Surrender (29 page)

Except for her face.

"Keep the Hades away from me, ye pox-minded
buffoon!"

Graemme could swear she had tears in her
eyes, for they glistened more than ever. He felt shameful as the
lowlife she'd called him. Before he could stop her, she went
further out on the rock and did a low dive into the water. He threw
down his catch and jerked off his boots, ready to jump in to save
her. Fortunately, she surfaced quickly, unharmed.

"Ye should not swim in waters where they have
not been tested!"

"Tested? I'm sure my brothers swam here many
times. And dinna speak to me!"

She turned her back and swam to the middle of
the pool, refusing to look at him. The mud stained the water as she
swam until it was gone. Her hair lost its pins and floated out
behind her covering her lovely back down to the dimples on her
buttocks. He tore off the rest of his clothes and followed her.

"Keep away from me, else I'll skewer ye in
yer sleep!"

Whenever he came close, she dove under the
water and changed direction.

Surprisingly, she was one of the best
swimmers he had ever seen. He hated to admit it, but she swam
better than he did. Once he saw he would be unable to catch her, he
washed from head to toe, using sand to clean the filth off his arms
and chest. When done, he heaved himself up on a rock, shook himself
and sat in the sun. He'd wait until she tired and came out of the
water.

'Twas then he thought to look at Squat.
Graemme shot up.

"Blasted Lucifer's minion! Little hellhound!
Ye've ruined the hare!"

Squat stopped tearing at the dead hare's leg
and looked at him. He was thoroughly sated, for he shoved the side
of a leg out of his mouth, yawned as heartily as any man and put
his head on his paws for another nap.

Elyne snorted a laugh and swam close to the
shore.

"The great hunter canna protect his game from
one little dog? Any halfling knows ye dinna leave fresh game on the
ground for the hounds to pick up."

"And any halfwit knows ye dinna put mud on
yer face and bake it like a mud pie,"

Graemme had replied without thinking. He
groaned as soon as the words left his lips. So far, their getting
to know and like each other was suffering a sad fate. One look at
her face and he knew he'd ruined everything he'd done since coming
here.

Her eyes were icy with haughty contempt.
'Twas enough to chill him to the marrow of his bones. He thought of
the weapons over the fireplace. If she pulled the table close and
stood on it, she could easily reach them. He'd be wise to sleep
with a shield over his body.

If he'd had one with him.

No doubt, she was as good at archery and
swords as she was at swimming and riding astride. He cursed Chief
Broccin. He knew as if she'd told him she'd secretly trained with
Moridac and Ranald as youths.

He could no longer trust her during the
night. When they settled to sleep, he would do as they'd told him.
Tie her ankle to him so he'd know whenever she moved.

Graemme washed and salvaged what he could of
his hunt, which was most of two hares, and let Squat finish gnawing
on his prize. He would have to go out again tomorrow and hopefully
find grouse. He was tired of eating hare since he left
Clibrick.

Elyne stayed in the water and swam to work
off her anger. She was not used to anyone making a fool of her. She
didn't like the feeling. Ignoring the man on shore, she wished he'd
go away.

When he glanced toward her, hesitated then
went back to the lodge with the meat, he fulfilled her wish.

Seeing more smoke than usual coming from the
chimney, she knew he'd built up the fire to cook the hares.

Taking her time, she got out of the cold
water and stretched out on a rock. The sun would dry her. She near
fell asleep again. Last eve she slept lightly, forever aware
Graemme was too close for comfort on the floor. How could she trust
a man who had a cockstand most of the night? Now, more than ever,
she couldn't believe him. She should have known better than to have
fallen for his tale. She felt her face and wondered if the mud
would cause her to break out or something equally as ghastly. She
near gagged, thinking there could have been worms in the mud.

Well, she would have her revenge when he
least expected it.

o0o

While the hare roasted, she put water on to
boil and added some turnips and carrots. Both were silent. They
still had more than half a loaf of bread, so she placed it close to
the fire to let it warm and make the crust crispy. Graemme kept
quietly turning the spit, not wanting the meat to overcook on one
side and be rare on the other.

When the food was ready, they both picked up
a pewter plate and goblet. Graemme took a skin of wine out of the
food locker and poured it into both their goblets. He carved the
meat and looked up at her.

"Do ye prefer the upper parts or the leg
meat?"

"Either is fine."

He gave her generous portions of both. She
spooned out a turnip and several carrots and sat down to eat.

"The forest is filled with woodland
creatures. Perhaps tomorrow I can bring down some grouse."

"Do ye fancy yerself enough of a hunter to
put an arrow through a wily grouse?"

"Aye" He held a leg in his hand and bit off a
chunk of meat. A little of the juice ran from the corner of his lip
down to his chin. He used the back of his hand to wipe it away.

She gave him a scornful look.

He raised his brow at her.

The tension in the room was enough to strike
sparks. She kept silent and was thankful to see the sun setting.
Some type of married life they would have if they couldn't stand to
be in the same room with each other!

'Twas a shame, for he was better looking than
most men. In fact, she couldn't think of anyone who was more
pleasing to look at than him. Other than the men in her own family,
and his brother Magnus, of course. From what she'd seen of the man
they called
Magnus the Ruthless
, he seemed far more
agreeable in his disposition than Graemme.

Graemme thought about the day and wished he
could take back what he'd said to her in anger. He had never
treated a woman so harshly afore. But this woman seemed to nettle
him at every turn. She forever scowled and never tried to be
pleasant as other women did. Why, half the women of Clibrick tried
to snare him for their bed partners.

How had the fates selected this one woman to
fall into his lap? For truth. She hated the very thought of
marriage to him, and here he was forced to marry her in a few
days.

By the time Ranald arrived for them, he'd be
lucky if they were both able to stand and walk around! He stole a
quick glance up at the weapons on the wall.

Should he take them down and hide them in the
woods?

At nightfall, when he stepped outside to give
her privacy to bathe and prepare for bed, he stood outside the
door. His hearing was keen, and when he heard her soft footsteps
immediately approach the door, he opened it so quickly it near
knocked her over.

"Dinna try it!"

"Try what? Escape? With ye outside?"

She had one telltale hand behind her. Though
she was tall for a woman, the bar he placed across the door at
night for security was a scant bit taller than her shoulder. He
looked pointedly at her right shoulder and held out his hand.

"What?"

"Give me the bar." His hand reached for it,
but she held tight. He shook his head. "Would ye rather I stay to
watch ye bathe in the basin? I relish the idea of seeing ye lather
her lovely breast. Mayhap I could rinse and lap them dry for
ye?"

"Take the bar, ye churlish eejit! But dinna
enter till I let ye know I am finished."

Graemme shook his head, noting his new
description as a churlish eejit and stepped back onto the porch.
She slammed the door.

As she walked away, she called him everything
from a boorish hellhound to a slimy worm.

She was rather inventive with her
descriptions of him.

He studied the stars and looked for signs of
rain, but he didn't see any. Likely, they would have another day of
ideal weather, which was unusual. When he began to think she had
gone to bed when she was through with her ablutions, she called out
to him.

All the candles were out, but he didn't miss
the faint light coming from the two opened shutters. She could not
be hot, for she was abed with her covers up to her chin. And there
was a chilly wind coming through the window openings.

Graemme was no fool. She attempted to make
him as uncomfortable as possible, for his blanket was missing.
Well, two could play at this game.

"I see ye are lonesome for someone to share
yer bed."

He made his voice husky and sensual, a tone
that caused many women to throw back the covers and invite him
in.

"Ugh! What make ye think I desire yer scrawny
bones in bed with me?"

"The open shutters. The missing blanket. The
fire ye have near put out."

Graemme started taking off his clothing as he
walked toward the bed. By the time he stood beside it, he was bare
down to the thatch of black hair nestled around his sex.

"The fire died because ye didna build it
properly."

"Aye. I did."

He put one knee on the bed and reached for
the top of her covers.

She gasped, scrambled back and reached
beneath to pull out his folded woolen blanket.

"Here is your blanket. I must have been
careless making the bed this morn."

"And I suppose ye didna know the shutters
were wide to the night air. 'Tis no problem for me. I prefer
sleeping with the night air. Though at night, bats from nearby
caves are drawn to search out any opening."

"Ye may close it, if it is yer preference,"
Elyne said as she glanced nervously toward it.

"Nay. I prefer it open to the clean night
air. I can hear the owls when they catch their prey. The mice and
small creatures put up quite a shriek when the talons dig into
them. I counted as many as ten kills one night."

"I never heard any when we were
traveling."

"Aye. The owls kept away because we had a
campfire burning."

Suddenly, an owl screeched then a small
creature cried out in distress. He near laughed at the speed Elyne
leapt out of bed and slammed both shutters closed and latched them.
He doubted he could have counted to five afore she was back with
her covers pulled up to her chin.

"If ye are through with yer yammering, I
would like to sleep now." The frost in her voice could have chilled
a flagon of wine.

He let out a long, mournful sigh. "I do hope
once we are wed ye show more passion for bed sport. At this rate,
it will take a sennight afore ye get with child."

Elyne snorted. Loud.

"If ye wait for me to invite ye to my bed, it
will be years."

She pounded her pillow and turned her back to
him. When his hand snaked under her covers and grasped a delicate
ankle, she screeched as loud as the owl.

"No need to scare the night creatures out of
their feathers, wife. Since ye had such a stressful day, I feared
ye would have one of yer foretelling dreams and might wander into
the pool and drown."

She jerked her leg, trying to free it. His
grip didn't lessen as he knotted a thin rope around it. He sat on
the furs and tied the other end to his left wrist.

Elyne decided not to give him the
satisfaction of fighting over the rope. She had slept comfortably
when Aunt Joneta did the same, so now should be no different.
Besides, she had not had such a dream since he came for her at the
convent.

For truth, she slept peacefully the night
through.

Not that she didn't dream, though.

She did. In them, she swived the Highlander
until he was so sated his cock fell limp as a stewed chicken's
neck.

"It looks to be a clear day for me to hunt
those grouse I'm hungering for," Graemme said as soon as he saw she
was awake.

He was already up and dressed. Porridge
steamed in a small iron pot hanging from the hook in the fireplace.
Oatcakes were baking in the side oven.

Elyne rose and stretched, refreshed from a
good sleep. She cast an appraising look at him and wondered if she
should warn him or not. He was such a hard-head know-it-all, she
hesitated. Shrugging, she decided to tell him what she knew from
her dreams.

"I wouldna go hunting today if I were ye. It
is going to rain. Buckets of it."

Graemme grinned at her, opened the shutters
and pointed out at the blue sky. He didn't say a word.

"If ye are telling me ye dinna believe me, go
ahead. But ye will be wet afore the noon hour."

What little dreams Elyne had last night all
involved rain and a drop in temperature. And for some reasons,
buckets of mud kept flashing in her mind.

"Oh, and if ye insist on ignoring my warning,
ye'd best take a heavy cloak with ye. There should be one in the
clothing chest. The rain is going to bring in cold weather,
too."

"Ah. So the old crone can also predict the
weather?"

"Aye. And she's very good at it."

Graemme snorted a laugh and shook his head.
Well, let him make fun of her. She didn't care. The weather was the
one thing she never failed to predict accurately. When he returned
from his hunt, he was going to be very wet and cold, while she was
going to be warm and snug here in the lodge.

After he left, she went outside to collect as
many herbs as she could afore the rains came. She found an old
garden in the woods behind the lodge. Weed-grown as it was, in
amongst them were carrots, wild onions, turnips and beets. The
furry animals, mainly hares, had harvested most of the wild
vegetables, but she found a few which didn't bear the marks of
their nibbles.