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Surrender to the Highlander(Terri Brisbin)(16)

By:Terri Brisbin


"Aye," she said with a nod. "I will help you in this."

He smiled, and it was enough to make her heart stop. The warmth and  approval of it shone brightly and Margriet thought that she had gifted  him with his life's goal.

"My thanks, Sister." He looked around and called to a few of the men-the  Scots from the western highlands. "Leathen, Donald, Fergus," he said,  pointing to each one as he named them, "Sister has agreed to teach you  some Norn on our way north."

She nodded at each one and smiled. "I am glad to help you in this. Rurik  tells me it is your wish to remain in the Orkneys?" she asked.

"Oh, aye," said Donald. "'Tis a chance to make our way in the world."

"Will you not miss your families?" Did they have no one to hold them in the Highlands?

"I have two older brothers to care for my parents," Leathen said. "My  mother was pleased by Rurik's offer. She was despairing of me ever  making a match in Lairig Dubh."

The other men laughed and one smacked Leathen on the shoulder. "No woman would have ye, Leathen."

"So, you all come from Lairig Dubh? Where is that?" she asked, glad to  get the first clue about her guide and guard and hoping for more.                       
       
           



       

"Lairig Dubh is the home of the Clan MacLerie. 'Tis in the west of the Highlands, not far from Loch Lomond," Donald explained.

With his words, she realized right then that she would be able to learn  more, not only about her father and the situation in the Orkneys and the  Norse world, but also the background of the one chosen to bring her  home. That thought grabbed her interest. He had only identified himself  with the affiliation of that clan when he'd turned up at the convent's  gates, looking as though he was from the north but calling himself with a  clan name.

Who was he? Why did he live in Scotland, and not the north of it that  used to belong to Norway, but deep in the heart of it? As though he  sensed her interest in him, he met her gaze.

"You can begin on the morrow," Rurik explained, as he waved the men  away. "Take turns through the day riding at her side," he called out.

"This will also work for Sister Elspeth," Margriet said. "She is from a local village and does not speak it, either."

"Ah," he said, crossing his arms of his chest and meeting her gaze, "but she and Sven are already teaching each other."

Margriet turned and looked for the two and discovered that they sat  nearby and near each other, speaking back and forth in a low voice.  Elspeth seemed to point to something and then give its name. Sven  repeated the word, or stumbled over it in most tries, and soft laughter  followed.

Her stomach twisted as the scene reminded her of her own behavior just a  short few months ago with Finn. Words led to touches that led to  passion that led to … disaster. She shook her head and faced Rurik.

"She is an innocent, Rurik. Order your man away."

"Of course she is, as are you, Sister."

His words startled her and so nearly exposed her own lack of innocence  that she clamped her lips shut. He must have realized her surprise and  he explained, "You are both nuns who have taken vows of chastity, so I  assumed you were both innocents. Holy innocents."

Holy was not a word she would apply to herself, especially when she  reacted solely as a woman to his raw masculinity. The tone of his voice  sent heat through her body, but the words did not match the tone. And  when her core pulsed deep within her and her breasts ached to be  touched, it was difficult to connect the words to herself. Holy  innocent? Elspeth, certainly, but not her.

"Does he understand?" she asked, nodding her head in the young couple's  direction. This could bring disaster to their door too quickly.

'Twas only at the moment when their eyes met that she knew that he also  recognized the danger in the arrangement. When she was of a mind, she  could and would discover much more about him than he wished her to know.  She watched as he followed the men and spoke quietly to them, most  likely warning them to limit their discussions with her. She would need  to have the same discussion with Elspeth over her past and the girl's to  prepare for the questions that would come.

He approached now and nodded to Sven, who stood and assisted Elspeth to  her feet. "'Tis getting late now, Sister, and there is a small village  ahead on our path where I would like us to stop tomorrow eve. It will  mean rising early and riding farther then we have so far, so a good  night's rest will ready you for it."

He held out his hand, guiding her to a spot where they had arranged a  tent between several trees. They walked silently then and Rurik lifted  the flap so they could enter it. She watched as Elspeth crouched down  and walked in and, when she turned to follow, he stopped her with a  touch on her arm.

"My men," he began in Norn, "know what is expected of them in their  behavior around you both. If any one of them is disrespectful or forward  to you or to Sister Elspeth and I do not see it, tell me and I will  make certain he learns how costly his failure is."

Margriet tried to swallow, but the ominous warning tightened her throat.  She knew in that moment that she would never want to be the target of  his anger.

"My thanks … " she began in Gaelic, and when he shook his head and glanced  to where Elspeth had just entered, she knew he wished this to be  between only them, so she continued in Norn as well. "My thanks for your  concern, Rurik. No one had been anything but respectful to us."                       
       
           



       

He wanted her to say it again. He loved the way her tongue rolled when  she said his name. Or sometimes it came out like a growl. He cared not  how she said it, just that she did. Rurik found himself nodding at her  words, and at the same time, being completely and thoroughly guilty of  the very sin he promised that none of his men would commit.

"Rurik?"

There! She'd repeated it. He imagined ripping off that damned veil and  tangling his hands in the waves of her hair while plundering that ripe  red mouth. As his body responded to his escalating desire, he shifted  and crossed his arms to keep from grabbing her. Then he realized that he  was lost in the fog of lust and she was asking him a question!

"Sister?" he replied, trying to force that crucial bit of knowledge into  his mind. "Forgive me, my thoughts wandered for a moment," he offered  in apology. Bringing his attention back to the matter under discussion,  and knowing he was the worst culprit, he asked, "What was your  question?"

"'Tis my turn to beg a boon from you, sir."

Rurik's eyes closed against his will and the image that swam before them  was one of her begging … for very sinful things. He cleared his throat  and opened his eyes. "A boon, Sister? What do you have need of?"

His body, especially his lower body, shuddered in anticipation and  though he knew the request was something mundane, desire pushed forward  hoping for something else. By Odin's Word, he needed to get himself  under control or he would be a danger to her and to himself!

"I would like to talk with you, also, as we travel. I have many  questions about my father and Lord Erengisl and how things are now in  Kirkvaw and in Norway. I have been away for so long and received only an  occasional letter from my father." She paused and looked deeply into  his eyes. "And it has never been enough."

Rurik knew she had just revealed something personal and painful to him.  His exile had been of his choosing, but hers, as was the situation with  many daughters or wives, was not.

"Sven or Magnus would be better to ask those questions for I have not been in Kirkvaw for nigh on thirteen years now."

She gasped and her eyes blinked rapidly at his disclosure. Rurik had  surprised himself, for he did not intend for her to know that much about  himself. But, he felt the pain she carried over her abandonment and  offered it as a salve on the wounds.

"Thirteen years? You have lived in Scotland for thirteen years?"

"Aye, longer than you, but not by much more."

"You were much older than I was when I arrived here."

He could see that she was warming to ask more questions and wanted to  stop her. Aye, he'd opened the matter with his admission, but he wanted  it to go no further than that. There were questions he did not want to  answer to himself, let alone to her, so he put her off about them.

"Aye and much older even now, Sister. Here now," he said, lifting the  side of the tent so she could enter, "the morning will be here too soon  and you need to rest."