By Honor Bound Part 36

"Mistress, what shall we do? You can't escape if you are married."

"All the more reason for me to go. I can't abide that man, Ava. I despise him. He and Malcolm havebetrayed me. No matter what Malcolm's grant says, once I marry Patric, Laggan is mine no more.Malcolm tricked me into submission. I reject him as my king."

As usual, Ava began to weep loudly. Elen shook her, her own fears threatening to burst out

of control.

"You must be brave," Elen said. "Tell Drust our plans are unchanged. I cannot avoid marrying Patric. If Itried, Malcolm would probably have me locked up so securely that I would never see daylight again. Iwill marry Patric, and heaven help me, I will have to lie with him tonight and tomorrow. But latetomorrow night, after he is asleep, we will escape this cursed place. Drust can easily discover wherePatric's chambers are located. I will meet him in the corridor outside them as soon after midnight as Ican."

"Yes, mistress." Ava hid Talcoran's box in her ample bosom. "Now you should bathe. Briga is helping the lady Fionna to dress, and when that is done, they will both come to robe you."

When Elen descended to the great hall to marry Patric, her appearance was as severe as a nun's. She wore no ornaments in her tightly braided black hair, and no jewelry at all. Her only decoration was the silver embroidery on her grey

gown.

Patric wore a plain dark green tunic and a heavy gold chain that was a recent gift from

Malcolm.

Elen refused to look at him. During the reading of the marriage contract in the great hall, she stared at the floor and her responses were barely audible. She hesitated so long at one point that Malcolm's priest, in nervous, unhappy

attendance, whispered to her, "Lady, you must say yes.""Yes." The word was filled with quiet despair.When Patric kissed her lips at the end, she made no response.The marriage contract agreed to and signed and sealed, the bridal party proceeded to the castle's tinychapel for ma.s.s, Malcolm leading the way. Elen and Patric, Fionna and Conal, two of the ladies whowere all that remained of those who had once attended Queen Gruach and whose fates were soon to besimilar to Elen's, crowded into the cold, airless room, along with a dozen or so of Patric's friends and afew servants.

Elen saw Drust standing with Ava at the back of the chapel. She stared hard at him. He nodded, but made no other sign to her. Elen had given Ava that night free, to enable her to have adequate time to talk with Drust in private. When the time came for prayers, Elen's thoughts were on Lulach and her escape plan, not on her new husband.

Malcolm had ordered a festive banquet, but after several weeks of feeding the n.o.bles who temporarily lived there, and partially supplying the army that camped outside its walls, the castle larder was nearly bare.

"It is a good thing we are moving to Scone in a few days," Malcolm said. "We will go hunting tomorrow to provide some fresh meat until we do leave. Patric, can I prevail upon you to accompany us, or will you be rising late?"

"I'll be happy to join you, my lord," Patric spoke without thinking, and paid no attention to the laughterhis response had generated. He was more concerned with Elen than with the others at Malcolm'sbanquet table. When first she sat down, Elen had swallowed several large goblets of wine as quickly a.s.she could. When she called for more, Patric stopped her.

"You've had enough," he said. "I do not want a senseless bride in my bed."

"Better for me if I were," she replied.

"Sweet Elen, you will enjoy this night." He would have kissed her, but she turned her head away.

"Ah, no," he said. "I am your husband now, and you cannot refuse me."

He turned her face toward his own. He did not hurt her, but there was no fighting his strong hands. He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, to the great amus.e.m.e.nt of the onlookers.

"By G.o.d!" Malcolm laughed, toasting Patric with an over-full golden cup that splashed wine on those near him. "You have found the best way to deal with a surly wench like that one. To your health, Patric. I wish you luck and strength. I think you'll need both."

Patric had insisted on dispensing with the traditional custom of the wedding guests bedding the bride and groom.

"That is for couples younger than we are," he had told both Conal and Malcolm earlier. Then, calling upon their friendship for him, he made them party to his arrangements. When it was nearly evening and most of the guests were far gone in drink, Patric made his move. By previous agreement, on his signal, Malcolm captured the company's attention with a wild story about his adventures in exile, while Patric half dragged, half led Elen out of the great hall, and Conal made sure that no one followed them.

"I don't want to go yet," Elen protested. "If you make much more noise, we will have all those lords and ladies, and their servants, in our bedchamber to watch us. Would you prefer that?" Seeing her white face and frightened eyes, he added more gently, "You cannot stop what will happen this night, dear wife. Let it be between the two of us alone."

She went with him with lagging feet. There were two guards stationed at his apartment door.

"Are they to keep me in?" she asked. "Will you hold me a prisoner for the rest of my life?"

"I do not expect to hold my wife by force, Elen. These men are to keep pranksters out and a.s.sure our privacy. I thought you would want that. They are posted only for tonight."

"Nechtan, what are you doing here?" Trying to hide her relief that Patric's chamber would be unguarded the following night, Elen had stopped at the door, and now recognized the captain of her household guard.

"I serve the Earl of Laggan and yourself, my lady. I wish you happiness of your new marriage." Nechtan saluted her, then opened the door to Patric's rooms.

They were spa.r.s.ely furnished, but neat and clean. There was a small reception room and a larger bedchamber. Patric's personal servant, Resad, and Briga awaited them. Briga had removed Elen's belongings from her old room to this one.

"You may use the bedchamber to undress," Patric said. "I'll join you in a little while."

Elen let Briga remove her clothes and wash her with cool, lavender-scented water, then wrap her in an ivory silk robe. She fumbled at her own hair until Briga took over and unfastened the heavy braids, untwining and combing them. When Elen's hair flowed down her back in a thick cloud, Briga stepped back, satisfied.

"Will you get into bed now, mistress?" "I... no, not yet. Is there any wine?"

"My lord of Laggan's manservant has prepared food and drink for you. I think he will bring it shortly." Briga edged toward the door. "Don'tgo." Elen clutched at Briga's arm. "Your husband will be here soon, mistress." Elen looked at Patric'slarge bed with panic-stricken eyes. She began to tremble. "I can't," she whispered. "I can't." "He won'tharm you," Briga said. "I think he is very fond of you."

"I despise him. I hate him. I don't want to lie

with him."

"We will change that this very night." Patric stood in the doorway, a soft wool cloak draped over oneshoulder. It barely covered his nakedness when he walked calmly into the room. Even the imperturbableBriga caught her breath at the sight ' of his tall, muscular form.

Patric's servant hurried into the bedchamber, deposited a tray loaded with food and drink, and

left quickly.

"You may go, too, Briga," Patric said. "Yes, my lord. Good night. I wish you both

well."

Elen watched with sinking heart as Briga departed, leaving her alone with this giant of a man, this hated husband who strolled to the table where the tray of food rested and poured himself a

cup of wine."Would you like some food, Elen? You atenothing earlier.""Wine." Elen licked her dry lips. "I wantwine.""No more wine for you until later." He sippedfrom his own silver cup, his eyes on her face. "I am thirsty," she said. "Then drink water." "I hate you." "You grow tiresome, my love. Think of something else to say. Something sweet." "Sweet? To you? I'd rather die." "You may die of love before this night isover." He set down the cup. "But have no fear, I will resurrect you."

"On top of everything else, you are a blasphemer."

"Elen." He laughed, opening his arms and beckoning seductively. "Come here, my dearest wife."

Elen backed away. Perhaps she could reach the door and escape from him. Then she remembered Nechtan and his man, stationed just outside. She was trapped.

Patric began to walk toward her. The blue cloak, slung so carelessly over his shoulder, billowed to one side as he moved, revealing his muscular flanks. Her eyes fixed upon his eager manhood. A surge of warmth shook her. She fought it down. She would not give in to him, no matter what she felt, no matter what he did to her. She tore her eyes away from his body and began searching for a weapon. On a table near her were some clay bottles and jars containing the herbal preparations Briga made for Elen to use on her skin. Her fingers closed around a bottle.

Patric moved nearer. She threw the bottle at him. He ducked, and she picked up a jar and threw that, too, then another. He kept ducking the missiles. Each time he dodged, he came closer to her.

She picked up the last object on the table, a vial of perfume. She let it fly. It sailed past Patric's head to crash against the opposite wall. The pungent scent of lavender filled the room.

"You would make a wonderful soldier," Patric told her, "but it's time to surrender."

He reached for her. She ran under his

outstretched arm, picked up the skirt of her robe, and headed for the other side of the room. He lunged after her, catching the trailing sash of her ivory silk robe, tugging on it until it came away in his hands. The robe slipped down, nearly falling off her shoulders. She gathered the edges together across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

He was coming after her again. She stumbled against a wooden stool, caught it up, and hurled it at him. He slowed until it hit the floor, then stepped over it and calmly continued his pursuit of her.

He stalked her around the room, never taking his eyes off her, always stepping aside at the last minute as she threw at him everything she could get her hands on. Dishes from the tray of food flew through the air, then the silver wine cup he had used. Her aim was getting better; the cup hit his shoulder and he swore at her.

She picked up the pitcher of wine from the tray. Faster than her eye could follow, his hand shot out and took it from her.

"Now," he said, "you go too far."

His fingers touched hers. Crying out as though his flesh had burned her, she s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand away and retreated further. She came to a carved wooden chest, and pushed against it.

"That's a bit too heavy for you to lift," he said.

He had her cornered between the chest and the wall. She ran at him, her hands clawing. He swerved, so that her nails missed his face and sank into the cloak on his shoulder. Snarling like an animal at bay, she tore it off him, and flung it aside.

He reached for her waist, his hands clutching at the silk robe. She slipped out of it, dodged again, and, naked now, whirled away from him.

Too late she realized her mistake. She was backed against the bed. She stood there panting, her skin glowing with moisture from her exertions. Her hair hung over her shoulders, the rosy-brown tip of one breast parting the heavy flow. Her midnight-blue eyes darted frantically about the room, seeking something, anything, to fend him off, to keep him away from her.

"How you have changed," Patric chuckled. "Where is the meek virgin I once terrified with my kisses?"

"She disappeared when you deserted me," Elen panted.

She could feel his breath on her skin. His hand brushed the bareness of her arm. With a wild cry, she leapt onto the bed, scrambling toward the far side and temporary safety.

He caught her. He grabbed her ankle, and then his arm was across her throat, forcing her onto her back. He was on top of her, his bare skin plastered to hers as he captured her mouth and thrust his tongue into her, devouring her.

She could not move. His hands held her head on either side as he savaged her lips. His strong thighs held her lower body securely between them, his hot, throbbing manhood pressed against her belly.

"Elen," he gasped between hungry kisses, "I need you so badly. I've waited for you for so many years. Kiss me back. Oh, Elen, love me. Please say you love me."

"I hate you." She struggled weakly, knowing it was a useless attempt. He was going to possess her.

His mouth trailed along her throat, his breath hot on her sensitive skin, making her moan and shudder. She felt the first flickering of pleasure when he caressed her shoulders and moved to touch her heaving b.r.e.a.s.t.s.