Surrender

by Sophia Johnson

  Graemme's kiss afterward was stunning. She found herself enfolded in a warm embrace, his mouth slowly lowered to hers and he bent her backward over his arm with an enthusiastic kiss which left her breathless. Her heart beat to a wild rhythm like someone in her chest played an ancient Celtic Bodhran with its bone tippers.

  When they straightened, her father was the first to grab her in his arms. She was shocked to see tear tracks down his cheeks. Never once in his life had he said "I love ye," but she felt it in his bear hug and heard it in his whisper, "If ever yer dreams prove true and he harms ye, I will tear him limb from limb."

  He released her for the rest of the crowd to greet her as Graemme's wife. Men looked toward the Black Raptor and restrained their drunken ardor. They didna want their ears singed. Others not familiar with Ranald's strange gifts looked to old Grunda and quickly sobered. Everyone knew the old seer could cause a man's precious parts to wither and become useless!

  The Great Room's rafters flew banners honoring their guests. Whoever had a hand in hanging them had done a fine job, for each one complemented the colors of the first and so on throughout the room. Colorful tapestries were spaced apart on the walls, some depicting events in the lives of Raptor Castle's families; others were of the mountains and scenery around the Castle.

  An impressive array of weapons filled in where tapestries wouldn't be appropriate. Chief Broccin's tunic, cape, shield, helmet and sword from the Crusades were on a corner stand, made specifically to display a warrior's armor.

  On the opposite corner, Elyne was startled to see Ranald's monk's clothing displayed the same way, though it seemed strange to see a shiny Claymore strapped across the back. She glanced at her brother and saw he stared at it. Did he ever miss being a monk?

  Certainly, life was more peaceful at Kelso, except when raiders crossed the borders and tried to steal everything of value. Once he became the Abbey's Protector, the raids soon ended. When he left, he made sure another warrior monk, as well-trained as he had been, took over.

  The family banners hung above the fireplace. Out of courtesy, Ranald had hung Magnus' banner next to his brother's. The ferocious faces of the two wolves often drew her eyes. They seemed to watch her, which made her more than uneasy.

  Large pottery vases painted with woodland scenes and filled with all types and colors of flowers were on pedestals throughout the room. At the high tables, etched pewter plates, goblets and spoons sat near folded cloths to wipe the juices off chins.

  Graemme seated her at the center of the high table then took the chair beside her. They were in the place of honor with the Chief and Aunt Joneta beside them.

  A rousing round of toasts started the feasting. If it continued along these lines, they would soon all be sliding off their benches and snoring beneath the tables.

  "Ye dinna have to keep yer hands touching me every minute, pest," Elyne whispered to Graemme as she tried to pull her hand out from beneath his.

  "Ah, but I find ye so soft and silky, my sweet mannered wife," Graemme said and squeezed her hand.

  "I dinna like to be handled like I am yer new possession." She frowned at him to make her point.

  Graemme must be keeping an ear on the toasts, for he never missed raising the chalice high and then brought it to her lips until she drank before taking a swallow himself. He leaned toward her, put one hand on back of her head and pried her lips apart with his own. She near coughed when a flood of wine filled her mouth. He drew back and grinned at her when she could do naught but swallow. He put his cheek to hers, causing the men to applaud.

  "But ye are a new possession, my affectionate one," he whispered. "I want to touch ye all over. Taste ye, too. It would please me if ye signaled yer women half-way through the food courses."

  "Why would I do so?"

  Her words were louder than she'd meant, for people looked to them awaiting his answer. They were disappointed when they couldn't hear his reply.

  "So ye could go above and prepare yerself for me. 'Twould please me most to come into the room, throw back the covers and find ye nekid and yearning for my tarse. Why, it near takes my breath away just thinking on it."

  "Ye may as well save yer breath, for it will never happen, ye swell-headed lout!"

  "My lovely, docile bride, we have never made love with complete privacy and leisure. I can guarantee Magnus, Brian or Colyne won't be listening for yer moans of pleasure."

  She flapped her hand in exasperation and ignored him.

  As at many festive occasions, there were five courses to the meal. The first was a salad of chopped greens, along with shredded carrots dressed with oil and wine; fresh herbs and cheddar cheese, poached beets dressed with vinegar; bread and various butters; and to end it, a spiced honey and breadcrumb confection. Elyne barely picked at the food on her side of the silver wedding plate.

  Ada had given her a review of the courses while she'd washed Elyne's hair, so she would know when Cook would serve her favorite foods.

  While they awaited the next course, a tall, skinny man amused them by skillfully juggling ripe fruit. At the end of his act, he deliberately let each one land on his head, splattering himself with their juice. Thanks to the heavens, Graemme was amused enough to leave her alone.

  Roasted pheasant was the main dish of the second course, along with diced turnips cooked in apple cider and butter, a variety of cooked greens, spiced pears in sweet wine syrup and sugar-glazed currant cookies.

  They listened to a strolling minstrel singing tales about the great loves who made men as strong as the monster in Loch Ness when their lady loves were threatened.

  Graemme snorted in disbelief. "They likely ran in the opposite direction so they might take a second wife. Of course, she'd be younger than the first." He looked sideways at her. "How old did yer father say ye were?"

  She picked up her eating knife and aimed it at his hand. He was too quick for her and soon had the knife out of her reach. Chief Broccin looked at her and scowled.

  Even though Elyne took the smallest bites of each course, she was soon full. Graemme's appetite seemed as hearty as Ranald's and the rest of the men, for when the third course arrived, they all cheered.

  Her interest in the food picked up, for this course was her favorite. Roasted pork in wine and coriander sauce, mushrooms and green onions in creamed broth, broiled asparagus topped with roasted seeds and baked rice with apples.

  "Return my eating knife, spineless husband."

  "Nay, my evil-tempered wife."

  Graemme selected the juiciest pieces with his fingertips and held them up to her lips. When he refused to take his hand away, she took a dainty bite, careful not to touch his fingers with her lips. He rubbed the juices on his fingers over her mouth, bent over and nibbled and licked her lips clean afore he kissed her. Of course, his actions caused a loud banging of cups and goblets on the tablets and cheers for 'More!'

  When acrobats ran and tumbled into the room, it distracted the guests. But not long after, when it looked like the man atop nine others was about to fall into the hot fireplace, she near screamed. It wouldn't have mattered, for other women shrieked and covered their eyes. A heartbeat later, she realized it had been part of their act.

  Would the eating and toasting never end? 'Twas impolite not to respond to a toast, so Elyne wet her lips and pretended to sip. Graemme was sparing on his own swallows, but when there is one toast after another, more than one groom had found himself not remembering fulfilling their wedding vows the next morn.

  "Watch what ye drink, wife," Graemme said softly. "I dinna want to awaken a snoring wife so I may consummate the marriage! I like my women screaming and urging me on with lusty vigor!"

  "Best ye watch yerself, husband." She snorted in scorn. "The rate ye are swilling the stuff, ye will be sleeping afore ye reach our bedchamber."

  "Ach! Have ye not heard I have been known to swive comely lasses in my sleep and not lose a stroke?" He waggled his brows at her with a wicked look in his eyes.

  El
yne snorted. Loud. And with scorn.

  Domnall couldn't have done a better job.

  Chapter 26

  Elyne felt a streak of jealousy when she pictured Graemme, fast asleep and still swiving a woman. She brightened when she thought of the likelihood he would pass out from drink. She would keep to the edge of the bed or even sleep on the floor.

  If he was unable to perform this night, she could have the marriage annulled the next morn stating he was not the virile man he appeared.

  She didn't consider it overlong when it struck her mayhap she was already breeding. It had been two weeks from her courses the night she unfortunately gave herself to Graemme thinking to delay his capture of Muriele. Unfortunately, her courses had never occurred on schedule. Aunt Joneta claimed it was because she was overactive and worked as hard as many men did.

  She scowled, for her sacrifice had been a total disaster…and unnecessary. In fact, all their bed sport had ended in her embarrassment. Magnus thought it amusing when he had come upon them in the stall. She was sure he thought her ready to swive whenever the breezes blew up her skirts!

  When a balladeer, older than most, took a stool and began to strum a lute, her scowl turned to interest. He sang of Chief Broccin and his battles with the Turks, was careful in wording his sad lyrics about the twin who perished the day afore his wedding and of the other twin who came from God to fill his place.

  The banners hanging above began gently swaying as if the great wooden doors had been propped open. Ranald had a tight reign on his feeling, but Elyne could see the strength it took. His lips pressed near white in concentration to hold back any reaction. When the man sang of the exploits of The Black Raptor, he relaxed a bit, a wry smile on his lips. It amused him when people imagined he could turn into a huge, black raptor when his anger peaked.

  When the balladeer began a tale about Magnus the Ruthless and his brother, Graemme the Relentless, Ranald leaned back and grinned, relieved when the subject of the ballads had changed. He teller of tales sang about the lonely youth Olaf treated harshly until his squire, Sweyn, with hair as bright as fire, taught him fighting skills even his foster-father couldna equal. Only then did the harsh treatment stop. Elyne's ears picked up every word, hoping to learn more about the family who now was also hers.

  She had not had enough time to talk to Muriele to learn what all had happened to her before she showed up at Raptor. So when he sang about how Muriele first was drug to the Gunn stronghold by a rope around her neck, Elyne near jumped up from her seat. Graemme's arm around her shoulder kept her from erupting in fury.

  She had been so engrossed in the ballad her new husband had taken advantage of it to nibble on her neck. He stopped long enough to whisper to her.

  "Nay, wife. I will tell ye the whole story when we are alone."

  Gille, Graemme's new squire, was a gift from Magnus. Elyne liked the young blond boy who was so intent on pleasing Graemme. She would have to ask Graemme's brother about the young man, for though Magnus said he'd come from a small village near the Gunn's fortress, he looked to be some lord's bastard. No serf could be so comely with silky hair, fine features and eyes the color of the sky on a summer morn. The young man was diligent in refilling the etched silver wedding goblet she shared with Graemme, a gift from Ranald and Catalin.

  Elyne stilled when Magnus' foster-brother, Feradoch, came into the song. Described as a golden angel, it made her itch to look at Gille. Had Magnus or Graemme ever thought mayhap he was this Feradoch's bastard? Well, of course they had! They were not fools, though sometimes she was quick to call Graemme one.

  Though Cook displayed each course in a way to tempt even the daintiest appetites, she lost all interest in food. Neither the figs with red grapes in a crust nor the stewed apples with mint looked inviting to her.

  The more Graemme drank, the more ardent he became. Why, the lustful goat would be happy to push aside the chairs and swive her on the floor!

  "I grow impatient, wife, to feel ye hot and weeping for me," Graemme whispered in her ear.

  "Hold yer tongue! If I had my way, ye'd sleep in the pasture with the sheep this night and not in the keep."

  "Ah, do ye not remember screaming my name when I pleasured ye with my tongue?"

  "I ne'er screamed!" She glanced from the corner of her eye and realized not even the table's cloth could hide his growing erection.

  "Aye. Ye did." He smiled with confidence.

  "I would scream with pleasure should ye sleep curled around a four-legged critter."

  "Think of what ye would miss if my nekid body wasna next to yers."

  When he nipped her plump lobe and blew a light breath into her ear, shivers coursed from where his tongue had dampened her ear down to the center of her body. She squeezed her legs together to ease the emptiness she longed to have filled.

  It didn't help.

  Nor did it help when Graemme's hand beneath the table's cloth kept inching up her skirts trying to bare her thigh to his touch. She'd pinched his arm so many times he should have bruises from his wrist to his elbow on the morrow. When he started pinching her in return, she gave up.

  At the close of the fifth course, the feasting ended with creamy loaves of white bread, and sharp cheeses with sugared walnuts.

  After Elyne had responded to a multitude of toasts, she began to daydream about the times she and Graemme had made love. Nay, not 'made love' but swived. It made her hot and needy, until she remembered each had ended in a fight. She scowled down at the sugared walnut in her fingers then began to nibble viciously at it until she near bit her own flesh.

  Graemme leaned close, took her hand and placed it on his lap, then pressed her fingers around his hard shaft. When he released her hand, probably expecting her to be overjoyed because his special treasure was so lengthy and eager, she slid her hand up close to where his tarse nested. By his gasp, he anticipated a continued caress. Instead, she felt around for a few breaths gathering his tunic in her fist. Assured she also had hold of the hair around his shaft, of a sudden, she pulled as hard as she could.

  Elyne grinned when he let out a squawk worthy of the finest rooster. He near crushed her wrist until she released him. She continued to look at her plate as if nothing had occurred. When the room erupted in a cheer, it startled her. Graemme had stood and stretched, like a man longing for his bed.

  They quieted when old Grunda came up to him. He startled and turned to her. She put her right hand on his head and her left on Elyne's. Before the seer spoke, she waited a moment and looked at the ceiling as if she could see the sky above.

  "This husband and wife will make a bairn this night. But if he is not careful of those who would try to draw him away from her, he will lose all. Take heed to two who say they love ye, for one is yer worst enemy." She stared straight into Graemme's eyes. Satisfied that he'd heard her words, she withdrew and seemed to flow through the tapestries behind Gille. The young squire looked like a ghost had just touched him.

  The women at the table followed Graemme's lead and stood, ready to take Elyne above and prepare her for the marriage bed.

  Graemme had other ideas.

  This lass to whom Graemme was now forever bound to, tested him at every turn. If he didn't prove he was her master, not her servant, she would believe she could lead him around by his balls whenever it suited her.

  He stood behind Elyne's chair and abruptly pulled it back before she knew what he intended. While still trying to get her balance, he scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed less than a child.

  The guests hooted and hollered advice, ready to follow them up the stairwell and usher them to their bed.

  Elyne spluttered, ready to argue.

  "Ye will be silent, wife, else I'll dump ye on the middle of this table and swive yer brains out!"

  She stilled.

  With a bright smile, he glanced around the room then at the women who stood to help her prepare for him.

  "I find I am too impatient to explore my beautiful bride's body to wa
it for the bedding ceremony. Excuse this impatient Highlander, I beg ye."

  When she started to struggle, he loosened his grip and jiggled her in his arms. She grabbed his shoulders to keep from falling.

  He leered at the crowd and said loud enough for all to hear, "She grows impatient! Wait a short time then lend an ear. Ye'll hear her screams of pleasure!"

  "They'll hear screams all right!" Elyne was so furious she hissed like a cat. "They'll not know it isna a lass when I take a knife to yer ballocks!"

  "Think of all the pleasure ye'd deny yerself for the rest of yer life. If aught should happen to cause me not to harden, ye willna ever have the pleasure again."

  "Any man can provide the same service!"

  "Nay. Ye willna ever have another man betwixt yer legs but me! If ye dare to attempt it, ye will find his severed head in yer lap."

  Seeing movement at the high table, Graemme glanced to see if someone sought to halt him. 'Twas Ranald. But he had no intention of stopping him. He and Magnus were helping reseat the women and soothing them.

  Magnus grinned and nodded at Graemme. Having seen Elyne enough over the past month, he would know if Graemme didn't get the upper hand, he would be forever plagued with a wife who thought to command his every movement.

  Chief Broccin raised his goblet in a new toast. "Drink to the one man who can finally tame me spirited daughter! He will give me many strong and valiant grandchildren!"

  The guests cheered, only too happy for another round of drinking.

  o0o

  Elyne didn't make it easy for Graemme to carry her up the spiral staircase. She stiffened and put her feet out to bump against the wall. He stopped and turned near sideways. Halfway up the stairs, he stood her two steps above him then shoved his shoulder into her middle, carrying her draped over him like a big bundle of laundry. When she started kicking in earnest, he slapped her behind.