Surrender Page 5

  His mouth filled with bitter water rising in uneasy waves to his throat. He swallowed and needed to swallow again. Lucifer's tainted breath! He was going to spew!

  Never had he left a table so quickly. His long strides took him to the door of the keep. From there, he did not stop running until he reached the privacy of an empty stall far back in the stable. He soon put two empty buckets to use.

  "I thought you said the old crone's curse was naught but crazy rambling." Brian's red hair and laughing blue eyes peered over the top of the stall.

  "'Twas no curse which caused this." Graemme groaned and wretched into the bucket he clutched to his chest.

  "Hm. Looks like the curse to me. Ye're sitting on one bucket and hugging another."

  "My dafty bride-to-be tampered with my food."

  "Did the other diners become ill? What if it is the curse?" Brian' mouth twitched at the corners. "Have you checked your cock?"

  Graemme shot him a quelling look. "When did ye return?"

  "Brian, why are you hanging over an empty stall?"

  That's all Graemme needed. Another witness to his plight. Though to be fair, 'twas only Colyne's footfalls coming toward them.

  "Graemme here didna believe in the crone's curse. Seems he should have."

  Colyne's brown head joined Brian's. They stood together, gazing at him as if they'd never seen a man with griping pains in his gut.

  "Hm. Did your cock...?"

  "Nah, Colyne. Already asked him. He's afeared to look."

  Graemme made a threatening gesture with the bucket. He talked fast so as to get it all out in one breath, "Brian, find Lady Joneta. Ask for a potion. She will know what the little devil used." After he heard the man's footsteps pounding away, he sighed with relief.

  Never had he spent a more miserable morning. Lady Joneta quickly supplied him with a potion which gradually eased his symptoms. Finally, he was able to control his bodily functions. Before leaving, he gave coins to the stable boys waiting at the huge double doors of the stable. Brian and Colyne helped him return to his bedchamber.

  He no sooner closed the door than servants arrived with a bathing tub and buckets of hot water. They said the Lady Joneta had ordered them to watch for his return. Their eyes were wide and admiring, for never had they known anyone to have challenged a curse. Though he felt as drained and weak as a starving kitten, his rising wrath gave him much needed energy for the rest of the day.

  "It was not a good thing to take your anger out on Sir Graemme, Elyne." Lady Joneta gave her niece a disapproving look.

  "Do ye think I could yell and scream at Father and not find myself abandoned in the convent afore dawn?"

  Sickening nausea crept chilly fingers through Elyne's stomach. Could someone feel the effects of another's distress? Mayhap she had acted in haste. Too late, now. Sir Graemme would not have to even think on who had made him so dreadfully sick.

  "When he came out of his room, his eyes were spitting hot rage every bit as much as Ranald's do when in a fury," lady Joneta said.

  Mayhap she had misjudged the size of the dose she'd given to Ada? She hadn't meant to cause the warrior the misery the stable boys reported. Why, with only having licked Graemme's spoon, Squat had soon needed to stop every several paces, leaving foul smelling shite. The servants were not happy. Seeing her father's scowl, she had swept the dog up and carried him out to the pasture.

  When someone rapped on the door, it had such a sound of urgency Elyne near jumped out of her shoes.

  "Lady Elyne, Sir Graemme requests your presence at the chapel for the betrothal vows. 'Tis near high noon."

  From the little she had seen of this Highlander, his blue eyes had always held laughter. Not so now. They looked hard as steel.

  "Aye, Sir Brian. I think it fitting I change..."

  Brian interrupted her. "Nay, Lady. You are to come at once."

  She had to stop herself from stomping her foot when she eased the door shut. She waited to hear his footsteps leave. They did not. So. Sir Graemme didna take any chance she would not appear. No doubt, Sir Brian would enter and drag her all the way up to the chapel if she didna appear speedily.

  "He does not even give me time to change clothing!"

  "No doubt he expected you to be ready. Come. You need only a silver circlet for your hair and a matching silver girdle about your hips to make your blue gown festive."

  Elyne was ready far sooner than she wished. She steeled herself to look calm as she opened the door. Sir Brian lounged against the far wall of the landing, his arms across his chest. He straightened and offered his arm. He raised his brows.

  "The chapel?"

  "Up the far stairwell." She nodded toward the corner. "'Tis in the east tower close to Father's lodgings."

  "You are in a hurry, Sir Brian?" Aunt Joneta's voice was quiet but admonishing.

  Sir Brian near skidded to halt his long strides. "I beg your forgiveness, ladies."

  Too soon, they were going through the chapel doorway.

  o0o

  "I hear ye had a bout of sickness in the stable?" Chief Broccin looked Graemme over from head to toe then grinned at him.

  "Aye. Mayhap I ate too quickly this morn." Graemme shifted from one foot to the other. Even thinking about not having a handy bucket made his stomach clench.

  "Ye are white as a lass during her moon's time." Broccin's gaze moved down to settle on Graemme's crotch. "Did yer cock shrink to a nub? It isna about to fall off, is it?"

  "Not likely. Why would you think so?"

  Piss and shite! Was the man going to demand proof?

  "The rest of the curse came full circle, did it not? I heard ye spewed in one bucket till it was green slime while yer arse thundered as it filled another. The stable lads thought better to bury the bucket than to cleanse it."

  Graemme knew his face was no longer white but red as poppies in the field.

  "'Twas naught but eating too heartily."

  Chief Broccin cuffed him on the shoulder as admiration gleamed in his eyes. "Ye are a worthy son-by-law! Not a single bone of fear in yer body. 'Tis likely ye have broken the curse. I will have grandsons aplenty if ye keep a bairn in her belly as oft as Ranald plants his seed in Catalin."

  "Ranald has children?"

  "Aye. One strapping boy followed by twins, a boy and a girl, the very next year."

  When Chief Broccin beamed with pride, he lost his sinister appearance.

  "Um. I canna promise twins. I will strive to have Elyne swelling afore we reach Clibrick. 'Tis the one thing that might make her obedient."

  "Huh! Good luck on that."

  "I would dispense with the common betrothal vows, if ye dinna object."

  "Ye dinna have the same custom in the Highlands?"

  "We do. Yet I require something more binding from yer daughter."

  He took in a slow, deep breath and stopped himself from rubbing his stomach when a pain struck. He wished this whole mess was speedily over afore he needed to run from the room. He rocked forward on his toes when the chief slapped his back and threw a heavy arm across his shoulders.

  "Whatever ye need to get the girl bound to ye and wed. If ye dinna, yer prick may not have shriveled off," he paused then turned his head to fix his steely gaze on Graemme, "but yer danglin' stones are still in danger."

  "She will wed me. I'll see to it. But the marriage ceremony will have to wait."

  He told Elyne's father, afore he could wed, he had a pressing duty to perform for his family. In one more day, he would have to leave but would return in two months time. He talked quickly, not wanting anyone else to overhear.

  The sun's rays glinted on the gems embedded in the cross above the small altar. Flashes of colorful lights danced on the walls, giving the room a festive air. Until Elyne saw the face of the man waiting across the crowded room. 'Twould be more fitting if lightning danced across the sky and thunder rocked the walls of the keep.

  Her intended stood beside her Father, talking earnestly to him. Where Graemme'
s face had been a sun-warmed bronze at dawn, now its paleness accented the dark shadows of his beard beneath. The skin on his cheekbones had pulled taut and his jaw looked as if God had chiseled him from slate. His wide, sensual lips were thin and pressed tight. Was he still in pain?

  This morn he had worn a white shirt and tasseled boots with his kilt. Now, his attire looked like a man dressed for war. He had on a black tunic belted around with a sturdy leather belt holding a heavy warrior's sword. His fingers caressing the sword's hilt showed he itched to pull it free from its scabbard.

  The closer she came she realized the chest of the tunic was gray. Embroidered in striking threads across the gray, a black wolf leaped from a brown boulder. Recognizing the wolf from her dreams, her knees near buckled. Why would her father not believe her?

  She saw Graemme's burnt almond eyes and read the fury flashing there.

  The devil of her nights had come to life.

  Elyne's hand tightened on Sir Brian's arm.

  "Aye, Lady. You did yourself no favor when you angered a Morgan of Clibrick. You have caused our motto of 'With a strong hand' to become 'With a hand of steel.'"

  o0o

  Graemme studied Elyne as she came into the chapel. Watched as her eyes turned from defiant to regretful. Then to something akin to fear when she studied the standard across his tunic and met his eyes. She should have thought of not angering him afore she dosed his food.

  Strangely, her father didn't take exception to his curt mood when Graemme insisted they dispense with the normal betrothal vows. He looked around and noted the room had filled with the knights and ladies of the keep. Fortunately, a cool breeze drifted through the window openings, so they would not be unduly warm. After Brian walked Elyne over to her father's side, Graemme beckoned Brian and Colyne to stand behind him.

  "Halt yer clack!"

  Chief Broccin's voice boomed with such vigor 'twas a wonder the walls did not shake. Two women who had been whispering behind their hands near fell off their bench.

  "Ye lack-witted women are here to witness betrothal vows between Sir Graemme of Clibrick Castle and Lady Elyne, not to smirk and slabber o'er seeing his private parts last eve."

  Graemme steeled himself from flinching at the reminder. The sooner they finished here the better. He could not be too long away from privacy, for his gut sent up warnings of impending doom. His teeth clenched together to keep from yelling vile threats at his intended bride. He stepped forward to the center of the altar. He studied Elyne like she was some strange creature he wanted to crush.

  She was lovely to look at with her curly brown hair restrained with a silver circlet around her brow. It left glossy curls streaked with auburn hanging to her waist. A silver girdle made of circlets hugged her hips, accenting their slimness. To look at her, a man would not guess this woman could be so treacherous she'd near poison a man to keep from wedding him. She would learn a Morgan didna run like some addled lowland Scot with a backbone of sheep's wool!

  He stared into eyes the color of wet earth. When he noted her swallow a gulp, he held up his right hand. With one finger, he slowly crooked it, demanding she come forward. When she hesitated, he narrowed his lids at her.

  "Go!" Chief Broccin shoved her from the small of her back.

  She moved to face Graemme while her father stationed himself facing them, his back to the altar.

  "Sir Graemme wants his own betrothal vows and I see no reason to deny him." He looked at Graemme and nodded, then stepped back.

  Graemme took Elyne's hands in a hard grip and stared into her eyes.

  "My family, the Morgans of Clibrick Castle, have long held honor to be all important. A promise once given is sacred. Our vows bind us one to another for all time. Once spoken, it can never be broken—not by choice; only be death."

  "I, Graemme, son to Angus, The Morgan of Lake Naver, betroth Elyne, daughter to Chief Broccin of Raptor Castle, to me forever in righteousness, in faithfulness," he stopped for the length of a breath and his jaw hardened even more, "and with a strong hand. Two months from this very day, we will wed.

  "Ye will repeat after me: I, Elyne, daughter of Chief Broccin of Raptor Castle, vow to wed Sir Graemme, son to Angus, The Morgan of Lake Naver, and take him as my husband forever in faithfulness, in obedience and forsaking all others two months from this very day."

  Elyne's clear voice mumbled over the words vow and obedience.

  "I didna hear ye. Ye will repeat it clearly for everyone to hear." He squeezed her fingers to let her know he meant what he said. She said the vows again, this time her voice was stronger. For truth, it was with anger, but he cared not a whit. He repeated the rest of the words he would have her promise:

  "I, Elyne, will not poison, cause to sicken or injure in any way, my betrothed."

  She gasped so loudly anyone with half a good ear could hear her.

  "I didna poison ye!"

  "Heh. I suppose ye will say the crone did? Dinna waste my time with such foolishness."

  "I did not give ye poison. I canna help it if ye have a delicate stomach for Cook's fare," she muttered.

  "Mayhap I should add lies to the vows? Repeat the words. Now! I have no more time to linger."

  Elyne near shouted the rest of the vows, her face red with indignation. He cared not.

  When they drew apart, he muttered to Colyne. "See everyone leaves. I would have words with my delightful bride-to-be."

  Chapter 6

  As the whispering crowd filed from the room, Graemme watched Colyne lead Elyne to stand alongside the window opening. She glared a look of loathing at Graemme then stared down on the practice field, her shoulders set stiff in defiance. He waited until they were alone then stalked over to her, his fists convulsing with tightly controlled rage.

  "Come. Sit." He grasped her elbow and led her to a bench facing the altar. A firm pressure on her shoulder forced her to sit.

  "How could I have poisoned ye?" she muttered. "I merely gave ye something to rid yerself of yer ill humors. I give Father the same thing each sennight."

  "Hah. You rid me more of my good humors than aught else. I had thought to deal lightly with ye, to treat ye kindly. After the way ye made a fool of me afore the whole castle, I have changed my mind."

  "I did not make a fool of ye. If naught else, ye are more of a warrior than ever. The men think ye are a gladiator from Roman times. The senseless women drool like Adonis has come to life."

  "Aye. An Adonis whose throne was a bucket in a stall; his crown another bucket clutched tight to his chest!"

  He burned with resentment at her having made him a laughing stock with the warriors. The stable boys most likely babbled to one and all about the hapless Highlander in the stall.

  Elyne looked at him strangely before understanding dawned in her eyes. "Oh."

  "I will speak slowly so ye canna misread my intentions. Ye will be here. In this keep. Two months from this day. We will wed. Once the ceremony is over, ye will return with me to Clibrick Castle. Is that clear?" He waited for her nod. She stared stonily at him, her mouth tightened into a stubborn line. He bent down and grasped her chin between his right thumb and forefinger and tilted her head upward.

  "Is...that...clear?" The words hissed with menace between near-clenched teeth. His eyes narrowed until he saw naught but her brown eyes glaring at him. To show her he was out of patience, he jerked at her chin.

  "Aye! Are there any other orders? Mayhap ye wish to demand what I wear, what I eat, what I think while ye are gone, lord and master?"

  "There is! Never again will ye pretend to be a witch. I am surprised no one has sought to burn ye at the stake. I canna have word of yer unholy doings reaching the Highlands. They are not so forgiving."

  "Why do ye insist I was the crone?"

  "Oh, come now. Do ye think I have not eyes to see?"

  "Do I look..."

  "Piss, woman! I saw yer near nekid body atop me in the bailey. Yer wet smock was like a second skin. And when ye stood in my bedchamber doorwa
y, the light was behind ye." He straightened and put his hands on his hips. "No supposed old hag has the body of a nymph." When she opened her mouth to argue further, he added, "And no ancient woman has lush hair guardin' her private parts. Ye stood with yer legs spread, if ye remember?"

  Thinking of the picture she had made, his cock pulsed and began to swell. He did not try to control it. He doubted she was an innocent lass, not with the way her eyes had strayed to his cock last eve.

  Shame spread heat over Elyne. He accused her of making a fool of him, yet he had humiliated her by making her repeat those horrid vows in front of the ladies and knights of the entire castle.

  "If ye are done ordering me around, mayhap ye can go about yer business and get the Hades away from Raptor!"

  "'Tis my intention to leave on the morrow's first light." He started to whirl away, then turned back and pointed a finger at her. "See to Squat. The poor beastie canna move without farting and leaving a trail behind him."

  As he was leaving through the doorway, he heard her mutter, "Flea-bitten bastard." Had he not needed to seek relief, he would have returned to swat her backside.

  He regretted not having the time.

  o0o

  Graemme's favorite warhorse sidled and shook his head, near upsetting the young groom off his feet as they passed the middle stall. The chief's magnificent black warhorse, Goliath, kicked at the walls and trumpeted, no doubt jealous the stable master didn't lead him outside.

  "What did you learn in the village this morn?" Gramme asked Brian. He led his horse out the huge double doors onto the cobblestones surrounding the stable. He spied Squat in the grass, and from the looks of his position, he had shite to spare. Poor, miserable little dog. He could smell him from ten paces away.