"Ranald brought him to me after saving him from a baron who was torturing people and animals. He'd mistreated Squat so much Ranald feared he would never stop cowering when he saw a man. He felt the poor little thing would trust a woman. It took me months to gentle him. 'Tis funny, but I think Father likes him. Even though Squat pisses on his boots sometimes."
"Yer brother must have a kind spot for mistreated beasts."
"Nay, he has a kind spot for everyone. Everyone who is good, I mean. He wouldna hesitate to put his blade through someone evil."
"Yer father made him sound most sinister. He said he was the devil on earth."
"Bleh! Father exaggerates because Ranald willna back down to him. Not unlike someone else I know."
"Woman, will ye let it be? I told ye it wasna the threat but the vow I canna break!"
He really was very easy to look at. Especially when his feelings were ruffled. It made his eyes flash black streaks and when he clenched his teeth together, his jaw hardened like Welsh slate. She'd get back to learning about him.
"Do ye have a dog at Clibrick?"
"Nay"
"Nay? Why? Ye seem to like dogs."
"Every time I had a dog, it disappeared."
"Disappeared? Did they wander off and get lost? It doesna sound likely."
"I found out why, finally. Magnus fostered with Chief Olaf at Kinbrace Castle. Their son, Feradoch, fostered with us at Clibrick. He was with us most of the year. It was always when he was there that the dogs disappeared. After a while, I decided 'twas best for the animals not to befriend one."
"He must be a hateful person to do such a thing." A shadow passed over Graemme's eyes like he remembered the sadness.
"Feradoch is gone now, never to return."
"He's dead?"
"Aye. Quite dead. He tried to kill Magnus over Lady Muriele's fortune. Instead, they near killed each other. When the fight ended and we lifted him off Magnus, Feradoch didna have a killing wound on him but he didna breathe. Magnus near died, too. Muriele was so angry she struck him on the chest. That lass has the strength of a man when angered. He finally drew a breath. She nursed him back to health. She's coming to see us wed with her friend Esa."
"Muriele lived with us for a while. Until she came here. I know of her strength when she's protecting someone. Yer brother was hateful for tracking her down like some wild animal. He is another reason why we dinna fit together."
"And ye think yer brother Ranald is without faults? We have even heard of the Black Raptor in the Highlands."
"They are exaggerations, nothing more."
"In the woods, when ye see smoke, ye will find fire."
When Graemme saw the anger in Elyne's eyes, he knew she wouldn't take any criticism of her brother lightly. This man was beginning to fascinate him. He seemed to have two very distinct sides to him. A cross between Lucifer and a saint. He wouldn't speak more of him with Elyne. After all, they were trying to make peace with each other.
She looked lovely with the wind blowing her curly hair around her shoulders. The creamy skin above her breasts peeked above the neckline of her green kirtle. His blood stirred, remembering how sweet her skin was to his tongue when he licked around her breasts. 'Twas a saving grace they fitted together so perfectly in bed.
If only she had been a virgin. He wondered who the man was before him. He felt his temper heat. Was he still around? If he ever found them together, she would forfeit her lover's life! He felt his hands clenching.
Without conscious thought, he jerked her to him and started kissing her. When she whimpered, he realized he was grinding her lips against her teeth. He softened his own and kissed her as softly as he would a bairn. He felt the heat of her stomach cradling his hard shaft and wished they were not on such sacred ground. Likely, the monk Hugo would tear his head from his body if he found them swiving.
For that matter, if Ranald learned of it, he'd probably unleash his infamous fury. He eased his lips from hers, but couldn't resist kissing her closed lids. She may protest she hated him but when his lips touched her, she became soft and pliable. 'Twould be a blessing to have a wife who liked to swive—as long as she remained faithful. Likely, Elyne would keep him sated for a time. Until he tired of having only one woman, he'd leave the lasses at Clibrick alone.
Both startled when footsteps approached. When Magnus came around the bend in the path, Elyne flushed and looked away. The corners of his mouth twitched. Squat got between them and Magnus and eyed Magnus like he was a new bone for dinner. Graemme was about to warn him when Squat ran, barking at him. The dog latched onto Magnus' boot ties and tried to stop his feet from moving. Magnus halted and let Squat think he'd done a good job protecting the couple. He patiently waited until the dog tired himself out.
"Mother Cecelia sent me to tell Elyne 'twas time for the ladies to attend Vespers afore supper." He put on a solemn face and nodded, glancing down at Graemme's clothing. "I think it was a timely interruption, dinna ye?"
Graemme near groaned when Elyne, too, spied his tented clothing. It couldn't be a surprise to her, not when his eager member had pressed between the two of them as sturdy as the pine tree on the far side of the path.
"I am glad of the interruption, Sir Magnus. Yer brother seems to think he can maul me any time he wishes."
"Didna look like ye disliked it, lass." Magnus shook his head and grinned.
She flushed so hotly the men laughed aloud. For once, she didn't have a rejoinder.
Graemme extended his arm. She hesitated a moment before she put her fingertips on it. She was glad when Magnus stepped to her other side. All the way back to the buildings, he made pleasant observations about the lovely garden pathway.
Since they first met, body to body, Graemme was the most comfortable with Elyne these last fifty paces.
Whenever Magnus spoke, Elyne took the opportunity to study him. The resemblance was so strong anyone would recognize them as brothers. Magnus was slightly taller with near black eyes where Graemme's were the shade of burnt almonds. Graemme shaved his face each day with a sharp blade, for the shadow of his beard darkened his face as the day grew. Magnus wore a clipped beard framing his chin and up and over his lips. Their lips were full, but Graemme's were wider, more sensual.
She was so engrossed she almost missed his questioning look down at her after he spoke. What had he said? He was smiling, so he must have made some remark he expected her to agree with.
"For certs," she replied and smiled back.
Magnus' laughed outright. She skidded to a halt. What had she just agreed to? The men stopped when she did.
"'Tis obvious ye were gathering wool between yer ears to have agreed so readily," Magnus voice softened.
Graemme's full lips quivered at the corners.
"I am most grateful ye will be ready at daybreak two morns from now so as to return to Raptor." He looked down at her and quirked his right brow. "For the wedding," he reminded her.
"Truthfully, Magnus, ye were correct. Had I been paying attention, I would have replied 'Nay' loud enough for Father to hear at Raptor."
Graemme could forget trying to intimidate her. She'd learned never to back down to an overbearing male or he'd think he had complete control over her. If she'd not let Father's yells of outrage subdue her, she wasn't going to let Graemme think she'd jump whenever he commanded. He may as well sleep late the morning they were to leave. She wasn't going back to Raptor.
Ranald should be at Hunter Castle in Crookham with his wife and children. It was due east, an easy ride from the Convent. Regardless of what Ranald had told Father, she would convince them both that she and Graemme hated each other and would likely fight till the day one of them killed the other.
Yew! But there was the case of Graemme's impressive ballocks.
Heat built between her legs remembering how hot and massive they'd felt bumping with every thrust against her nether cheeks.
For truth, Ranald would demand Father left them attached.
Wouldn't
he?
Chapter 17
Graemme's mouth tightened in a stubborn line, wiping the smile from his face. He knew she hadn't been listening, but for just one tiny bit of time, he'd felt relief. Why did he even think she would comply? She was going to make this as hard as possible for them both. He looked at Magnus and nodded. Though he'd been with his brother for only two weeks out of each year as they grew to be men, they thought much alike. With a simple nod of the head or question in their eyes, they did not need words.
They left Elyne with Mother Cecelia at the women's quarters. As they walked from there into the chapel for Vespers, he and Magnus stood to one side as everyone filed past them. Once the mass began, they quietly slipped back out the door.
Things were just as tense throughout the following day. When they escorted Elyne to the women's dormitory for her last night there, both men were uneasy. As they had done the night afore, Graemme dozed hidden in the shadows inside the stable where he could watch the front door while Magnus did the same at the back. Well past midnight, Graemme jumped up and hid behind a post. The figure of a monk came quietly through the doorway and eased it shut. Nothing gave him a hint the person was not as he seemed, but to be sure, Graemme watched quietly. He waited as the monk walked down the row of stalls. About average height for a man. A good stride, if somewhat stealthy.
His eyes widened and he hesitated when he noted a portly bulge in the monk's robe. Mentally, he pictured each man who had gone into the chapel and later to the men's supper. He didn't recall any of them being rotund. When he stopped at the stall halfway down where Elyne's horse waited, he furtively followed in the shadows.
The monk looked behind him. Graemme stood quietly. The man entered the stall, looked around again, and hiked up his robes. He fumbled around awkwardly, trying to lift only the front of it. Was the man meaning to take a piss in the horses stall? Why not outside against a tree?
Graemme realized why and was relieved. No man possessed long, shapely legs and creamy thighs. The figure juggled the heaving bulge around his stomach into position.
He almost laughed aloud when he heard Elyne mutter, "If a bairn is as much trouble as ye, squirming and thrashing about, I'll nay be havin' any little ones!"
The bundle jiggled again and out of the pile of clothing popped an uneven head. Squat's little beady eyes looked straight at him. His tail must have been beating against Elyne's sides, for he wiggled in rhythm with his tail. When the dog whined, the horse snuffled and moved restlessly.
"Shh. Ye two are makin' enough noise to wake someone," she whispered. She leaned over and carefully placed him on his feet. When he whipped his tail faster and started to move toward Graemme, she hissed at him.
"Stay!"
Graemme waited until she had her back turned to him. As she adjusted her clothing, he shook his head at Squat and put his hand up, palm toward the little dog, biding him to stay. Graemme silently moved in back of her to lean against the stall's entrance.
"Ye are goin' somewhere, Brother?"
She didn't turn. "I return to Kelso afore first light," she said in a husky voice.
"Ye are aware this horse belongs to a young lady?"
She hesitated. "Ye are right. I am one stall too far." She pulled the cowl low over her lowered face.
Gramme followed her as she turned and went to the stall to their left. When the horse snorted, she halted.
"Now ye mean to take my horse?"
Her hands fisted and she kicked straw on top of the hard-packed dirt floor and sent it flying. He could tell she was trying to remember the color of his and Magnus' horses.
"Nay. My horse is deep brown. Not black."
"And ye were goin' to take this wee, handsome dog with ye?"
Squat's tail thumped against his thin sides. Graemme smiled down at it. For truth, if the dog liked you, he had such an agreeable disposition a person forgot how ugsome he truly was. She cleared her throat, probably preparing to keep it lowered.
"Aye. The lady thinks Kelso's healer can help him. He has malformed legs, ye ken." She started to edge past him but had to stop when Squat leaned forward and pissed like he was bitch.
"With that, too," she muttered and nodded toward the dog.
He straightened and reached out a hand and cupped what could only be a soft breast beneath the robe.
"Ye are the shapeliest monk in all of Christendom," he whispered as he pulled the cowl back. She didn't have a chance to protest, for his lips swooped to seal hers.
He startled for he didn't free her long curly hair. Mayhap the cowl covered it. He felt all over her back, but the hair was missing. He snapped his head up to look. By Lucifer's tainted breath! If she'd cut her glorious hair off, he'd be tempted to beat her.
In the darkness of the stable, he twirled her around and felt the back of her head. Relief spread through him. Braiding her hair in tight rows must have taken her a goodly time. He twirled her back and found her lips again.
Elyne was near dizzy, but not enough she lost her strength. She shoved against his hard chest, but he didn't budge. She tightened her right leg muscles to lift her knee and give him a more potent message. Instead, he shifted his body to lean back against the stall and wrapped one leg across the back of her knees. Did he read her mind? Foolish thought. He'd felt her muscles tighten and thwarted her.
Had he known all along it was her? Of course, he had. After all the hours of preparing and planning, he had known right away. How was she going to replace the monk's clean clothing? It was one thing to 'borrow' them and have them returned later than it was to have to admit in person to Mother Cecelia that she had taken them.
Her body warmed and all thoughts flew her mind as he deepened the kiss. His hands roved but seemed to catch in the excess clothing she was wearing. He stopped in frustration, took her by the hand and led her to an empty stall.
She was prepared to defeat his efforts, but he moved too quickly and she too slowly. Mayhap she really didn't want to pull away? Memories of their night at Raptor brought more heat to her body than his hands did. In an empty stall, he whipped the robes up and over her head. They stuck and wouldn't come off.
"Bend over a bit. The sleeve is stuck on a pin in yer braids."
To her shame, quite willingly she did as he commanded. The robe quickly fell to the floor.
Feeling it around her ankles, she cooled to the idea again. He sensed it. Gathering her in his arms, he covered her face with kisses.
Kisses on her forehead. Kisses on her cheeks and nose. Kisses to keep her eyes closed.
When was he going to thrust his tongue in her mouth? She wanted him to most of all. She'd never admit it, but she felt small and helpless when he did that. Not helpless like she was when faced with her fathers demands that she marry some old, smelly, toothless man with a belly as large as an increasing woman, but helpless because she liked far to much what Graemme made her feel.
He kissed her quickly and slid his tongue down to the top of her breasts. He must have been afeared of tearing her kirtle, for he laved the material over her breasts, wetting it until he could draw her nipple into his mouth. He nibbled with his teeth then pulled on her nipple until she groaned. When she did, he reached down and grabbed the hem of her kirtle and smock and yanked upward. He was taking too long. She helped him by wriggling down as he pulled up. Suddenly she felt the cold air on her legs, her bare buttocks and her breast.
The dress caught around her head. She reached up to free it, but he took both wrists and held them together over her head while he lowered her to the floor.
"Nay. Let me."
His voice was more of a growled order than a request for her to remain still.
She couldn't see him. Felt vulnerable as he attacked her breast, first one then the other. He suckled so hard hot wetness flooded her woman's place. She could feel it seeping down between her nether lips and was embarrassed he would notice.
He did. He cupped his hand between her legs, his palm over the opening to her body, and rubbed b
ack and fourth. His breathing became harsh and fast.
"My God, ye are beautiful. So beautiful I want to swive ye till ye faint. Feel how much ye are welcoming me."
He slid his wet hand over her stomach. She thrashed, wanting to cover herself. He was looking at her bare flesh, yet she couldn't see him. There was something erotic about it.
When he left her breast and attacked her quivering stomach, she was lost. Why did his kisses on her lower belly cause her to quiver and squirm? Wanting more? She couldn't control her movements and started to moan. He must have liked the sound, for he chuckled and spread her legs, holding them wide with his own. Then he became very still.
Was he looking at her private place? Shame filled her. Desire too. Then she felt one lone finger tracing the opening to her body. Around and around, he teased her flesh but didn't allow her relief. When he lightly tweaked her throbbing nub, she threw her legs wide. Inviting him to enter. He did, but only with his fingers. She wanted him to fill her!
Still holding her hands above her head, he kissed down to the curls guarding her sex. He wouldn't go any further, would he? She was too wet, too exposed. She wanted to cringe at the same time she wanted to demand he plunge himself in to the hilt. Oh my Saints! His hot tongue flicked her nub while his finger entered her. Planting her feet firmly, she lifted her hips, pushing herself at his face. How shameful! She started to pullback, but he touched her nub again and inserted a second finger.
She panted and all thoughts of running away fled her mind. Well, Hades! She couldn't move if she wanted to. Not until he satisfied her. She hadn't known swiving could make you so powerless.
Powerless? Why, it was what he was after! To make her vulnerable and pliable so she would go back to Raptor and marry him without a single protest. Well, she'd be damned if she would. She fought the cloth. Tried to thrash free of it. He chuckled and grabbed one leg at the time and wrapped it around his waist. She ignored it while she was trying to free her arms. Then she realized his cock was poised to her entrance. She caught her breath, waiting.
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