"Plump turnips will provide hearty ballocks!"
"Nay, beets will cause his tarse to fill with blood for a hard cockstand," another shouted.
"Yer mither likely used withered beets afore ye were born! Ye have a crook in yer cock whenever it tries to rise."
Now and again, someone's fist hammered another's jaw. Chief Angus stopped it by rising to make another announcement.
"Sir Colyne has asked my permission to wed young Ysabel, who came to us from the Lowlands. She has no living relatives, so I shall stand in for her deceased father this coming Saturday."
Ysabel and Colyne had to rise and go through the same bantering Elyne had borne, only theirs was advice on swiving to keep yer wife happy and content.
They took it in good spirit, and Elyne laughed with the rest. She was still grinning when she felt an uneasy scrutiny. She lowered her head and studied the room until she found the source. An older knight looked at her with pity. Her brows knit wondering why. She glanced at Graemme, and he too, had felt the man's gaze. Suddenly, recognition flashed on her husband's face.
She didn't like what she saw. So many expressions in such a short time. First shock, then excitement. Of a sudden, his shoulders slumped. Then he straightened, his lips thinned and a look of determination hardened his jaw. When she looked back at the knight, he was gone.
o0o
Elyne turned for Graemme to help lift her kirtle over her head. She had sent Ada on to bed earlier, for by the looks passing between Ada and her soldier, 'twas apparent they craved time together.
"Who was the knight who studied us like we were strange bugs to be pitied?" She asked when her head cleared her skirts.
"He's been in father's service since I was a lad."
"Then why did he study us so closely?"
"He has been gone for a long time and just returned today. I guess he was surprised to learn I had wed."
"Why should your taking a wife be a surprise?"
When Graemme didn't answer, she started to think of reasons why the man would think this unusual. The only one that made sense was such a shock it caused her nape to feel like cold fingers creeping up her neck.
"He is her father?" The words exploded like they were arrows shooting from her lips.
"What do ye mean by her?" he asked, his head lowered as he started taking off his kilt.
"Ye sure as Hades know who! The lass ye loved who disappeared. The one ye were still in love with when we wed," she shouted.
"He was her grandfather. There is no need to announce to the whole world ye are jealous of a dead woman!"
"Jealous? Are ye daft?"
For answer, he thrust her on the bed then straddled her. With his knees on either side of her, she sank into the down mattress. He stripped off the kilt still flapping around his waist and threw it on the floor. When he lowered his body atop her, her legs clamped around his waist, holding him tight.
Time and time again, his mouth ravaged hers. It wasn't for pleasure, she knew, but because he wanted to silence her. She twisted her head until he clamped his hands in her long hair and held her still.
She bit his lower lip. He bit her back.
She scratched his back. He flipped her on her stomach and nibbled down from her nape to the dimples on her buttocks.
She reared and tried to throw him off. When her buttocks rose off the mattress, he slipped one arm beneath her, positioning her as he thrust into her moist center. His rocking became faster and faster. Holding her hips, he kept her from moving upward on the bed.
Though his lovemaking was enthusiastic, he was careful not to thrust to the hilt, fearing he would harm the bairn.
Their heavy breathing broke the silence in the room. He moved his hands to wrap her hair around and around them, tugging on them like the reins of a horse. She had never felt so vulnerable in her life.
"Release my hair! I am not some mare to be mounted!"
Graemme shook his head, though she could not see him behind her.
"Yer hair belongs to me, now, as ye do. I will do with it whatever pleasures me!"
He transferred her hair into one fist. Reaching between them, he rubbed his fingers over her swollen nub until she tensed and quivered, then climaxed.
He kept a steel control over his pleasure and didn't allow himself to release his seed. Now, more than ever, she had to know she belonged to him. He kept her head raised until her muscles stopped trying to drain his cock.
Afore she could catch her breath, he rolled to his back and pulled her to sit atop him. His cock was still stiff as a shaft, swollen and so red he feared it would burst afore long. She flipped her head so hard her beautiful hair flew around her face. He closed his eyes, reveling in the scent of heather and the feel of the silky strands caressing his body.
His teeth gritted together and his eyes closed tight. Never had he had such an exquisite feeling on his flesh as he did now when she leaned forward until all her hair enveloped his head. With slow, deliberate movements, she timed each downward thrust with her body with inching her hair down over him, until at the last stroke it covered his stomach and belly.
When she straightened and rocked until the bed ropes creaked, he couldn't hold back any longer. When she reached her peak again, he didn't try to stifle his pleasure.
Strangely, she was silent until she moved up to his waist where she could come forward on her hands and knees. Again, she let her hair surround them as she was a hand's length from his face.
"Ye think even my hair belongs to ye, do ye?"
"Aye. It does."
"Then 'tis only right that all of ye belongs to me."
"It is not the way of a man. No man belongs to a woman."
"Well, then, other's may not, but ye do. If ever I dinna have all of ye, then ye'll not have all of me. This hair ye set such a value on will be beneath yer pillow."
"Do so and I will beat ye!"
"'Twill be the one and only time. Ye'll never lay a hand on me again, either in pleasure or anger."
She shoved herself off him and moved as far as she could to the edge of the bed. It was fortunate he kept his tongue behind his teeth.
She was ready to do battle.
Chapter 30
The huge black horse thundered toward the castle ruins in the distance. It stood atop Ben Clibrick on a cliff overlooking Loch Naver. To the west was Altnaharra. To the east was half a day's ride to Clibrick Castle.
The man leaned into the wind, the hood of his cloak whipped back revealing a face too beautiful for a mortal man. Blond hair streamed in the wind, but he didn't care. Anyone who saw him would think they saw a ghost. He was far from one. Fury made him strong as the god he should have been. He'd named his horse Thor, The God of War, so people would note his strength.
Months before, he'd gone to Clibrick to demand Magnus return Muriel. But first, he sought out a woman known to be a witch. She'd refined a potion and, using a vein from a pig, sucked a small amount into it and tied off both ends. He'd slit her throat for payment.
When he'd arrived outside Clibrick Castle with his father and warriors, he stored the potion between his teeth and cheek in his left jaw. Should the unbelievable happen and he lost the inevitable fight to come, he would crush it with his teeth. It would make him appear dead until the effects wore off. He didn't think he would ever have need of its use, but he had.
His father was about to put him in a shroud when he gasped and came out of a deep sleep. It had scared his father so badly his reddish-blonde beard turned white overnight. When he recovered from the shock, Chief Olaf banished him, saying he wouldna have a coward for a son.
After racing hard over the mountain, sweat covered Thor. Fury at another failure had made Feradoch vicious with his whip. When he yanked on the reins and brought Thor to an abrupt stop, the horse reared with eyes rolling and mouth foaming, near unseating Feradoch. The man would have struck the horse again, but its rearing hooves near unseated him.
"Elspeth! Where are ye?"
His s
hout brought the woman waiting in the shadowed doorway out into the light. She was a fitting mate for him. Their coloring was so alike they could have been twins. They were also alike in temper. She had laughed as heartily as he when he spirited her away after her betrothal to Graemme. She had watched, hidden, when search parties combed the mountains and woods around. Elspeth's biggest triumph came when they'd found a young lass with blond hair who had wandered too far from her farm. After using her until her novelty wore off, it was easy enough to dress her in one of Elspeth's kirtles, kill her and leave her in a gully covered with snow. It was near two years afore they found her bones.
Feradoch charged toward Elspeth, ready to smash his fist into her face. She widened her stance and held up a well-honed sword. Hearing her snarl and her eyes light with a strange madness, his mood changed. For the first time, he was sorry he'd taught her how to use the sword. He shrugged and smiled. Later, he would discipline her with bed sport.
He enjoyed making her suffer. It excited Elspeth as much as it did him.
Magnus and Muriele may be lost to him, but there was still the weakling Graemme. Better yet, the woman with the glorious, dark hair would make interesting bed sport for him and Elspeth—and a lure for her husband.
Chapter 31
For the next sennight, Elyne avoided Graemme during the day. Once they were abed, she could not. But if he dared approach her intending on bed sport, when he was at his most amorous, she pulled away and promptly spewed what she'd eaten.
She didn't do it on purpose, though he thought she did. One night, Grunda scratched on the door just a heartbeat before Elyne needed her. By the time Elyne raised on her elbow, Grunda held the basin under her chin.
"How do ye always know when I am feeling my worst," gasped Elyne.
"By the look in Graemme's eyes when he escorts ye to bed."
"Old woman, do ye say Elyne is making herself sick on purpose so I willna touch her?"
Graemme scowled up at her as he held Elyne's forehead, supporting her.
"Nay. Some women have night sickness as well as early morn. The thought of bed sport when they feel queasy is enough to make them spew," Grunda said and handed him a cold cloth.
He frowned as he carefully wiped Elyne's face then lowered her back onto her pillow.
"Has yer sleep been filled with dreams, lass?" Grunda poured out a small portion of an elixir that soothed her stomach.
"Dreams, yes. But not about the black wolf. It is a large golden wolf. A woman rides astride him like he is a horse. They chase me through the woods until I take refuge in the ruins of an ancient castle. They find me. The woman shoves me into a cell and closes the iron bars. Though I can see the bars hasn't a lock, no matter how hard I try, I canna push them open."
Grunda frowned. She handed Graemme a long, thin piece of material. "'Tis best ye tie her ankle to yer own to keep her from walking the grounds. She may wander off into the forest or climb high again."
"Aye." Graemme gently tied one end onto Elyne's right ankle and the other to his left. "This should alert me should ye start to wander during the night."
Elyne wanted to protest, but was too tired to argue. She was always sleepy, day or night, and right now, all she wanted to do was crawl between the sheets and close her eyes.
The night before Ysabel and Colyne were to wed, Elyne tossed and thrashed about, awakening Graemme. He held her in his arms and murmured soothing sounds until he felt her body relaxing into a deep sleep. When dawn came, he was still awake and watchful. He heard the portcullis rise and the drawbridge lower earlier than usual. From the sounds of it, several horsemen came through into the bailey.
Careful not to awake her, he untied the cloth, dressed and went below. Colyne and Brian were waiting for him. Before long, the castle teamed with people laughing and looking forward to another day of feasting and revelry. He looked around for his father, but saw the closed door to his solar. Likely, he was with an old friend catching up on good times. They wouldn't want to be disturbed.
o0o
Elyne felt better than usual this morning. After Ada helped her to dress, they spent the morning aiding Ysabel. The bride was pale and uneasy, for she never expected to have more than a handful of people attend her wedding.
"I am the widow of the third son of a baron. My father was a knight, not a Chief," she whispered to Elyne.
"Ye are a friend, Ysabel," Elyne said and hugged her. "Besides, it is a wonderful reason to have a day of feasting and revelry."
The wedding itself was simple but lovely. When they returned from the church, Elyne noted several knights she hadn't seen before. One elderly knight put his head close to Chief Angus. When he finished whispering, Angus face turned white. He looked around until he spied Graemme.
Something was amiss. One minute, Graemme was talking and laughing with her, but when he looked up and saw the knight, he stopped in his tracks. His face tightened, his lips thinned and he forced a smile when the knight looked his way. So. He knew the man. But why was he upset? She wasn't surprised when his father beckoned to him.
"I'll join ye as soon as I find what Father wants, love," Graemme said and kissed her cheek.
Grunda came to walk beside her, as did Brian. He looked grim, also. Worried now, she frowned and looked at Colyne. He forced a smile, swung his bride in his arms and teased Ysabel that she, too, would soon be sick when the sun rose.
"What is it, Grunda? Is there a raiding party heading our way?"
"Now, how would I know about it? Do ye believe I am a warrior now?"
"Nay. But you do know what is going on."
"Yer husband will tell ye when he has the time."
The great hall bustled with people when the solar door opened and the three men came out. Chief Angus smiled at Colyne and Ysabel and led them to the seat of honor. Angus sat on Ysabel's left, and Elyne and Graemme sat at Colyne's right.
The mysterious knight wasn't as old as she had thought. What she took to be gray hair was the palest blond. He stood, watching the doorway uneasily. When he stiffened and stared, she looked to see the reason why.
Framed by the massive door stood the most beautiful girl Elyne had seen. Her hair was like silken sunshine. She had eyes the palest blue of the sky on a summer morn, and skin as smooth as a bairn's. Her plump lips didn't need berries to make them red. She was everything Elyne was not.
She was dainty from head to toe. Elyne felt long-limbed and drab with her heavy dark hair. One glance at the grim set of Graemme's lips told her all.
His love, Elspeth, was not the dead woman they had found. She was very much alive. And it was obvious from the way she devoured Graemme with her eyes—she wanted him.
In her life.
In her bed.
Elyne felt the urge to spew but swallowed and wouldn't allow herself to be sick. What a horrible contrast it would make in Graemme's mind to see his wife heaving like a weakling compared to a woman as beautiful and delicate as a butterfly.
Hold yer dignity, girl. Lift yer chin high. He loves ye, not her.
'Twas Grunda's voice in her head, yet Grunda stood far away, her back against a tapestry picturing the castle with the mountains in the background. The old woman blended into the scene.
Elyne squared her shoulders and lifted her head high. Feeling Elspeth's blue eyes studying her, she stared back. Before she looked away, her lip curled with contempt, dismissing the woman as if she were no more than a slovenly servant. A glimpse of rage stared back. Mayhap she imagined it? She dismissed the woman from her mind and joined in the conversation.
The woman turned her attention to Graemme, constantly sending him soulful looks, and the pink tip of her tongue wetted her parted lips. 'Twas a clear invitation to Graemme. Elyne tightened her jaw, determined to ignore the both of them and concentrated on the entertainment instead.
Pipers were playing a lively tune. Men jumped up from the table and put their swords on the floor, one across another. They took turns doing a sword-dance until each dancer got diz
zy and either cut himself or fell on the floor. Soon, men sprawled in the cleared area laughing as if they'd been in their cups since dawn.
Elspeth's laugh grated on Elyne's nerves. It tinkled and was melodic like she imagined a fairy would laugh. It made her conscious of her own laugh, for when she found humor, everyone looked at her and smiled, saying she was gleeful.
Soon it was time for the bride and groom to go above. As she held Ysabel's hand and led her up the first steps, she glanced back at the room. Graemme stood next to Elspeth, his head lowered as he whispered in her ear.
The woman glanced up at Elyne, a triumphant smile on her face. Reaching up, she held his head as he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss seemed to go on and on. He certainly ground his mouth on hers, for his head would move back then return like he couldn't get enough of her taste. When Graemme finally pulled back and placed his hand on the small of her back, he near shoved her ahead of him in his eagerness. When they went through the doorway leading to the darkened hallway, she looked reluctant and shy.
There was naught Elyne could do now without ruining the night for Ysabel and Colyne. Anger boiled through her. Had she her short sword with her, he would be missing those precious stones her father had threatened.
o0o
"What the Hades are ye doing here, Elspeth? Ye disappeared years ago, so why did ye bother to come back now? We even found a body with yer clothing clinging to it."
She pursed her lips and wet them, trying to entice him. He didn't fall for it, but she had a radiant smile on her face as if he'd actually said he'd loved her!
"Did ye cry for me, love?"
"I cried for the woman who I thought loved me. I cried believing ye had died a fearful death! But after talking to yer father today, ye are no longer the woman I once knew and loved."
She reached up and locked her hands behind his head. When had she become so strong? She rose on her toes and started to kiss him as though she was ravenous. He tried to lift his head, but each time he did, she forced it back to her lips, grinding her mouth against his until he tasted blood on his teeth.
Surrender Page 31
