Just a touch. Why was he waiting? She thrashed about again. He shoved his cock a slight bit inside her and held still again. Her stomach heaved. Her frustration raged.
"Tell me ye are sorry for running away and Ill give ye what ye want."
"Ye pig-witted lout! I'm not sorry. I'll keep running away."
"Tell me!" He pushed in a little more then near pulled out. He reached down and circled her nub. Her juices flooded the head of his cock.
"Ye flea bitten, rat-brained…" She ground her teeth together then shouted, "I'm sorry!"
"Sorry? For what my delightful, obedient lass?"
She near bit her tongue, trying to keep from groaning out the rest of the apology. When he wriggled his hips, she tried to push up to take all of him, but he rose up as much as she tried to lift. Finally, she thought she'd scream with frustration.
"Sorry I ran!"
She near screamed the words for he pushed in all the way. She felt triumphant when he began a steady rhythm. When she stiffened and started her climax, she locked her ankles tight around his buttocks. As she came and she felt he was ready for his own release, she spoke up.
"I'm sorry…," she gasped with pleasure, "ye caught me." She groaned and swiveled her hips the way he had done his. "Ye won't next time."
She was at the peak of her climax when all of a sudden, his cock was gone and cold air swept over her naked body. Her ecstasy came to a dead stop as soon as he removed his cock. He released her hands. She grasped to pull him back. She swatted the clothing down and sat up, as furious as she'd ever been in her life.
Graemme had risen to his knees; his hand pumped his cock. Just as he had by the well! She got all the hotter looking at what he was doing. The head turned deep red, his balls swelled till she didn't think she could have cupped one in her hand they were so large.
He groaned again.
She stared, fascinated as he leaned backward, his face staring sightlessly at the roof as he spurted his seed. Why did he pull away when he could have come within her?
He had found his relief without her. 'Twas not fair! How did a woman find her own relief without a man? Her efforts had been futile.
Her frustration raged with her anger. She prepared to kick him backward onto the floor. He caught her foot and glowered at her.
"Ye didna do as I told ye."
He looked her over from head to foot. She must look a frightful mess, her hair near undone from her head thrashing back and fourth. She bit her lips to keep from screaming. 'Twould not do for anyone to find them here in such a condition. She turned her back and pulled her smock and kirtle into their proper places. She reached up and undid her hair. Better to have it hanging wild than to have her braids looking like she'd caught them in a bramble bush!
Graemme calmly stood, smoothed his kilt over his belly and hips, ran his fingers through his hair and calmed it. Cruddy Lucifer! He looked normal, while she must look like a fright.
Where was Squat? Why hadn't he defended her by biting Graemme's nether cheeks while they were doing their worst?
"Squat?" she called.
A voice answered, not a bark.
"He's here with me, waiting on ye two to finish yer argument."
Magnus' voice! Oh, Saints help her! How long had he been out there?
She found out when Graemme called to him.
"Ye are good at walking silently, brother. But not good enough."
"Good enough? Ye couldna have heard me over her moans of pleasure."
"I heard yer boots brush against the wooden bucket in front of the third stall."
Graemme adjusted his belt and slid his sword and scabbard into the loop at his side.
"And ye didna call out?"
Magnus came around the wall to stand and grin at them. "Nay. 'Twas just about the time ye flipped her skirts over her head. I thought it best ye continued her lesson of obedience to her husband."
Elyne's face flamed so hot she thought she could by chance have the power to light a candle like Ranald. She stared hard at Magnus' nose, but it didn't even turn pink. Well, pish!
Ranald had told her he thought his powers came from the blows on his head and the terrible fever which raged for a sennight in Kelso. Six months later when landless knights raided the abbey, Ranald grabbed a sword and went berserk. The thugs turned tail and rode from the area like Lucifer was after them. It took the Abbot to calm Ranald and bring his reasoning back.
Well. Maybe that's why it didn't work. She wasn't in an uncontrollable rage!
"What is it?" Magnus asked. "Do I have somethin' unsightly on the tip of my nose?"
Graemme laughed. "Nay. From the look of her concentration, I think she believes she can set yer nose aflame."
"I dinna think Muriele would like it changed. She often says 'tis noble and full of strength." Magnus grinned at her.
"I told ye Elyne created a legend that Raptor was haunted by an old crone. The funny thing is, the men believed her. She tried to send me flying with my arse on fire."
"Ye were enjoying being nekid on yer bed. I only warned ye what could happen."
When the words were out of her mouth, she realized what she'd told Magnus.
"Aye, I was fine for the night. But the next day when yer haunting proved futile, ye tried to poison me. My arse was on fire and I spewed for hours."
"Well, now, my soon to be sister-by-law. Do ye intend to poison my brother every time ye have an argument over who is in charge of yer life?"
"Huh!" She ignored him. With a rosy face and nose in the air, she folded the monk's robes into a neat pile, the same way as she had found them.
"Nay. She canna try it again. As part of the betrothal vows heard by all at Raptor, she promised never to do so again."
"Dinna push yer good fortune," she muttered so low he almost didn't hear her.
"Eh?" Graemme came so close his lips near touched her ear. "Breaking a betrothal vow is near a mortal sin. I would be tempted to beat ye for it."
"Ye try and ye'll find a blade at yer precious parts when ye sleep!"
Graemme stared down at her, his eyes searching her face for the truth of her words. Her father never laid a cruel hand on her in her life, even though he had threatened many a time to do so. In no way would she allow a man to mistreat her. She narrowed her eyes and glared back up at him.
He must have sensed she meant it, for he shook his head slowly at her, his mouth grim, and turned his back.
"Where did ye get the robes? We must replace them afore the sisters notice," Magnus broke their concentration on each other.
"The laundry room. They always keep fresh robes for traveling monks. They exchange the soiled ones for these so they may complete their journey in comfort," she replied.
"It will be our first stop," Graemme decided. When he spied Squat snuffling among the bits of oats and hay on the floor, he smiled at him and added, "This sorry sample of a dog needs food." The words might have been harsh, but Squat wagged his crimped tail all the faster, a look of adoration on his face.
"It is near time for the sun to come up. If ye dinna stop yammering, the sisters will soon gather for mass. If they spy us, ye will be to blame." Elyne gathered the clothes to her chest and haughtily brushed past them and headed out the door.
She replaced the robes atop the other two already on the shelf in the laundry room. Towels and sheets were already in woven baskets waiting for the day's washing. A sizeable stream ran beyond the grove. Since it was still within the outer walls of the convent, the laundresses were safe using it.
While Muriele, Ranald's wife Catalin and she were here over a year ago, she'd explored it. She wanted to be sure no one could enter by going beneath the water flowing under the stone wall. She learned the Tyronesian monks from Kelso had built the wall and added iron grating in the open space, assuring the sisters no one could invade the convent by the stream.
Graemme nodded to Magnus. They walked beside her as they left the laundry room. He didn't intend to let her out of his sight un
til they reached the hunting lodge. And especially after arriving there. He could near hear the explosion from her when she found out their first destination was not Raptor Castle!
They attended mass but couldn't kneel beside her, for the nuns and women were at the front of the chapel and the men at the back. But if she thought to sneak out of the cluster of women, she was sadly mistaken. He had already warned Colyne and Brian to place the other eight men to watch the chapel exits and gates leading out of the convent. Though they looked to pray as devoutly as the women, they watched her through downcast lashes. Graemme gritted his teeth at the furtive way Elyne glanced around her and toward each exit. No doubt, she judged what her chances were she could steal out beneath their noses when they were supposedly deep in prayer. Several times, she started to rise, but when she did, a knight quietly moved closer to the door. When she scowled back at Graemme, he kept her in place with an ominous stare. Her shoulders were rigid with defiance, but she stayed on her knees until mass ended.
Graemme studied her mulish expression. He caught and held her gaze with his, making his face as sinister as possible. The woman didn't know when to stop fighting. Though he understood why. With a father like Chief Broccin, she'd had to be as belligerent as any man to survive. If she hadn't been, she'd probably have been married off to the oldest man he could find with enough land and coins to tempt Broccin. And the man would undoubtedly be toothless, pot-bellied and bald with a castle filled with illegitimate children. Broccin wouldn't want to wait long to take over his daughter's holdings. No doubt, he'd have her married again within a year.
When he looked at her beautiful face and saw the vulnerability lurking in her eyes, he felt a twinge of conscience about forcing her into the wedding.
It didn't last long.
He reminded himself of his two infamous buckets.
Chapter 18
Elyne kept her head bowed, which wasn't difficult since they were supposed to be in silent prayers most of the time. But she couldn't keep herself from looking for a way to escape. Whenever she glanced up, she felt the threat in Graemme's gaze and squirmed. Magnus' observance was less intrusive. At least his looks didn't bore holes in the back of her head.
She almost sighed with relief when the mass was over. It was thoughtless of her though, for now she would be leaving the convent after they broke their fast. The two men stuck to her like nettles on bushes as they left the chapel. She'd best act like she was too dim-witted to protest further. It wasn't a long trip to Raptor, but somewhere along the way, they might relax their vigil. When they did, then she'd take her chances.
Her father and Ranald only saw a man who honorably kept his word. If they could have seen her dreams of him, they'd know he was dangerous and likely meant to kill her. She didn't know why she felt so strongly when he seemed concerned for compromising her. It had to be the frightful dreams, for when he wasn't fashed with her he was playful and treated her gently.
When he grasped her elbow, a soft breeze wafted his scent to her. She breathed it in as much as her lungs could take. How could he still smell so fresh of sandalwood? He must have taken time to wash at the lavatorium during the night. Visions of his naked body as he bathed invaded her thoughts. Heat spread to her belly thinking of his lips and hands caressing all over her, making her feel desire so hot she forgot the threat he posed. Her breasts tingled. She pretended she lifted her right hand to brush back her hair, while she really needed to brush her arm across her nipples to soothe their strange itching.
Well, piss! Graemme squeezed her arm and gave her a wicked smile. The dratted man knew what she was doing. From the twitch of Magnus' lips, he did too. Knowing he likely thought of his brother's nasty love making, she wanted to fan her cheeks.
Graemme had left her hot and wanting back in the stall. All he'd needed to do was touch her one more time and she'd have spent herself as explosively as he had. The hateful man hadn't hesitated to satisfy himself, though.
How did one squirm and walk at the same time? The memory of him pumping his tarse like he had not needed a woman to satisfy him made her want to kick him square in the arse. Nay. More likely in those precious parts he so loved!
Why did he pull her to a stop? Oh. They were at the doorway to the women's quarters.
"Go collect anything ye left in yer room. Dinna think to sneak away. Magnus will be at the back door and my men guard all the exits."
"Nay. I plan to vanish into thin air." She snorted when Magnus disappeared around the corner. If she could, she'd stamp her feet on the ground and scream in aggravation. "Come, Squat." She beckoned her hand at Squat. He started to follow her until Graemme spoke.
"Stay, dog."
She jammed her hands on her hips and glared at him. Now he controlled her dear little dog, for Squat slammed his butt on the ground and looked up at him. The hairy little thing was smiling as much as a dog could without it becoming a snarl.
She stomped all the way to her tiny room, even though she had left nothing there. Shutting the door behind her, she went immediately to the small wooden stool and brought it over to the small window. The dense orchard started no more than ten paces from the window. The men would be guarding the doors, so if she was swift enough, she could climb out the window. In her muted brown and green clothing, she could lose herself amongst the trees before they even saw her!
Once she stood on the stool, she opened the wooden shutters and gathered her skirts tightly around her. Carefully, she balanced on her right leg while she swung her left leg out and over the windowsill. She stifled her shriek when a warm hand closed over her ankle and slid sensuously up to her knee.
"'Tis much easier to walk to the door, but since ye like falling into my arms, at least this time ye'll not shove me to my back, love."
"Nay. Thank ye."
She didn't like his reminder of how she'd landed in this predicament in the first place. She tried to shake off his hand, but he held firm.
"Nay? Because I have all my clothes on?" He cocked his head and considered. "Do ye wish me to disrobe?"
"Ye are a fool! Go ahead and I'll scream as loudly as I did the first time. Then I'd like to see ye talk yer way out of Brother Octavius really breaking yer nose and throwing ye off the gatehouse!"
"Then I would suggest ye scramble down here. I believe Mother Cecelia's coming around the corner."
Without thinking further, she hurriedly drew her right leg out and heaved off the windowsill into his arms.
"It wasna necessary to catch me," she said, shoving at his chest. "'Twas a short distance."
"Oh, but ye feel so soft and pliable, I like it. Ye should practice jumpin' when I beckon."
His hand moved up to the back of her waist and pressed her stomach against his body. She shoved back when she felt his hard as an anvil shaft near bruising her.
"Ye'll see how pliable I am when Mother Cecelia asks what ye are doing. And ye may as well forget my jumping at yer commands."
"Why not ask her?"
"Mother Cecelia is behind me?"
She looked toward the front of the building, but all she saw was Squat wagging his tail and throwing spittle with his flopping tongue. Mayhap the sweet woman was at the other end. Her head tilted back away from his chest so she could look to her left. Only Magnus stood there. Grinning at her.
"Ye lied!"
She shoved him with both hands and tried to lift her right knee and aim it at his private parts.
"I wouldna do it if I were ye."
Her foot slammed back on the ground. His tone had changed from teasing to sinister warning. He nodded and pulled back from her, holding lightly to her elbow.
"Ye are learnin' to be less fashious. 'Tis a good thing."
"I am troublesome? How do ye think I feel about ye, ye chicken-brained oaf!"
"Ah, ye are right."
His eyes narrowed with icy calculation as his gaze roved from her head to her toes.
The hair on her arms and nape rose. She wanted to step backward out of his rea
ch but she'd not back down. If he knew he could make her fear him with naught but looks, she'd be lost. When he spoke again, his voice was so low if she wasn't listening she wouldn't hear him.
"Any man who would marry ye without yer father holding a knife to his skin would have to be an eejit."
His words sent sharp pains through her chest. Was she so terribly plain and unwomanly? Was her looks why her father could only entice the weak or elderly men to offer for her hand? He had to threaten a virile, comely man with gelding him afore he would consent to marry her? Her chest became so heavy it was hard to breathe.
He whistled loud and shrill. Squat came at a run while Magnus sauntered up to them.
"Time to leave?" His gaze took in Graemme's emotionless face and stopped to study hers.
"Aye." Graemme's voice sounded loud in the peaceful surroundings.
"But we have not broken our fast," she said.
"Afore I came to the stables, I asked for bread and cheese to take with us. The stable boys knew to ready the horses for an early leave-taking. My men are already waiting near the front gate," Graemme said. He did not even look at her.
"But we must thank the good sisters for the night's lodgings." Magnus' gaze traveled from his brother to her face. "Ye dinna have other clothing with ye?"
"I have a bundle hidden in the stall with my horse." She cleared her throat. "Mother Cecelia's solar is in the main building."
"We know. We were there yesterday," Graemme's cold voice reminded her.
What was the matter with Magnus? He seemed to sway a little as he walked. Then she realized why when she looked down at his feet. Squat had clamped on the man's boot strings and tugged for all his might. Each forward step of his right foot, he shuffled with it low to the ground so as not to hurt the dog.
"This will take all day if ye dinna let me walk, dog."
Magnus bent down and gently pried his mouth open. On his way up with the dog in his hands, Squat filled his mouth again with the hem of Magnus' kilt. Magnus casually brushed his clothing down to cover himself.
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