Surrender (22 page)

They left Elyne with Mother Cecelia at the
women's quarters. As they walked from there into the chapel for
Vespers, he and Magnus stood to one side as everyone filed past
them. Once the mass began, they quietly slipped back out the
door.

Things were just as tense throughout the
following day. When they escorted Elyne to the women's dormitory
for her last night there, both men were uneasy. As they had done
the night afore, Graemme dozed hidden in the shadows inside the
stable where he could watch the front door while Magnus did the
same at the back. Well past midnight, Graemme jumped up and hid
behind a post. The figure of a monk came quietly through the
doorway and eased it shut. Nothing gave him a hint the person was
not as he seemed, but to be sure, Graemme watched quietly. He
waited as the monk walked down the row of stalls. About average
height for a man. A good stride, if somewhat stealthy.

His eyes widened and he hesitated when he
noted a portly bulge in the monk's robe. Mentally, he pictured each
man who had gone into the chapel and later to the men's supper. He
didn't recall any of them being rotund. When he stopped at the
stall halfway down where Elyne's horse waited, he furtively
followed in the shadows.

The monk looked behind him. Graemme stood
quietly. The man entered the stall, looked around again, and hiked
up his robes. He fumbled around awkwardly, trying to lift only the
front of it. Was the man meaning to take a piss in the horses
stall? Why not outside against a tree?

Graemme realized why and was relieved. No man
possessed long, shapely legs and creamy thighs. The figure juggled
the heaving bulge around his stomach into position.

He almost laughed aloud when he heard Elyne
mutter, "If a bairn is as much trouble as ye, squirming and
thrashing about, I'll nay be havin' any little ones!"

The bundle jiggled again and out of the pile
of clothing popped an uneven head. Squat's little beady eyes looked
straight at him. His tail must have been beating against Elyne's
sides, for he wiggled in rhythm with his tail. When the dog whined,
the horse snuffled and moved restlessly.

"Shh. Ye two are makin' enough noise to wake
someone," she whispered. She leaned over and carefully placed him
on his feet. When he whipped his tail faster and started to move
toward Graemme, she hissed at him.

"Stay!"

Graemme waited until she had her back turned
to him. As she adjusted her clothing, he shook his head at Squat
and put his hand up, palm toward the little dog, biding him to
stay. Graemme silently moved in back of her to lean against the
stall's entrance.

"Ye are goin' somewhere, Brother?"

She didn't turn. "I return to Kelso afore
first light," she said in a husky voice.

"Ye are aware this horse belongs to a young
lady?"

She hesitated. "Ye are right. I am one stall
too far." She pulled the cowl low over her lowered face.

Gramme followed her as she turned and went to
the stall to their left. When the horse snorted, she halted.

"Now ye mean to take my horse?"

Her hands fisted and she kicked straw on top
of the hard-packed dirt floor and sent it flying. He could tell she
was trying to remember the color of his and Magnus' horses.

"Nay. My horse is deep brown. Not black."

"And ye were goin' to take this wee, handsome
dog with ye?"

Squat's tail thumped against his thin sides.
Graemme smiled down at it. For truth, if the dog liked you, he had
such an agreeable disposition a person forgot how ugsome he truly
was. She cleared her throat, probably preparing to keep it
lowered.

"Aye. The lady thinks Kelso's healer can help
him. He has malformed legs, ye ken." She started to edge past him
but had to stop when Squat leaned forward and pissed like he was
bitch.

"With that, too," she muttered and nodded
toward the dog.

He straightened and reached out a hand and
cupped what could only be a soft breast beneath the robe.

"Ye are the shapeliest monk in all of
Christendom," he whispered as he pulled the cowl back. She didn't
have a chance to protest, for his lips swooped to seal hers.

He startled for he didn't free her long curly
hair. Mayhap the cowl covered it. He felt all over her back, but
the hair was missing. He snapped his head up to look. By Lucifer's
tainted breath! If she'd cut her glorious hair off, he'd be tempted
to beat her.

In the darkness of the stable, he twirled her
around and felt the back of her head. Relief spread through him.
Braiding her hair in tight rows must have taken her a goodly time.
He twirled her back and found her lips again.

Elyne was near dizzy, but not enough she lost
her strength. She shoved against his hard chest, but he didn't
budge. She tightened her right leg muscles to lift her knee and
give him a more potent message. Instead, he shifted his body to
lean back against the stall and wrapped one leg across the back of
her knees. Did he read her mind? Foolish thought. He'd felt her
muscles tighten and thwarted her.

Had he known all along it was her? Of course,
he had. After all the hours of preparing and planning, he had known
right away. How was she going to replace the monk's clean clothing?
It was one thing to 'borrow' them and have them returned later than
it was to have to admit in person to Mother Cecelia that she had
taken them.

Her body warmed and all thoughts flew her
mind as he deepened the kiss. His hands roved but seemed to catch
in the excess clothing she was wearing. He stopped in frustration,
took her by the hand and led her to an empty stall.

She was prepared to defeat his efforts, but
he moved too quickly and she too slowly. Mayhap she really didn't
want to pull away? Memories of their night at Raptor brought more
heat to her body than his hands did. In an empty stall, he whipped
the robes up and over her head. They stuck and wouldn't come
off.

"Bend over a bit. The sleeve is stuck on a
pin in yer braids."

To her shame, quite willingly she did as he
commanded. The robe quickly fell to the floor.

Feeling it around her ankles, she cooled to
the idea again. He sensed it. Gathering her in his arms, he covered
her face with kisses.

Kisses on her forehead. Kisses on her cheeks
and nose. Kisses to keep her eyes closed.

When was he going to thrust his tongue in her
mouth? She wanted him to most of all. She'd never admit it, but she
felt small and helpless when he did that. Not helpless like she was
when faced with her fathers demands that she marry some old,
smelly, toothless man with a belly as large as an increasing woman,
but helpless because she liked far to much what Graemme made her
feel.

He kissed her quickly and slid his tongue
down to the top of her breasts. He must have been afeared of
tearing her kirtle, for he laved the material over her breasts,
wetting it until he could draw her nipple into his mouth. He
nibbled with his teeth then pulled on her nipple until she groaned.
When she did, he reached down and grabbed the hem of her kirtle and
smock and yanked upward. He was taking too long. She helped him by
wriggling down as he pulled up. Suddenly she felt the cold air on
her legs, her bare buttocks and her breast.

The dress caught around her head. She reached
up to free it, but he took both wrists and held them together over
her head while he lowered her to the floor.

"Nay. Let me."

His voice was more of a growled order than a
request for her to remain still.

She couldn't see him. Felt vulnerable as he
attacked her breast, first one then the other. He suckled so hard
hot wetness flooded her woman's place. She could feel it seeping
down between her nether lips and was embarrassed he would
notice.

He did. He cupped his hand between her legs,
his palm over the opening to her body, and rubbed back and fourth.
His breathing became harsh and fast.

"My God, ye are beautiful. So beautiful I
want to swive ye till ye faint. Feel how much ye are welcoming
me."

He slid his wet hand over her stomach. She
thrashed, wanting to cover herself. He was looking at her bare
flesh, yet she couldn't see him. There was something erotic about
it.

When he left her breast and attacked her
quivering stomach, she was lost. Why did his kisses on her lower
belly cause her to quiver and squirm? Wanting more? She couldn't
control her movements and started to moan. He must have liked the
sound, for he chuckled and spread her legs, holding them wide with
his own. Then he became very still.

Was he looking at her private place? Shame
filled her. Desire too. Then she felt one lone finger tracing the
opening to her body. Around and around, he teased her flesh but
didn't allow her relief. When he lightly tweaked her throbbing nub,
she threw her legs wide. Inviting him to enter. He did, but only
with his fingers. She wanted him to fill her!

Still holding her hands above her head, he
kissed down to the curls guarding her sex. He wouldn't go any
further, would he? She was too wet, too exposed. She wanted to
cringe at the same time she wanted to demand he plunge himself in
to the hilt. Oh my Saints! His hot tongue flicked her nub while his
finger entered her. Planting her feet firmly, she lifted her hips,
pushing herself at his face. How shameful! She started to pullback,
but he touched her nub again and inserted a second finger.

She panted and all thoughts of running away
fled her mind. Well, Hades! She couldn't move if she wanted to. Not
until he satisfied her. She hadn't known swiving could make you so
powerless.

Powerless? Why, it was what he was after! To
make her vulnerable and pliable so she would go back to Raptor and
marry him without a single protest. Well, she'd be damned if she
would. She fought the cloth. Tried to thrash free of it. He
chuckled and grabbed one leg at the time and wrapped it around his
waist. She ignored it while she was trying to free her arms. Then
she realized his cock was poised to her entrance. She caught her
breath, waiting.

Just a touch. Why was he waiting? She
thrashed about again. He shoved his cock a slight bit inside her
and held still again. Her stomach heaved. Her frustration
raged.

"Tell me ye are sorry for running away and
Ill give ye what ye want."

"Ye pig-witted lout! I'm not sorry. I'll keep
running away."

"Tell me!" He pushed in a little more then
near pulled out. He reached down and circled her nub. Her juices
flooded the head of his cock.

"Ye flea bitten, rat-brained…" She ground her
teeth together then shouted, "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry? For what my delightful, obedient
lass?"

She near bit her tongue, trying to keep from
groaning out the rest of the apology. When he wriggled his hips,
she tried to push up to take all of him, but he rose up as much as
she tried to lift. Finally, she thought she'd scream with
frustration.

"Sorry I ran!"

She near screamed the words for he pushed in
all the way. She felt triumphant when he began a steady rhythm.
When she stiffened and started her climax, she locked her ankles
tight around his buttocks. As she came and she felt he was ready
for his own release, she spoke up.

"I'm sorry…," she gasped with pleasure, "ye
caught me." She groaned and swiveled her hips the way he had done
his. "Ye won't next time."

She was at the peak of her climax when all of
a sudden, his cock was gone and cold air swept over her naked body.
Her ecstasy came to a dead stop as soon as he removed his cock. He
released her hands. She grasped to pull him back. She swatted the
clothing down and sat up, as furious as she'd ever been in her
life.

Graemme had risen to his knees; his hand
pumped his cock. Just as he had by the well! She got all the hotter
looking at what he was doing. The head turned deep red, his balls
swelled till she didn't think she could have cupped one in her hand
they were so large.

He groaned again.

She stared, fascinated as he leaned backward,
his face staring sightlessly at the roof as he spurted his seed.
Why did he pull away when he could have come within her?

He had found his relief without her. 'Twas
not fair! How did a woman find her own relief without a man? Her
efforts had been futile.

Her frustration raged with her anger. She
prepared to kick him backward onto the floor. He caught her foot
and glowered at her.

"Ye didna do as I told ye."

He looked her over from head to foot. She
must look a frightful mess, her hair near undone from her head
thrashing back and fourth. She bit her lips to keep from screaming.
'Twould not do for anyone to find them here in such a condition.
She turned her back and pulled her smock and kirtle into their
proper places. She reached up and undid her hair. Better to have it
hanging wild than to have her braids looking like she'd caught them
in a bramble bush!

Graemme calmly stood, smoothed his kilt over
his belly and hips, ran his fingers through his hair and calmed it.
Cruddy Lucifer! He looked normal, while she must look like a
fright.

Where was Squat? Why hadn't he defended her
by biting Graemme's nether cheeks while they were doing their
worst?

"Squat?" she called.

A voice answered, not a bark.

"He's here with me, waiting on ye two to
finish yer argument."

Magnus' voice! Oh, Saints help her! How long
had he been out there?

She found out when Graemme called to him.

"Ye are good at walking silently, brother.
But not good enough."

"Good enough? Ye couldna have heard me over
her moans of pleasure."

"I heard yer boots brush against the wooden
bucket in front of the third stall."

Graemme adjusted his belt and slid his sword
and scabbard into the loop at his side.