Finally, she stopped and smiled at the stairway. He glanced up and saw Elyne's stiff back disappearing as she led Ysabel up to her bridal bedchamber. Fury built in him for Elspeth pretended she was his lover to make Elyne suffer. He grabbed hold of the woman's shoulder and shoved her into the hallway.
"Ye little bitch! Ye were Feradoch's lover all those years when I worried about ye. Now he's dead, ye think to fool yer father and me into thinking ye were helpless!"
"Oh, but I was. Feradoch was such a powerful lover. I truly was helpless to leave him. Where ye were soft and reluctant, he was strong and forceful. He satisfied me in every way possible. Yer wife looks more your squire than a woman. If ye'd like, I will teach ye ways to pleasure yer gawky wife so she'd appear feminine to ye?"
"Gawky? Squire? She is a hundred times more the woman than ye. If ye dinna leave within a sennight, I will force ye to marry the most warty, ugliest warrior in Clibrick's army!"
He shouted so loud he feared the guests in the great hall would hear him.
"I don't think so," she said silkily. "Ye'd best look to yer own. I heard about her sleep walking. Maybe she's looking for a real man to pleasure her?"
"Stay away from her and from me. I want ye gone from this castle!"
Graemme turned and near fled her hateful presence. His hands kept clenching and unclenching, longing to have her tiny neck within them.
He shuddered thinking she had been Feradoch's leman all those years while he had mourned for her.
For the first time, he felt no remorse. He was truly glad Feradoch was dead.
He went back into the great hall in time to escort Colyne up to his bride. He tried to calm his breathing, but he knew from the tenseness in his neck that his face was red. The men looked at him and shook their heads. Did they, too, think he had swived the bitch?
He pasted a smile on his face when he went up to bang on the door. 'Twas his place to bring the groom to his bride.
"Yer husband is ready and eager, Ysabel! If ye make him wait, he will split at the seams!"
The door swung open and the men burst into the room, pushed from those behind.
The bride looked as beautiful as any bride could. Her long wheat-colored hair curled around her shoulders and down across her breasts, hiding them beneath the thin smock she wore. He felt Elyne's eyes scorching his skin. She was far past angry. She was as furious as any woman could be. The others might not see it. But he knew. He could feel it radiate from her.
"Back yerselves out and return to the hall," Grunda said in her loudest voice, "or do ye want me to shrivel yer tarses to the size of a newborn?"
She flicked her hands at them as she came. They felt her force against them as surely as an army of shields. They near fell over their feet backing out of the room.
She held Graemme with her eyes. "Ye are a blind fool. Dinna try to explain this night. Wait until she sleeps afore ye come to yer room."
Graemme nodded, inwardly glad to put off having to explain to Elyne what had happened.
He doubted she would believe him!
"Let me brew ye a draught to help yer sleep," Grunda asked Elyne.
"Nay. I will sleep well enough. If Graemme's brain is as wise as a hare's, he will stay away from me this night. Ada will help me undress. Seek yer own bed."
Elyne reached out and hugged the old woman who looked so tired and worn.
"Ye will do nothing foolish if he appears?"
"Foolish? Like cutting his ballocks off to send to Father?" She shook her head. "Nay, too bloody. I'll do nothing so drastic. He will be safe enough."
Elyne kept her face still and tried to appear serene. When Grunda went through the doorway, Squat squeezed past her and came scurrying into the room. He must have escaped from Gille, who had taken such a liking for the little dog.
Jumping up on the bed, his beady eyes looked at Elyne, studying her. He turned his head to right, listened for a bit then flipped it over to the other.
"Dinna try to figure me out, Squat. Ye are a male. Ye would need to be a bitch to understand."
"Sometimes I think the dog does understand everything," Ada said as she untied the ribbons on the sides of Elyne's red kirtle.
Once Elyne had her night smock on, she didn't get into bed. Ada stood there holding the blankets and sheet up for her to slide between, but Elyne lowered her hand. She went over and opened her clothing chest. She picked up a sheathed knife off the top wooden tray and brought it over. Ada gasped.
"Ye told Grunda ye wouldna do anything foolish!"
"I'm not. I want ye to help me. Remember when ye first saw Muriele's hair after it was cut?"
"Aye." She eyed her suspiciously.
"Help me, then."
Elyne walked over to the polished steel hanging over the wash basin. She grabbed a handful of hair at her shoulders and cut through it before Ada realized what she wanted. The poor girl gasped and backed away.
"By the Saints! What have ye done? Yer beautiful hair!"
"Looks terrible, doesn't it?" Elyne studied herself in the mirror. "Well, now, the only thing we can do is cut it the same length. Ye are better at trimming the men's hair than I am. This should be simple for ye."
She turned the handle toward Ada and waited until her friend's trembling hand accepted it. As she cut each hank, Elyne took it in her fist with the first one. Finally, she had to hold it with both hands.
"There are some ribbons on the tray. What do ye think? All in one bundle or two?"
Ada swallowed. "Two. It will be easier to tie."
It took longer than Elyne expected to tie the curly hair into two bundles. Lifting Graemme's pillow, she fashioned each bundle into a ring then replaced the pillow. Every footstep she heard, she prayed it wasn't Graemme.
Her head felt lighter. She stood back and fluffed it after Ada finished trimming. Freed of its length, it curled and bounced as she walked. One curl fell over her right eye. She stuck out her lower lip and blew at it, lifting it away.
"'Tis a trick I learned from Muriele," she said then grinned.
After they'd picked up the stray pieces and threw them out the window, the room looked normal again.
"Thank, ye, Ada. Ye are a good friend. Dinna tell Graemme ye helped me. Go to yer lover now and relax for the night." She leaned over and hugged her friend.
After she climbed into bed, she realized how tired she was. Anger had drained her energy. It had also drained all other feelings from her, too. After the door closed, she yawned and was asleep.
When Graemme entered the bedchamber, he placed his feet carefully and dropped his clothing as he made his way to the bed. He was already snoring by the time his head hit the pillow.
Chapter 32
Graemme slept on his stomach, his face pressed against the end of his pillow. His nose twitched and disturbed his sleep enough to half awake him. When he tried to brush a hand over his nose, he realized he gripped heather scented hair in his right hand. Burying his face in it caused his sex to stir.
He tamped the feeling down, for if she was as angry now as she had been in Ysabel's room, she'd probably stop him with a whack to his nose. Instead, he gathered her hair and rubbed his face in it. Her hair had grown lately, from the feel of its abundance. Frowning, he rose up and squinted, trying to see her. If he pulled the hair too close, it would wake her.
Blinking, he could swear she was an arm's length away, close to the edge of the massive bed. Too much wine last night must have caused his eyes to misjudge the distance. But why did he not see the trail of hair between them. He got up on his knees and bent down, the better to see the handfuls of hair. His eyes cleared when he saw they led back to his pillow.
Graemme flipped the pillow onto the floor.
His bellow of rage was loud enough to wake the creatures of the night.
"Cursed Lucifer's…Satan's black…!"
His voice spluttered as he stared at the two bundles of dark, curly hair. Light from the fireplace flickered, showing the hair's fiery auburn lights.
He threw the offending locks in her face.
He spluttered even more, trying to find words to satisfy his anger.
"Satan's windy arse!"
His screamed words echoed off the walls so loudly footsteps raced toward their room and swords struck the walls as men ran to battle whoever was attacking Graemme.
He leapt across the bed and locked Elyne between his legs. She shook her head, sending the hair beside her on the pillow. Her brown eyes flashed fury up at him.
"Blessed Saints, Graemme, what have ye done!" Chief Angus yelled.
"Dinna tell me ye cut her lovely hair in spite," Colyne said.
"Why, he's trying to strangle her with it," Ysabel cried out as she ran and leapt onto Graemme's back.
Grunda quietly walked up to the bed and pried Ysabel off him.
"Nay, he isna trying to strangle her. 'Tis his own fault. Did Elyne not forewarn ye what she would do if ye wavered in yer marriage vows?"
She turned to Chief Angus and ordered him as if she was in charge of Clibrick.
"Send everyone back to their beds. This is a matter to be solved between these two alone."
Elyne was as angry as she had ever been. Here she was with all these naked people in her room staring at her as if she had four legs. Or were the women staring at Graemme's handsome arse? His blond leman was taking her time looking him over. Elyne didn't miss the passion which flared on Elspeth's face when Graemme's nested sex appeared as he rose on his left knee and swung his right leg off her. Elyne could finally take a full breath.
Elspeth licked her lips when Graemme snarled on spotting her. His expression was murderous, yet the woman became even more excited.
Well piss and shite! The bitch was nekid, too! Her nipples hardened as she kept her eyes on the joining of Graemme's legs.
"Get out of here, ye slut, else I'll push this fool off the bed and skewer ye instead!" Elyne pulled out a dagger from beneath her pillow as she struggled to get out of bed.
When Elspeth turned and swayed her beautiful, bare buttocks as she left the room, her tinkling laughter of triumph trailed her.
"Fool. I once told ye to take heed of two who say they love ye, for one is yer worst enemy. Did ye pick the wrong one to believe?" Grunda's gravelly voice asked.
She turned her eyes on the people still in the room and they scurried to leave afore she could lay a curse upon them.
The old woman shook her head and left once Elyne and Graemme were alone.
"I canna believe ye'd cut yer beautiful hair to spite me! Why did ye do such a sheep-witted thing?"
Elyne sat up in the bed and brushed the shorn hair from her lap.
"Why? Ye ask me why when ye near crawled into the mouth of that blond devil's spawn? In front of my very eyes and everyone in the hall? I saw the way ye watched her. Yer thoughts were clear enough for everyone to read."
"Whatever ye saw in my eyes, it wasna lust! I have not swived the girl, nor will I ever."
Graemme advanced on her, his lips thin, his dark eyes black with rage. His hands balled into fists then opened, again and again. Never had he been so enraged at a woman.
She didn't even cringe, but sat there with sparks flashing from her eyes.
"I told ye I would beat ye if ever ye took a knife to yer hair!"
"And I told ye I wouldna share any part of ye."
"I just told ye I didn't swive the girl!"
"Maybe not. But ye sure as Hades wanted to. Half the people in the hall expected ye to throw her on the banquet table! They saw the blood on yer lips from yer passion, ye horse's arse!"
Elyne rose to her knees and gripped her dagger in front of her. Firmly.
Graemme had never violently beaten a woman. He'd thought the threat would be enough to make Elyne obey him. He should have known she wouldn't pay heed to his words.
To keep himself from doing something despicable he'd regret for the rest of his life, he gathered his clothing from where he'd dropped them in his drunken stupor and dressed quickly. He avoided even going close to the bed and made a wide detour to collect his sword and weapons.
"Where are ye going?"
"I'll sleep elsewhere until ye come to yer senses."
"Dinna forget to take yer present with ye!"
Two soft objects hit his back, one after the other, and then slithered to the floor. 'Twas her beautiful locks. He looked over his shoulder to glare at her.
"There is nay talking to ye when ye're dafty as a half-plucked fowl!
He made his exit in the nick of time. No sooner had he closed the door than a hard object hit the inside panel. Whether the pitcher or the basin, the door would have a good-sized gash in the wood.
Or was it her dagger?
o0o
The tension in the keep for the next three days was enough to ignite a fireplace. The men were careful not to tweak Graemme's nose, after Brian's comment the first morning.
Bewildered as Graemme stalked away, Brian shook his head. He rubbed his jaw as he wobbled up from the middle of a mud puddle. He jiggled his legs to shake off the excess mud and looked at Colyne.
"All I did was ask if the kiss was worth it."
Each day, Elyne broke her fast after she had her stomach under control. There was no danger in running into Graemme late in the morning. At the noon meal, they were coldly polite to each other. Graemme took his last meal of the day elsewhere. He didn't come to their bed to sleep, either. It pricked Elyne's temper for Elspeth was also missing.
Ysabel pried it out of Colyne that Graemme had his meals sent to the soldier's barracks. He swore Graemme slept there, too, but Elyne doubted it. His cock was too lively to go without a good swiving every night since they'd married. She didn't believe he'd stop now.
Each day, someone told her how much they liked her hair, for her curls reached her shoulders. The women were tired of the long time it took to wash and brush it, much less the work to braid and twist it around their heads. They asked their husbands if they could cut their own hair, but the men were like Graemme and forbad it.
Grunda gave Elyne a light sleeping draught each night to keep her from walking the parapets. After the third night, the old woman thought it worked well enough Ada didn't have to sleep across the doorway.
o0o
Whenever her father, Sir Malcolm, was away, Elspeth blushed and acted coy when her gaze met Elyne's. Ada and Ysabel were constantly at Elyne's side so the sly hellion wouldn't try to prick Elyne's temper.
Even young Gille tried to bring a smile to her face when he'd bring Squat to spend some time with her. He'd been teaching the dog tricks, to make her laugh. Having his widened legs aided him to sit for the longest times. If she ignored him, Squat would hold up a paw and wave it, wanting her to reach out and grasp it. He fetched whatever Gille threw. If it was a stick much longer than the dog, he lifted his head high and pranced, trying to lift it off the ground.
Elyne smiled and pretended everything was normal, but she was sick at heart. She missed her verbal sparring with Graemme, missed his teasing and even her anger when he treated her like a simpering woman. Most of all, she missed his loving. A big lump formed in her chest when she saw his back disappear around a corner of the keep. He avoided any contact with her.
When night fell, she took her draught as usual. She slept peacefully. One night, she dreamt of walking through the darkened keep and going out into the orchard. Someone took her hand to lead her. 'Twas Muriele in a brown cloak. She knew it was her friend because blond hair blew from beneath the hood. She didn't talk, just kept beckoning her on.
They came to a hole in the wall hidden from within by brush piled against it. Muriele pulled the brush back and pointed for her to go through. Someone called to her, but Muriele let her hand go and shoved her shoulders, telling her to run or the black wolf would tear out her throat. She scrambled through and ran for all she was worth. She tripped over a fallen log and heard his snarls close behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Muriele stab the wolf. With her heart pounding, she
ran hand-in-hand with her friend. Finally, a ruined castle appeared ahead of them. As they came close, something struck her from behind.
Her dream ended.
Graemme awoke immediately when he heard something strike against the outside door to the men's tower. Not only did something hit once, but it kept a steady beating. And whining. Why, it sounded like a dog running at the door and leaping at it. What animal could be so crazy?
Squat! It had to be him. Graemme bolted up from his pallet and hurried to the door. He must have opened it when Squat had started his leap, for the door swung inward and Squat landed with all four paws smack in the middle of Graemme's belly. He grabbed the little rascal before he could fall to the floor and hurt himself.
"What the Hades is the matter with him?" Brian asked. His voice blurred with sleep.
"Bring a torch. Looks like he's injured himself. Blood. All over his chest." Graemme cradled him and moved close to the light Brian had fetched from outside the door.
"Poor little guy. He must have tangled with a bigger dog," Brian said.
Other warriors woke and crowded around, for they all liked the friendly little misshapen ball of fur.
"Looks like a knife wound to me," one man said as he pointed at blood welling from the dog's shoulder.
"Aye," Graemme grabbed his sheet and tore off a piece to hold against the wound. "Grunda will know what to do."
Though all had stitched other warrior's wounds when they didn't have a healer handy, none had ever tended a dog afore. They didn't have far to go. Only to the door again, for Grunda appeared out of the darkness. Guards were lighting torches all over the wall walks and the bailey.
"Elyne is missing! I woke yer father. He's already started a search."
"Why did ye not come to me first!"
"Because, fool, he was closer within the keep like ye should have been."
"I will tend the dog. Not all is his blood. 'Tis also from someone else. Check first for Gille," she ordered.
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