Surrender Page 10

  "None of this was done by my hand." Magnus voice was harsh with worry, answering his brother's unasked questions.

  "She's bonnier than any lass ye have ever bedded." Graemme rubbed his cheek as if the stubble of hair there annoyed him then nodded. "From the looks of ye while ye tended her, she must be Muriele of Blackbriar."

  He noted her hair was short, not flowing down her back as Ranald had described her.

  "Did ye cut her hair as punishment for the months ye spent searching for her?" He tensed, not wanting to believe his brother would do such a dim-witted thing. 'Twould be as much punishment to him as to Muriele, for he had more than once described the beauty and warmth of her tresses.

  "Nay. Her hair was as we found her in the convent. These latest injuries ye are staring at are by her own doing. The lass tried to hide atop a tall pine and ended up crashing to the earth." He realized he was making excuses to his younger brother and stopped. "How did ye find us and why are ye here and not at Clibrick or Kinbrace?"

  "To keep yer sorry arse from making the worst mistake in yer life."

  Magnus folded his arms across his chest and scowled at the disrespectful way his brother spoke to him.

  "And this horrible mistake is?"

  "Believing anything coming out of the lying mouths of the Gunns."

  Graemme stopped and pulled out a packet of cut leaves and asked Sweyn to brew them. He was bone cold and wet from chasing two steps behind them for days. They moved to the other side of the fire to talk where they wouldn't disturb Muriele. Once they had the hot brew in their hands, Magnus became impatient.

  "Start talking."

  "I went to Kinbrace and pretended great alarm that anyone had dared attack Feradoch." He took a great gulp out of the pewter cup and sighed. "All was not as I expected there."

  "What had ye expected? All grieve in different ways. Olaf lost a son, his only heir." He shrugged at Graemme. "'Twas natural if he stayed drunk and his temper was short. He often picks fights with his men."

  "Olaf acted as worried as any father thinking his son near death."

  "Near death? He yet lived?"

  "Feradoch pretended to be dying around the servants, myself and his father." He wriggled his shoulders, relaxing his tense muscles. "After all were abed, I was as quiet as a church mouse as I made my way to an alcove near the dying man's door. I wanted to watch all who entered."

  "He didn't believe overmuch in priests or such," Magnus added, thinking his brother was surprised Feradoch didn't have a priest standing watch at his bedside.

  Graemme snorted. "No priest could provide the comfort he required. He needed only women." He sucked his teeth in disgust. "Two at a time. I put my ear to the door. I didn't mistake the sounds of him swiving his newest whores. Both of them."

  "He was able to swive after losing so much blood?"

  "Aye. And boast of all he would do to Muriele once he had his hands on her." He held out his cup for Sweyn to refill it. "She was canny to insist on a hand fast instead of a wedding. After Feradoch intercepted a king's messenger outside Clibrick and relieved him of a missive, he plotted to marry her."

  "A missive? What missive?"

  "It was about ye."

  "Tell me afore I throttle ye!"

  "King David's missive stated the conqueror of Blackbriar was to marry the heir and hold the castle in the king's name. Feradoch cleverly planned to force Muriele to marry him. Once he consummated the marriage, the king couldn't do anything about it. After he seized a firm hand on Blackbriar holdings, he planed to make her sorry for the rest of her very short life."

  Graemme let out a gusty sigh. "All in all, I think I have been a very good spy."

  "Huh! Did you find anything of Grunda or Esa's body?"

  "I couldna at first. Then I remembered Muriele had lived deep in the woods. I finally found the old hut. When Grunda first saw me, she nearly ran me through with a rusty sword!"

  Magnus grunted. "She must have heard ye comin' for leagues. 'Twas a wonder she didna lay a curse on ye."

  "Nay. She stared into my eyes. She walked circles around me then grunted and said. 'Ye are the younger son of Clibrick. The one with compassion and brains to think.'" He laughed at Magnus' insulted expression.

  "Did she know aught of Esa's killing? Where her body lies?" Sweyn asked, his face twitching from trying to keep himself under control.

  "I'm coming to Esa's story. The seer claimed Feradoch beat Muriele because she wasn't perfect. He couldn't consummate the handfast. He sent guards to bring Esa to the room to help him have a cockstand. She resisted. As he was trying to strangle her, Muriele stabbed then hit him on the head. She kenned she was too late."

  "Kenned?" Sweyn straightened, for he had ever tried to hide his love of the dark, beautiful Esa.

  "Aye, she lives. Grunda gave her an elixir to make her appear dead. When Olaf had her thrown into the forest, the old seer rescued her from the woods. She lives there with her. I had sent Colyne and Brian on different paths, but met them at the fork. I left them to guard over the women."

  Muriele must have awakened and heard Esa was alive, for she struggled up and bundled the robe about her. She stumbled close to the men sitting by the fire. Ignoring Magnus and Sweyn, she talked only to Graemme.

  "Ye say Grunda and Esa are safe in the forest?"

  "Aye." Graemme bowed to her. "'Tis an honor to meet ye, Lady Muriele. I have heard of yer good deeds from the common people at Raptor Castle. Even how ye saved two ladies lives afore ye reached the Convent of Mary Magdalen."

  She shrunk from Magnus when he extended his hand to steady her.

  "I have something from a seamstress in a village halfway here. Something the woman thought ye would welcome," Gramme said as he made his way back to his horse. He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. When he returned, he had a soft package he handed to her.

  Her beautiful eyes looked questioningly at him, but she couldn't take it as she had to clutch Magnus' cloak around her naked body.

  "'Tis clothing. I told her of yer plight. She kenned a woman might need extra clothing if she was taken on a hurried trip." His eyes studied her face and he shook his head. "If ye rest until dawn, it will be soon enough to dress. We will be off to Clibrick. Ye will be safe there with my father and Magnus to guard ye."

  Graemme knew Magnus would never turn her over to Chief Olaf after he knew the whole story. There had to be some honorable way out of his vow.

  But Magnus stayed silent. Unmoving.

  Graemme scowled and helped Muriele back to her pallet. Sweyn fixed her a hot potion to drink. Her eyes soon closed and she was fast asleep, holding the gift of clothing close to her chest. He and Magnus slept on either side of her throughout the night, keeping her warm and also assuring she didn't try to steal away whilst they were asleep.

  "Well, brother, we are west of the forest between Blackbriar and Kinbrace. I still have a loch to ford and it looks to be calm weather for the next days," Graemme said as he saddled his mount the next sunrise.

  "Aye. Ye should find the hut easily now ye know where it is. Be stealthy and dinna linger. If Feradoch or Olaf learns ye are anywhere near, they will suspect something." Magnus buffeted him on the shoulder, something he hadn't done since they were lads together.

  "Uh, Graemme?" Sweyn spoke softly so as not to awake Muriele.

  "Aye?" He turned his head slightly to the side, wondering what Sweyn wanted.

  "Be gentle with Esa. She has had naught but strife at Kinbrace. Her mind canna take more of it." Sadness filled his face. He lowered his eyes to look at the ground. "If ye should be captured with the women, 'twould be a kindness if ye slit her throat and quickly ended her suffering." His body shuddered. "Feradoch would torture her for days if he laid hands on her."

  Grief flooded Sweyn's eyes. Graemme knew this rough knight loved her.

  Magnus scoffed to make light of his worry. "Olaf and Feradoch had best beware of Grunda. She will cast a spell turning their balls to huge cherries and have ravens
plucking at them as they fled through the whole of Scotland!"

  "Grunda seemed a harmless sort to me." Graemme looked puzzled.

  "Her ancient appearance hides a mind which can strike fear with but a look! If she warns ye, pay heed to her."

  "For certs I will." He swung up into the saddle. Reaching beneath his kilt, he settled his sex betwixt his legs and grinned. "Cherries, huh? 'Twould be most uncomfortable sitting atop something that popped every time ye hit a bump in the road."

  "Off with ye, eejit! And dinna forget yer caution!"

  Gramme chuckled as he walked his horse as quietly as possible through the woods until he was far enough away the sounds wouldn't wake Muriele. The beautiful woman had looked exhausted even in her sleep. His brother had best be good to her else, he would have to answer to him. Now he'd reached his full growth, he was equally as strong and capable as Magnus.

  The two days it took him to forge the loch and ride through the forest gave him time to think. He would gather the women and the two guards he'd left with them, and then make all haste to Clibrick. The faster the trip, the sooner Magnus would learn the whole story. Once he did, Graemme knew his brother would break this unholy blood tie with Feradoch. Once it was finished, then Magnus would be married. He didn't doubt Magnus loved Muriele. When he looked at her, Graemme had seen the worry and tenderness lurking there.

  He wished he felt the same for Elyne. But each time he thought of her, his anger rose and he wanted to throttle her for her tricks. She'd made a fool of him in the eyes of every man at Raptor Castle. Had she done so with any other man, after they spoke their wedding vows, her husband would take her to the woods where he'd slap her pretty nether cheeks until she couldna sit to eat. She wouldna dare to rile his anger again.

  He felt sorely tempted to do it.

  And, aye, he had to admit he felt lust apleanty. Just the memory at the well of her plump breasts beneath the wet shift made riding difficult. His stones hardened and his tarse swelled near to bursting. Would that she was here to soothe them!

  The idea made him groan. It was not likely a wife would take her husband's tarse into her hot mouth to soothe. For such a thing, he'd have to dally with one of the laundresses' daughters. 'Twas their favorite pastime afore they swived a man.

  His daydreaming made him near miss hearing a horse pulling a cart on the forest path ahead of him. He pulled off the road and blended in with the trees. He wanted no one to see him and report a lone man riding. Every lawless lout would be on the lookout for him. For a man without a master, even worn out boots would be worth stealing.

  He reached forward and rubbed his hand along his horse's jaw, distracting and soothing him. Between the leaves, he made out a cart with produce from a garden. A husky but not-quite-right-in-the-head lad shuffled behind it. He carried a club, ready to swing at anyone or anything the old man driving the cart would order him to.

  He had no quarrel with them. But if the man's helper spied him in the woods, the boy would probably charge into the underbrush swinging his club thinking he was thwarting a robber. Graemme didn't want to hurt the poor lad, but he didn't want a delay, either.

  Soon the man and boy were gone, and he continued on the north-eastern road. The loch was easy enough to cross. The men he'd left to protect the women met him in the woods. They'd seen him coming, for they were adept at climbing trees and spent most of their days as lookouts from one.

  "Well, 'tis about time ye got here. If we dinna make haste to Clibrick, yer rock-headed brother is liable to try to force Muriele. She is not a lass who takes kindly to demands made by any man."

  Graemme noted Esa clutching something in the pocket of her outer dress. He would bet it was a sharp knife, for she moved to keep between him and Grunda, as if protecting her. To test his theory, he moved closer to the old crone. Esa eased between them, her eyes never leaving his face.

  "I mean ye no harm. Sweyn would cut off my, er, head if aught happens to either of ye." He flashed a smile, hoping to reassure her. She seemed to relax her shoulders a slight bit.

  "I knew ye would come today, so all is in readiness to leave." Grunda said.

  Glancing around, Graemme saw small cloth bundles carefully tied and waiting neatly beside the door.

  "I cooked oat cakes enough to last us two days, then ye'll need to hunt for hare. I banked the fire when I heard ye within a league of the hut."

  Grunda looked at the two guards with squinted eyes. "Did ye saddle yer mounts and fill yer water gourds?"

  "Aye!"

  The two men nodded and near bowed, anxious to show respect to the old woman. No doubt, they'd heard of her dire threats to the louts' prized possessions when the Gunns first captured Muriele and took her to Kinbrace Castle.

  Graemme shrugged, seeing no reason to linger since everything was in readiness. The faster they left Gunn territory, the better for their necks. Besides, 'twas near dusk. A bright moon would guide them back the path through the forest. They could travel most of the night, cross the loch and be on solid ground way afore the sun rose.

  He tossed Esa up behind the youngest warrior and Grunda up behind the burly one. It would distribute their weight and be easier on the mounts to carry two people.

  They left as quietly as possible, riding at a slow pace until they were well away into the night. As dawn began to dim the sky, they picked up speed. For the next sennight, they rode hard. When the mounts needed resting, they put kilts on the ground for the two women to relax as well. On the fourth day, he thought it best to make loops to put over the women's hands and attach them to the saddle. Doing so would allow the man to keep his hands on the reins when the women fell asleep. He feared in their exhaustion they would slip from the back of the horse and do themselves an injury.

  Once in Morgan territory, they slowed their pace and rested at night. As they had ridden during the day, the men had used their bows and arrows to bring down game for their meals. They ate well when they rested at the noon break, then finished off the days food afore they went to sleep at night.

  When they stopped to rest each evening, Graemme thought he'd never had such agreeable company. Grunda amused them with tales of Muriele when she was young. His brother was going to marry a woman worthy of him. 'Twould be a good match.

  One night, the old woman had him stand and again paced around and around him, studying him from the tip of his head to his bare toes.

  "Ye know, dinna ye, this Elyne of Raptor ye're to marry will not accept yer rule without a fight?"

  "How do ye know of the lass?"

  "I see things. She also does."

  "I know ye are a soothsayer and see hints of what is to happen, but I think ye are wrong about Elyne."

  "Nay. I am never wrong."

  "It seems to me she but mimics the poses and gestures of women of sight such as yerself."

  "'Tis different ways for different seers. She has dreams which she knows are telling her what is ahead."

  "She also tries to make herself appear an old crone. She paints ashes around her eyes, streaks cherry juice on her face and blackens her teeth." He stopped and frowned. "She also tangles her hair and streaks it with ashes. She has fooled her other suitors and Chief Broccin, but she didna fool me."

  "She is yet young. Her understanding of her dreams has not fully grown." Grunda nodded, her eyes showing she thought ahead. "When ye return to Raptor, I will travel with ye and guide her."

  Graemme spluttered and shook his head.

  "I dinna want my wife to believe her fanciful dreams." He gritted his teeth then burst out, "She believes I'm a wolf come to eat her for my noon meal or some such nonsense!"

  "If ye were a youngling in a keep who saw yer father near beat yer brother to death and then abandon him for over fifteen years, ye'd have developed gifts to help keep ye alive. And this Ranald of Raptor Castle has special powers."

  Graemme snorted. She ignored it.

  "Aye. His first year at Kelso, his raging fevers affected his brain."

  "Chie
f Broccin warned I am to have the devil as my brother-by-law."

  "Nay, not the devil. But if a fool causes his temper to unleash, he may lose control over his gifts."

  Disbelieving her, Graemme raised his brow and smiled.

  "Watch him. When he and his father are together and argue. Ye will see wind blowing objects when there is no wind. If his father doesna stop, ye'll see Ranald's eyes heat and anything they touch will alight. If he loses control, doors will slam, platters will fly."

  "Why are ye telling me this?"

  "Because, Ranald will protect Elyne. He'll not let Chief Broccin force her into marriage. Or to be thrown in a convent and locked away."

  "She must marry me. No other man will have her after we were seen together bare arsed on the ground."

  "Do what ye have to do." She grinned at him. "But if this Ranald doesna want Elyne pushed into wedding ye, be sure ye are not atop the keep at the time. 'Twould be a nasty spill."

  It was too much for Graemme to take in at one time. He didn't believe in seers. Yet here was one who had proved it. He didn't believe in a man who could control objects with his brain and eyes. Yet she was telling him to watch Ranald for the truth when he returned to Raptor.

  Most of all, he didn't want to believe the beautiful lass Elyne was truly a seer of another kind.

  He should believe Grunda. But everything he heard was not possible. Though not as rigid as Magnus, he was practical and logical. 'Twas hard to accept happenings that had no rightful explanation.

  Hmm! What could be more unusual than a woman like Elyne? She'd made him laugh at her make-believe crone in the middle of the night—and made him furious enough to kill when she'd dosed him the next day.

  Cold trickles of sweat ran down his backbone. He truly hoped his imaginative to-be-wife was sleeping peacefully.

  Dreamlessly!

  Chapter 12

  At Raptor Castle, Elyne had done all she could to talk her father out of this betrothal. As they were eating their supper in the great room, he turned a baleful look on her and said she had two alternatives.