"She has done this often?"
"Well, the windows to the solar face over the well. She near fell from it one day when Ranald and his cousin Raik proved what fine bodies they had. Not to mention men often stripped to bathe there. They make no secret of strutting around, liking to be admired."
"She wasna ever hurt? What does this have to do with a vow?" Magnus' black eyes began to twinkle.
"Broccin's beloved daughter Elyne was near as nekid as I."
"Aha! Why didn't you both hurry and dress?"
"Because by the time I caught my breath, Chief Broccin's bare feet were on either side of my head…."
Laughter rippled throughout the room as the story passed from one ear to another.
Graemme gave a good-natured shrug.
"Why didna ye tell me ye were betrothed?"
"In the midst of yer debating whether to marry Muriele and tell the Gunns they could take their tarnished vows straight to Hell?" He shook his head. "Nay. I could not distract yer dimwitted mind while pondering yer decision."
"Nothing is to stop ye now." Magnus sprawled out in his chair and studied his brother. He nodded and said, "Grunda."
"What about Grunda?"
"She must go with ye." Magnus straightened up and leaned his arms on the table in front of him. "If anyone can help ye with her visions, she can."
"Grunda has already demanded I take her. The girl is lively, but I had to make her vow not to poison me again."
"Again!"
"'Tis best forgotten," Grunda's eerie voice said behind him.
"Then mayhap ye'd like to be my taster?" Graemme hooked his brow at her and grinned.
"She'll not do it again." Grunda had a far away look in her eyes, as if watching something no one else could see. "We had best make haste afore she throws any delays in the way."
"When is the wedding to take place? My brother canna wed without me."
"In three sennights. I should arrive a sennight before the ceremony." He gave Magnus an accusatory glare. "If I'm late for my own wedding, I fully plan to blame ye."
"I'm going with ye. Sweyn will escort the women at a slower pace."
Elyne slept well for the next several nights and everyone began to relax. Broccin decided he had finally talked sense into the girl. Aunt Joneta thought it safe to sleep in her own bed, but propped her door open to listen in case Elyne needed her.
One rainy day, Elyne told her aunt she wanted to sleep in a little longer and stayed abed. While Lady Joneta told the servants to leave Elyne alone until she caught up on her rest, Elyne busily searched through her clothing chest for garments of brown and greens. Colors nigh impossible to spot in the forest.
The trickiest part was keeping Squat from pulling the bundle out from under the bed as soon as Elyne shoved it there. Finally, she picked him up, closed the door firmly behind them and went down to the stables.
While she whispered and talked to her favorite mount whose hair matched the deep brown of Elyne's eyes, she casually made sure all she would need for the horse was stored neatly under a stack of hay within the stall.
From the time she could walk, she had screamed if anyone tried to make her ride in a cart. She'd insisted on riding a pony like her brothers and cousin when they were younglings. She had snorted, most unladylike, when potential suitors arched their brows at her riding astride with her slit skirts. She secretly took pleasure in shaming them by her greater ability. She regretted she'd not had time to prove to Sir Graemme she could outride many men.
Early in the afternoon, Chief Broccin thought she had come to her senses when she didn't scream and object to the seamstresses fitting her bridal outfit for the last touches. 'Twas a beautiful garment, one she'd have enjoyed wearing to a wedding or a banquet—as long as it wasna her own celebration.
The seamstresses used a sheer silver material for the outer tunic, while beneath was a deeper, shimmering gray. They lined the bodice and upper arms to the elbows with the same matching gray material. The sheer silver covered from the elbows down, with flowing sleeves floating wide and free. An embroidered, beautiful deep green trim surrounded the bodice edges. A belt and matching veil with a shiny, silver circlet topped it off.
'Twas an elegant gown. One made with loving hands to welcome a joyous marriage.
She felt a pang of regret when she took it off and the women carefully folded it. Its splendor looked lost lying atop the other new garments they had made for her to wear at her new home.
Elyne took special pains when she dressed for the evening meal. She was especially courteous to Aunt Joneta and her father, and pampered Squat by giving him the juiciest pieces of meat on her trencher.
She felt like she was seeing the great hall for the last time. Her chest hurt when she looked up at the family banners hanging from a rafter. The Chief's black banner with a yellow eagle at its center, its talons spread for the kill took the center spot. Her brothers had shared a banner. 'Twas made to picture a sunny yellow field with two black eagles flying, a red bar dividing them. Moridac had ordered the red bar sewn between them when he believed Ranald had died of his injuries. On the other side of Broccin's was her cousin Raik's, Aunt Joneta's son. A yellow gryphon on a field of red, its beak stretched wide as if screeching. All fitted a castle called Raptor.
Banners hanging from other rafters belonged to either relatives related by marriage or the knights themselves who came from high-ranking families in the Highlands. On the morrow, they planned to make room for Graemme's wolf banner to fly between her cousin's and her father's. The idea of looking up and always seeing the stalking wolf above her head made her cringe.
No fear of that. She would be long gone by sunlight. They'd never think to look at Mary Magdalen for her. Not after she'd made such a scene when her father had threatened to have her placed in a convent after she'd balked at wedding Sir Graemme.
She blinked to keep tears from forming. Why, she never cried! Not even when she'd had her bottom strapped for trying to make her way to Kelso. She'd wanted to see for herself her dear Ranald no longer lived. A lot of good it had done her to try, for she had never made it past the last village before Domnall had caught her up on his warhorse and returned her to her father's wrath.
She had to fight herself to go to bed after darkness fell. Her stomach was queasy thinking on what she planned to do. Why, she might never see her home again! She swallowed a lump in her throat and quickly kissed her father's cheek when he ordered her to bed. With Squat following close behind, she went to her bedchamber. In case Aunt Joneta decided to sleep with her, she put a small potion in the watered wine beside the table.
Nibbling on her fingers, she hugged Squat in her lap and fed him a tiny portion of wine-soaked bread. Soon, his snores assured her he was sleeping heavily. She climbed into bed and knew she had time for a good nap before the castle guards would be lulled into their normal routine. Raptor guards were more efficient than any neighboring castles, for when Ranald had returned, he made sure they were the best trained in the Highlands. She'd have no easy time leaving by the postern gate. She'd studied their pattern and knew it was possible in the short space of a few breaths when their backs would be to each other before they turned at the corner turrets.
Elyne had picked a good night, for clouds filled the sky. She put Squat on the bed, his head on her pillow and felt his reassuring breath on her cheek when she kissed between his eyes. She would miss and worry about the little strange dog. Surely, Aunt Joneta would see he came to no harm.
In the darkest hours of the night, she slid out of bed, shivering as her bare feet met the cold floor. Where were her shoes she had carefully placed so she could slide into them? Ah. She knew. Soft snores lead her to kneel and swipe her hand across the floor beneath the bed.
"Got ye, little thief," she whispered.
Squat was sleeping comfortably atop her bundle of clothes with his head resting on one shoe. She tugged the culprit and her belongings from their hiding place. Holding the still snoring offender close t
o her chest, she put his head back on her pillow and brought the still-warm covers close around his body. He opened one eye, scowled at her, and then licked his lips and went back to sleep.
Finally clothed and with her shoes on, she tossed her cloak around her shoulders and stole from the room. Walking close to the wall where her footsteps were the quietest, it took her longer than usual to descend to the great hall and make her way through the pallets filled with snoring, farting and grunting men.
It was much easier than she thought. And also much harder. Easy to gather her belongings and her horse, and make her way slowly in the shadows until free of the castle grounds out into the forest beyond. But, oh, so much harder to glance over her shoulder and see the fortress looming against the sky!
Her home. The only one she'd ever known. Though Broccin was a harsh father, she fought the lump rising in her chest. Her leaving should be on her wedding day, a happy occasion. Instead, she hated Graemme for forcing her to flee.
She wasn't suited for convent living. In a few days, she'd be sure to cause some terrible commotion. If the kitchen help and cooks weren't doing their job, or the laundress didn't know the proper way to get stains out of clothing, she'd likely lose her temper and insist on changing their procedures.
Not to mention her need for physical labor. The thought of being on her knees and praying all day near made her turn back. And men? Regardless of what her father thought, she didn't spy on them for thrills. She envied their flawless bodies. Their muscles and bones which enabled them to do all the things she couldn't. No matter how hard she pulled the strings of a bow, she couldn't fly an arrow as far as Ranald or their cousin. Aye, she could hold her own with most men, but she wanted more than equal strength.
She refused to think of what this more was. At the thought of Graemme's impressive cockstand, she gritted her teeth. His lovemaking had been all she'd dreamed a man could do.
Until he ruined it by making her feel like a whore.
She shrugged off the thought. She must have done something right to have given him such pleasure. If she hadn't, he'd have known she was a virgin without a maidenhead to prove it.
Every step of the way, she imagined she heard horses pursuing her. She slept only when she could not see or when her horse needed rest. She had no trouble finding the convent, for she'd been with Muriele and Ranald's wife, Catalin, when they'd sought sanctuary there. 'Twas when Catalin had clung to Elyne's waist as Elyne urged the horse across the valley riding like the devil pursued them.
He had been.
If Muriele had not urged the two women on and slowed her own mount, the lout would not have had a chance to grab her friend's long hair. She'd backhanded her knife and slit his throat, but his foot caught in the stirrup. The horse had galloped on. Her tresses, tangled and caught in the dead man's glove, held her prisoner. Muriele had managed to hack through her hair in time to free herself.
Once Muriele healed from her ordeal, Elyne and Ranald's wife had cropped her hair so it would be even when it grew back.
The convent looked familiar in the early morning light. Halfway across the clearing, she saw the gate swing open. Two people stood there, shading their eyes from the sun, anxiously scanning the area behind her.
Her heart did an extra beat as she turned to look, afeared her father or Graemme was charging down the mountainside after her.
Once she rode through the gateway, she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Is there no one traveling with you, Elyne of Raptor? Chief Broccin or your brother Ranald?" The Mother Cecelia asked quietly as Elyne slowly dismounted.
She was bone weary and stiff from riding more in these past days than at any time in her life.
"Nay. I come alone.
"No one pursues you with an army as they did afore?"
The woman's eyes looked doubtful she would travel for three days without an escort. Any time Elyne had showed up at the convent, chaos followed.
Her gaze roamed over Elyne, taking in her soiled clothing and matted hair. Elyne put one foot behind her and tried to swipe off the dust with the back of her skirt. She wished she'd taken time to bathe in a stream this morn. With the surprised looks from everyone as they looked her over, she knew she must have dirt smudged from hairline to chin. Looking down at her hands, she decided she'd best put them behind her back.
"Come, we will talk as we go to the dormitory." She motioned with her hand for Elyne to walk beside her. She also cleared her throat, reminding Elyne she had not answered.
"Pursue? Not as yet. They will not expect to search for me here."
"They?"
"A barbaric Highlander who forced a betrothal on me."
"And? There is more to it than this, I believe."
"My father, perchance. Though he may be pleased I came here, since he threatened me with the Convent if I didna marry Graemme of Clibrick Castle."
"Ah. 'Tis wedding this Graemme that causes you to run away. Is there anyone else who may threaten the peace of the Convent?"
"My brother Ranald. But he would not cause anyone unease."
"I cannot help but ask if this has to do with your unusual dreams?" When Elyne didn't answer right away, she continued. "Once you have bathed and are properly attired, Brother Hugo from Kelso Abbey will give you guidance. He arrived yesterday and is very learned. He came to Kelso as a wounded Crusader who wanted nothing more to do with killing. He had meant to leave tomorrow, but I'm sure he will be pleased to counsel you."
Elyne gulped, knowing she would get little sleep this night. "I dinna think the good Brother should delay his travels on my account." She crossed her fingers and sent up a quick prayer for forgiveness before she lied to this good woman. "I haven't had troubling dreams in a long time. Since I left here with Catalin and Ranald, they seem to have disappeared."
"Then how are we to help you? A daughter must marry where her father wills."
"Ye offered sanctuary to Muriele when you knew someone pursued her!"
"Aye. But the man seeking her meant her harm."
"Then I seek sanctuary for the same reason. Graemme of Clibrick plans to murder me."
Chapter 14
Graemme and Magnus rode ahead of the small army behind them. The iron bars of the portcullis were still down, which was unusual for this time of day. When the captain of the guards recognized Graemme, he ordered them raised.
"Mayhap they didna recognize ye in yer fine clothes?" Magnus offered.
"They sure as Hades know our standards, though." Graemme frowned, knowing something wasn't right. The guards refused to meet his eye and Chief Broccin appeared on the keep's steps looking a little red about the face.
Graemme's gaze searched the stairs behind the chief. Where was Elyne? Courtesy demanded that she meet him with her father. Instead, Lady Joneta stood there. His shoulders began to relax when the door opened and another woman appeared. She moved to stand behind Lady Joneta looking like she needed her protection.
"What in Lucifer's hairy arse is she doing here?" Magnus exclaimed.
"Who is she?"
"The woman I hired to impersonate Muriele at the convent."
"No wonder she looks like a rabbit about to be thrown in a pot with carrots and turnips!"
Chief Broccin descended the steps to meet them, a broad smile on his face.
It didn't fool Graemme. Deep in his bones, he knew Elyne had pulled one of her tricks on him, and he was in no mood to allow it.
"Welcome, Sir Graemme. I recognize yer two friends from afore. Sir Brian and Sir Colyne. This man who looks much like you? Your brother Magnus?"
Chief Broccin was trying to delay by making small talk. Graemme's eyes narrowed in a withering stare.
"Aye. He is. Sir Cormac is his commander." He motioned is horse forward a pace. His nostrils narrowed and his lips thinned. "Where is the Lady Elyne?"
"We did not expect you until another two days."
So, he did not want to speak of Elyne. Graemme dismounted slowly, hearing Magnus' boots also s
trike the cobblestones. Magnus went to lift Grunda from behind Sir Colyne and brought her over to stand beside him.
"We traveled lightly, leaving the rest of the women to follow. Well escorted, of course." Graemme stepped close to Broccin. Though the older man was his equal height, Graemme had an advantage—he was not trying to avoid an issue. "This is Grunda, a healer and seer. She was of great help to Lady Muriele and her family."
"All went well with the Lady?" Broccin turned to Magnus and smiled.
"Aye. We have wed, thanks to Grunda. My wife will arrive with the rest of our family in time for the wedding." Magnus cleared his voice and looked at Ysabel. "How came ye to be here?"
"Sir Ranald became suspicious and arrived at the convent. He was kind enough to bring me here."
"Aye. Once she told us of your family, we knew ye would see no harm came to Muriele. Only a fool would keep to a false oath, and we learned ye were no fool," Broccin said.
Graemme didn't know if his brother would be insulted or not, but he nodded solemnly.
"I dinna think Ysabel need fear Muriele's blade. She will be too angry at me for making her travel with the rest of the women."
"This brings a special woman to my attention." Graemme turned frosty eyes on Chief Broccin. His words near grated through his teeth. "My bride?
"Not here." Grunda said quietly.
He looked at Broccin, not Grunda.
"Where is she?"
The horses shied at the explosive volume of the words. Chief Broccin stood up to him. After all, no one else could compare to Ranald's ferocity when in a bout of temper.
"She disappeared two nights ago. She could not have gone far or for long, for she left Squat behind and all of her clothing."
"Have you searched the castle grounds?"
"Do ye think me an eejit?" Chief Broccin seemed to grow a hands width taller with indignation. "We have even checked the dungeon and every hut from here to seven leagues away. I have sent word to Ranald at Hunter Castle, in case she sought refuge there."
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