Surrender (12 page)

"Heh! What is terrible about an old
tradition?"

"Naught. But she stabbed him in the back the
same night. And murdered his leman."

"Did they see her do it?"

"Nay. But they demand she be brought back and
hung."

Elyne's fingertips stifled a small cry from
her lips. She swallowed and glared at Ranald, as if the bad news
was his fault.

"Muriele would never kill anyone! If she
stabbed him, he must have done something terrible and deserved
it!"

"Never kill? She has already taken a life. Ye
saw her slit a man's neck afore." Her father thumped his chest and
belched, then downed what was left of his ale.

"Aye. To keep him from capturing her!"

"Then dinna say she would never kill."
Broccin scowled at her.

"And this Magnus," Elyne turned her back to
her father to speak to Ranald. "Why was it an impossible promise?
Seems to me, he found it easy enough to pluck her out of the
convent and disappear with her." Her anger built knowing men
thought nothing of protecting a woman, only of punishing them.

"It's impossible to fulfill his vow. He loves
her." Ranald went over to an arm chair and pulled it back from the
table.

Ranald's frustration showed, for though he
was a man larger than most, his movements were always fluid.
Graceful even. Now, he plunked down in the chair, his legs sprawled
in front of him. Everything on the table clattered and finally
righted itself.

"Loves her?" Elyne scoffed. "With a love like
his, a woman doesna need hate."

"Aye, he loves her."

Ranald pointed to his goblet and Broccin
filled it with red wine. Ranald took a hearty swallow and drew the
back of his hand across his lips.

"He doesna. No man who loves a woman would
chase her down like she was a rabid fox." Elyne was so tense she
feared she would explode. "He loves her so much he would take her
back to be hanged? Nay. Hate is more like it."

"I questioned Ysabel whilst we were returning
here. For truth, this Magnus is in love with Muriele. Ysabel said
he could not eat during their trip. He barely slept. When he did,
he cried out in his dreams."

"Ha! Ye should know something of that,
daughter."

Elyne cast him a scowl as telling as any of
her brother's.

"I'm glad the bastard has night terrors."

"Daughter!" The chief struck the table,
making the wine pitcher wobble.

Elyne shrugged. "Serves him right for being
such a fool." She glared at Ranald. "Why are ye sitting here and
not going after them?"

"Because he loves her. And he's an honorable
man."

Elyne let out an exasperated shriek. "Dinna
say such again! Love and honor with these brothers are akin to hate
and shame!"

Squat crept from under the table and dragged
his butt on the floor close to Broccin's boots, leaving a foul
smell.

"Ysabel doesna believe Magnus can bring
himself to return her to the Gunn's. He will fulfill his vow, but
he will not allow harm to come to Muriele."

Elyne snorted. Loud. The sound as disgusted
and disbelieving as any man's.

"He will drag Muriele to the Highlands,
though she is the only woman he has ever loved? How can ye claim he
loves her when he knows something dreadful will happen to her
there?"

Annoyed because he was not more concerned for
their friend, she kicked Ranald's right foot so hard he had to
adjust himself in the chair.

"I'll not have a brother-by-law who is so
rigid, nor will I live with such a family."

Of all the men she could have given herself
to for the first time, it had to be to a deceitful man with a
brother who had such twisted morals he'd see his love killed afore
he would break a vow.

Well, she didn't intend to tie herself to
such a cruel family. Piss on them! And she used to think her own
father was harsh!

Graemme would probably think nothing of
tossing her off the highest turret if she displeased him.

And she knew she would.

She was too used to doing as she wished. The
women in her family were all strong. Not a one would put up with
the insult he had handed her after giving him the gift of
herself.

Somehow, she'd pay him back for that insult.
And he could forget ever having bed sport with her again!

Elyne stopped outside her bedchamber to
compose herself before she entered. She couldn't go in and slam the
door and kick the bed the way she wanted to do. Ysabel was there
and would think she shared a room with a crazy person.

She undressed down to her shift and quietly
slid between the covers. The faint moonlight coming through the
window opening showed her the lady was not asleep. 'Twas funny she
would automatically think of her as a lady. There was no mistaking
the breeding in the woman's speech, nor in the manner in which she
bore herself.

"Did ye have enough to eat, Ysabel?"

"Aye. Ye were kind to send up such a hearty
meal."

"Ye must be very tired. If I know my brother,
he would have ridden hard to get here."

"I am bone weary, but too confused to
sleep."

"And I am too angry at my father to have
naught but nightmares!"

Elyne rolled to her right side and plumped up
her pillow then slid her arm beneath it. Watching her, Ysabel
turned toward her so they could talk face to face.

"Tell me of Clibrick Castle and the people
who live there."

"I have never been to Clibrick, but everyone
in the villages between there and my home speaks of them. What do
you want to know?"

"Anything you can recall about Chief Angus
and his sons."

"I have heard stories of the two young men
for many years. The older is Magnus, the younger Graemme. They
didna grow up together because of feuds between the Morgans and the
Gunns."

"What separated them?"

"The two Chiefs fostered their sons together.
They made them swear a blood oath when they were younglings.
Strangely, after Feradoch of the Gunns came to foster with the
Morgans, the villages far from Clibrick Castle lived in fear. Two
weeks of each year, Magnus returned to Clibrick to spend time with
the Morgans and Feradoch. The next two weeks, Feradoch would return
to Kinbrace with Magnus. The weeks when Magnus was at Clibrick or
when Feradoch was away, the village folk relaxed."

"When Magnus was not there, what did they
fear?"

"Raids at night where their daughters were
taken from their huts then returned in the morn."

Chill bumps formed on Elyne's arms. "Then
Graemme and Feradoch preyed on the outlying villages? They raped
the women there?"

"Nay. Not Graemme. They only had reports of a
man who looked like a blond Viking. And also of his friend. An ugly
lout."

She gave such a violent shudder Elyne could
feel it in the bedding.

"This Graemme. Does he have lemans living at
the castle?"

"Nay. Though he's had women aplenty from the
age of fifteen. 'Tis said little by little the village lasses paid
heed only to this Feradoch."

"By chance, Graemme was cruel to them?"

"I dinna think so. This foster brother
declared to everyone Graemme was soft and weak as a woman."

Elyne snorted. "Soft? He can be mean as a
ravening wolf!"

"I wouldna know. Several years ago, we heard
he was in love with a blond lass. She was the daughter of a knight
at the castle." Ysabel put her hand to her mouth to stifle a
yawn.

Knowing Graemme loved another woman made
Elyne's anger heat. Some love he had for this knight's daughter
when he was only too eager to swive her here at Raptor!

"What is her name?"

"Elspeth, I believe."

Before she could speak again, a queasy
feeling made Elyne swallow bitter water that surged to her
mouth.

"Why has he not married her?"

"Graemme?" Ysabel blinked and tried to keep
her drooping eyes open.

"Aye."

"I would not know..." She finished the
sentence with a soft sigh, half asleep.

"Ye must be terribly tired, Ysabel. Sleep and
we will talk more on the morrow."

Elyne tossed and turned and thought she'd
never relax. Finally, exhausted, she closed her eyes and drifted
off, only to be caught up in one of her foretelling dreams.

She found herself hidden high in a tree
watching a giant black wolf in a stream. He stood tall on his hind
legs, like a man. Mud covered his body and leaves had tangled in
his hairy chest. He covered himself with soap and began to bathe.
As he scrubbed his body, the long animal hair washed away with the
mud. Beneath was hard, male flesh.

Finally, nothing remained of the wolf except
his face.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She tried
to hold her breath, afeared he would hear her breathing. The wolf
man's face turned from side to side. Moonlight hit the slanted eyes
showing they were so deep a brown as to appear black. Satisfied he
was alone; he began to wash his face.

As he splashed water on it, the branch she
perched on broke away. She tumbled to the ground. Jumping to her
feet, she ran as fast as a fox. His terrible snarls were
thunderous, crashing behind her. The earth vibrated when he ran.
His panting drowned out any other sounds as he gained on her.

His breath stirred the hair on her neck and
his massive arms grabbed and pulled her against a hairy body. The
hair did not feel coarse and thick as the wolf's had looked, but
soft and tickled the flesh on her back.

With her tight against him, he grunted and
nuzzled her ear. With horror, 'twas not a man's face caressing her
cheek, nor a man's lips tasting her flesh.

A long, hot and wet tongue started at the
throbbing pulse of her neck and trailed up her jaw, savored her
cheek and stopped at the edge of her lips.

She shrieked!

Elyne was still splitting the quiet night
with screams when Ranald and her father found her in the apple
orchard. Her eyes were wide with fright. When Ranald kneeled to
take her by the shoulders, she fought him as fiercely as a demented
barn cat. He grabbed her wrists as she tried to gouge his eyes and
held tight to them, talking to her all the while in a quiet,
soothing voice.

"Lass, 'tis Ranald. No one is going to hurt
you."

He looked at Broccin, for Elyne did not seem
to hear him. Aunt Joneta ran up, knelt on the ground behind Elyne
and pinned her arms to the side.

"Wake up, lovey. 'Tis naught but one of your
dreams." She repeated it over and over, and finally Elyne began to
quiet. She blinked, holding her eyelids tight and then opening
them.

"Dafty! 'Tis a wonder any man would consider
her!" Broccin shouted and pulled his hair at his temples. "How many
times have we found her roaming the castle grounds, the fields,
even the pig sty sitting in the midst of their slops?"

Elyne put her arms around Ranald and sobbed,
muttering the wolf would tear out her throat. Joneta and Ranald
kept up a soothing, wordless murmuring in her ears until she
stopped shaking.

"If Sir Graemme hears of this, he'll think
she's crazy as a loon and will likely murder him whilst in one of
her wild dreams." Broccin stomped around in a circle, kicking the
earth with each step. "If he refuses to have her to wife, she'll
spend the rest of her life in the nearest convent. Let them deal
with her."

Ranald lips thinned and his fingers twitched.
He had an overwhelming need to do something physical. Fury churned
in his mind at the cruel statement. He'd not let his father lock
her away in a convent the way he had discarded him at Kelso Abbey
to either live or die. Broccin hadn't cared which.

He knew why his father had hated him. Had
even come to terms with it. A common superstition in the Highlands
was the belief the second born of identical twins had an evil soul.
But surely, Broccin had some love for his only daughter?

"You'll do no such thing, brother!" Lady
Joneta said firmly. "She has the dreams for a special reason. We
should all pay more heed to them." She frowned and smoothed back
Elyne's hair. "I think this will not be the end of them, lovey. Ye
have not seen the wolf's true face. It may not be Sir Graemme, but
someone else. Your gift may be trying to warn you about a man you
dinna yet know."

Rising with Elyne sobbing in his arms, her
face buried in his neck, Ranald ignored Broccin and headed toward
the keep. He held tight to his fury, not wanting to lose control.
If he did, he couldn't stop the winds from blowing or objects
flying around when his gaze touched them. As it was, a forceful
gust banged the heavy doors of the keep open as he approached
them.

Squat shot out of the open doorway like
someone had booted him in his bowlegged hindquarters. He took a
quick look at each of the humans and must have decided Broccin was
the one who had caused his mistress to cry. Without hesitation, as
Broccin passed him, a hot stream of piss soaked the Chief's left
foot. Squat skittered away afore a forceful kick could meet his
malformed body.

Elyne felt the rigid control in Ranald's body
and stopped sobbing. She hiccupped and patted his scarred cheek,
trying to soothe Ranald as he had quieted her.

"Dinna let him spike yer temper, Ranald. I
know ye would never allow him to lock me away."

Taking a deep breath, he hugged her
tighter.

"Ye must not tell Ysabel anything of yer
dreams." Ranald shook his head. "Ye know how frightened most become
of anyone not alike themselves." He chuckled. "Look how quickly
they believed me a Black Raptor and thought I could change into a
huge bird of prey."

Ranald's body relaxed as he calmed. He picked
his way amongst the sleeping men on the great hall's floor and
entered the solar.

"I'll fix ye an elixir to sleep afore ye
return to yer room," he said. He turned to Broccin and tried to
smile, but 'twas more of a grimace. "Go to bed, Father. I will
handle this from now on."