She may as well have saved herself the effort. At first, she felt terror when something pulled at her hair. Could it be a water monster had hold of her? She beat around her hair, trying to find what had caught it. For her efforts, she received a particularly hard jerk. Her hands flew out again and came in contact with the hard corded muscles of a warrior's forearms.
As he pulled her up, he slid her against his body. She realized he'd removed the bandage around his thigh. His injury was healing rapidly. Finally, the air she'd been holding back exploded out of her mouth when her cheeks rubbed against hairy thighs. His cock bobbed not a finger's width from her mouth. Why, the cold water hadn't seemed to affect it much. Still, she clamped her lips together. She could see his belly button as he kept lifting, then his nipples, shriveled from the cold.
When her head cleared the water, she realized he was standing. Standing? He must have read the expression on her face quite accurately.
"If ye hadna panicked and curled like a helpless kitten, ye could have bobbed up to get air."
"Let go my hair afore ye snatch me bald!"
He did. She immediately went under again, but this time, she kept her legs straight. The bottom was not far at all. She wished it was. From where she was now, she could see him above her, laughing.
"I dinna think ye need to keep dunking yer head, lass." Magnus' face was as somber as it had been at mass. He leaned forward and studied her from his vantage place on shore. "Looks to me ye have had a thorough washing bobbing up and down. 'Tis the same way the laundresses rinse our clothing."
Chapter 19
Graemme doubted she needed his help. In fact, she resented it. But he couldn't let his bride drown. Could he?
He was tempted.
The daft woman was as hard-headed as a ram trying to batter down a wooden fence.
She was going to be nothing but trouble for the rest of their natural lives together. The only time she was anywhere near submissive was when he had her pinned beneath him. If he was to have any peace in his life, he'd have to assure she stayed hot and wanting.
If he could keep Elyne in the Highlands without having to chase after her every time she took the crazy notion to bolt back to Raptor Castle and beyond, he'd consider himself lucky.
He shook his head. Worried. If aught happened to her while she was in his care, Chief Broccin would likely remove his head. With a dull axe.
He winced.
When she came to the surface, he grabbed her kirtle and pulled her back to the shallow ledge.
"'Tis no way to bathe, lass. Has no one ever taught ye to take off yer clothing first?" He tried hard not to snicker, but the disbelief on her face made it difficult.
"Turn yer backs to the loch and face the fires, else I'll put my blade to yer arses," he bellowed at the snorting men. They promptly presented their backs, though he heard them taking bets on whether he was going to swive her in the water, being he was already naked!
With a few deft movements, her clothing floated atop the water. He'd never seen her in all her bare skinned glory. The only times she was nude was on top of him in the bailey while her father loomed over them, in the dark room at Raptor and in the gloomy stable. Unfortunately, time and people had prevented him from exploring her body.
Before him was a creamy back leading down to two lovely dimples above her hips. The water lapped beneath them, but he caught glimpses of her beautiful nether cheeks.
"Come, brother, 'tis no time to anticipate yer pleasure in the marriage bed," Magnus said from the grassy shore.
Surely, Lucifer must be cackling though bloody lips at his predicament. His brother's eyes roamed where Graemme couldn't see. Elyne's arms flew up and folded over her chest, and she bent her knees to hide herself beneath the water.
"Magnus, turn yer back! It might help if ye saw the men properly cooked the hares."
"Already started the fires and the men are turning the hares on their spits. If ye dinna want her to get a chill, ye'd best hurry. The water is too cold for leisure explorations."
"Warm my kilt to wrap her in." He turned to Elyne. "Hold yer breath."
Without further warning, he stepped closer and held her shoulders to make her bend. He dunked her head low so her hair was in the water.
"Stop struggling, lass. All I'm doing is trying to rid ye of the bird shite in yer hair. I have no interest in tupping ye….At the moment!"
He was lying through his teeth, too. She knew it. How could she not? His cock was hard and begging against her soft back. If she wasn't more careful, she might possibly sheath the eager thing.
"Be still. All yer squirming and pushing back against me makes my cock think ye're inviting him in."
Elyne gasped so loud, he saw Magnus glance over his shoulder.
It worked, though, for she stilled and frantically swished her hair in the water, rinsing it as fast as she could. She straightened quickly.
"For truth, ye're intent on breaking my nose, aren't ye?" He backed away from her. "Stay there until I get my kilt."
He gathered her wet clothing and laid them atop the first bush he came to. Lifting his warmed kilt from sticks beside a fire, he took it back to her. He didn't miss seeing her suddenly avert her eyes. He didn't doubt she'd studied his back as thoroughly as he had hers.
"Did ye like what ye saw, wife?"
"Nay. And I am not yer wife."
"Yet! But ye will be."
Elyne might lie to him, but she couldn't to herself. He had a magnificent body. His shoulders were as wide as Ranald's with taut muscles marking him as a warrior who swung a sword with vigor. Below were smooth muscles on his tanned back, narrow hips with tight buttocks and lean muscular legs. When he turned toward her, her mouth went dry. Far from being an old, withered man with naught to offer, he had everything. A more than handsome face, virile chest with a hard, flat belly and muscled thighs that looked to have strength enough to control the wildest ride. Her skin heated at the type of ride she was thinking of making.
She tried to avert her eyes from his rampant sex. It drew her like a moth to the rushlights outside the keep's entrance.
Had Lucifer formed him just to taunt her? How could she be so drawn to a man she feared?
She shook her head. By the look on his face, he'd said something she hadn't heard.
"Nay, ye dinna want to cover yerself, or were ye gathering wool? Again?"
Graemme's eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Of course I want the kilt, you cocky oaf!"
"Once we are married, I must insist ye call me by more pleasant names."
He motioned for her to rise out of the water. She did, but when she read the anticipation in his eyes, she quickly turned her back to him. Finally, she felt the warm wool against her flesh.
"Now back up to me so ye will be out of the water."
She did and felt the water finally down to her ankles. She grabbed the sides of the kilt around her body and bunched the cloth at her chest and waist. Her boots squished, making a funny sound. Once she came to a sizeable rock, she sat and pulled them off. 'Twas amazing how much water they held.
"Is it time to turn around yet?" Colyne called out.
"Nay."
"Ye'd best hurry afore we all starve to death." Bryan's laugh started the others to chuckling.
Seeing she had dried herself, Graemme brought her bundle of spare clothes over to her.
"Thank ye. Now please turn yer back so I may dress."
"Why it's the first time ye didna issue a command like I was a serf who earned yer wrath." Graemme bowed to her and turned to walk over to the fire.
She watched to make sure they weren't eyeing her like she was some strange creature. Graemme pulled a dry kilt out of his leather saddle bag and wrapped it around his waist. By the time she cleared her head through the necklines of her dry smock and kirtle, he had already donned his heavy belt and sword.
She felt safer having the men wearing their swords. Strangely, when she'd been alone on her journey to the convent, she'
d been too intent on escaping to feel fear.
Too, she'd not built a fire. Now, the sounds of fat dripping and causing sparks to crackle seemed loud enough for anyone to hear a league away. Not to mention the smoke it created.
Graemme walked over to make sure the men didn't burn their food for the night.
"Are ye not afeared smoke will alert any thieves or brigands in the woods?"
"Nay. Look upward, lass."
She looked upward and saw smoke was one useless worry. The trees created a dense canopy of wet, green leaves above, hiding everything below.
He poked a cooking hare with the tip of his eating knife and saw it was moist but not bloody.
"If ye cook them any longer, Colyne, they'll be dried as last summer's apples."
'Twas not too soon for her drooling mouth. Magnus lifted one away from the fire and laid it on an oiled cloth to cool then divided it between the three of them.
When they finished eating, Elyne stood and headed toward the water. She skidded to a halt when Graemme called to her.
"Have a care where ye kneel, lass. If ye fall in after all ye've eaten, ye'll sink to the bottom." He shook his head in mock sorrow.
"If ye had warned me of the ledge, I'd never have fallen in the first place."
"Remember. It's too dark for me to chance drowning trying to save ye. Again."
"Churl!" Icy scorn coated the word.
Carefully, she kneeled and cleaned her hands and face.
When she returned, she saw Graemme piling pine needles on the ground near enough to the fire to keep warm but not so close to become dangerous.
"Yer bed, my sweet tempered wife-to-be," Graemme said.
She gritted her teeth to keep from snapping a response at him. Wrapping herself in a spare kilt, she stretched out on the pine bed. After a sigh of comfort, her lids began to droop. She heard the drone of voices but was too tired to heed what they said.
"Brother, I oft wondered why ye didna marry Elspeth," Magnus said in a low tone. "She seemed everything ye liked all in one lass." He ticked off her attributes with his fingers. "Her hair was so lightly blond it near appeared white. She was small, had a narrow waist and hips. Her breasts were plump and just the right size to fit a man's hand. And most of all, she hung on every word ye uttered. Why, she even sewed shirts for ye…" He stopped when he saw Graemme's stony expression and cleared his throat. "What happened between ye?"
"We spoke of marriage and she seemed pleased. After we announced we would wed, she started shunning me."
"Hm. Seems a strange thing for a newly betrothed to do," Magnus said.
"I tried to learn what disturbed her, but she always turned away and refused to answer. Then, one day, she disappeared. Her father said he knew naught what happened to her. We formed search parties, but could find no trace of her."
"Was Feradoch there at the time," Magnus asked, his face grim.
"Nay. I thought it was Feradoch's doings, too. But he was on his way to Kinbrace for his time with ye."
"Did ye ever find what happened to her?"
"Aye." Graemme looked down and tried to control his trembling hands. "After the snows melted in spring, we found a woman's body. Or what was left of it." His jaw tightened and he gritted his teeth. After taking a deep breath, he continued. "The strands of hair were light. Nearby, we found scraps of cloth. I recognized it as a piece of her favorite kirtle."
Graemme jumped to his feet and went to the water's edge to splash his face. He didna want his brother to see tears, else he would think him weak to cry over a woman. Especially one who had run away rather than face marriage with him.
A man was a fool to trust any of them.
He startled when Magnus clamped his shoulder in a comforting gesture but didn't speak.
"It is a good thing I dinna love Elyne." Graemme shook his head. "'Tis the truth, I have feelings more akin to hate than tenderness. But now and again, she amuses me with her knotty-brained ideas."
"Not to mention she is as beautiful as Muriele," Magnus supplied. He suppressed a laugh so as not to awake Elyne. "Having her demanding ye make love to her in the marriage bed will be far different than with the old crone and the young man she described today." He snorted again and his eyes twinkled with mirth. "Ye willna have trouble producing a cockstand to rival all others!"
Graemme finally grinned. "There is that in her favor. She seems to love bed sport more than most."
He stopped and thought awhile.
"Elyne isn't like other women of her class. They keep themselves busy stitching shirts for the men of the family, making tapestries for the walls or pillows to cushion a man's balls." He snorted on a laugh and ended up coughing. "If she ever makes me a tapestry covered pillow, I'll be sure to look for hidden needles!"
"Huh! Mayhap not," Magnus said. "When I was gone from Kinbrace for a sennight or more, I returned to find Muriele had made a cushion for the arm chair in my chambers. Until I sat on it, I never realized how hard the wood had been. Of course, she was quick to say she made it for herself."
Graemme nodded. The two women were far too independent for his liking. But then, they also drew a man's respect.
"Elyne is as adept as many horsemen. She kept herself balanced riding astride without having the reins for control."
"Aye. I wouldna be surprised if she uses a bow and arrow as aptly as Muriele," Magnus said.
Graemme cringed. "I dinna want a bow and arrow in her hands any time soon. She's likely to take the notion 'twould be an easy way out of wedding me."
On the third day, Graemme allowed Elyne the reins, making it easier for her to ride. They rode in single file, with Graemme in front and Magnus at the rear. Elyne was in the middle with Bryan and Colyne watching out for her. They made good time and Graemme expected they would reach the hunting lodge soon after dusk fell. When they came to a fork in the road, he slowed until Elyne pulled alongside him.
Graemme caught Magnus' eye and nodded. Magnus moved his mount up behind Elyne, assuring she couldn't turn her horse and bolt. Slowly, Graemme reached over like he meant to chase off a bug on her hand, but instead, he griped her hands and took the reins from her.
"I know my way from here. If ye remember correctly, Raptor Castle is my home."
"Aye, it is. But ye will need to hold Squat."
Graemme turned to his men and called Bryan and Colyne to join them.
"If ye dinna dawdle, ye will make Raptor by nightfall. Sir Magnus will be in charge." He took Squat and handed him to Elyne. She hugged him tight to her chest, a confused look on her face.
Graemme nodded at the men and clasped his brother on the shoulder. Elyne stiffened. When the men took the left fork and Graemme led them to the right, she shouted at him.
"Wait! Ye're taking the wrong road. Raptor is to the left."
"We're not going to Raptor tonight."
"Why not! We can easily make it in the moonlight!"
"We're going someplace quiet where we can get to understand each other better," Graemme said in a stern voice.
"Alone?" She tried to lean out to catch hold of her reins, but she couldn't reach them. She signaled her horse to halt, but a demanding pull by Graemme quickly changed the horse's mind.
"Aye."
"You rotting, stinkin'…."
He knew Elyne was so angry she couldn't think of a word bad enough to call him.
"Churl? Knave? Lout?" He supplied the usual ones which came to mind. They weren't good enough.
"…maggot brained son of Lucifer!" She finished for him.
"Enough!"
He twisted in his saddle and fixed her with a lethal stare through smoldering eyes. No one dared called his father 'Lucifer.' Not and get away with it.
She must have read his look correctly, for she shut her mouth and returned his glare. They rode in silence until they came to the road Grunda had described to him.
"I thought the hunting lodge had fallen into disfavor after yer brother died?"
Elyne refused to answer him
.
"'Tis not overgrown like it should be. Someone has cleared the brush and made it passable."
Before long, they came in sight of a clearing. It didn't look abandoned but well taken care of.
"Do ye think yer father has put it to use again?"
Stony silence answered him.
She didna have to answer. It seemed all too likely. The man was as fit as his own father, whose sex drive was still lusty.
Graemme pulled his sword when he saw a thin plume of smoke came from the chimney. He glanced at Elyne. She stared at the building like it was familiar to her.
"Ye have seen the lodge afore, Elyne?"
Still silence.
"How did ye know of yer brother's, er, adventures here?" He didn't expect her to answer, so he supplied it. "Huh! Of course, ye knew. If ye were in the habit of leaning out of windows to observe men, then it is likely ye followed yer brother and found out where he went with his leman."
He took his time dismounting, not taking his eyes off her face. She returned his gaze with a frozen stare and lips thinned to a grim line.
Still holding the reins, he gripped his sword firmer. At the same time, Domnall opened the door. Graemme sighed with relief when he didn't have to chase thieves from the building.
"Old Grunda said you would be here by nightfall," Domnall said and nodded.
"Did she also say we would be hungry and tired?"
"Aye. Cook brought provisions for a sennight. There's a mutton stew over the fire and enough wine and ale to soften the most stubborn lass in Scotland."
"I'll not need softening, Domnall. I order ye to take me back to my father."
She thrust Squat at him and slid off her mount as though the saddle had burned her nether cheeks.
Elyne stomped into the room with Graemme following close behind. Squat streaked past them and started sniffing all over the floor, searching for the scent of the castle hunting dogs.
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