to glow. Sparks sizzled off it
and lit the night sky.

His face seemed to lift in a smile. Not a
smile of kindness, but one of malicious triumph.

A lightning strike started slowly to grow
from the sword.

'Twas beautiful to see. The startling hues of
blue and silver and blinding white fascinated her as they
neared.