Surrender (4 page)

He rested a heavy hand on her shoulder and
pressed her flesh in warning, hoping she would keep her tongue
behind her teeth until her father's temper cooled.

"Ye have no need to threaten such dire
events, my lord. The lass
will
marry me. Ye have my vow on
it." His jaws hardened, for never did he make a vow he didn't
intend keeping. Elyne tensed even more beneath his hand. His
calloused fingers tightened on her shoulder and gave it a little
shake. The fey girl was muddled enough to defy her father. He
looked over at the older woman and nodded.

"Lady Joneta, please see my bride-to-be to
her bedchamber whilst we decide what needs be done."

His face implacable, Graemme turned Elyne and
forced her to meet his hardened eyes. "Go to yer room. Now," he
ordered in his sternest voice. Elyne opened her mouth to object.
"Enough! We will talk on the morrow." He spun her to face the
doorway and gave her a slight shove.

"Come, Elyne. We can do no more here." Lady
Joneta took a firm grip on her niece's elbow and urged her from the
room.

The door had no sooner closed firmly behind
them than Chief Broccin slammed his fist on the table so hard a
lesser wood could not have withstood the blow.

"By Hades! Ye are more than all the mewling
men put together who panted after my daughter."

"She has had ample suitors to judge, eh?"

"Aye. She became troublesome over her first
suitor on fearin' he would house his leman in the keep."

"For certs, Broccin, the lass did dream
true," Domnall put in. "Douglas brought his leman into the keep a
moon after he wed the MacDonald's youngest lass.

"Women do take mislikes to that." Graemme
nodded.

"Aye. Her fears of young Niall held worth,
too," Domnall added. "The lad couldna bring himself to break his
bride's maidenhead until his father threw Niall's favored squire
into the moat and drowned him."

Broccin made a disgusted face. "Huh! But she
turned her nose up at a fine keep for the simple reason the man was
twenty and two years her senior."

Domnall spoke up. "Perchance she feared she
would be like Lady Letia and her bairn would be birthed after his
sire died. The stress of swiving likely did Warin de Burgh in."

"Hm. My sire is much older than that with his
current leman." Graemme thought of the young, red-haired lass who
seemed to adore his father.

"Elyne also claimed she feared Aymer would
toss her over the battlements if he couldna perform his marital
duties and produce an heir," Chief Broccin said.

"I would expect more than one lass
fell
down a stairwell because of such." Domnall frowned
and rubbed the stubble on his jaw. "'Tis too soon to tell if old
Aymer's wife carries a much wanted heir. She may yet be tumbled
down one."

"Pfft! The twit could learn to make a cock
swell for a man past his prime." The chief scowled, not caring it
was his only daughter he talked about.

"Aye, but only slatterns know of such."
Graemme hid a shudder of disgust. How could any father expect his
innocent daughter to have knowledge of intimate things?

"A serving wench could use her mouth to prime
a wilted cock to stand hard enough he could hump his wife."

Graemme cautioned himself not to roll his
eyes. "'Twas kind of ye to turn the men away."

"Heh. Not me. They left like they feared
Lucifer's crusty tarse was hot after them. The stable lads claimed
the men babbled some tale about the ghost of an old crone comin' in
the dead o' night and threatenin' to cast a spell on them."

"A ghost? What spirit's spell would be so
fearful a man would willingly forfeit an alliance with Raptor
Castle?"

"One I would heed! She foretold their stomach
would spew forth vile green liquids, their arse would flow like a
waterfall and their cock shrivel and rot if they didna leave at
first light."

Graemme nodded gravely. "'Tis a curse I
wouldna care to chance!" He had his suspicion of who played the old
crone at Raptor Castle.

"Enough blather. We canna have the wedding
until Father Martin returns from Hunter Castle. Still, I would have
yer betrothal vows said on the morrow after we break our fast."

"Then we must decide what an alliance between
our families will provide. I can see no obvious gain for either of
us." Graemme settled back on his chair and accepted a fresh goblet
of wine from Domnall.

"Keepin' yer stones hangin' in their rightful
place isna gainful?" Broccin raised his brows.

"Ye are tellin' me that was not a threat to
force the lass in line?"

"Huh! Ask Domnall."

Graemme looked at Raptor's commander who
pressed his lips together and simply nodded. By Satan's fetid
breath! This chief was as savage as the Morgan and Gunn clans
combined. He shook his head, whether in admiration or disgust, he
wasn't sure.

"Other than keepin' yer body parts together,
ye will gain powerful alliances here on the border country. In yer
travels, ye have heard of The Black Raptor, have ye not?"

"Aye. Near halfway from the Highlands, people
tell of the fear this man brings. When in a rage, he causes fires
to light, and strange winds and such occur. Some even say 'tis not
man at all but a feathered raptor the size of one."

"Nay. 'Tis a man right enough."

"Truth to tell, was he once a pious monk? I
canna believe any man used to wearing the cross could do the deeds
said of him."

"'Twas no tall tale. Ask him some day."
Broccin barked a short laugh.

"Ask?"

Broccin looked at him, a sly grin on his
face.

"Aye. He will serve as witness to yer weddin'
vows." Broccin belched and patted his stomach. A pleased smile
spread across his face, and to Graemme's surprise, he winked.

"The day ye wed, ye gain the devil as yer
brother-by-law."

"I always feared one day Father would turn on
me. He seeks to discard me as he would offal in the moat." Elyne
was so affrighted she could not stop the shivers coursing through
her body. Trying hard not to spew her last meal, she swallowed the
bitter fluids that surged to her throat.

"Discard? Nay, child. How can you think of
marriage to a comely man in such a way?" Lady Joneta hugged Elyne's
shoulders as they entered her bedchamber.

Ada stood waiting, a nervous smile on her
lips. "I thought ye might need the comfort of yer furry
friend."

Sharp yips and barks greeted Elyne as a
scraggly dog launched himself at her and pawed her leg to demand
attention. Its ears were unlike each other. One gray ear stood
rigidly at attention while the other drooped like a small cabbage
leaf left to brown in the sun for a sennight. Elyne nodded glumly
at Ada then reached down to scratch the bumpy, gray head.

"They are savages in the north. 'Tis said
they still wear animal furs and are so warlike women canna go into
the villages for fear of being kidnapped." Elyne's hands began to
tremble.

"I would think animal furs are warmer than
woolen kilts," Ada suggested, "but why are ye speakin' about going
north?" When Elyne's shoulders drooped even more, she had her
answer. "Ye are to wed that braw nekid man, then?"

"Father said we are to repeat betrothal vows
on the morrow." She gulped and blinked at her aunt. "If this
Graemme is still here."

Ada nodded, understanding passing between
them. "Well, now, ye need a good night's rest and things will look
much better afore the next night comes."

Ada bustled over and opened the clothing
trunk on the far wall. She near tumbled in when the dog gamboled
over and nipped at her heels.

Elyne picked him up and hugged his squirmy
body to her chest.

"I can see your thoughts, Elyne." Lady Joneta
shook her head and rolled her eyes. "This man will not be easily
fooled by your playing the ghost of an old crone. More likely, on
the morrow's dawn, he will still be abed. With you beside him." She
laughed when Elyne's eyes widened and Ada straightened as if
someone had shot an arrow into her nether cheeks. "My brother may
believe in ghosts and crones curses, but I am not so
dim-witted."

"Yet ye never told?"

"Nay. Those men were not suitable for you.
This one gives me a different feeling."

"Aye. With me, also." She went on when her
aunt tilted her head at her. "When he stares at me, I am so fearful
I have chill bumps and strange sensations low in...my body." She
flushed not wanting to describe that exact spot. "'Tis a very
strange feeling. Not rightly tremors. More like a heartbeat where
there is no heart?"

"You are sure 'tis fear?" Joneta's smile
seemed to hold a secret.

"Truly, it is."

She frowned when Ada snickered. Wanting to
turn her aunt's attention from the Highlander, Elyne murmured and
ruffled the fur on the dog's back as she put him on the floor.

"That must be the most ugsome dog in all of
Scotland, Lass." Lady Joneta shook her head in wonder at the
creature

"Ye think he is ugsome?" Elyne frowned and
studied him. "He is such a happy lad that I ne'er thought him less
than, um, plain?"

"Hah! He is beyond plain, Lovey. Everything
about him is at odds from his ears to his paws. His front legs are
firm and straight but barrel staves must have formed his rear."

Ada helped Elyne change into a sleeping
garment, and as her head cleared the warm cotton smock, Elyne
reached up to shove her tousled hair out of the way and studied the
dog. As he scampered over to grab hold of a carelessly dropped
ribbon, she looked at him from the rear. Seeing all four legs at
once, she chuckled.

"For truth, they do. When my brother rescued
him from Baron Rupert's forest, he thought perchance the evil man
had caused him injury as a small pup."

The dog happily wagged his scrawny tail and
raced back to grab the toe of Elyne's leather shoe. He pulled and
tugged then growled and shook his head so fiercely he near upset
her balance. She hopped up on the side of the bed to take them
off.

"Um. We canna keep calling him
dog
.
What think ye of Matin for his name?" Seeing their questioning
expression, she explained, "The priest was singing the psalms for
Matins when Ranald rode into the bailey with the wee, scrawny dog
in his arms."

"Huh! Too much dignity in the name for the
likes of him," Lady Joneta said.

As soon as Elyne untied the lacings around
her ankle, he yanked the shoe from her foot and ran around with it
in his mouth, happily growling and beating it against the
floor.

"Foolish dog. Ye'll ruin my best shoes."

Elyne started to hop down to retrieve them,
but Ada grabbed the shoes from the dog and set them atop the
bedside table out of his reach.

"Ye had best take him to the stable for the
rest of the night, Ada. He is in sad need of a bath."

Ada nodded and scooped the dog up in her
arms. While Ada's back was turned from Lady Joneta, she quickly
whispered. "I'll see to our guest. Mayhap a warning will be enough
to send him on his way at midnight."

"Come, Lovey. Into bed with you. First light
will be here afore you know it." Lady Joneta kissed Elyne's
forehead and she and Ada quietly left the room.

Elyne's loving aunt had acted as mother to
her brothers and her when their own had died of fever many years
before. Elyne did not know what she would do without her. Had she
not resisted her other suitors, she would be married to one of the
simpletons now and be living near Raptor Castle. At least she would
be able to see her family and friends within a day's ride. But the
Highlands? Once she left, would she ever see them again?

'Twas not likely.

There was but one way to insure the
Highlander left Raptor and sped back from whence he came. She knew
now why she awakened beneath the tree with a handful of
herbs—because she would need them if Ada's warning didn't work.

She waited until there was utter silence in
the keep. Reaching out, she grabbed her shoes off the table and
quickly put them on. In a hurry now, she swung her cloak off a wall
peg beside the door and draped it around her shoulders. She made
herself slow down and eased the latch up.

She crept down the stairwell and near hugged
the walls as she made her way through the great hall. Pallets
covered much of the floor, and whenever a restless sleeper turned,
she froze until they settled again. Between loud, grating snores
and thunderous farts, her footfalls went unheard.

Once outside, she paid heed to the guards
atop the wall-walks as she quickly went from shadow to shadow to
the herbal garden. Carpenters had built a workshop against the
outer wall there for her mother. She took the key from her cloak's
pocket and gathered the heavy wool around the lock to make a
cushion. As she cautiously turned the key, the cloth muffled the
sound of the lock snapping open.

Even as a young girl, she had enjoyed
preparing potions and such here with Aunt Joneta, using recipes her
mother had recorded on old parchments too worn to use for carrying
messages. Inside the warm interior and beneath the dried herbs
hanging from the roof-beams, stood a long wooden table where she
and her aunt had mixed elixirs, purgatives, prepared tinctures and
stirred rubbing oils when their stocks were low. She took a deep
breath, enjoying the smell of the drying herbs, knowing that when
she lived, her mother had breathed the same scents.

Bottles, jars and flagons, some with oils and
others with wine distilled with herbs, filled the shelves along the
back wall. She pulled a three-legged stool over and stood atop it
to retrieve a small vessel near out of sight on the top shelf.

Since her first worrisome suitor had pricked
her ire, she had stored a bit of honeysuckle plant chopped so fine
it was near powder in a jar and sealed it with a wax lid. It was
ready for use in case a man was not sufficiently afeared of the old
crone to leave her in peace. A small amount cured locked bowels; a
larger amount also caused vomiting. She removed the correct amount
for a man Graemme's size and funneled it into a vial.