Surrender to the Highlander(Terri Brisbin)(12)

"What is amiss here?" he called out.

"Sister Margriet slipped and fell into the water. Sister Elspeth reached  out to help her, and you see what happened," Sven offered, all the  while not looking the least bit concerned for either of them. Rurik sent  the rest of the men back to the camp and walked closer. "The river  flows softly in this spot and they are in no danger."

Still, it was unseemly for two nuns to be paddling around in the pool  formed where the river made a turn. And instead of expressing outrage or  fear at the occurrence, they remained in the water for several minutes  before swimming over the shallow edge and beginning to climb out. After  slipping back into the water twice, each time with a splash and a  now-tempered laugh, they managed to climb out.

The whole incident was quite … unsisterly. He'd never known nuns who would  take part in such folly and play. He'd never known nuns that reveled in  falling in a river and did not scream for help. He'd never known nuns  like this … well, actually, now that he thought on it, he'd never known  nuns.

Shaking his head, he could not decide if he should help or not. However,  when the increased weight of the soggy layers of clothing made it  difficult for the women to walk, Rurik sheathed his sword-the one he now  noticed he yet brandished in his hand-and strode over to assist them.  They should remove their sodden clothes before the chill of the night  set in and they took ill from this mishap.                       
       
           



       

As he reached out for Margriet's hand, he caught sight of her shoes and  stockings placed carefully away from the water's edge. He caught her eye  and saw in the amused glimmer there that this was no accident. She  veiled her expression quickly and looked away, but too late. Rurik knew  in his gut that she had fallen into the river on purpose. And the other  sister as well.

He would ask Sven about this once the women were settled in their tent  for the night. And he would keep watch over their behavior on the rest  of the trip for something surely was awry. Sven's words as he passed  only confirmed it.

"Puir wee women of God," he said in Gaelic with an accompanying tsk.

Apparently Sven was learning a new tongue, but not a thing about women.

Puir wee women indeed.





Chapter Six





The foolishness of the risk seemed worthwhile when the cool water soaked  through the layers of heavy cloth and hit her overheated skin. But the  true pleasure came when she dunked her head, wimple and veil and all,  under the cold surface. If no one had been watching, she would have  ripped the constraining layers off and let her skin feel the rush of the  soothing wetness directly.

Truly, the first thought she had was to only remove her shoes so that  they would not be ruined, but the sight of the cool water flowing by  made her lose all thoughts of being circumspect. The day had been one  constant stream of sweat-beading and trickling, beading and  pouring-under the rough clothes she wore, and her finer chemise could  not protect her from the coarseness against her skin.

But the cold water had soothed her. Now, as Rurik assisted her back to  the camp, she wondered if this had been a grievous error on her part.  He'd said not a word as she stopped to retrieve her shoes from the side  of the path where she'd left them, but his expression darkened and she  was tempted to move away from his side. They reached the small tent and  he waited for them to enter.

"Hand out your wet garments and I will spread them over some bushes to  dry. It feels like a mild night. They should be dry by morning."

The words were rote, but they carried such an ominous undertone that  Margriet worried she'd crossed over some line. And mayhap she had?

"My thanks, sir," she said, allowing Elspeth to enter first. Meeting  first the gaze of one and then the other, she continued, "I did not mean  to cause such a problem for you over such a small thing."

Hoping that her words would salve his conscience, she bent down to enter the tent.

"You jumped in," he whispered so that only she would hear.

"I fell in, sir."

"You pulled Sister Elspeth in."

"She lost her balance trying to help me, sir," she placated. Apparently  he'd seen more than she thought. The water trickling down from her  sodden hair was not soothing any longer.

"As you say, La … Sister," he growled.

Margriet turned and quickly pulled the flap down between them. Elspeth  had already taken off the gown and tunic and veil and wimple, and held  them out to her. She in turn held them through the flap until he took  them.

"Pray, one moment, sir, and I will hand out mine."

No sound came in reply, but Margriet hastened to untie and remove her  garments. With Elspeth's help, she finished quickly and held them out  through the flap of the canvas to him. They were taken from her grasp  without another word, but Margriet would have taken an oath that she'd  heard coarse words being muttered as they were.

Once that task was done, to her surprise, two drying cloths were tossed  in to them. She sat down and pulled her small bag out, searching for her  comb until she found it. With a motion to keep quiet, Margriet handed  the comb to Elspeth and they spent a short while combing and braiding  each other's hair. She discovered that sitting in her damp chemise was  much more comfortable than the nun's habit and soon, the traveling and  the weariness she now felt each day grew until she gave in and lay down  on the blankets arranged on the ground.

After she readied the items she needed first in the morning, Elspeth  handed their small lantern out to the now present guard. The sun's light  quickly disappeared and the quiet of night crept in and surrounded  them. Her body was exhausted, but the questions and problems began  tormenting her and her mind could not let go of them.                       
       
           



       

Did Rurik know she was not a nun? He was not a stupid man and she knew  her efforts at keeping up her disguise were not the best. Margriet  examined her reasons for even trying and found that she still needed to  continue the subterfuge. Or did she?

Observing his treatment of her and Elspeth, she was beginning to doubt  that they were in danger of lechery by him or his men on this journey.  Granted, the men believed them to be nuns and that belief probably held  back the worst of their words and actions. Rurik seemed to command the  men and none seemed interested in breaking his rules.

She could not, absolutely could not, return to her father's house in  this garb unless she planned on entering the convent and taking her  vows. Her father would not understand and she needed to find Finn so  they could speak to her father to gain his permission to marry. If her  father announced any plans for her future, she would be bound by his  decision and her condition would bring shame to his honor.

So, at some point in the journey she must reveal herself to Rurik and  make him understand her predicament. Would Rurik help her? He spoke only  of a duty to be performed. Could he understand the plight of a man and  woman in love? She thought not.

The next problem, not borrowing trouble but simply trying to sort things  out in her mind, was about her condition. The herbs did help a bit in  the morning and made her sickness just bearable as long as she had time  to chew them before rising. Now though, her breasts ached and seemed  swollen and the shape of her belly was changing. The old cook had warned  her to expect such things and more in the coming weeks as her body  adapted to the bairn growing inside.

Caught. That was what she'd heard whispered about girls who shared  themselves with men before betrothal or marriage and got with child. And  so she was and would be called if the truth became known. Margriet  could only hope that Finn would be true to his word and was already  putting things in order so that he could make the arrangements for their  marriage with her father.

And he did love her. She knew it in her heart and believed his pledge to  her to be as strong as any betrothal. Finn loved her and when she  promised herself, body, heart and soul, to him that night, she did so  because she believed his words. He was a wealthy merchant and would be  acceptable to her father as a husband for her. He would marry her and  they would raise the bairn together. He did love her and would stand by  her.

Margriet's heart began to pound and her stomach churned as the bitter  taste of doubt entered her thoughts. Then why had he disappeared so  swiftly? Why had he left without a word and without giving her some  token of his love and vows? Something had changed between them when a  messenger arrived from the south and, within two days, he was gone.