Surrender (21 page)

Now why was his mouth dropping like he'd seen
a horse with ears long as a hare's?

"Ye would take a
leman
? Women dinna
take lemans!"

"Little ye know about it. I know several
knights wives who are tupping other than their husbands."

She shook her head wondering why he hadn't
noticed it in his own keep. He stopped shaking his head. Finally.
If he'd done it any harder, his nose would spray blood all over her
clothes. What was making him snort like a horse?

"Women dinna take lemans. They take
lovers.
"

"Isn't a leman a man's lover?"

"Aye, but if a woman is interested in another
man for bed sport, he isna called a leman. He is considered her
lover."

"Means the same, doesn't it?"

"Aye. Take my word for it. And nay, ye will
not have a lover."

"Then ye'd best get rid of yer leman!"

Elyne started tapping her right foot in
irritation. She might not want a husband, but if her father forced
her to marry and give up her freedom, then the man was going to
have to give up something equally as important to him!

Graemme ran his fingers through his hair
acting like she was making him crazy or something. No, wait. Maybe
it was the wrong thing to demand from him. If he had a leman, she
could just refuse to share his bed when they wed. She would have to
suggest that he occupy himself with his leman. He shouldn't mind
that. After all, he certainly didn't want her and had made no
effort to deny it. All he wanted was to save those impressive
ballocks of his.

She thought he was going to shake the leaves
out of her hair when his fingers dug into her shoulders. Why did he
stare so hard at her? Was he thinking whether she was worth losing
his leman over?

"Do not ever think on demanding anything from
me, Elyne. Ye will be deeply sorry for it. I think I know what ye
are doing. Ye think to make me so angry that I will be a gowk and
defy yer father." He shook his head and scowled down at her. "Ye
can forget that idea."

When she started to reply, he squeezed her
shoulders again. Hard.

"I am neither afraid of yer father nor his
threats. I am wedding ye because I vowed I would. Ye are soiled
goods and no other man in Scotland will offer for ye. Everyone saw
ye atop me. Even yer brother says we should marry. But had he
disapproved, we would still wed. A vow from my family is never
broken. It is our honor ye ask me to defile and I willna do it.
Marry me ye will, and dinna doubt it!"

He gave her another little shake. Did he
think she hadn't been listening? Why did he have to have such
piercing dark eyes? And smell so good. He had bathed before he met
her on the path. A lock of his black hair fell over his left eye
when he shook her. She reached up and lifted it out of the way. He
had lovely brows, too. As dark as his hair. She was tall for a
woman, but she didn't quite reach his chin. She cleared her throat
and couldn't think of any more objections at the moment.

Drats! His scent did funny things to her
stomach. And her nose. She kept taking deep breaths. She stared at
his neck and remembered when they made bed sport the hollow of his
neck smelled of warm sandalwood and pine. When she felt her muscles
tense to lean closer, she stopped herself and pulled back.

"Well, dinna expect me to like it," she
muttered.

"Judging from the last time we were nekid
together, I think ye will like it verra much." His voice was husky
as he stared at her lips.

By instinct, she started to wet them but
stopped herself in time. She didn't want him to think she craved
his kisses—or anything else, for that matter.

He lowered his head to kiss her. She lowered
hers to deny him.

He softly kissed her forehead pretending it
was all he intended in the first place.

"I thought we were supposed to be talking.
Only
talking!"

He dropped his hands and took her elbow to
guide her.

"Do ye think I'm some brainless, scrawny lass
who canna stay on a path?"

"By yer habit of falling all the time, ye
need help of some kind."

He lurched as he walked and he complained
about her? Before she could respond to his dig, he spoke again.
"Tell me how ye came to have such an ugsome dog as Squat? And does
he always do this?"

She looked down to see Squat was on his hind
legs, his teeth locked onto the hem of Graemme's kilt in back. He
was worrying it as he would a rat or hare. If he kept it up,
Graemme's kilt would be on the ground. He'd likely blame her for
his being bare arsed again.

"Squat. Leave it!"

Squat stopped shaking the cloth but didn't
let it go. He questioned her, looking up at her with his beady
little eyes, why she didn't want him to play. "Leave it. Now."

The dog opened his mouth wide and emptied it
of a wad of soggy cloth.

Graemme leaned down and ruffled the hair on
the dog's sides. Squat plopped down on the grass and turned his
belly upward, begging for him to rub his chest. Graemme complied,
telling him he was a beastly looking little devil but was one of a
kind.

"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?

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.