Surrender (23 page)

"And ye didna call out?"

Magnus came around the wall to stand and grin
at them. "Nay. 'Twas just about the time ye flipped her skirts over
her head. I thought it best ye continued her lesson of obedience to
her husband."

Elyne's face flamed so hot she thought she
could by chance have the power to light a candle like Ranald. She
stared hard at Magnus' nose, but it didn't even turn pink. Well,
pish!

Ranald had told her he thought his powers
came from the blows on his head and the terrible fever which raged
for a sennight in Kelso. Six months later when landless knights
raided the abbey, Ranald grabbed a sword and went berserk. The
thugs turned tail and rode from the area like Lucifer was after
them. It took the Abbot to calm Ranald and bring his reasoning
back.

Well. Maybe that's why it didn't work. She
wasn't in an uncontrollable rage!

"What is it?" Magnus asked. "Do I have
somethin' unsightly on the tip of my nose?"

Graemme laughed. "Nay. From the look of her
concentration, I think she believes she can set yer nose
aflame."

"I dinna think Muriele would like it changed.
She often says 'tis noble and full of strength." Magnus grinned at
her.

"I told ye Elyne created a legend that Raptor
was haunted by an old crone. The funny thing is, the men believed
her. She tried to send me flying with my arse on fire."

"Ye were enjoying being nekid on yer bed. I
only warned ye what could happen."

When the words were out of her mouth, she
realized what she'd told Magnus.

"Aye, I was fine for the night. But the next
day when yer haunting proved futile, ye tried to poison me. My arse
was on fire and I spewed for hours."

"Well, now, my soon to be sister-by-law. Do
ye intend to poison my brother every time ye have an argument over
who is in charge of yer life?"

"Huh!" She ignored him. With a rosy face and
nose in the air, she folded the monk's robes into a neat pile, the
same way as she had found them.

"Nay. She canna try it again. As part of the
betrothal vows heard by all at Raptor, she promised never to do so
again."

"Dinna push yer good fortune," she muttered
so low he almost didn't hear her.

"Eh?" Graemme came so close his lips near
touched her ear. "Breaking a betrothal vow is near a mortal sin. I
would be tempted to beat ye for it."

"Ye try and ye'll find a blade at yer
precious parts when ye sleep!"

Graemme stared down at her, his eyes
searching her face for the truth of her words. Her father never
laid a cruel hand on her in her life, even though he had threatened
many a time to do so. In no way would she allow a man to mistreat
her. She narrowed her eyes and glared back up at him.

He must have sensed she meant it, for he
shook his head slowly at her, his mouth grim, and turned his
back.

"Where did ye get the robes? We must replace
them afore the sisters notice," Magnus broke their concentration on
each other.

"The laundry room. They always keep fresh
robes for traveling monks. They exchange the soiled ones for these
so they may complete their journey in comfort," she replied.

"It will be our first stop," Graemme decided.
When he spied Squat snuffling among the bits of oats and hay on the
floor, he smiled at him and added, "This sorry sample of a dog
needs food." The words might have been harsh, but Squat wagged his
crimped tail all the faster, a look of adoration on his face.

"It is near time for the sun to come up. If
ye dinna stop yammering, the sisters will soon gather for mass. If
they spy us, ye will be to blame." Elyne gathered the clothes to
her chest and haughtily brushed past them and headed out the
door.

She replaced the robes atop the other two
already on the shelf in the laundry room. Towels and sheets were
already in woven baskets waiting for the day's washing. A sizeable
stream ran beyond the grove. Since it was still within the outer
walls of the convent, the laundresses were safe using it.

While Muriele, Ranald's wife Catalin and she
were here over a year ago, she'd explored it. She wanted to be sure
no one could enter by going beneath the water flowing under the
stone wall. She learned the Tyronesian monks from Kelso had built
the wall and added iron grating in the open space, assuring the
sisters no one could invade the convent by the stream.

Graemme nodded to Magnus. They walked beside
her as they left the laundry room. He didn't intend to let her out
of his sight until they reached the hunting lodge. And especially
after arriving there. He could near hear the explosion from her
when she found out their first destination was not Raptor
Castle!

They attended mass but couldn't kneel beside
her, for the nuns and women were at the front of the chapel and the
men at the back. But if she thought to sneak out of the cluster of
women, she was sadly mistaken. He had already warned Colyne and
Brian to place the other eight men to watch the chapel exits and
gates leading out of the convent. Though they looked to pray as
devoutly as the women, they watched her through downcast lashes.
Graemme gritted his teeth at the furtive way Elyne glanced around
her and toward each exit. No doubt, she judged what her chances
were she could steal out beneath their noses when they were
supposedly deep in prayer. Several times, she started to rise, but
when she did, a knight quietly moved closer to the door. When she
scowled back at Graemme, he kept her in place with an ominous
stare. Her shoulders were rigid with defiance, but she stayed on
her knees until mass ended.

Graemme studied her mulish expression. He
caught and held her gaze with his, making his face as sinister as
possible. The woman didn't know when to stop fighting. Though he
understood why. With a father like Chief Broccin, she'd had to be
as belligerent as any man to survive. If she hadn't been, she'd
probably have been married off to the oldest man he could find with
enough land and coins to tempt Broccin. And the man would
undoubtedly be toothless, pot-bellied and bald with a castle filled
with illegitimate children. Broccin wouldn't want to wait long to
take over his daughter's holdings. No doubt, he'd have her married
again within a year.

When he looked at her beautiful face and saw
the vulnerability lurking in her eyes, he felt a twinge of
conscience about forcing her into the wedding.

It didn't last long.

He reminded himself of his two infamous
buckets.

Elyne kept her head bowed, which wasn't
difficult since they were supposed to be in silent prayers most of
the time. But she couldn't keep herself from looking for a way to
escape. Whenever she glanced up, she felt the threat in Graemme's
gaze and squirmed. Magnus' observance was less intrusive. At least
his looks didn't bore holes in the back of her head.

She almost sighed with relief when the mass
was over. It was thoughtless of her though, for now she would be
leaving the convent after they broke their fast. The two men stuck
to her like nettles on bushes as they left the chapel. She'd best
act like she was too dim-witted to protest further. It wasn't a
long trip to Raptor, but somewhere along the way, they might relax
their vigil. When they did, then she'd take her chances.

Her father and Ranald only saw a man who
honorably kept his word. If they could have seen her dreams of him,
they'd know he was dangerous and likely meant to kill her. She
didn't know why she felt so strongly when he seemed concerned for
compromising her. It had to be the frightful dreams, for when he
wasn't fashed with her he was playful and treated her gently.

When he grasped her elbow, a soft breeze
wafted his scent to her. She breathed it in as much as her lungs
could take. How could he still smell so fresh of sandalwood? He
must have taken time to wash at the lavatorium during the night.
Visions of his naked body as he bathed invaded her thoughts. Heat
spread to her belly thinking of his lips and hands caressing all
over her, making her feel desire so hot she forgot the threat he
posed. Her breasts tingled. She pretended she lifted her right hand
to brush back her hair, while she really needed to brush her arm
across her nipples to soothe their strange itching.

Well, piss! Graemme squeezed her arm and gave
her a wicked smile. The dratted man knew what she was doing. From
the twitch of Magnus' lips, he did too. Knowing he likely thought
of his brother's nasty love making, she wanted to fan her
cheeks.

Graemme had left her hot and wanting back in
the stall. All he'd needed to do was touch her one more time and
she'd have spent herself as explosively as he had. The hateful man
hadn't hesitated to satisfy himself, though.

How did one squirm and walk at the same time?
The memory of him pumping his tarse like he had not needed a woman
to satisfy him made her want to kick him square in the arse. Nay.
More likely in those precious parts he so loved!

Why did he pull her to a stop? Oh. They were
at the doorway to the women's quarters.

"Go collect anything ye left in yer room.
Dinna think to sneak away. Magnus will be at the back door and my
men guard all the exits."

"Nay. I plan to vanish into thin air." She
snorted when Magnus disappeared around the corner. If she could,
she'd stamp her feet on the ground and scream in aggravation.
"Come, Squat." She beckoned her hand at Squat. He started to follow
her until Graemme spoke.

"Stay, dog."

She jammed her hands on her hips and glared
at him. Now he controlled her dear little dog, for Squat slammed
his butt on the ground and looked up at him. The hairy little thing
was smiling as much as a dog could without it becoming a snarl.

She stomped all the way to her tiny room,
even though she had left nothing there. Shutting the door behind
her, she went immediately to the small wooden stool and brought it
over to the small window. The dense orchard started no more than
ten paces from the window. The men would be guarding the doors, so
if she was swift enough, she could climb out the window. In her
muted brown and green clothing, she could lose herself amongst the
trees before they even saw her!

Once she stood on the stool, she opened the
wooden shutters and gathered her skirts tightly around her.
Carefully, she balanced on her right leg while she swung her left
leg out and over the windowsill. She stifled her shriek when a warm
hand closed over her ankle and slid sensuously up to her knee.

"'Tis much easier to walk to the door, but
since ye like falling into my arms, at least this time ye'll not
shove me to my back, love."

"Nay. Thank ye."

She didn't like his reminder of how she'd
landed in this predicament in the first place. She tried to shake
off his hand, but he held firm.

"Nay? Because I have all my clothes on?" He
cocked his head and considered. "Do ye wish me to disrobe?"

"Ye are a fool! Go ahead and I'll scream as
loudly as I did the first time. Then I'd like to see ye talk yer
way out of Brother Octavius really breaking yer nose and throwing
ye off the gatehouse!"

"Then I would suggest ye scramble down here.
I believe Mother Cecelia's coming around the corner."

Without thinking further, she hurriedly drew
her right leg out and heaved off the windowsill into his arms.

"It wasna necessary to catch me," she said,
shoving at his chest. "'Twas a short distance."

"Oh, but ye feel so soft and pliable, I like
it. Ye should practice jumpin' when I beckon."

His hand moved up to the back of her waist
and pressed her stomach against his body. She shoved back when she
felt his hard as an anvil shaft near bruising her.

"Ye'll see how pliable I am when Mother
Cecelia asks what ye are doing. And ye may as well forget my
jumping at yer commands."

"Why not ask her?"

"Mother Cecelia is behind me?"

She looked toward the front of the building,
but all she saw was Squat wagging his tail and throwing spittle
with his flopping tongue. Mayhap the sweet woman was at the other
end. Her head tilted back away from his chest so she could look to
her left. Only Magnus stood there. Grinning at her.

"Ye lied!"

She shoved him with both hands and tried to
lift her right knee and aim it at his private parts.

"I wouldna do it if I were ye."

Her foot slammed back on the ground. His tone
had changed from teasing to sinister warning. He nodded and pulled
back from her, holding lightly to her elbow.

"Ye are learnin' to be less fashious. 'Tis a
good thing."

"I am
troublesome
? How do ye think I
feel about ye, ye chicken-brained oaf!"

"Ah, ye are right."

His eyes narrowed with icy calculation as his
gaze roved from her head to her toes.

The hair on her arms and nape rose. She
wanted to step backward out of his reach but she'd not back down.
If he knew he could make her fear him with naught but looks, she'd
be lost. When he spoke again, his voice was so low if she wasn't
listening she wouldn't hear him.

"Any man who would marry ye without yer
father holding a knife to his skin would have to be an eejit."

His words sent sharp pains through her chest.
Was she so terribly plain and unwomanly? Was her looks why her
father could only entice the weak or elderly men to offer for her
hand? He had to threaten a virile, comely man with gelding him
afore he would consent to marry her? Her chest became so heavy it
was hard to breathe.

He whistled loud and shrill. Squat came at a
run while Magnus sauntered up to them.

"Time to leave?" His gaze took in Graemme's
emotionless face and stopped to study hers.

"Aye." Graemme's voice sounded loud in the
peaceful surroundings.

"But we have not broken our fast," she
said.