Surrender (32 page)

Ice! She could be covered with snow and not
be as cold as she was now. She took a gulp of air when she broke
the surface and started rubbing her arms and chest as briskly as
she could. Can a person freeze solid in just a few breaths?

Well, drats! She was clean enough. It would
have to do.

She heaved herself out of the water and was
reaching for her blanket. It was gone!

Of a sudden, all Hell broke loose!

Graemme awoke feeling uneasy. The bed was no
longer warm and comfortable. What had startled him? He remained
still and listened.

Ah! 'Twas Squat's low, throaty snarls at the
door. Graemme struggled out of bed and limped toward it. He peeked
through a slight crack in the wood. A short distance away stood two
men.

"Shh, there be a dog inside," one man
whispered.

"So? He isna a problem. Kill him." The second
man was larger and dumber, for his voice rose.

"And warn the nekid lass? Best ye quiet yer
flapping tongue. We'll hide in the woods. When she gets out of the
water, we'll grab her."

"Aye! I dinna want to go in after her. I took
me bath not two months ago. Not time for anither."

"Ha! I'll swive her first. I dinna want yer
filth rubbing off on her and then to me." He sniggered and heartily
scratched his crotch where his hardened cock bobbed with his
efforts. "Ye can watch and learn!"

The dumb lout snorted. "She'll welcome me
after she sees yer little prick. While ye ram yer bitty thing in
her, I'll kill the dog."

They moved away from the door with little
regard to secrecy.

Bile rose to Graemme's throat. He couldn't
bear the thought of what they would do to Elyne if he didn't summon
enough strength to kill the men. All his pain and weakness left as
energy surged through him.

Reaching above the fireplace, he grabbed a
mace hanging from a nail. Spying his broadsword on the floor beside
the bed, he swooped it up. He ignored his boots. They'd make too
much noise. He gritted his teeth as he climbed out the back window.
Circling around the woods, he drew near the water. He waited and
scanned the trees surrounding it.

Two men in filthy kilts tried to hide behind
the bushes. One clutched a blanket in his hand. He recognized it as
one Elyne had wrapped herself in as she sat in the chair beside the
bed last eve. Their faces picked up interest as she started to move
in the water. One man, the dumber of the two he supposed, drooled
so much that dirty streaks ran down his chest.

He glanced toward where they stared. The
desire to gouge their eyes out near overcame him. They had no right
to feast their eyes on his bride as she was!

When Elyne rose from the water, no goddess
could be more beautiful. The sun finally broke through the clouds
above and turned her hair's amber highlights to molten gold. The
two fools sprang out from behind the trees, tripping on their feet
in their eagerness. It gave him a little time while they picked
themselves up. He had to reach them afore they could grab her. If
they did, he would have a hard time killing them without harming
her.

And kill them he would!

He wouldna let them lay their filthy hands on
his beautiful, feisty Elyne

As Elyne stepped out of the water, Graemme
ran toward her screaming a battle cry which terrified her. Long
black hair whipped back from his face. His eyes blazed with blood
lust. The veins in his neck stood out in livid ridges. With lips
contorted in a grotesque snarl baring his teeth, he looked ready to
pounce and rip out her throat.

Rising fever had made him berserk!

He intended to kill her, just as she'd
feared!

Elyne screeched when he raised his sword and
started his backswing.

"Down!" he roared at her.

Did he mean to behead her on the ground?

Strange. He didn't look at her but at
something behind her.

Though terrified of him, her instinct told
her to obey his command.

She huddled on the ground and made herself as
small as she could.

The sword swooshed as it cut the air. Her
hair fluttered. A strange sound followed. Something fell and rolled
in the leaves. A scant time after, a body hit the ground beside
her.

Warm blood splattered her. The man had no
head! She didn't scream. If she had, she would have choked. She
heaved until all that came from her stomach was yellow, bitter
fluid.

It was not over.

Another man howled and tried to run. Gramme
swung the mace with his left hand. It bashed into the back of the
lout's head. Its iron studs embedded in his skull.

With a loud thump, the filthy churl fell like
a log.

Graemme leaned over, his hands steadying his
knees as they wobbled.

Still filled with blood lust, he growled,
"Are ye harmed, lass?"

"Nay. I had no warning they were here."

"Do ye see any other's lurking in the woods,
wife? Since I see two of ye, I dinna trust my sight.

He could not see clearly! He blinked his eyes
and shook his head. Hopefully, there was only one of her now.

She swiveled her head, her gaze searching for
anything unusual.

"Nay, no one."

Saints help her! Was he going to fall?

Elyne jumped up and paid no heed to the gory
scene around her. She tried to put her shoulder under his left arm
so he could lean on her. They took one step together. He used his
sword as an aid to walk, but it wasn't enough.

Graemme slithered to his knees, but kept an
iron grip on his sword hilt.

A horse thundered toward the lodge, scaring
Elyne so much she ran back to the dead man and grabbed the blood
soaked handle of the mace. Giving it two mighty tugs, it released
the man's skull. She jumped, spreading her legs wide to avoid the
spiked iron ball near hitting her legs.

A single horseman came down the path. They
were ready for him should he belong to the other two. Elyne ran to
stand beside Graemme, her nostrils flaring and eyes blazing
murderously. They could not see the horse or its rider from where
they stood.

Squat barked ferociously.

The man banged on the door. It squeaked when
he opened it.

Elyne expected to hear Squat fighting the
intruder, but his frenzied barking changed tone. He sounded excited
and happy, happier than he'd ever greeted her!

Relief washed through her. Squat knew the
visitor.

She near fell to her knees in relief when
Ranald, dressed in his usual black clothing and robe, came around
the lodge and turned toward the wood. Squat followed so close, he
looked like he wanted to lean into the walking man.

"Elyne! Graemme! Where are ye? If ye're
swiving in the woods, get yerselves back! It's time to return to
Raptor and wed, whether ye wish it or no."

When Squat saw Elyne and Graemme, he came
running and yipping, as happy as a dog can be on finding its
owners. By the time Ranald reached them, the crazy dog was sniffing
the corpses, then turned his back toward them and dug with his rear
bowed legs, raining dirt down on the bodies.

"By God's brows, sister. Ye look like a
Valkyrie ready to swing that bloody mace to dispatch another soul
to Hell and not Valhalla." He looked her over closely. "Are ye
hurt? Do ye know ye're blood-splattered?"

Unable to form words, she shook her head for
his first question and nodded for the second. She'd started to
shiver and her teeth chattered, which was strange. She should be
relieved now her brother was here to protect them.

"Do ye also know ye are both nekid?"

She looked down and flushed.

He spoke low and soothingly as he walked
toward her. Gently, he pried the mace from her hand. Removing his
black cloak, he spread it around her shoulders, uttering soft
soothing sounds.

"Ye are safe, now, love. But we must see to
Graemme. He looks the worse for wear."

"I am fine. Take care of her." Graemme's
voice was strained and weak. "I think she hasna seen a man beheaded
afore."

"Aye. Being set upon by those two would ruin
anyone's day."

Graemme didn't have the strength left to
swing a weapon. He was relieved when Ranald helped him to rise then
took his sword and laid it on the ground with the mace. He felt
near to passing out, so maybe he imagined what he saw.

Ranald looked around the clearing, ignored
the dead bodies but fixed his gaze on the leaves and small
branches. His eyes held such determination Graemme wondered for
what he searched. Suddenly, a wind started to blow. Leaves and
branches lifted and hovered above the bloody weapons then fluttered
to the ground until they hid them from view. It happened so
suddenly Graemme blinked.

Ranald grinned at him. "That should keep them
out of sight until I get you two inside."

Walking over, he put his arm around Elyne's
shoulder and led her inside the lodge then turned to be sure
Graemme was still behind him.

"Did I tell ye, ye look like Lucifer had hold
of ye and dragged ye around the woods this past sennight? What
happened to yer leg?" He stopped and eyed Squat. "This little
beastie doesna look ferocious."

"A little mistake."

"Little? Dinna tell me ye set a trap and
caught yerself?" Ranald's dark plum-colored eyes crinkled at the
corners.

He settled Elyne in a chair at the table and
put water on to boil.

"Ye both look like ye need a bit of care.
Elyne. If ye feel up to it while I get my bag from Satan's Spawn,
wash off the bastards' blood and dress yerself. Graemme, sit on the
bed. Get yer leg up. It's swelling."

"What about the bodies," Elyne asked in a
quavering voice.

"They dinna mind waiting until after I've
finished caring for the living."

He picked up Squat, turned and strode out the
door.

Elyne poured water in the basin, smeared a
glob of soap on a cloth and scrubbed her body so hard she near took
the skin from it.

"I wish ye had not seen what ye did today,
Elyne."

For truth, Graemme sounded sorry she had.

"Ye took his head with one swing," she said
and gagged. Covering her mouth and closing her eyes, she tried to
wipe the memory from her mind.

"Aye. One swift act is merciful. Two is
torture."

"When you readied to strike, how did ye know
I would drop down? My head could be out there in the dirt."

She rinsed the cloth and thought she'd
cleaned off all the horrible blood splatters. Dumping the soiled
water out the window, she refilled the basin. She almost screamed
when Graemme's hand reached around her and took the cloth.

"Hold still while I wash yer back. The louts
were behind ye, so ye got more blood and, er, other stuff, on yer
back than front."

He sounded almost out of breath with the
effort. She spun around and tried to take the cloth from him.

"Ranald said ye should be on the bed!"

He raised his hand high, out of her reach. "I
will after I've soaped yer back. Be still, else I'll fall. Ranald
will think ye tripped me in my pitiful state."

How could he try to joke at such a time? She
felt guilty enough. She sure as Hades didna want him fainting at
her feet. Ranald would scold her for even allowing him to walk
around.

When he rinsed the cloth of its soap, she was
startled to see the water turn so red. He threw it out the window
and poured a fresh basin full from the pot heating at the
fireplace.

"Ranald's cloak will need washing. It wiped
most of if off yer back," he muttered.

His hands got slower and slower as he wiped
off the soap. Finally, he was done and dropped the cloth in the
basin.

She turned and put her arm around him to help
him back to the bed. On the way, she started to tremble again
thinking how close they'd come to being dead. They would have
killed Graemme, then after taking their turns raping her, 'twas
probable they would have slit her throat.

"Ye didna say how ye knew ye'd not lop off my
head instead of his."

"I knew ye would obey."

She almost stopped in her tracks, but the
faster she got him to the bed the better. He might be losing
strength, but his injury didn't seem to lessen his thoughts of
swiving. She had ample evidence. Whenever his left hand
happened
to brush against her breast, he hardened
further.

"Are ye daft? Ye
knew
I would obey
ye?" She drew his thoughts away from sex. "How? Do ye think ye have
tamed me so I will respond to yer voice?"

"Tame? Ye?" Graemme snorted. Loud. "Ye
responded to the command to drop down. It was not a request. 'Twas
the urgency in my voice. It made ye do as I said to keep yerself
safe."

They had reached the bed. When he sat, she
grasped his ankle and helped lift his leg onto the bed. He eased
back on the pillows, looked up at her and winked.

"Mayhap ye had best dress now, unless ye'd
like a tussle between the sheets?"

How could he sound so hopeful when he was
near to passing out?

"Ha! Not likely," she made her voice as firm
as she could, since it still quavered a little.

She turned her back to Graemme and hurried
over to a peg on the wall where she'd hung a green smock and kirtle
at dawn. No sooner had she pulled it on than Ranald called out he
was coming in.

His body filled the doorframe. Squat squeezed
between Ranald's legs, near tripping him. Not only did her brother
have his supplies from his horse, but he carried Graemme's sword
and the mace. He had washed the gore off both.

Ranald's gaze took in everything in the room
with one quick sweep.

"Nothing has changed. 'Tis as if Moridac will
walk into the room at any moment, bragging about his hunt for the
day," he said.

Elyne's heart tripped seeing the beauty of
the left side of his face lit in a wistful smile. 'Twas indeed as
if his twin was there. Had Moridac lived, their appearance would be
identical...except for the scars on the other side of Ranald's
face.