Terri Brisbin - Surrender To the Highlander

Rurik waved most of the men back to their duties, but he motioned to Sven and Magnus to remain. The lady’s well-being must be a concern and her illness two days in a row did not bode well for their journey. They—he—could not arrive at Gunnar’s house with his daughter in a cart, nearly dead from the trip. If she was to survive the journey and he to complete his task successfully, he must take her condition under consideration.

“Get your maps and meet me back in camp,” he said. “I think our plans are too ambitious for Gunnar’s daughter.”

“At least your boots were not the target this morn,” Magnus offered. “If Sister Margriet is this bad on land, how will she be during our sea voyage to the islands?”

Rurik looked one to the other and found the same grimace on both Sven and Magnus that he knew his own face wore. Still, he could recognize the problem here and forcing the woman at too quick a pace would simply lead to failure. In spite of his own delays at getting to this task, Rurik knew there was still plenty of good traveling weather before the winter’s winds and storms made the sea over which they would travel nearly impassible. So, a slower journey, a few more days on the road to accommodate the most important one in their group, would not be of significance.

“Get your maps.”

It took little time to review their planned path and decide how and where to break up their traveling. The convent was built at the southwestern edge of Caithness, in a place where the border shifted with each new lord. Initially, they were heading east to the coast, just south of where Caithness lands began, for the road, truly no more than a dirt path, would lead them past several small villages where they could replenish their provisions.

The northernmost Caithness lands, just before they reached the edge of the northern sea, was empty moorland, no forests to shelter beasts or plants that could feed them, so following the rivers or coast made more sense. It would take them several days more by that route, but it was still safer than traveling by sea along that section of the north coast. Fish and fowl would be available to them in and along the rivers they would follow, and more than make up for the additional days in their journey. At least, the land would be flat and not the arduous climbing needed to get out of these mountains that surrounded the convent.

After sending the men off to finish preparations for their day’s journey, Rurik glanced over to see the two women sitting on a fallen tree. Although both wore the same clothing, the same garb marking them as part of a religious community, he still could not picture Margriet as living there. The flash in her eyes, when challenged or angry, was certainly not the patient acceptance he would expect in someone who had taken vows of obedience. And the way her hips swayed as she walked. Or the waves of raven hair that he knew still tumbled around her shoulders and down her back did not speak to him of someone who would live willingly under a vow of celibacy.

Turning to look at the men around him, Rurik realized that he seemed the only one affected by her in this manner. The others spoke to her in respectful voices, never meeting her gaze for more than a moment or two, never reaching out to touch her hand, and never staring at her the way he did. All treated both of them with the respect deserved and owed to women of the cloth.

Except him.

Regardless of his efforts to accept the situation as presented to him, he saw only a vibrant young woman who was wasted on the church. But, accept it he must, for his task was simply to return her to her father and be done with her. There were plans even now being made for his future and he doubted they would include the daughter of Gunnar, even though he was the High Counselor.

Aye, and if truth be told, plans were in place for the lady as well. Not royalty, her father was a rich and powerful man in his own right and he also served the Earl of the Orkneys and, in his name, ruled there when Erengisl was at his other properties or on some mission for the king.

From what he could glean from Sven’s and Magnus’s words and tales, Erengisl would be leaving the Orkneys for more important things, situations within the kingdom that needed his political insight and power, and he wished to leave one of his sons in Kirkvaw, and to place the other in charge of several of their properties in the Viipuri province and their family seat in Näsby.

Watching as Margriet reached out her hand in a graceful motion and accepted a cup of ale from one of the men, he realized that their fathers were the same—neither from royal blood but both had amassed wealth and power by serving those who were. And Rurik knew that they were much the same as well, for they would both be a pawn in their fathers’ larger plan. For all his ruminations he almost missed her actions at just that moment. He stepped back nearer to the trees so that his presence would not alert her that he was watching her.

Very discreetly, she reached into a pocket in her tunic and then put whatever was there in her mouth. He could almost feel her holding her breath as she chewed on something . And when she thought no one was looking, she poured most of the ale in her cup into Sister Elspeth’s. Then, she took a small cloth square and wrapped the chunk of bread and wedge of cheese given her to break her fast in it. She covered her furtive movement by hiding the bundle in her pocket with her motion rising from her seat.

Rurik thought it interesting. She did not eat the food he provided, but hid it away for…what? Later? For someone else? Sister Elspeth ate her food, slowly and steadily, but every morsel and drop given her was consumed. She asked not for more, so he would think her contented by it. Sven called to him across their encampment and he strode over to him, pushing the questions aside to handle the more pressing needs of his duties.

A short time later, he glanced over to see the women being helped onto their horses and he caught a glimpse of the joy on her face when she noticed the extra blankets folded as padding to soften the effects of riding long hours. Her gaze moved to his without a moment’s delay and he found himself once more contemplating the womanly curves of the one beneath the garb.

And as the corners of her mouth tilted up in a gentle smile, his breath stopped in his chest. But when she licked her lips and mouthed the words many thanks , his body shuddered and hardened so quickly he thought he’d been struck by Thor’s Hammer.

He realized in that moment that this journey was fraught with dangers he’d never considered when he agreed to the task. What kind of a man would lose control over a nun?

Rurik gave the signal for everyone to mount up and, within minutes, they were moving away from the clearing and back into the forest. He allowed Sven to take the lead, preferring to lag behind and consider his irrational actions.

Lusting after a nun? Was he daft?

Mayhap too many years of loving women, for he did love women, had brought him to this? He’d loved and touched and lusted after every sort of woman since he arrived in Scotland and began his life with his uncle’s people. Once awakened, his appetite grew.

In spite of the fact that his ancestors’ history of going a-viking and taking property and women— whether willing or no’—had died long ago, he’d never bothered to correct those living under the protection of the MacLerie who still believed it. And since that reputation handed down through generations continued among them, Rurik had tried his best to live up to the expectations of those willing to be wooed.

’Twas said he rarely slept alone, but he never took a woman who did not wish to be taken and that was true. But, once her willingness was clear and consent given, there were no restraints between them.