She drifted in and out of sleep, awaiting some word from Rurik on his return. The moon rose high in the clear sky that night and its beams of light lit the chamber where she slept through several windows high on the walls. Then, a noise brought her awake and she found him standing over her. Brushing the hair out of her face, she tugged the blankets up to cover her.
“Did you find them? Is Elspeth well?” she asked.
Instead of answering her queries, he turned and walked out. Confused, Margriet climbed from the bed, found a robe and pulled it on as she followed him. The house was not large but it felt as if she ran for miles to catch up with him, reaching him in the larder where he poured ale from a skin.
“Rurik? Tell me what happened, I beg you.”
’Twas the wrong thing to say, for he turned on her, forcing her against a wall with his form and his height. He stopped then and took a step back and away from her. She caught sight of her wimple and veil, now crushed in his fist. Margriet was about to try to tuck her hair in the back of the robe when he laughed. A horrible sound, it was filled with pain and anger and none of the amusement a laugh should carry.
He drank the cup empty then filled it again. When that was done, he filled it yet again. Drinking it in two swallows, he threw the empty cup to the floor and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt.
“Do you know that I was actually jealous of Sven for following his heart? I thought him courageous for claiming the woman he loved, regardless of their situation or the outcome.”
Margriet shook her head at such an admission. They had fought the attraction between them and overcome it, had they not? They understood their place, even when their hearts tried to say otherwise. And now he would applaud Sven for forgetting all that?
“You found them?”
“Aye, found them and confronted them tonight in town. They are married, damn the consequences.”
Margriet inched along the wall until she reached the doorway leading back into the kitchen. He was unpredictable tonight, hurt in some way that she could not determine and filled with anger. His next words made it all too clear.
“What did I do that made you believe lying to me was better than the truth?”
The pain in his gaze nearly brought her to her knees. “I did not mean…”
“Did you think me too far beneath you to offer the truth? Did you not believe your father would choose someone worthy enough to be your escort? Is a bastard not good enough for the truth?” He held out the head covering to her, but drew it back as she reached for it. Tearing it in pieces, he threw the strips of linen and cloth on the floor. “Elspeth told me the truth—you also hide behind the clothing of a nun.”
“You must understand, Rurik,” she tried to explain. “I was in fear of my…”
Even she could not speak the lie and say she thought him a threat to her life. He’d proven over and over during their journey that her safety was the most important thing to him. By his every word and action, she knew to the depths of her soul that he cared deeply for her.
“I swore to protect you, Margriet, and instead you mocked me at every step. Did you and Elspeth laugh when I apologized for kissing you that night by the river? Or when I thought you had died and felt the very soul within me being ripped asunder?”
Margriet saw no way out of this. Like a wounded animal, he growled out his pain and nothing she said would make a difference now. The worst of it was that he was right—she should have trusted him, at least about not taking vows in the convent. But by the time she realized that she could trust him, she was beginning not to trust herself and the dangerous attraction between them was growing.
She edged her way toward the kitchen, hoping one of the men would come in and interrupt this before he did something he would regret. Strangely, she still felt no fear of him, even as he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms.
“Or when I admitted my love to you even though we knew the impossibility of such a thing existing between us?”
He brought his lips down on hers and plundered her mouth with an intensity and power she had not thought possible. With one arm around her waist and the other hand in her loosened hair, he kissed her over and over, taking all from her and demanding even more. Her body felt not her own as he gripped the top of the robe and pulled it off her, leaving only the thin chemise between them.
“Is that what you feared from me?” he whispered harshly.
If Finn’s kisses and caresses were love, then this must be complete possession, for she felt as though they breathed as one and not two. His hand slipped between them now and cupped her breast, setting her on fire and making every secret place throb in want of more. Her mind screamed out for her to stop, to stop him, but her heart ached for this. To be wanted with such abandon, with such passion, with such love, was something she could not deny.
He eased her down on top of the robe and separated only long enough to tug his shirt off over his head. Then he was covering her, heating her coldness and enveloping her in his desire. His mouth captured hers again and he plunged his tongue deeply inside, touching hers and dancing with it, suckling on it and giving his for her exploration.
“Or did you fear this?”
“Rurik,” she moaned. “We cannot…”
Any protest was lost then as he caressed her breasts and moved down to kiss them. The cloth of the chemise was no barrier to sensation, for she could feel the stubble on his chin and the edges of his teeth as he grazed the sensitive nipples. Her hands fell away as he suckled on them, first through the chemise and directly on her burning skin when he ripped it apart.
“I did not want to pursue you because I thought you were a nun, Margriet, but I stopped,” he said, as he reached down and tugged the edge of the shift up over her legs, “because you told me to.” With one of her legs trapped now under his, she held her breath as he slid his hand ever closer to the tender spot between her legs.
Panting, she fought for control now, losing that battle with each inch his strong hand advanced. She grabbed for his wrist, but it did no good. He covered her mouth with his once more as he dipped his fingers into the wet cleft at the juncture of her thighs and she moaned at the exquisite pleasure of finally feeling his touch in that most intimate of places.
“Without that lie between us any longer—” he kissed her again and stroked her deep and hard as he taunted her “—as only a woman to a man,” he whispered as her pleasure built, “will you stop me now?”
She prayed now, for her traitorous body would not stop. Even the hand she placed on his wrist pushed him on, guiding him and urging him faster and deeper. His hardness thrust against her hip as he continued to touch her, inflaming her body until she was ready to beg for release. When he reached down and freed his manhood, rubbing himself now against her bare skin, her legs fell open to accept him. He lay on top of her and just as he shifted to enter her, he asked her one final time.
“Do you stop me, Margriet?”
She thought herself lost to the passion and the pleasure, but with his weight fully on her, Margriet felt a strange sensation that reminded her of the other secret she held, the one carried within her. Now, like a cold wind, the truth thrust forward and she grabbed his shoulders, looking into his eyes and making him see her.
“I cannot do this, Rurik. ’Tis wrong.”
He stopped and shook his head at her words. “I will not dishonor you, Margriet. I offer you all that I have to give.”
She pushed at him now and he rolled off her, lying by her side, breathing heavily as she considered the only thing she could do now. She may have lied to him on this journey, but she could not deceive him any longer.
“I cannot accept, Rurik, for there is another secret I hide,” she said, taking his hand and sliding it over her belly, over the fullness there that could not be missed or mistaken. The layers of heavy cloth in the nun’s habit had done their job covering it, but now, lying naked with nothing between them, there could be no misunderstanding.
&nb
sp; She knew the moment he realized what he was feeling. He pulled his hand back and stared at her as though she was a stranger, and in some ways, she must be. He sat up and backed away from her, as she admitted what she had feared him discovering from their first meeting.
“It matters not that you love me or I love you, Rurik, for I have given my honor away.”
The house was empty at his orders, for he wanted no one to overhear the conversation he planned with “Sister” Margriet. When he’d confronted Sven and his new wife Elspeth, his surprise gave way to profound shock as she revealed that Margriet was not a nun, either. Shock gave way to some kind of masculine relief, for he’d spent most of his days since meeting her filled with such lust toward her, a lust made unnatural because she was a nun.
As he rode back to the estate and anticipated how to tell her of the secret he’d learned, Rurik considered that not much had changed between them. He remembered the way she phrased her words that night at the inn when he was tempted to reveal the depth of his feelings for her.
So, if my vows dissolved on the morrow, there could be no match between us?
His answer still stood…or did it?
Sven was willing to risk his father’s good graces for Elspeth, ready to give up his family’s wealth and position to marry her. Sven was a second son, his inheritance was modest and he would serve other men for the rest of his life. With his skills and experience, he would never be without a living. As Rurik entered the clearing and passed the two men guarding the entrance, he realized his own truth.
He had lived his whole life with nothing he did not earn and now, when every single thing he hungered for most—name, family, honor, wealth—were almost in his grasp, he could not give it up. So, when he walked into her room and watched her sleep, he knew the answer. Or so he thought.
The sight of the instrument of her deceit on the chair stirred the anger inside him once more and so, when she opened her eyes and gazed up at him, he was furious at her lack of trust. Rather than do something he would regret, he left, planning on speaking to her when his temper cooled over the matter.
And she followed him.
Nay, not only followed him, but put herself within his grasp. What started as a way to show her that she’d been wrong in not trusting him with her honor, fell apart with the first kiss. Instead of fighting him or screaming, Margriet softened under his touch, damning both of them to his lack of control.
He taunted her with her lies, and planned on showing her that he could take them to the edge of bliss and not pass that line. And he could have, had she not moaned in pleasure at his touch and had not her body readied itself to join with his.
Then, at that last moment, when he’d changed his mind and decided to fight for a future together and he’d offered her everything he had, ’twas not his control but her lies that stopped the consummation of his vow.
She carried another’s seed in her belly.
Rurik stood some distance from the house now and listened to the sounds of the night, trying to find himself in the maelstrom of his thoughts and wondering what kind of woman would do what she’d done. The owls on watch for mice did not answer him, nor the other predators hunting in the night’s air, and he suspected that he would never find it.
She had wanted something to keep them apart and this certainly would. Now, his duty would be done and she would be turned over to her father’s mercy and Rurik knew that Gunnar would need every one of his negotiating and planning skills to sort out the problem of his convent-raised, pregnant daughter.
A flickering light caught his attention, moving through the main chamber of the dwelling, and then he spied it in the room above and knew she had made her way back up there. A pang of guilt shot through him as he realized he’d left her tossed about and almost naked on the floor of the larder where she lay when she revealed her secret to him.
He’d fled, something he was not proud of now, because he was not certain of whether to gather her in his arms or to choke the life from her for playing him the fool. Now, out from under passion’s insanity, he did not think he would have harmed her, for he’d never raised a hand to a woman other than in pleasure, but then, when her perfidy was revealed at the worst possible moment, he could not be sure.
So, he’d climbed to his feet and walked away.
Rurik gathered his horse and then rode to the guards, giving them orders for the morning. He could not stay here, not in the same house where she was. He would sleep somewhere between here and town and send back one of the men for her.
The ship would leave on the morning’s tide and take them all to where they faced their destinies. He cursed himself for being a fool to think, even for a moment, that theirs could have been joined.
Chapter Sixteen
The sun burst through the clouds, and the wind behind pushed them forward on their journey north. For once, the conditions for traveling were favorable and the ship floated smoothly over the waves of the sea. The journey would take them past the island of Háøy, or Hoy as the Scots called it, and on to the mainland and her father’s house. They would land near Orphir and travel the last leg on horseback. She knew he’d sent word ahead of their arrival.
Rurik had made arrangements for their travel on a private ship, so ’twas only their men onboard, along with the sailors who guided it across the waves. Even so, she felt as though in the middle of strangers.
A bundle of clothing and terse instructions about readying herself was all that she received this morning, and this from a very sullen Donald, who would not meet her gaze. No words were exchanged on the ride into Thurso, nor on their approach to the harbor. Even her reunion with Elspeth was muted by the events of the night before.
Elspeth explained that she and Sven had ridden straight for the nearest town that had a priest, and one willing to perform the marriage. They were convinced that his parents would not fight a thing already done and Sven was certain of their welcome of her. At that moment, Margriet felt no need to explain how this would not be so, for Elspeth glowed with the aura of a woman in love.
Knowing how she would not have listened to any truth just a few months ago when she thought she was in love, she did not waste what strength she had on a hopeless argument. She did appreciate Elspeth’s presence now, and it was thoughtful of Rurik to bring them along, but the desire to talk with someone so very happy fled as she watched him come aboard.
He’d arrived after everyone else was readied for the voyage and, other than a brief word to the captain of the ship and another to Sven, he spoke to no one. Once they’d left the harbor, he’d walked to the front of the ship and stood alone, facing north. Now, about three hours later, he was still there. As she was at the back of the ship, letting the winds swirl around her and soothe her frayed disposition.
If she lived one hundred years more, she would never forget the look of betrayal in his eyes when he discovered that she was breeding. And worse yet, Margriet would always know that that sin now lay on her shoulders along with so many others. It mattered not why she did it, good intentions lay intertwined with sins along the path to Hell as Mother Ingrid would say, it only mattered that she’d brought him to a time when he offered her all that he had, and she rejected it.
No man’s pride could suffer that blow and allow him to forgive her. Not even Rurik’s intrinsic honor, as she’d come to know him, would allow that. The pain that tore her own heart apart told her she needed to tell him her truth and to release him of any responsibility in what had happened between them, but the distance between them now, greater and deeper than the ocean they traveled on, prevented her from doing that.
As they passed the red sandstone cliffs of Hoy, she knew her time was limited. Soon, they would head east between the islands and towards Orphir. Turning to face the front of the ship, she looked past the censuring expressions of the men to where Rurik was. The wind tore her hair free of Elspeth’s attempts to braid it for the voyage, so she gathered it and wrapped it around her fist as she took the first
step toward him.
Their disapproval became vocal as she passed and she heard bits and pieces of the explanation given out about why she now dressed not as a nun, but as a noblewoman. It could be worse.
Instead of thinking of them as two silly women, who did not know better than to believe they needed disguises to protect themselves, they could know of her dishonor. Rurik could have told the whole truth and her shame would now be spreading among them and like a fire amidst the tinderbox when they set foot on land.
He protected her even now.
She’d gone only a few paces, balancing against the rise and pitch of the ship and the winds now at her back, when Sven discerned her target and blocked her path.
“Lady, I would caution against approaching him.” He kept his voice lowered so no others would hear his warning. “He wishes not to speak to anyone.”
“I am certain of that, Sven, but it will not stop me.”
“Sister…lady,” Sven said as he shook his head at her. “I cannot vouch for…” His words drifted off, but the fierce frown gave his meaning.
“Sven,” she said, laying her hand on his arm, “he will not hurt me.”
“I worry not for you, lady,” he answered, concern for his friend clear now.
“What do you know of this?” she asked. “What has he said?”
“You know him well enough to know that he would never say anything,” Sven whispered furiously. “But even you, with your short-lived acquaintance of him, would only need to look at him to see the damage wrought by your lies.”
His furor surprised her, for his demeanor had always been pleasant during the journey, even playing the role of jester among the men. That he should hold deep emotions should not be a surprise to her after his chivalric carrying off and marrying Elspeth, but this was.
“’Tis that damage I wish to ease, Sven. Let me pass.”
He paused and in that moment, she knew not if he would let her go or not. Then, with a sharp bob of his head, he stepped aside. Margriet’s stomach churned now as she walked the short distance to the bow of the ship. Finally, she stood a few paces from him and she tried to think of how to start.
Surrender to the Highlander Page 15
