Surrender (36 page)

Elyne grinned when he let out a squawk worthy
of the finest rooster. He near crushed her wrist until she released
him. She continued to look at her plate as if nothing had occurred.
When the room erupted in a cheer, it startled her. Graemme had
stood and stretched, like a man longing for his bed.

They quieted when old Grunda came up to him.
He startled and turned to her. She put her right hand on his head
and her left on Elyne's. Before the seer spoke, she waited a moment
and looked at the ceiling as if she could see the sky above.

"This husband and wife will make a bairn this
night. But if he is not careful of those who would try to draw him
away from her, he will lose all. Take heed to two who say they love
ye, for one is yer worst enemy." She stared straight into Graemme's
eyes. Satisfied that he'd heard her words, she withdrew and seemed
to flow through the tapestries behind Gille. The young squire
looked like a ghost had just touched him.

The women at the table followed Graemme's
lead and stood, ready to take Elyne above and prepare her for the
marriage bed.

Graemme had other ideas.

This lass to whom Graemme was now forever
bound to, tested him at every turn. If he didn't prove he was her
master, not her servant, she would believe she could lead him
around by his balls whenever it suited her.

He stood behind Elyne's chair and abruptly
pulled it back before she knew what he intended. While still trying
to get her balance, he scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed
less than a child.

The guests hooted and hollered advice, ready
to follow them up the stairwell and usher them to their bed.

Elyne spluttered, ready to argue.

"Ye will be silent, wife, else I'll dump ye
on the middle of this table and swive yer brains out!"

She stilled.

With a bright smile, he glanced around the
room then at the women who stood to help her prepare for him.

"I find I am too impatient to explore my
beautiful bride's body to wait for the bedding ceremony. Excuse
this impatient Highlander, I beg ye."

When she started to struggle, he loosened his
grip and jiggled her in his arms. She grabbed his shoulders to keep
from falling.

He leered at the crowd and said loud enough
for all to hear, "She grows impatient! Wait a short time then lend
an ear. Ye'll hear her screams of pleasure!"

"They'll hear screams all right!" Elyne was
so furious she hissed like a cat. "They'll not know it isna a lass
when I take a knife to yer ballocks!"

"Think of all the pleasure ye'd deny yerself
for the rest of yer life. If aught should happen to cause me not to
harden, ye willna ever have the pleasure again."

"Any man can provide the same service!"

"Nay. Ye willna
ever
have another
man betwixt yer legs but me! If ye dare to attempt it, ye will find
his severed head in yer lap."

Seeing movement at the high table, Graemme
glanced to see if someone sought to halt him. 'Twas Ranald. But he
had no intention of stopping him. He and Magnus were helping reseat
the women and soothing them.

Magnus grinned and nodded at Graemme. Having
seen Elyne enough over the past month, he would know if Graemme
didn't get the upper hand, he would be forever plagued with a wife
who thought to command his every movement.

Chief Broccin raised his goblet in a new
toast. "Drink to the one man who can finally tame me spirited
daughter! He will give me many strong and valiant
grandchildren!"

The guests cheered, only too happy for
another round of drinking.

o0o

Elyne didn't make it easy for Graemme to
carry her up the spiral staircase. She stiffened and put her feet
out to bump against the wall. He stopped and turned near sideways.
Halfway up the stairs, he stood her two steps above him then shoved
his shoulder into her middle, carrying her draped over him like a
big bundle of laundry. When she started kicking in earnest, he
slapped her behind.

Gently.

She squealed.

Men hooted from below.

"Nay. 'Tis but a minor feel!" Graemme called
down to them. "She will bring down the walls when she reaches her
peak!"

By the time they arrived at the top and
turned toward her bedchamber, his patience was at an end. He kicked
the door open, slammed it shut with the heel of his boot and
stalked over to the bed. Reaching up and grabbing her by the hips,
he bent forward and dumped her on the bed.

Rose petals flew in the air as Elyne sank in
the down mattress. The bed rocked when he fell on top of her,
holding her down while she ranted and raved. He needed to grasp her
wrists above her head to keep her from scratching his face.

Never had he seen such a temper in a woman.
Why, she had more rage stored in her mind than a whole keep full of
women.

"Ye foul-mannered cur!"

"Call me dear husband and I might let ye
up."

"Ye maggoty horse's turd! Get yer body off
me."

"Ah, ah! How about loving spouse, my dear
sweet-tempered bride."

She bucked under him and near had the
strength to throw him off. He did what any sane husband would
do.

He started kissing her. Every time she opened
her mouth to speak, his warm lips clamped on hers. He finally felt
her softening beneath him. He slanted his mouth, molding and
kissing her lips, nibbling and tugging at them.

Her clamped teeth denied him entrance.

His lips slid along her cheek to her ear,
where he nibbled and kissed around it and finally whispered,
"Please."

She ignored him.

He reached between them and pushed her skirts
close to her body so his knees wouldn't rip the lovely fabric.
Being careful, he moved one leg at the time to straddle her then
lifted onto his knees. He wriggled his hips and settled lightly
down on her.

Her eyes spat fire at him. He ignored it, for
his right leg gave a slight twinge, reminding him of the healing
bite marks and the bruise covering most of his thigh.

His kilt settled around his thighs. Her heat
came through her soft clothing onto his bare flesh, making his cock
even more eager. He looked down and wondered if it peeked between
his kilt and her soft linen kirtle?

Elyne surged up with her hips. He almost
missed seeing her hands flash up to push him off, but he gripped
her wrist before she could unseat him.

"Tsk! Ye would shove yer husband to the floor
on his wedding night? What would Father Matthew say if it cracked
my skull like a goose's egg?"

"A rotten egg, ye mean?"

She struggled and twisted her arms and,
though strong for a woman, she was no match for him.

Graemme stared down at his lovely bride.
Finally, she stopped struggling. He reached to smooth her hair back
from her face.

"'Tis beautiful," he said as he removed the
circlet from her brow. He placed it beside him.

He lifted his right leg and moved to her
side. When she would have sat up, he put his hand on her shoulder
and shook his head. He untied the silver chain from around her hips
and spread it out on both sides. Tilting his head, he studied the
dress.

He stood and held his hands out to help her
to stand.

"Ye can scream yer hatred of me till the
cock's crow at dawn, but it willna change a thing."

"I didna want a husband."

He studied her face and saw the conflict
there. He tried to see things as she would. It would be hard for
her to leave Raptor and her family behind. Especially Ranald. And
Lady Joneta, who must have been like a mother to her. A memory
flashed through his mind and gave him a start. 'Twas when he was
but five years old. He had stood watching as his seven-year-old
brother Magnus swore a blood oath with Feradoch while their fathers
stood behind their sons.

When the oath was final, Graemme had cried
out when Chief Olaf rode away, taking Magnus beside him. Until
then, he'd not understood how being a foster brother worked. He
didn't want Feradoch for a brother! He wanted Magnus to come
galloping back to them. As the tears had run down his face, he
remembered the disgusted sneer Feradoch had turned on him.

"Aye. I understand. But we are married now,
for good or ill." His strong hands were firm as they turned her so
her back was to him. "I will be yer maid for the night, wife."

"I can tend to myself," she said and tried to
turn around.

"Up," he ordered with a light pressure on her
elbows.

She surprised him by lifting her arms. He
bent to take the hem of her kirtle and was careful when he lifted
it over her head then draped it across the back of a chair. Her
smock followed before she had time to think about it.

The loveliest back in all of Scotland peeked
through the curly brown hair flowing down to her hips. He studied
at leisure her lovely, ivory back peeking between the dark tresses.
He noted she had folded her arms in front of her.

Why, his bride was shy on her wedding night.
Strange, for 'twas not the first time they'd had bed sport.

He came close behind her, reached around to
cup her full breasts and whispered against her velvety neck, "We
may fight over everything else, but ye have to admit, we make
passionate bed sport together."

As he kissed her shoulders, he watched his
tanned fingers brush over her rosy nipples. When they jutted with
interest, his calloused palms rubbed them afore retreating. He
cupped her breasts and kneaded them, sighing, for they swelled in
his hands.

"Ye are beautiful, wife. Never did I think
any lass could be so lovely and so skillful at the same time."

"Skillful?"

Did she know she was thrusting her breasts
into his hands, begging for more attention?

"Aye. Skillful. Someone who knew nothing
about weapons couldna dislodge a mace the way ye did."

By Lucifer's crooked toes! The last thing he
wanted was her thinking about the blood and gore of dead men. But
since she hadn't jerked away, mayhap she wasna listening.

He redoubled his efforts. As he nipped and
kissed his way down her neck below her right ear, he breathed in
her fresh heather scent. She caught her breath and stretched her
head back, offering more of her flesh to his kisses. He suckled the
tender skin there and then lapped it with his tongue to soothe
it.

All the while, his impatient cock pressed
against her back, hot and throbbing. He wanted to rip his clothes
off so they could be flesh to flesh, but he forced himself to
wait.

"Come, sit on the bed so I may remove yer
stockings and shoes," he whispered in her ear.

Her jaw tightened against his cheek afore he
pulled back. She was still resisting him, but at least she wasn't
swinging her fists! Leading her by the shoulders over to the bed,
he removed the chain and circlet to the table so she could sit.
He'd had ample practice removing a lass' clothing, but never had it
seemed so slow!

When he pulled off her left stocking and held
her foot in the palm of his hand, he stroked up and down her leg.
He lifted her foot and nibbled the tips of her toes. It must have
tickled, for her leg muscles jerked. After he'd treated her other
foot in the same way, he stood.

"Stand." He held her hands and brought her
closer to him. Reaching around her, he grasped the covers and
jerked them back, leaving the bare sheet. He started to lift her in
his arms, but she pulled back.

"I am nay a child. I can get into the bed by
myself."

"If ye were a child, we wouldna be here."

He turned away. Not wanting any curious
viewers, he went over and latched the door. If anyone tried to
enter, he'd hear them afore they raised the latch.

Someone had lit a brace of candles in the
room. Between them and the fireplace, it looked near daylight. He
pinched them all out, thinking she would prefer the darkness. Most
women he'd swived liked the light, but he sensed Elyne wasn't
interested in watching his cock bob around like a curious puppy
when he walked toward her.

He moved to the other side of the bed and
made sure his sword was near to his hand, should he need it. Not
like most men, he was methodical at undressing. He removed and
folded each piece of clothing until he was as naked as she.

When he slid onto the bed, the bed ropes made
the mattress rock and sway. He braced himself so he wouldn't roll
atop her.

Elyne surprised him by her next question.

"Ye didna want to marry me, either, did
ye?"

"Nay."

"Then why did ye return? Ranald would have
protected me from Father's wrath."

"The night I first came here, ye were afraid
of him. He wouldna have scarred ye like he did Ranald, for the
value of a female is marrying for gain. But he was angry enough to
pick the oldest, meanest and vilest of men for yer groom." He shook
his head in disgust. "He'd keep it a secret from Ranald until the
deed was done. Oh, aye, he would have regretted it after ye were
gone, but he didna think far ahead."

"Oh."

He almost didn't hear her, she spoke so
low.

"And, I vowed I'd return. I couldna shame ye
by breaking it."

Elyne stilled. What thoughts had caused such
sadness to flash over Graemme's face? To look so lost? She stilled,
and watched as he composed his features. Was he as unhappy about
marrying as she was? No doubt, he had thought his love, Elspeth,
would one day be his bride. Instead, he was married to a woman who
angered him at every turn.

At least the fire had gone from his eyes. But
the coldness wasn't such a good thing, after all. She'd rather have
him angry at her than to show no emotion at all.

Delicious warmth spread over her when his
bare flesh pressed against her side. When had he started teasing
her breasts?

And when had he started kissing her again?
She sighed when his lips nibbled at hers, begging for her to open.
She did. His tongue surged inside to explore, to dance over and
around his 'till he teased and coaxed it into joining him. His
large hand came to rest atop her stomach, near spreading from one
side to the other. Its warmth felt like the sun on a hot rock after
ye'd been swimming in an icy pool. How could something so calloused
be so gentle when it smoothed over her body?