Surrender

by Sophia Johnson

  "Dinna try it!"

  "Try what? Escape? With ye outside?"

  She had one telltale hand behind her. Though she was tall for a woman, the bar he placed across the door at night for security was a scant bit taller than her shoulder. He looked pointedly at her right shoulder and held out his hand.

  "What?"

  "Give me the bar." His hand reached for it, but she held tight. He shook his head. "Would ye rather I stay to watch ye bathe in the basin? I relish the idea of seeing ye lather her lovely breast. Mayhap I could rinse and lap them dry for ye?"

  "Take the bar, ye churlish eejit! But dinna enter till I let ye know I am finished."

  Graemme shook his head, noting his new description as a churlish eejit and stepped back onto the porch. She slammed the door.

  As she walked away, she called him everything from a boorish hellhound to a slimy worm.

  She was rather inventive with her descriptions of him.

  He studied the stars and looked for signs of rain, but he didn't see any. Likely, they would have another day of ideal weather, which was unusual. When he began to think she had gone to bed when she was through with her ablutions, she called out to him.

  All the candles were out, but he didn't miss the faint light coming from the two opened shutters. She could not be hot, for she was abed with her covers up to her chin. And there was a chilly wind coming through the window openings.

  Graemme was no fool. She attempted to make him as uncomfortable as possible, for his blanket was missing. Well, two could play at this game.

  "I see ye are lonesome for someone to share yer bed."

  He made his voice husky and sensual, a tone that caused many women to throw back the covers and invite him in.

  "Ugh! What make ye think I desire yer scrawny bones in bed with me?"

  "The open shutters. The missing blanket. The fire ye have near put out."

  Graemme started taking off his clothing as he walked toward the bed. By the time he stood beside it, he was bare down to the thatch of black hair nestled around his sex.

  "The fire died because ye didna build it properly."

  "Aye. I did."

  He put one knee on the bed and reached for the top of her covers.

  She gasped, scrambled back and reached beneath to pull out his folded woolen blanket.

  "Here is your blanket. I must have been careless making the bed this morn."

  "And I suppose ye didna know the shutters were wide to the night air. 'Tis no problem for me. I prefer sleeping with the night air. Though at night, bats from nearby caves are drawn to search out any opening."

  "Ye may close it, if it is yer preference," Elyne said as she glanced nervously toward it.

  "Nay. I prefer it open to the clean night air. I can hear the owls when they catch their prey. The mice and small creatures put up quite a shriek when the talons dig into them. I counted as many as ten kills one night."

  "I never heard any when we were traveling."

  "Aye. The owls kept away because we had a campfire burning."

  Suddenly, an owl screeched then a small creature cried out in distress. He near laughed at the speed Elyne leapt out of bed and slammed both shutters closed and latched them. He doubted he could have counted to five afore she was back with her covers pulled up to her chin.

  "If ye are through with yer yammering, I would like to sleep now." The frost in her voice could have chilled a flagon of wine.

  He let out a long, mournful sigh. "I do hope once we are wed ye show more passion for bed sport. At this rate, it will take a sennight afore ye get with child."

  Elyne snorted. Loud.

  "If ye wait for me to invite ye to my bed, it will be years."

  She pounded her pillow and turned her back to him. When his hand snaked under her covers and grasped a delicate ankle, she screeched as loud as the owl.

  "No need to scare the night creatures out of their feathers, wife. Since ye had such a stressful day, I feared ye would have one of yer foretelling dreams and might wander into the pool and drown."

  She jerked her leg, trying to free it. His grip didn't lessen as he knotted a thin rope around it. He sat on the furs and tied the other end to his left wrist.

  Elyne decided not to give him the satisfaction of fighting over the rope. She had slept comfortably when Aunt Joneta did the same, so now should be no different. Besides, she had not had such a dream since he came for her at the convent.

  For truth, she slept peacefully the night through.

  Not that she didn't dream, though.

  She did. In them, she swived the Highlander until he was so sated his cock fell limp as a stewed chicken's neck.

  Chapter 22

  "It looks to be a clear day for me to hunt those grouse I'm hungering for," Graemme said as soon as he saw she was awake.

  He was already up and dressed. Porridge steamed in a small iron pot hanging from the hook in the fireplace. Oatcakes were baking in the side oven.

  Elyne rose and stretched, refreshed from a good sleep. She cast an appraising look at him and wondered if she should warn him or not. He was such a hard-head know-it-all, she hesitated. Shrugging, she decided to tell him what she knew from her dreams.

  "I wouldna go hunting today if I were ye. It is going to rain. Buckets of it."

  Graemme grinned at her, opened the shutters and pointed out at the blue sky. He didn't say a word.

  "If ye are telling me ye dinna believe me, go ahead. But ye will be wet afore the noon hour."

  What little dreams Elyne had last night all involved rain and a drop in temperature. And for some reasons, buckets of mud kept flashing in her mind.

  "Oh, and if ye insist on ignoring my warning, ye'd best take a heavy cloak with ye. There should be one in the clothing chest. The rain is going to bring in cold weather, too."

  "Ah. So the old crone can also predict the weather?"

  "Aye. And she's very good at it."

  Graemme snorted a laugh and shook his head. Well, let him make fun of her. She didn't care. The weather was the one thing she never failed to predict accurately. When he returned from his hunt, he was going to be very wet and cold, while she was going to be warm and snug here in the lodge.

  After he left, she went outside to collect as many herbs as she could afore the rains came. She found an old garden in the woods behind the lodge. Weed-grown as it was, in amongst them were carrots, wild onions, turnips and beets. The furry animals, mainly hares, had harvested most of the wild vegetables, but she found a few which didn't bear the marks of their nibbles.

  'Twas lovely to have the time to herself. She used the new buckets in the lean-to's room to gather the food. After washing her find, she took the buckets, returned to the abandoned garden and used a spade from the tools inside the room. For what she had in mind, everything worked perfectly. She set the buckets behind trees near the pool. They would not be visible but would be close to hand.

  "Why are ye following me around Squat?"

  The dog looked up at her, perked his ear straighter and sniffed at the buckets. When he looked back up, his brows drew together and reminded her of a grumpy old man. His eyes demanded answers, too.

  She imagined he asked, "Why did you pick those scrawny things? Now why are you putting the same dirt into the empty buckets?"

  "Dinna give me such accusing looks, ye little cur. Ye just don't understand what I'm planning. Besides, ye didna help me when his High and Mighty convinced me a mudpack on my face was a good thing."

  She sighed loud enough to make him lower his ear. "I suppose it's all right if ye disapprove—ye cannot tell Graemme what I have in store for him."

  When the sky darkened, she already had a large pot of soup on to cook. Lightning began striking. Heavy clouds filled with rain opened up. She closed the shutters, wrapped herself in a blanket and sat cozy and warm in the middle of the furs. Squat must have forgiven her, for he curled up on her lap.

  Elyne enjoyed her day, but she anticipated her triumph when Gr
aemme arrived, soaked and without anything to show for his day of hunting.

  Graemme had tramped near to the top of the tall hill behind the lodge. No matter where he looked, wildlife seemed to have fled.

  "The blasted creatures are hiding from me," he grumbled.

  Standing still for what seemed ages, he waited for game to venture out of hiding. When they didn't, he became fanciful and wondered if some fox had carried the news a hunter was on the prowl!

  He sighed and sat with his back against a tree while he nibbled on a dry oatcake and thought of his day. Afore dawn, Elyne slept so deeply she hadn't even moved when he untied the knot at her ankle. He'd had a chance to study her lovely legs. He didn't regret taking advantage of the moment. His only regret was he couldn't strip off the blankets and gaze at her lovely body.

  Of course, if he had, all thought of hunting would have flown out the window as fast as she was able to think up things to bedevil him.

  He leapt to his feet and settled his bow and arrows across his back. He'd look for game until he became so tired he had to return. But he didn't want to return empty handed. He'd never see the end of her I told you so looks she was so good at giving.

  What happened to the sun? It had blazed overhead when he sat to rest. He looked up to see clouds scurried across the sky, chased by heavy sheets of rain in the distance. He heard it coming afore he spied it.

  He shouted and struck his boot into the ground until he dug up a patch of grass.

  "Blast ye, Lucifer! Ye're the one responsible, ye wart-covered, rat eating spoiler of all things! Why could ye not wait until I had a string of grouse hanging from my belt?"

  Growling and kicking, mud flew through the air.

  He wanted to bang his head on the nearest tree trunk for being so stubborn he'd refused to bring a cloak with him. It didn't take long for the downpour to soak him to his skin. There was no way out but to go back empty-handed and face Elyne's mockery.

  Halfway down the hill, the rain stopped. He wished it had not. After falling and sliding in mud, he couldn't go inside to get warm until he washed off in the pool.

  Squat barked to warn Elyne someone approached. She peeked out the door and watched as a very bedraggled Graemme looked around him and walked over to the pool. So, he was going to clean himself up afore she knew what a bad day he'd had.

  He should save himself the trouble.

  Leaving Squat inside, she slid out of the barely opened door and eased it shut. If there was worth one thing in training to be a lady, it was being able to glide across any floor or earth without making a sound.

  As he kneeled at the edge of the pool and splashed cold water over his face and head, she retrieved the two buckets behind a tree. So intent on grumbling to himself, he didn't even notice her.

  Elyne upended one bucket of mud on top of his head. Quick as a flash, she placed her foot firmly on his exposed arse and shoved him into the water. When his head bobbed up, he didn't have time to yell before she threw the contents of the second bucket into his face.

  "Try a mud pack, Sir Graemme. It will do wonders for yer scars. It may even add an attractive color to yer skin!"

  He let out a howl of rage. Her heart surged so hard it bounced against her ribs. He sounded like an enraged wild animal about to kill his prey.

  He ducked his head beneath the water and shook it like a shaggy hound. Powerful arms and legs beat the water and brought him close to where she stood. Mud streaked down through hair that near covered his face and shoulders. His furious black gaze looked as if lightning flashed from it. She was unable to look away. Fear held her a prisoner.

  What had once been sensuous lips now thinned to a cruel line. A snarl rumbled from his chest as his lips curled, baring his teeth as though he was ready to rend her flesh from her bones. He started to push up with his muscled arms. Terrified at what she had unleashed, she placed her foot on his head and shoved him back under the water.

  He made a quick grab for her ankle. Fast as a deer, she drew it back and turned to run. She grabbed her skirts in her hands.

  Where to go? How to hide?

  He would break down the door to the lodge easily enough with the axe in the lean-to.

  If she was fleet, she could find a place in the woods! Mayhap a cave. She would head to the left where the brush was most dense.

  Holding her skirts above her knees, she ran as fast as she could.

  Footsteps pounded behind her.

  She dared not take the time to look.

  Fool! She did.

  It scared her so much she sprinted in even greater strides.

  "Elyne. I can run all day." His words came through a tight jaw, more growled than spoken.

  "Ye will tire afore I do," he taunted. "In fact, I will stop to give ye a better start. I will give ye to the count of five."

  The sound of his footsteps silenced. Quickly, she glanced back again. On a boulder, he didn't stand upright but crouched, head slightly forward. Fists on his knees, his fingers clenching and unclenching.

  The picture of a wolf ready to spring flashed through her mind.

  "By the count of ten, I will have ye in my hands. Ye had best run like ye never ran afore!"

  "One!" His voice was soft, silky.

  She gasped and leapt forward.

  "Two!"

  She kept running. When he came to 'Five', the air rasped through her throat. She didn't think she could run so fast, but when she heard his footfalls begin again, she near flew through the air. He kept counting aloud.

  "Six!"

  "Seven!"

  Whatever possessed her to taunt this man's pride? She should know from the men in her own family, pride was all a man cared about!

  "Eight!"

  His voice near sounded in her ear!

  "Nine!"

  Ack! He was right behind her!

  Was he going to kill her? Pray God, not. Beat her? She didn't doubt it.

  She ran like a rabbit chased by an eagle.

  "Ten!"

  Elyne flew through the air with such speed she believed an eagle had taken her ankles in its talons. The ground quickly receded. Upside down, she rose towards the treetops. She screamed louder than she'd ever screamed afore.

  Several times, she rose and fell, each time less than the other. Finally, she swung slowly. Her skirts hung down over her arms.

  Cold rain fell on her bare legs and nether parts as she fought her kirtle and smock.

  Graemme grabbed the hems of her clothing and hauled them away from her face. He bent slightly to look into her eyes.

  His voice turned gentle as a kitten's purr.

  His eyes belied the tone.

  Menacing.

  "Ye should have listened. I told ye at ten ye would be in my hands. I neglected to add helpless. But then, ye should have known ye would be."

  Elyne was too dizzy to speak. Nay, 'twas a lie. Too frightened to speak!

  She realized how she came to be hanging arse over head.

  Graemme had set snares to catch her in case she ever tried to escape from the lodge and run away.

  She was embarrassed and angry because she hung upside down—exposed to his eyes.

  Embarrassment was futile.

  Anger was good.

  Graemme could not believe any woman could get away with what Elyne had done. She had taken him by surprise. Had she been a thief or a soldier running from his lord, he would have had a sword through his back.

  "Well, now. I have learned much from today. Ye can walk without making the sound of a single footstep."

  He dropped her clothing over her face again. His hands caressed her nether cheeks then his fingers dug into her flesh as he twirled her in circles.

  Elyne squealed like he'd pricked her flesh with the tip of his knife.

  "Stop, ye barbarian! Cut me down!"

  "Oh? Ye want something of me, my sweet, obedient bride?"

  "Ye heard me, cur! Cut me down!"

  "Hmm. I dinna think so. When ye yell and give orders, y
er face hardens and becomes quite unattractive. I have a much lovelier view of ye the way ye are."

  She'd stopped spinning and was swaying gently back and forth. He ran his hands from her ankles down to the joining of her legs.

  "Stop it, lout!"

  "From barbarian to cur to lout all in just a few breaths! Ye astound me with yer knowledge of my character."

  Elyne tried to swat out at his legs, but her skirts were in the way. All it accomplished was to make her jerk around.

  "Ah! Thank ye. What a tempting view." His fingers raked through the auburn curls guarding her sex.

  "Cut me down, ye miserable piece of goat shite!"

  She shrieked, loud and piercing, when he tweaked her tempting curls.

  "I thought I requested ye find some less, um, bad-tempered names for me? I dinna think goat shite is a good name. My father might take offense at his daughter-by-law calling his son such."

  "My father will take more of an offense when I tell him how ye hung me like a pig ready for slaughter!"

  Her lovely, exposed body slowly swayed back and forth. His view of her from every angle tempted him. Suddenly, he roared and shook his leg. Why, a woodland creature had attacked him!

  He'd been so fascinated with her gleaming flesh he hadn't noted she'd gathered her skirts away from her face. She'd held them with one hand, grabbed his right leg with the other and bit his nekid thigh as hard as she could!

  Reaching down, he seized her jaw in his steel grip and pressed.

  "Open yer mouth, ye little witch!"

  She didn't.

  He straightened and swatted her bare behind with such force the loud crack echoed through the forest. Her flesh started to turn red as she opened her mouth and wailed loud as a harlot caught with her hands in her lord's silver coffers.

  "Ye want down? Then down ye'll come."

  He reached up and, with one swipe of his knife, cut her loose. He'd known he'd need it when he saw the direction she'd taken to escape.

  Too late, Elyne saw the large puddle beneath her. She put out her hands to cushion her fall, but she need not have. With one arm around her, he lowered her into the mud. Turning her like a cook using a spoon to scrape off the sides of a cooking pot, he covered her with mud from head to toes.