Surrender To the Highlander. Terri Brisbin

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СКАЧАТЬ the leader of her escort. Rurik—he’d told her without telling her his family’s or father’s name. It was not an uncommon name in Kirkvaw or the Orkneys so there was no way to associate him with one family or another unless he revealed it. He resisted when she frowned at the lack of forthrightness and she let it go for the moment. Her father would send only a reputable, trustworthy man and there would be time enough while they rode north to ferry across the sea to her Orkney home to discover his connections. For now, she watched as he rode ahead of her, both guiding and guarding their traveling party.

      Margriet’s stomach trembled and her breath hitched as she remembered his strength and his closeness and, most especially, his green eyes that changed from the color of the leaves now surrounding them to the color of the emerald she remembered on the hilt of her father’s battle sword. When the object of her reverie turned as though he’d heard her thoughts, she met that intense gaze and truly lost her breath.

      Although certain only a moment had passed by as she stared at him across the distance, Margriet feared others had noticed her perusal. She forced her eyes from his and shifted on her mount. Such scrutiny of a man was unseemly for a nun and she must remember her disguise or it would be of little use and protection for her or Elspeth.

      When she next dared to raise her eyes, Rurik still watched her. It was his turn to break the connection that stretched then and he said something to Magnus as he turned away. It seemed that she was the subject of whatever comment had been made, for Magnus moved his horse to the side of the path and allowed the rest to pass him by…until he reached her side.

      “Sister,” he began. He did not seem to trip over the word as his leader did. “Rurik asked if you are well enough to increase our pace. We have much distance to cover before the light fades.”

      “Well enough?”

      “You were ill…before,” Magnus stammered as many men did when confronted by a female and certain ailments. She sat up a bit taller on her horse and cleared her throat.

      “Tell Rurik to fear not, I will keep pace with him.”

      Magnus smiled then, exposing a pleasing countenance of masculine angles and lines that framed a wide brow and strong chin. His eyes widened in what seemed to be merriment and then, after a brief nod, he rode back to Rurik. From the shared laughter and the glances, Margriet knew for certain that she’d done something untoward. She thought on her words, but could discern nothing amiss in them.

      She would never understand them.

      Of course, part of her problem was a lack of experience and a dreadful lapse in judgment during her only experience! One aspect about herself that Margriet had discovered was her ability to learn quickly in new situations and circumstances. This journey would give her the opportunity to learn about men and how they acted with each other and toward women they were supposed to respect. She already knew how they treated the common woman without protection.

      When those in front of her and Elspeth, who was at her side, moved faster, Margriet urged her horse to follow the pace. Adjusting herself carefully so as to not scare her mount and not fall to the ground, she lowered her head and concentrated on staying seated. Oh, she’d ridden a horse before, but not on such a journey as this, with experienced warriors who looked, from their easy manner, as though they lived on horses.

      The afternoon passed at an agonizingly slow pace and soon she held on to the reins with every bit of her strength. Surely, he did not mean this as retribution for obstructing his plans? When it seemed like several hours had passed and still they rode on, Margriet was ready to consider that Rurik would show no mercy now that she was in his control. Soon, as her body tightened with pain, she was ready to beg for that which he seemed unwilling or unable to give.

      “Sir!” she implored in as loud a voice as she could manage. “Sir!”

      Various voices carried her message forward until she heard his order called out. Every muscle in her back and legs screamed as she tried to straighten up on the paltry cushion that was failing miserably in its attempt to protect her bottom from the abuse of the ride. Her previous practice on the nearly lame pony at the convent could never have prepared her for riding this mount at this gait. Mopping her brow once more of the sweat that gathered there, Margriet lifted her head and watched as he made his way back to her side.

      “I confess, sir,” she began as she wiped her brow and face again with the edge of one sleeve, “I confess that I have no experience in traveling at such a pace and I beg you to allow me…us…a short respite.”

      If she had been looking away at that moment, Margriet would never have seen the look of triumph on his face at her words. Then a moment of confusion followed and he simply nodded. What had he thought she was ready to confess? His words clarified it for her.

      “Lady,” he said and then paused. Clearing his throat, he met her gaze and began anew. She could see his jaws clenching as he formulated his reply. “Sister, there is no need to beg. Simply ask for what you need and I will seek to fulfill your needs.”

      Her lovely mouth dropped open a bit and her pale-as ice eyes widened at his words. Then he observed a revealing blush creep up onto her cheeks and felt his cock harden.

      Sweet Freya’s tits! But she was gorgeous when agitated!

      He should be asking for her forgiveness but instead his body continued to react to the momentary flash in her eyes that revealed so much to him. He’d learned to read a woman’s expression long ago and hers said that Sister Margriet had more knowledge of the arts of love than a nun should have.

      He could swear that she understood all the meanings in his words, which definitely bore more than one. From the way his men shifted on their horses, trying not to look openly at either of them, he knew they had as well. Her mouth closed and she swallowed several times; his view of her lovely neck was unfortunately obscured by the religious garb she wore. Finally she pushed words out and he hoped for another confession from her lips.

      “A short rest, if you please,” she said. “I can no longer feel my legs, sir,” she whispered so that only he could hear. Most likely, she had not noticed the other men practically falling off their mounts to listen.

      Rurik surveyed their surroundings, and considered the distance traveled and still to go before they would camp for the night, and nodded. Safety was his concern, and with the loss of several hours already, he was not truly happy about stopping now. He glanced at the other young nun and noticed her pale complexion. They were not seasoned travelers at all.

      He raised his arm, signaling the men to pause. He watched as several rode off ahead and behind, taking up positions meant to guard their party from any surprises approaching them on the road. Rurik slid off his horse and handed the reins to one of the other men so that he could assist the women from theirs. He reached up to lift her from her place on the horse’s back when she shook her head.

      One thing he’d learned early in life was that some wanted or needed to make every situation more difficult than need be and that there was no way to change their predisposition to such an attitude. Margriet— Sister Margriet—seemed one of those very people. Rurik stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, watching her antics as she tried to dismount on her own.

      ’Twas clear that her legs would not obey her commands to move. She shifted on top of the horse and he allowed her to try until her actions caused her mount to sidestep nervously. Rurik stepped closer, took hold of the reins and brought the horse under control.

      Gunnar’s daughter had a stubborn streak. ’Twas clear from the way she СКАЧАТЬ