Lady Joneta spoke quickly. "Brother, do not decide in haste. Perchance there is a good reason for what we saw this night?"
"Aye. I canna marry him! He will...he will...," she spluttered, not knowing what he would do to cause disaster in a marriage since she had not as yet had a final dream about him. Most revealed themselves sooner, but the dreams of the black wolf, though frequent, had not been complete enough to know the danger that awaited.
"He will what? Bring his leman to live with ye at his keep? Throw ye from the battlements when ye dinna produce an heir? Will he show himself to prefer young boys over ye after ye wed?" Broccin's brows lifted.
"They were all good reasons, Father!"
"Hm. Mayhap. But ye have no good reason not to wed Graemme here and a very good one for marrying."
"Pfft. What good reason could that be?" Elyne shrugged.
Lord Broccin's face hardened, his chin thrust forward.
"If ye dinna, I am tempted to relieve yer friend here of his stones...." His voice trailed off as he leaned back in his chair and waited for her reaction.
The Highlander bolted upright in his chair. Elyne tapped a finger on her chin and rolled her eyes upward to study the ceiling, wondering if she should consider defying him further.
Broccin's lids lowered. His back eyes smoldered with menace. In a slow, silky voice, he continued. "Now, then. Afore I am through cleanin' my blade, I will have Domnall here get coins apleanty from my money chest. He will use them to pay the good sisters at Mary Magdalen to keep ye there for the rest of yer hapless life."
Domnall, casually leaning one shoulder against the side of the fireplace, clamped his lips together so tightly they lost color. Lady Joneta gave a low cry of fear.
"For shame, brother. You canna mean such cruelty." Lady Joneta moved to stand between Elyne and the chief.
"Ye think not?" He snarled low in his throat. "Did no one learn from the last time a child of mine sought to thwart me?"
Terror filled Elyne. Her throat closed and her heart pumped as though she had raced up the stairwell clear to the top of the corner tower. She folded her arms across her chest, her hands clenching her forearms to hide their trembling.
She didn't doubt him, had good reason not to. Her sire had ordered Domnall to abandon her brother Ranald at Kelso Abbey. How could a father yell he didna care whether his son lived or died as long as he never returned to Raptor Castle?
One thing she knew full well. A man valued his sons far more than he did any daughter. Her only worth was in marrying well and providing him with a good alliance and extra land.
Graemme surged to his feet, spilling the carefully folded kilt to the floor. Never had he known a father to cause such fear equal to what he sensed in Elyne. Her face turned ashen, her eyes took on a hunted look and he had no doubt her knees quaked. But for all that, her chin lifted. For certs, the lass had a warrior's courage!
He rested a heavy hand on her shoulder and pressed her flesh in warning, hoping she would keep her tongue behind her teeth until her father's temper cooled.
"Ye have no need to threaten such dire events, my lord. The lass will marry me. Ye have my vow on it." His jaws hardened, for never did he make a vow he didn't intend keeping. Elyne tensed even more beneath his hand. His calloused fingers tightened on her shoulder and gave it a little shake. The fey girl was muddled enough to defy her father. He looked over at the older woman and nodded.
"Lady Joneta, please see my bride-to-be to her bedchamber whilst we decide what needs be done."
His face implacable, Graemme turned Elyne and forced her to meet his hardened eyes. "Go to yer room. Now," he ordered in his sternest voice. Elyne opened her mouth to object. "Enough! We will talk on the morrow." He spun her to face the doorway and gave her a slight shove.
"Come, Elyne. We can do no more here." Lady Joneta took a firm grip on her niece's elbow and urged her from the room.
The door had no sooner closed firmly behind them than Chief Broccin slammed his fist on the table so hard a lesser wood could not have withstood the blow.
"By Hades! Ye are more than all the mewling men put together who panted after my daughter."
"She has had ample suitors to judge, eh?"
"Aye. She became troublesome over her first suitor on fearin' he would house his leman in the keep."
"For certs, Broccin, the lass did dream true," Domnall put in. "Douglas brought his leman into the keep a moon after he wed the MacDonald's youngest lass.
"Women do take mislikes to that." Graemme nodded.
"Aye. Her fears of young Niall held worth, too," Domnall added. "The lad couldna bring himself to break his bride's maidenhead until his father threw Niall's favored squire into the moat and drowned him."
Broccin made a disgusted face. "Huh! But she turned her nose up at a fine keep for the simple reason the man was twenty and two years her senior."
Domnall spoke up. "Perchance she feared she would be like Lady Letia and her bairn would be birthed after his sire died. The stress of swiving likely did Warin de Burgh in."
"Hm. My sire is much older than that with his current leman." Graemme thought of the young, red-haired lass who seemed to adore his father.
"Elyne also claimed she feared Aymer would toss her over the battlements if he couldna perform his marital duties and produce an heir," Chief Broccin said.
"I would expect more than one lass fell down a stairwell because of such." Domnall frowned and rubbed the stubble on his jaw. "'Tis too soon to tell if old Aymer's wife carries a much wanted heir. She may yet be tumbled down one."
"Pfft! The twit could learn to make a cock swell for a man past his prime." The chief scowled, not caring it was his only daughter he talked about.
"Aye, but only slatterns know of such." Graemme hid a shudder of disgust. How could any father expect his innocent daughter to have knowledge of intimate things?
"A serving wench could use her mouth to prime a wilted cock to stand hard enough he could hump his wife."
Graemme cautioned himself not to roll his eyes. "'Twas kind of ye to turn the men away."
"Heh. Not me. They left like they feared Lucifer's crusty tarse was hot after them. The stable lads claimed the men babbled some tale about the ghost of an old crone comin' in the dead o' night and threatenin' to cast a spell on them."
"A ghost? What spirit's spell would be so fearful a man would willingly forfeit an alliance with Raptor Castle?"
"One I would heed! She foretold their stomach would spew forth vile green liquids, their arse would flow like a waterfall and their cock shrivel and rot if they didna leave at first light."
Graemme nodded gravely. "'Tis a curse I wouldna care to chance!" He had his suspicion of who played the old crone at Raptor Castle.
"Enough blather. We canna have the wedding until Father Martin returns from Hunter Castle. Still, I would have yer betrothal vows said on the morrow after we break our fast."
"Then we must decide what an alliance between our families will provide. I can see no obvious gain for either of us." Graemme settled back on his chair and accepted a fresh goblet of wine from Domnall.
"Keepin' yer stones hangin' in their rightful place isna gainful?" Broccin raised his brows.
"Ye are tellin' me that was not a threat to force the lass in line?"
"Huh! Ask Domnall."
Graemme looked at Raptor's commander who pressed his lips together and simply nodded. By Satan's fetid breath! This chief was as savage as the Morgan and Gunn clans combined. He shook his head, whether in admiration or disgust, he wasn't sure.
"Other than keepin' yer body parts together, ye will gain powerful alliances here on the border country. In yer travels, ye have heard of The Black Raptor, have ye not?"
"Aye. Near halfway from the Highlands, people tell of the fear this man brings. When in a rage, he causes fires to light, and strange winds and such occur. Some even say 'tis not man at all but a feathered raptor the size of one."
"Nay. 'Tis a man right enough
."
"Truth to tell, was he once a pious monk? I canna believe any man used to wearing the cross could do the deeds said of him."
"'Twas no tall tale. Ask him some day." Broccin barked a short laugh.
"Ask?"
Broccin looked at him, a sly grin on his face.
"Aye. He will serve as witness to yer weddin' vows." Broccin belched and patted his stomach. A pleased smile spread across his face, and to Graemme's surprise, he winked.
"The day ye wed, ye gain the devil as yer brother-by-law."
Chapter 4
"I always feared one day Father would turn on me. He seeks to discard me as he would offal in the moat." Elyne was so affrighted she could not stop the shivers coursing through her body. Trying hard not to spew her last meal, she swallowed the bitter fluids that surged to her throat.
"Discard? Nay, child. How can you think of marriage to a comely man in such a way?" Lady Joneta hugged Elyne's shoulders as they entered her bedchamber.
Ada stood waiting, a nervous smile on her lips. "I thought ye might need the comfort of yer furry friend."
Sharp yips and barks greeted Elyne as a scraggly dog launched himself at her and pawed her leg to demand attention. Its ears were unlike each other. One gray ear stood rigidly at attention while the other drooped like a small cabbage leaf left to brown in the sun for a sennight. Elyne nodded glumly at Ada then reached down to scratch the bumpy, gray head.
"They are savages in the north. 'Tis said they still wear animal furs and are so warlike women canna go into the villages for fear of being kidnapped." Elyne's hands began to tremble.
"I would think animal furs are warmer than woolen kilts," Ada suggested, "but why are ye speakin' about going north?" When Elyne's shoulders drooped even more, she had her answer. "Ye are to wed that braw nekid man, then?"
"Father said we are to repeat betrothal vows on the morrow." She gulped and blinked at her aunt. "If this Graemme is still here."
Ada nodded, understanding passing between them. "Well, now, ye need a good night's rest and things will look much better afore the next night comes."
Ada bustled over and opened the clothing trunk on the far wall. She near tumbled in when the dog gamboled over and nipped at her heels.
Elyne picked him up and hugged his squirmy body to her chest.
"I can see your thoughts, Elyne." Lady Joneta shook her head and rolled her eyes. "This man will not be easily fooled by your playing the ghost of an old crone. More likely, on the morrow's dawn, he will still be abed. With you beside him." She laughed when Elyne's eyes widened and Ada straightened as if someone had shot an arrow into her nether cheeks. "My brother may believe in ghosts and crones curses, but I am not so dim-witted."
"Yet ye never told?"
"Nay. Those men were not suitable for you. This one gives me a different feeling."
"Aye. With me, also." She went on when her aunt tilted her head at her. "When he stares at me, I am so fearful I have chill bumps and strange sensations low in...my body." She flushed not wanting to describe that exact spot. "'Tis a very strange feeling. Not rightly tremors. More like a heartbeat where there is no heart?"
"You are sure 'tis fear?" Joneta's smile seemed to hold a secret.
"Truly, it is."
She frowned when Ada snickered. Wanting to turn her aunt's attention from the Highlander, Elyne murmured and ruffled the fur on the dog's back as she put him on the floor.
"That must be the most ugsome dog in all of Scotland, Lass." Lady Joneta shook her head in wonder at the creature
"Ye think he is ugsome?" Elyne frowned and studied him. "He is such a happy lad that I ne'er thought him less than, um, plain?"
"Hah! He is beyond plain, Lovey. Everything about him is at odds from his ears to his paws. His front legs are firm and straight but barrel staves must have formed his rear."
Ada helped Elyne change into a sleeping garment, and as her head cleared the warm cotton smock, Elyne reached up to shove her tousled hair out of the way and studied the dog. As he scampered over to grab hold of a carelessly dropped ribbon, she looked at him from the rear. Seeing all four legs at once, she chuckled.
"For truth, they do. When my brother rescued him from Baron Rupert's forest, he thought perchance the evil man had caused him injury as a small pup."
The dog happily wagged his scrawny tail and raced back to grab the toe of Elyne's leather shoe. He pulled and tugged then growled and shook his head so fiercely he near upset her balance. She hopped up on the side of the bed to take them off.
"Um. We canna keep calling him dog. What think ye of Matin for his name?" Seeing their questioning expression, she explained, "The priest was singing the psalms for Matins when Ranald rode into the bailey with the wee, scrawny dog in his arms."
"Huh! Too much dignity in the name for the likes of him," Lady Joneta said.
As soon as Elyne untied the lacings around her ankle, he yanked the shoe from her foot and ran around with it in his mouth, happily growling and beating it against the floor.
"Foolish dog. Ye'll ruin my best shoes."
Elyne started to hop down to retrieve them, but Ada grabbed the shoes from the dog and set them atop the bedside table out of his reach.
"Ye had best take him to the stable for the rest of the night, Ada. He is in sad need of a bath."
Ada nodded and scooped the dog up in her arms. While Ada's back was turned from Lady Joneta, she quickly whispered. "I'll see to our guest. Mayhap a warning will be enough to send him on his way at midnight."
"Come, Lovey. Into bed with you. First light will be here afore you know it." Lady Joneta kissed Elyne's forehead and she and Ada quietly left the room.
Elyne's loving aunt had acted as mother to her brothers and her when their own had died of fever many years before. Elyne did not know what she would do without her. Had she not resisted her other suitors, she would be married to one of the simpletons now and be living near Raptor Castle. At least she would be able to see her family and friends within a day's ride. But the Highlands? Once she left, would she ever see them again?
'Twas not likely.
There was but one way to insure the Highlander left Raptor and sped back from whence he came. She knew now why she awakened beneath the tree with a handful of herbs—because she would need them if Ada's warning didn't work.
She waited until there was utter silence in the keep. Reaching out, she grabbed her shoes off the table and quickly put them on. In a hurry now, she swung her cloak off a wall peg beside the door and draped it around her shoulders. She made herself slow down and eased the latch up.
She crept down the stairwell and near hugged the walls as she made her way through the great hall. Pallets covered much of the floor, and whenever a restless sleeper turned, she froze until they settled again. Between loud, grating snores and thunderous farts, her footfalls went unheard.
Once outside, she paid heed to the guards atop the wall-walks as she quickly went from shadow to shadow to the herbal garden. Carpenters had built a workshop against the outer wall there for her mother. She took the key from her cloak's pocket and gathered the heavy wool around the lock to make a cushion. As she cautiously turned the key, the cloth muffled the sound of the lock snapping open.
Even as a young girl, she had enjoyed preparing potions and such here with Aunt Joneta, using recipes her mother had recorded on old parchments too worn to use for carrying messages. Inside the warm interior and beneath the dried herbs hanging from the roof-beams, stood a long wooden table where she and her aunt had mixed elixirs, purgatives, prepared tinctures and stirred rubbing oils when their stocks were low. She took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the drying herbs, knowing that when she lived, her mother had breathed the same scents.
Bottles, jars and flagons, some with oils and others with wine distilled with herbs, filled the shelves along the back wall. She pulled a three-legged stool over and stood atop it to retrieve a small vessel near out of sight on the top shelf.
Since h
er first worrisome suitor had pricked her ire, she had stored a bit of honeysuckle plant chopped so fine it was near powder in a jar and sealed it with a wax lid. It was ready for use in case a man was not sufficiently afeared of the old crone to leave her in peace. A small amount cured locked bowels; a larger amount also caused vomiting. She removed the correct amount for a man Graemme's size and funneled it into a vial.
On her way back out the door, she spied the drying racks where purple-black plums picked at the edge of ripeness and dried until they shrank and crystallized into gummy sweetness. Each Sunday, she gave some to the cook to spread on her father's porridge. It helped relieve his excesses in eating the sennight before. She grabbed a goodly portion of these and wrapped them in a small linen cloth. Storing everything in her pocket, she returned to her room.
o0o
When Graemme entered the bedchamber, the maid Ada was plumping his pillows. As she turned to leave the room, she had one hand on the door latch then hesitated, looking uneasy.
"Sir, my mistress is kind and wouldn't want to see you harmed. 'Twould be best if ye didn't sleep within the castle this night. 'Tis rumored amongst the villagers that a warlock has taken a fancy to the Chief's daughter."
"Oh? Would this warlock be the Black Raptor? I hardly think he would 'take a fancy' to his own sister."
"Nay!" Ada blushed at the thought. "'Tis an evil man my mistress refused. He wants no human to have her. If you sleep within, he will send his minion to lay a curse on you. I am sure you heard of the many men who fled screaming at first light, never to be seen again?"
"I canna say that I have." Graham tried hard to keep a serious look on is face. "Thank yer mistress for the warning. I will take heed."
Ada nodded, looked satisfied, and slipped through the doorway.
When her footsteps receded, he wondered what Ada was up to. He stripped and flung himself on the bed and welcomed the cold air on his naked body. He stretched arms and legs wide, rumpling the bed sheets as he sought to relieve muscles too long kept tense from meeting with the girl's father. He had not let his guard down even for a breath after the threat to his ballocks, expecting he would need to fight or take flight at any moment. He scratched them now, wryly thankful they still adorned his body.
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