Surrender (5 page)

On her way back out the door, she spied the
drying racks where purple-black plums picked at the edge of
ripeness and dried until they shrank and crystallized into gummy
sweetness. Each Sunday, she gave some to the cook to spread on her
father's porridge. It helped relieve his excesses in eating the
sennight before. She grabbed a goodly portion of these and wrapped
them in a small linen cloth. Storing everything in her pocket, she
returned to her room.

o0o

When Graemme entered the bedchamber, the maid
Ada was plumping his pillows. As she turned to leave the room, she
had one hand on the door latch then hesitated, looking uneasy.

"Sir, my mistress is kind and wouldn't want
to see you harmed. 'Twould be best if ye didn't sleep within the
castle this night. 'Tis rumored amongst the villagers that a
warlock has taken a fancy to the Chief's daughter."

"Oh? Would this warlock be the Black Raptor?
I hardly think he would 'take a fancy' to his own sister."

"Nay!" Ada blushed at the thought. "'Tis an
evil man my mistress refused. He wants no human to have her. If you
sleep within, he will send his minion to lay a curse on you. I am
sure you heard of the many men who fled screaming at first light,
never to be seen again?"

"I canna say that I have." Graham tried hard
to keep a serious look on is face. "Thank yer mistress for the
warning. I will take heed."

Ada nodded, looked satisfied, and slipped
through the doorway.

When her footsteps receded, he wondered what
Ada was up to. He stripped and flung himself on the bed and
welcomed the cold air on his naked body. He stretched arms and legs
wide, rumpling the bed sheets as he sought to relieve muscles too
long kept tense from meeting with the girl's father. He had not let
his guard down even for a breath after the threat to his ballocks,
expecting he would need to fight or take flight at any moment. He
scratched them now, wryly thankful they still adorned his body.

Afore they left his solar, Chief Broccin had
swilled wine as if fearing never again would a drop pass his lips.
That he'd led him to the room the mysterious Ranald used when he
visited, told Graemme he thought favorably of him. Else, mayhap the
man was so sotted his thinkin' was muddled? Humph. The more
probable reason was because it was farthest from the stairwell
leading down to the keep's exit.

His future father-by-law might drink enough
to topple men equal to his weight, but even so, he ne'er faltered
about wedding his daughter to a man who would take her so far away.
He was generous in his dowry for Elyne and, in turn, was shrewd in
demanding a promise of dower lands in the south for her. Graemme
had long earned his way and had coins and jewels enough to find a
small manor close to Raptor Castle that would meet her father's
qualifications.

Sprawled on the bed, he flexed his muscles
and stretched again, feeling tension ease as he did so. Mayhap
fashing over his problems that kept his eyes from sleep was a good
thing or he wouldn't have noted the door latch easing up. 'Twas the
midnight hour by his reckoning. He pretended sleep, but his right
hand stole slowly to the bed's side till his fingertips touched his
sword propped there. Mayhap the rumors of the castle's haunting
were true? The rushlight beside the stairwell was strong enough to
highlight a ghostly image framed in the doorway. Were he a
superstitious man, his knees would be knocking together. Peering
between near-closed lids, he took his time studying the hideous
wraith. The form wore a covering from head to toe. Its material was
so thin he could see tangled hair falling over a white face heavily
streaked with blood.

The eyes staring at him from behind the hair
were wide and rimmed with such a large circle of black they
appeared to be in hollow cavities. The ghostly crone carried a
small iron pot in her left hand, holding it in front of her. By the
sounds of clanging against the inside walls of the vessel, she
stirred a steaming liquid with a ladle far too big for the
purpose.

He pressed his lips tightly together when she
uttered a muted cackle, no doubt softened to keep the chief from
awakening. He pretended to startle from his sleep and sat upright
in bed.

"What ghastly creature is this?"

"I be the murdered crone of Raptor, dead
these many years and rotted in me grave," came a high-pitched,
quavering whisper.

"What tragedy brings ye to leave yer restin'
place?"

"To warn ye that if'n ye dinna ride forth at
first light, the curse of Raptor will fall upon ye!" She cackled
again, a little louder this time.

"What is this fearsome plight ye speak
of?"

"If the sun falls upon ye within the castle
walls, ye will sicken. Green slime will spew from yer lips, yer
arse will spurt vile shite like water crashing o'er rocks in a
swollen stream..."

Her eyes must have adjusted to the darkness,
for she hesitated and blinked at his sex displayed between his legs
on the white sheet. "Um, and yer tarse will wither like the
smallest carrot from two years past!" She thumped the ladle around
in the pot, stirring away.

"I canna order the guards to raise the
portcullis and lower the drawbridge. I must awaken the Chief." He
took a loud, deep breath as if ready to bellow for Chief
Broccin.

"Nay! Rest the night. Be first to leave
Raptor when darkness turns gray!"

"If ye spare me, I will be in the bailey
afore first light."

The crone hesitated, unsure how to deal with
an agreeable man. Finally, she nodded.

"I be off to seek me grave, then."

She made a slow turn and walked so smoothly
back through the doorway she appeared to float. He almost chuckled
aloud when she closed the door slow and easy so as not to make any
sound. He fell back on the bed, a grin splitting his face. His
bride would have much cleaning up to do afore she could seek her
bed and sleep.

Elyne hurried two doors down and slipped into
her room. At first, she felt elated that she had blocked another
betrothal attempt. But in the space of a heartbeat, disappointment
took hold because Graemme so easily gave in. Of all her imaginings,
she had not taken him to be a fearful man. Why, she had prepared to
chant gibberish and do other ghoulish things to impress him.

After carefully removing the veil and folding
it, she poured the kettle's hot water over the cloth waiting in the
washstand's basin. While it cooled, she took off the old, torn
chemise, wadded it into a ball and shoved it in the corner of her
clothing chest. She sighed as she rubbed heather-scented soap over
the wet cloth until it was properly sudsy before scrubbing her
face. It took several rinses and a lot more soap before she
cleansed her skin of the charcoal around her eyes and the cherry
goo pasted from her hairline down to her chin.

The Highlander gave in so easily it was near
an insult. Ye dimwit! The truth is, he didna think ye worthy of
chancing a few aches in his belly. Hah! Much less the loss of his
manly parts. Even her brothers as young boys prized those dangling
pieces of flesh. When playing in the woods, they would taunt her
because they could piss against a tree while she needed to crouch
down behind a bush for relief.

And grown men? They preened in front of women
when an obviously hardened tarse nudged their kilts like a ram's
horn. Bleh! Mayhap they pilfered a sausage from the cookhouse and
strapped it to their belly? She grimaced. With such thoughts, she
might never enjoy another plump, juicy sausage.

What was she huffing about? She should be
relieved she could go to bed and not worry about saying any silly
betrothal vows on the morrow. A grin came to her face as she dumped
the stained water out the window opening. She'd best sleep now, for
she wanted to rise early and gloat when she watched the weak
nithing of a Highlander waiting with his friends to escape the
castle walls.

The black of night began to lighten to gray
when Elyne woke. She scrambled out of bed and scampered across the
cold floor to peer out the window. Graemme and his friends, Colyne
and Brian, were ahorse and waited at the barbican as the gatekeeper
prepared for the day's coming and goings. When all was prepared,
the three near galloped over the drawbridge and across the clearing
into the wooded path beyond.

'Twas good to know she was done with another
simpleton. If ever she found a man courageous enough not to believe
in an old crone's curses, she would gladly welcome him as a worthy
husband.

She hopped back in bed and regretted having
sent the dog to the stables to spend the night. Why did she feel a
need for the comfort of a warm body next to hers?

o0o

Too soon, Ada entered, setting peat in the
fireplace and lighting it. Elyne pulled the covers over her head,
still sleepy from keeping herself awake till so late last eve. She
waited until Ada stopped bustling around the room and came over to
stand beside the bed.

"Come, lass. I warned the Highlander but he
paid me no heed. The crone must have been more convincing!" Ada
stopped and winked at her. "The Chief said I was to see ye went
down to break yer fast with him and the Highlander when he
arises."

"For certs. I am most anxious to start the
day." She smiled brightly, hardly holding back her glee
anticipating her father's face when Graemme didn't appear.

She hurried donning a pale blue smock with a
deeper blue gown.

"Yer hair is in a rat's nest!"

"I worked hard to make it appear unkept for
many years." She smiled back at Ada, but the smile faded when she
learned how much it hurt undoing her handiwork.

"Did the crone leave yer unwanted guest
properly affrighted?"

"Aye. His horse was in full gallop by the
time its hooves struck the middle of the drawbridge afore dawn.
Like all the rest, the Highlander was a weakling."

She and Ada enjoyed a laugh. By the time she
was ready to go below, her stomach was grumbling. She was so hungry
she would eat everything in sight!

Even sausage.

She stopped near the foot of the stairwell
and leaned forward to peer into the great hall. Colorful banners
hung above from every rafter. Done in vivid threads, generations of
women had sewn picturesque tapestries on the wall opposite the
fireplace to record the family history. They gave the room a warm
effect. The far wall was bare except for a standard ten paces on
either side of the fireplace. Her father's black silk with a yellow
eagle, its talons spread for the kill, hung from a bracket to the
left. To the right fluttered a yellow silk with two black eagles, a
red bar dividing them. Looking at the two standards, one and all
knew the harshness of the Raptor men. Throughout the room, huge
iron candle branches chased the shadows into corners.

Servants had set up long trestle tables and
benches below the high table. A snowy linen cloth covered the
chief's table while pewter plates, drinking horns and pitchers of
wine awaited the diners. Where Elyne normally sat, a colorful
arrangement of wild flowers stood in a tall earthen vase.

Large bowls of cooked apples soaked with
honey and nut sauce stood at each end of the table, with platters
of hard cooked eggs, pigeon pie, sausage and cold roast veal
between them.

Such a lovely, cheerful mood. Too bad Father
was going to be disappointed without the guest of honor. The Chief
stood with his back to the great fireplace, Aunt Joneta was to his
one side, Domnall at the other. At least seven castle knights
laughed and talked with them, their backs to her. All were dressed
in white shirts, their kilts neatly folded and strapped around
their waist with heavy leather belts, then draped over their
shoulders and held there with crest pins.

As she started to enter the great hall, the
little dog streaked into the room, outsmarting a stable boy trying
to catch him. Elyne stopped to enjoy the funny dog's bow-legged run
as he headed straight for a warrior wearing black tassels knee-high
on his boots. At the last moment, the wicked little thing launched
into the air and latched onto the nearest black cords in
mid-flight. His forward momentum nearly skidded the relaxed
warrior's foot from under him.

"Satan's arse!"

His gaze snapped downward. No doubt thinking
to rid himself of the pesky creature, he shook his foot. When the
dog did not let go but snarled and tried to shake its prize, he
bent and gently forced the dog's mouth open then picked it up.
Husky laughter rolled from his chest when he held the scruffy
bundle at eye level and studied it. Could the fool not see it was a
dog?

She glimpsed his profile and caught her
breath. It could not be! With her own eyes she had seen Graemme
leave with his two companions afore dawn!

"I take it this misbegotten varmint belongs
to Raptor's knotty-pated crone?"

For certs, 'twas him. She recognized the deep
voice that made her think of warm, dark honey flowing over hot
bread.

"What makes ye think so?" Chief Broccin
scowled down at the dog.

"He is as ill-shaped and hapless as the
crone. No doubt the two have knocked themselves senseless wandering
throughout the castle of a night."

Ohh, she'd show him how senseless she was!
She eased herself back up several steps, and once sure they
couldn't see her, she signaled a passing servant. Once the girl
came, she told her to send Ada to her room. Elyne twirled on the
steps and raced back to her bedchamber.

When she descended the stairs a short time
later, she could hardly keep a grin of anticipation off her
face.

"Nay, not the crone's. 'Tis Elyne's," Broccin
grumbled and gave the dog a disgusted look. "The day she rides off
with ye, I will kick his scrawny arse into the woods and let the
wolves chew his bones."