Surrender (6 page)

Surprised to learn his bride-to-be favored
the small dog, Graemme put it on the floor. Stranger yet was the
chief's reluctance to turn the cur out while his daughter was yet
here. This ill-shaped bundle with his misshapen back legs made him
appear to squat so he could shite.

He looked down at it and shook his head.
Hopefully, Elyne would not request they take the dog. Though she
may be a bit lonesome at first. Perchance he should allow her maid
to accompany them? He would think on it.

The strange dog seemed fascinated with his
leg, for now it had locked its front legs around his calf and
was...

"Satan's crossed eyes!"

The dog humped Graemme as if he was the
hottest bitch in the castle. He jerked his foot off the floor and
shook his leg, but the wiry little devil hung tight, grinding
away.

"Do not! Ye will hurt him," Elyne called
out.

She swayed and dodged people as she ran
across the room. When she skidded to a halt beside him, Graemme
turned and raised his brows. Elyne scowled back.

"Ye didna leave?"

"A-a-aye, I did," he slowly drawled his
reply. He straightened his leg again and held it off the floor. The
dog held on. Humping and sliding down Graemme's boot. He ended
scrunched up at his ankle. "This...this creature? Ye have a
fondness for it?"

"I do."

"I would ken last eve's crone havin' a dog
such as this. But my future bride?"

She glared at him but when the chief spoke,
she couldn't give him the scornful answer he deserved.

"The crone? She visited ye and yet ye didna
flee?" He shook his head and struck Graemme's shoulder with his
fist. "Ye will make a worthy son-by-law!"

"I am not afeared of a crazy old crone's
threats. 'Tis not possible to cause such dire misfortune simply by
saying it will happen."

"Mayhap ye should have listened more closely,
Sir Graemme." Elyne bent over to pick up the dog, for he had
exhausted himself and released Graemme's leg.

At the same time, Graemme leaned down to
adjust his boot.

"Our vows
will
be said afore Sext at
midday," he murmured for her ears alone.

"Humph. If ye are still hale and hearty."
Elyne turned her back and put the dog down.

"Stop fashing around with the stinking dog so
we can eat."

Broccin's growled words drifted behind him as
he made his way to the high table.

Graemme was only too glad to sit, having been
up way afore dawn. He had dallied at the last moment, feeling a
tinge of sympathy for the girl whose father cared so little to whom
he married her. He sent Colyne and Brian off to check the village
and surrounding countryside for news of his brother.

He flushed when the Lady Joneta leaned around
her brother to make mention of the flowers close to Elyne's
hand.

"Elyne, Sir Graemme came across a field of
wild flowers. Are they not lovely?"

Elyne's eyes widened. She looked at the
colorful flowers and then at the hardened warrior sitting beside
her. This man had taken the time to pick flowers? She swallowed her
surprise.

"They are lovely, indeed. Thank ye."

As Ada and two of cook's helpers hurried
through the doorway carrying steaming bowls of porridge, Elyne felt
a stab of regret. Just a stab. Not enough to change her mind. While
the servants served the other diners, Ada smiled and set a bowl
down in front of Graemme.

"Ah, porridge. 'Tis healthy to start each day
with gruel."

"A little milk?"

Elyne handed him the small pitcher setting
close to her hand. He nodded his thanks and doused the porridge
with it. She watched from the corner of her eye as he started
eating.

She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a
giggle when her father leaned forward to say something to Domnall.
While his back was turned, the dog had stretched tall and took a
quick lap of the chief's porridge. It scampered back at the last
moment.

"He lives dangerously, as does the crone,"
Graemme said with a tinge of menace.

Elyne knew it was no idle comment but a
warning. The rest of the meal passed quickly, for everyone was too
intent on enjoying the fare to spend time talking. All went well
until Graemme glanced down and saw the little dog sitting on his
hind end, begging.

"Well, now. Yer legs do ye some good after
all, Squat."

"Squat?"

"Aye. To call him 'dog' is unfair to the
hunting beasts in the castle. Even when walking, he looks to be
squatting to sh…, uh, 'tis a fitting name."

Elyne snorted. It was fitting, but she
wouldn't admit it.

When Graemme fed Squat a bit of pigeon pie,
she did not object.

When he gave him a small slice of sausage,
she kept silent.

When he scooped out a small spoonful of
leftover porridge, she near jumped out of her chair.

Squat's long tongue lapped over and around
the spoon before she could stop him. She bumped into Graemme's arm,
hard. She reached down and grabbed the spoon from him before Squat
could put his tongue to it again.

"Ye are gawkie, Lady?"

"I am never clumsy. I thought to keep the dog
from chewing the spoon. He is foolish enough to think he can eat
wood."

"He looks to eat little of anything that
would put meat on his bones." Graemme looked at her from the corner
of his eye. "Does his mistress neglect feeding him because she's so
busy prowlin' around at night to spy on nekid men?"

"His mistress does not prowl around looking
at men."

"Aye. She does."

She snorted and frowned.

"Did ye forget hidin' in the tree while I
bathed?"

"I wasna hiding to spy on yer bath!" Her face
heated as if she was standing close to a steaming pot of
porridge.

"And what of the crone who came into my
room?"

"So? I dinna know what the crone saw."

She had an urge to fan her face with her
fingers. For truth, he must be taking wicked delight in her
discomfort.

"Me. Nekid. On the bed. She stared. I think
she feared she would miss something."

"I dinna think so. One nekid man is much
alike another."

She had always thought so. Until last eve.
There had been little light in his bedchamber, but what there was
filtering into the room, she could not miss his splendidly bronzed
skin against the white sheets. Never did she think to see any man
as finely made as he. Why, she had near forgotten what she had gone
there to say. She started to squirm in her seat and planted her
feet so close to each other that she couldn't move. It was a trick
she'd learned when she didn't want her father to know he'd caught
her in a lie.

"I hope ye will rid yerself of sneaking
around afore we wed. My brother does not take kindly to women who
are loose with their favors."

Graemme shifted on his seat. His stomach was
beginning to rumble and gurgle much like someone who had not eaten
in days. He cleared his voice, hoping no one else could hear the
disgusting sounds his belly was making. 'Twas harebrained. With all
the people in the room talking near at the same time, you could
hardly hear yourself think, much less hear someone's guts
talking.

His mouth filled with bitter water rising in
uneasy waves to his throat. He swallowed and needed to swallow
again. Lucifer's tainted breath! He was going to spew!

Never had he left a table so quickly. His
long strides took him to the door of the keep. From there, he did
not stop running until he reached the privacy of an empty stall far
back in the stable. He soon put two empty buckets to use.

"I thought you said the old crone's curse was
naught but crazy rambling." Brian's red hair and laughing blue eyes
peered over the top of the stall.

"'Twas no curse which caused this." Graemme
groaned and wretched into the bucket he clutched to his chest.

"Hm. Looks like the curse to me. Ye're
sitting on one bucket and hugging another."

"My dafty bride-to-be tampered with my
food."

"Did the other diners become ill? What if it
is the curse?" Brian' mouth twitched at the corners. "Have you
checked your cock?"

Graemme shot him a quelling look. "When did
ye return?"

"Brian, why are you hanging over an empty
stall?"

That's all Graemme needed. Another witness to
his plight. Though to be fair, 'twas only Colyne's footfalls coming
toward them.

"Graemme here didna believe in the crone's
curse. Seems he should have."

Colyne's brown head joined Brian's. They
stood together, gazing at him as if they'd never seen a man with
griping pains in his gut.

"Hm. Did your cock...?"

"Nah, Colyne. Already asked him. He's afeared
to look."

Graemme made a threatening gesture with the
bucket. He talked fast so as to get it all out in one breath,
"Brian, find Lady Joneta. Ask for a potion. She will know what the
little devil used." After he heard the man's footsteps pounding
away, he sighed with relief.

Never had he spent a more miserable morning.
Lady Joneta quickly supplied him with a potion which gradually
eased his symptoms. Finally, he was able to control his bodily
functions. Before leaving, he gave coins to the stable boys waiting
at the huge double doors of the stable. Brian and Colyne helped him
return to his bedchamber.

He no sooner closed the door than servants
arrived with a bathing tub and buckets of hot water. They said the
Lady Joneta had ordered them to watch for his return. Their eyes
were wide and admiring, for never had they known anyone to have
challenged a curse. Though he felt as drained and weak as a
starving kitten, his rising wrath gave him much needed energy for
the rest of the day.

"It was not a good thing to take your anger
out on Sir Graemme, Elyne." Lady Joneta gave her niece a
disapproving look.

"Do ye think I could yell and scream at
Father and not find myself abandoned in the convent afore
dawn?"

Sickening nausea crept chilly fingers through
Elyne's stomach. Could someone feel the effects of another's
distress? Mayhap she
had
acted in haste. Too late, now.
Sir Graemme would not have to even think on who had made him so
dreadfully sick.

"When he came out of his room, his eyes were
spitting hot rage every bit as much as Ranald's do when in a fury,"
lady Joneta said.

Mayhap she had misjudged the size of the dose
she'd given to Ada? She hadn't meant to cause the warrior the
misery the stable boys reported. Why, with only having licked
Graemme's spoon, Squat had soon needed to stop every several paces,
leaving foul smelling shite. The servants were not happy. Seeing
her father's scowl, she had swept the dog up and carried him out to
the pasture.

When someone rapped on the door, it had such
a sound of urgency Elyne near jumped out of her shoes.

"Lady Elyne, Sir Graemme requests your
presence at the chapel for the betrothal vows. 'Tis near high
noon."

From the little she had seen of this
Highlander, his blue eyes had always held laughter. Not so now.
They looked hard as steel.

"Aye, Sir Brian. I think it fitting I
change..."

Brian interrupted her. "Nay, Lady. You are to
come at once."

She had to stop herself from stomping her
foot when she eased the door shut. She waited to hear his footsteps
leave. They did not. So. Sir Graemme didna take any chance she
would not appear. No doubt, Sir Brian would enter and drag her all
the way up to the chapel if she didna appear speedily.

"He does not even give me time to change
clothing!"

"No doubt he expected you to be ready. Come.
You need only a silver circlet for your hair and a matching silver
girdle about your hips to make your blue gown festive."

Elyne was ready far sooner than she wished.
She steeled herself to look calm as she opened the door. Sir Brian
lounged against the far wall of the landing, his arms across his
chest. He straightened and offered his arm. He raised his
brows.

"The chapel?"

"Up the far stairwell." She nodded toward the
corner. "'Tis in the east tower close to Father's lodgings."

"You are in a hurry, Sir Brian?" Aunt
Joneta's voice was quiet but admonishing.

Sir Brian near skidded to halt his long
strides. "I beg your forgiveness, ladies."

Too soon, they were going through the chapel
doorway.

o0o

"I hear ye had a bout of sickness in the
stable?" Chief Broccin looked Graemme over from head to toe then
grinned at him.

"Aye. Mayhap I ate too quickly this morn."
Graemme shifted from one foot to the other. Even thinking about not
having a handy bucket made his stomach clench.

"Ye are white as a lass during her moon's
time." Broccin's gaze moved down to settle on Graemme's crotch.
"Did yer cock shrink to a nub? It isna about to fall off, is
it?"

"Not likely. Why would you think so?"

Piss and shite! Was the man going to demand
proof?

"The rest of the curse came full circle, did
it not? I heard ye spewed in one bucket till it was green slime
while yer arse thundered as it filled another. The stable lads
thought better to bury the bucket than to cleanse it."

Graemme knew his face was no longer white but
red as poppies in the field.

"'Twas naught but eating too heartily."

Chief Broccin cuffed him on the shoulder as
admiration gleamed in his eyes. "Ye are a worthy son-by-law! Not a
single bone of fear in yer body. 'Tis likely ye have broken the
curse. I will have grandsons aplenty if ye keep a bairn in her
belly as oft as Ranald plants his seed in Catalin."

"Ranald has children?"

"Aye. One strapping boy followed by twins, a
boy and a girl, the very next year."

When Chief Broccin beamed with pride, he lost
his sinister appearance.