Surrender (19 page)

Screaming, she toppled off the tower. She was
falling to her death. When she struck something hard as stone, she
expected to die. Male voices shouted but she couldn't make out the
words. The loudest was near her ear as sturdy, muscled arms grabbed
hold of her shoulders. Her head cracked hard against something and
her legs tangled with a horse's head. The animal stamped and
sidled.

"Shite!"

Graemme's voice.

The two tilted back and forth and rolled to
the left side of the saddle. It was as if a giant hand meant to
shake them senseless and nearly threw them off the horse. Another
set of arms grasped her hips and legs. They had not finished
falling. 'Twas a short distance from saddle to grass. They landed
with a thud, amidst more cursing. Two hard bodies cushioned her
from the ground, one with arms around her upper body, another
cradling her hips and legs. Her forehead hit something softer than
before.

Their legs tangled with the horses' legs, but
both men barked orders for the mounts to stand still.
Battle-hardened, they obeyed.

Elyne opened her eyes. She squeezed them shut
again and wished she could rub them. Had she traveled back in time?
Except when she'd landed atop Graemme before, her head didn't feel
like it had struck an anvil. And before, she'd stared into startled
brown eyes. Now all she saw was a large bump on Graemme's forehead
and blood flowing quite impressively from his nose.

"What in Hades were ye trying to do, woman!
Fly like a hawk?" The man's voice nearly snarled at her, he was so
angry. "This habit of knocking my brother on his back has to
stop."

She felt the man release her hips and legs.
She was able to raise her head to stare down at Graemme, who
appeared to be senseless. His arms still tightly gripped her to
him, and blood flowed down the sides of his cheeks.

"I think he broke his beautiful nose!" Elyne
tried to pull her shift closer to staunch the bleeding.

"
He
broke his nose? More likely
'twas yer hard head. But Graemme will be pleased ye think his nose
beautiful." His voice no longer sounded angry but a bit amused.

She near jumped up, if she'd been able, when
the voice's hands pulled her clothing down over her buttocks and
legs. Squat tried to wrench the material from him and near tore her
shift.

"Stop it, Squat!"

Was it her who spoke or him? Nay. 'Twas him.
Squat had shut his mouth and looked up at the man and not her.

"Tsk! Ye need not show the men how fortunate,
or mayhap unfortunate, my brother has been in catching a
bride."

Laughter was in his voice, but beneath the
tone was a hint of worry.

"Come, let me help ye up afore the good
sisters think something is happening between ye right here for all
to witness. Fortunately, ye knocked us off our mounts onto a grassy
area."

Hearing him mention the sisters, she turned
her head and saw women in their habits running toward them, some
carrying shovels or brooms, others buckets of anything they had
gotten their hands on when they heard the commotion. Leading them
was a visiting monk carrying a broadsword and looking like he could
demolish any intruders with one hefty swing. Behind him was Brother
Michael, whom she'd found most enjoyable the night before for he'd
regaled her with stories of Ranald as a monk.

Graemme's arms still clutched her to him.
When Magnus on one side and Colyne on the other, tried to open them
so they could lift Elyne off him, Squat snarled and barked. He
headed straight for Magnus' arse.

"You had best fend off the wee dog, else you
won't sit for several days," Brian warned him.

"And ye had best catch him afore he does if
ye dinna want yer arse kicked from here to the Highlands! Ye were
responsible for him."

Why were Magnus and Colyne arguing about
Squat? Graemme felt something hot running down the sides of his
cheeks and opened his eyes. He'd though Squat had used him for his
own purposes, but Brian already had him in his arms.

He hurt all over. Had Lucifer been there to
poke him with pitchforks and pile stones on him? His ears rang and
his eyes started to clear. Someone was tugging his arms. Another
was crawling all over him. Pray God it was a lass! Surely, if some
simpering man took advantage of his senseless state, it would be a
mortal sin!

"Graemme, ye can let Elyne go now. She's
safely on the ground, thanks to yer soft body!"

Magnus voice! He looked. His gaze clashed
with Elyne's beautiful dark brown eyes. Everything started to make
sense to him now. He sighed and let his arms relax. He felt a cold
breeze when Colyne and Magnus carefully lifted her off him.

"Someone cover her. She has a habit of
running around near nekid for all to see!"

"I do not! Ye keep showing up where ye're not
wanted and battering me!"

"Here now, ye have a lifetime to fight."
Magnus turned to the closest nun. "Please, Sister, tend Elyne to
see she isna hurt and is properly dressed." He looked at the two
men. The giant was Elyne's brother's friend. He didna know who the
other monk was. "Does either of ye know of healing? Catching the
lady seems to have caused my brother some injuries."

"I am Brother Michael from Kelso. I have some
training from our former Brother Ranald. This is Brother Hugo," He
said as he came forward and knelt beside Graemme. "He came to Kelso
as a wounded Crusader sick to the soul from slaughter. Brother
Ranald cured his wounds and mind. Hugo decided to become one of
us."

As the monk talked, his hands gently probed
over Graemme, feeling for broken bones or other serious
injuries.

"His nose is not as straight as before. And
her elbow cracked against his head when he first caught her." He
chuckled and glanced at Magnus. "The three of you looked like
people with cords attached while someone jerked you every which
way."

Brother Michael paid particular heed to
Graemme's forehead. "We'll need some cold cloths there and an
elixir to ward off pains in the head." He pulled a white linen
cloth from a pocket of his robe and held it to Graemme's nose.
"We'll need to do a little work on his nose. I dinna think 'tis
broken, but she dealt him a blow hard enough to cause bleeding and
mayhap some swelling. It should heal with naught but a slight
mark."

Asking Graemme questions as his hands
traveled over Graemme's neck, arms and felt over his ribs and
stomach. Finally, Ranald's giant friend Brother Hugo helped Magnus
to stand Graemme on his feet.

"Check my horse, Colyne. I came down on him
pretty hard when I stood to catch her," Magnus said.

"Already have. Only a small scratch on his
left cheek where her foot struck him. I'll put something on it when
we unsaddle."

"Unsaddle? No need. We leave as soon as
Elyne's properly clothed." Graemme ordered.

He swayed back and forth when Brother Hugo
let go of his arm.

"Still think you will ride this day? You
wouldn't get a league away afore you fell off your saddle…or bled
to death." Brother Michael chuckled. "And I think you have much
explaining to do to Mother Cecelia."

The monk was right. While the sisters tended
Elyne for her bruises and cuts, Graemme and Magnus followed the
monks to the Infirmary. Brother Michael cautiously pulled the cloth
from Graemme's nostrils.

"Let us see if your nose is broken or just
had a hard knock." He watched as a slow trickle ran down toward
Graemme's lips. "Nay. Her head isn't as hard as you thought."

He dipped a clean cloth in cold water and
handed it to Graemme.

"Here. Hold this on it while I check you
over. It should stop the bleeding."

He had Graemme bend and straighten his arms
and legs, felt every bone in his spine and checked every
muscle.

Graemme answered Brother Michael's questions
of, "Does this hurt?" with a muffled voice. Finally, he threw the
cold cloth onto the table.

Thankfully, nothing had broken when Graemme
slammed onto the ground. The most serious injury was a gash on the
outside of his left thigh where he'd scraped against a sharp rock
when landing. Graemme gritted his teeth while Brother Michael
cleaned dirt out of the wound, flooded it with an astringent made
from moneywort. After placing a pad over the injury, he bandaged it
closed with precision, just tight enough his flesh would heal
together but not too tight to cause trouble. When he finished, he
massaged ointment into sore muscles and checked Graemme's
bruises.

"Brother Michael must have magic in his
fingers. I feel as rested as if I'd slept a bit," he told Magnus as
they went to meet with the head of the convent alone. Well, not
alone, for Brothers Michael and Hugo were there leaning against a
wall. Elyne's brother Ranald had appointed Hugo Guardian of Mary
Magdalen while Muriele was there.

He took his duties seriously, for he didn't
let Graemme out of his sight. 'Twas strange. For such a big man,
his touch was gentle as he helped Graemme.

The spacious, sunny room was bare but for
necessities. A small table with two chairs waited beneath the
window. A pewter pitcher, its sides sweating from cold water,
looked inviting. Small pewter cups circled it and a basin sat just
a hand's-width away. Statues of the Virgin Mary, Jesus and various
saints stood in niches in the room. A single candle in a glass
holder flamed in front of each.

A desk covered with missives took up half of
one wall with Mother Cecelia's wooden armchair in place. A charcoal
sketch of Jesus on the cross hung behind it. Two straight backed
chairs awaited before the desk.

Graemme looked at Magnus and again glanced
around the room. "I have seen the Abbot's office at Melrose Abbey.
It seems an Abbot lives with more comfort than a fragile
woman."

"I met Mother Cecelia when I came for
Muriele. She is capable, not fragile, by any means," Magnus
whispered to Graemme as footsteps approached the door.

"Please. Take a seat," Mother Cecelia said as
she entered.

The men politely waited until she sat before
they did. The two monks leaned against the wall and watched the
room in a protective way.

"Fragile?" Mother Cecelia's voice sounded
surprised when she sat down. "Nay, we are strong women here. Ranald
of Raptor can tell you of us. We kept his wife safe from him for a
sennight or more while his army camped outside the walls."

"Surely a former monk wouldna have used force
to enter!" Magnus looked shocked.

"Nay, he would not. We released her into the
care of monks from Kelso Abbey who came to settle the dispute.
Ranald disguised himself as a penitent bound to silence. A good
thing, too. Anyone who has heard him chanting the psalms at Matins
would recognize his voice."

"Were you not furious for his deception?"
Graemme couldn't imagine this new brother-by-law doing such a
devious thing.

"Nay. I knew from the first."

"Then why did ye allow him to leave with
her?"

"Brother Ranald is the most honorable monk or
man I have had the pleasure of knowing," Mother Cecelia said. "He
protected Lady Muriele by paying much more than necessary for her
keep. He had the Abbot of Kelso send Brother Hugo to us as her
guardian." She raised her left brow at Graemme. "By the way,
Brother Ranald was no more devious than your brother. 'Tis the
reason Brother Hugo keeps Sir Magnus in his sight. He was much
shamed when Sir Magnus was able to spirit her away."

Magnus looked at the big man and nodded. "I
regret the distress I caused ye."

Brother Hugo inclined his head and crossed
his arms inside his wide brown sleeves.

"Word travels quickly to us here in
Northumbria. I have heard of two brothers, Magnus and Graemme. One
is righteous to the bone and will not bend. The other as honorable
but lets common sense guide him." She stopped and stared at
them.

Magnus and Graemme felt the urge to squirm on
their seats, knowing they must both appear as fools to her.

"I knew you were Magnus, "she said, looking
at Graemme's brother. "You look to have the gall to hire a young
woman, enter a convent and kidnap the lass who sought sanctuary
with us. By all rights, I should have Brother Michael and our
faithful Guardian toss you back out the convent gates."

"What good would it do ye? We would still
return. And anger makes us more powerful," Magnus said with a
cheerful smile.

"Agreed. So it is with me."

"We came to retrieve my betrothed, Elyne,"
Graemme interrupted. "She has addled dreams which led her to fear
me. All I intend to do is the honorable thing."

"Her dreams are not addled, by any means. She
envisioned the battle outside our gates when Sir Ranald fought off
an evil baron who intended to murder Lady Catalin," Mother Cecelia
said.

"Not foolish? When she thought I was a wolf
turned man and was going to tear out her throat?" Graemme raised
his brows and awaited her answer.

"Well, now, she may have been wrong. But you
must admit your standard was what caused her to picture you as a
wolf."

"Aye. And ye must admit if I intended to
murder her, I would have let her fall." He leaned forward to brace
his arms on his knees, but winced when the movement disturbed his
wound. He sat straight again. "'Tis more likely the daft girl and
her father will be the end of me."

"Nay. She will soften once ye are married,"
Magnus said. "Muriele hated me for something I failed to say when I
left Kinbrace. Once she knew I loved her, she was free to love me
in return."

"Aye, but ye are in love. In my case, there
will be a wedding or I lose, uh, part of my personal
treasures."

"You must pay if you do not marry Elyne? I do
not understand." Mother Cecelia said, a slight frown creasing her
brow.

Graemme's face turned hot as the blood
dripping from his nose. Magnus snorted trying not to laugh aloud.
Fortunately, Graemme remembered the missive Chief Broccin had
written. He pretended he hadn't heard her question and rose to his
feet. Fumbling with the wide belt holding his kilt around his
waist, he withdrew the message from a fold in the leather. He hoped
to distract her by producing Chief Broccin's letter saying Ranald
had given his approval for the wedding.