Ruthless (38 page)

It hurt her. He didn't flinch.

He grabbed her wrists and kept tight hold of
her.

"What should I do?"

A woman's soft voice. Muriele's eyes adjusted
to the dim light before dawn. She was as tall as Muriele herself.
Her heart sank knowing why the woman was there. Their show of love
when they entered was a pretense. He needed a woman to take her
place and delay the convent from finding out he had taken her.

"Remove yer clothes and help me dress
her."

Though not above a whisper, Magnus' voice had
hoarsened.

The woman laid the forest green cloak on the
bed and quickly pulled the fawn kirtle over her head, along with a
cream smock.

"Are ye sure this be yer runaway wife?"

"Did I not tell ye she was? Dinna question
me."

He put his mouth close to Muriele's ear. "If
ye dinna want to see her harmed, stop fighting. I'll kill her if I
have to."

The coldness in his tone convinced her he
meant every word.

He shoved her forward and told the woman to
slip the smock over Muriele's head. When she did, her forced
Muriele's arms through the sleeves. As he pulled the smock down her
back, his hand brushed along its length. He stilled. Holding her
with one hand, he felt quickly over her back. After he'd pulled the
smock down past her buttocks, he nodded to the girl to lift the
kirtle. Now they had the way of dressing her, it went quicker.

Magnus bound her wrists in front of her. The
bells for Lauds rang, calling the sisters to mass. He snapped his
fingers for the cloak. Standing her before him, he put it around
her shoulders and tied the ribbons at her neck. He ran his fingers
through her hair. His head jerked up to study her when he felt its
length. His hands searched over her head as if he could not believe
her hair barely came past her shoulders. In another circumstance,
it would have felt like a caress.

Not today.

He pulled the hood up over her head and down
low over her face.

Watching the woman putting on Muriele's
clothing from the night before, he nodded.

"Dinna let anyone see yer face. Keep behind
the door and tell them ye are ill disposed and dinna want anyone to
get sick." He frowned and looked at Muriele.

"Have ye an eating knife?"

She'd be damned for a sinner before she'd
make anything easy for him. She ignored him. He studied her eyes,
expecting them to give her away by the urge to look toward its
hiding place.

"Look around. See if ye can find one."

"No place to look, really. She has no trunk
and barely any clothing."

She stared around the room then went to the
table. On one end, she found the small drawer hidden there. When
she eased it open and saw two daggers there, she gasped.

Muriele near gasped with her, for when she
bent to pull the drawer open, a pale shaft of moonlight spread
across her hair. How clever of him. Magnus had chosen the lass to
help in his hateful plot not only for her height, but her hair was
near the color of Muriele's.

Magnus grunted. Keeping hold of her, he
stalked over to the cot and threw off the pallet, exposing her
short sword. He hooked its sheath on his belt beneath the bright
red cloak. One dagger he hid in his boot top.

"Saints! Why would a woman need such
protection? Tis enough to arm a man!"

He handed her the second dagger.

"Take this. As soon as we leave, cut yer hair
to match hers. In case someone should come in unaware, keep yer
back turned so they dinna see yer face."

He reached in a pocket of his green tunic,
brought out a leather bag of coins and tossed it on the table.

It would soon be time for everyone to break
their fast. Muriele hoped Magnus knew naught of the convent's
routine.

He did.

"We must leave afore someone comes to the
hallway and discovers me with my
wife
. If I learn ye
didn't obey me, yer family willna get the cows and plow horse I've
arranged for them."

Magnus gave the girl a withering stare as
warning. Putting his arm around Muriele's waist, he forced her over
to the door and listened before he opened it a crack. Cautiously,
he eased his head out to glance up and down the hallway.

"Latch the door behind us."

He hurried Muriele out of the room. She'd
hoped he would become lost, but he seemed to know the inside of the
convent as well as she did. No one was about until he forced her to
the big door leading out into the courtyard. A knight stood there
enjoying the sunrise. He looked at them and smiled.

"Ye leave early. Restless night, eh?"

"Aye. We mean to take advantage of an early
start." Magnus voice sounded friendly, but he cut off all further
conversation. "There's my servant now. Enjoy the rest of yer
travels."

He hurried her down the stairs where three
horses awaited. Sweyn had come with him! How could this kindly man
aid him in such a vengeful quest? He came over with the three
horses they'd ridden on the eve before. All three looked swift. All
she'd need is a bit of luck when he put her on the horse. If
someone had trained the horse well, she could make it rear and
throw her to the ground, exposing her bound hands and the gag. The
Abbess would recognize her hair. Even if Magnus were still able to
remove her, they would send word to Ranald at Hunter Castle.

Magnus soon dashed her hopes.

When Sweyn handed him the reins, Magnus
murmured to him, "Hold tight to her until I'm mounted. She'll try
something foolish if given the chance."

Once Magnus seated himself in the saddle,
Sweyn lifted her up to Magnus' waiting arms. He shifted her to ride
across his thighs, her head against his right shoulder and his arm
securely around her waist. She tried to make eye contact with Sweyn
to plead with him to help her, but he avoided looking at her
face.

"She's lighter than she was. They must not
have fed her very well," Sweyn muttered.

"Humph! More likely her guilty conscience
kept her from eating."

Magnus wrapped her cloak tightly around her
and pulled the hood lower over her face. Likely, for the Abbess and
the guards' benefit he spoke in a normal tone.

"'Tis a cold day, love. We canna have ye
catching a chill now ye're increasing. Lay yer head against my
shoulder and try to sleep." He pressed her head against him. In a
threatening whisper, he warned, "Keep it there else ye'll regret
it."

Magnus urged the horse toward the gateway
with Sweyn leading the third horse.

"Mother Abbess. Thank ye for the night's
lodging."

He handed the Abbess a silk bag of coins, all
the while keeping Muriele's head tight to his chest.

"My blessings to your wife, my lord. May you
have many children to brighten your years," the abbess said with a
smile.

Muriele stiffened. Many children indeed. He
wouldna see any children, for she'd ne'er be such a fool as to
swive with him again. But then...a man would be most vulnerable
when his cock was urging him to comfort it! She'd kill him the
first chance she could.

The men pulled the heavy, wooden gate wide
and Magnus cantered the horse through the opening. Muriele tried to
fight and squirm, knowing this was her last chance for anyone at
the convent to see her. His steel arm around her waist tightened
until it was so painful she became still. He kicked the horse into
a faster gait and then into a gallop. She could barely hear the
chilly words he spoke in her ear over the pounding noise of the
horses' hooves.

"Ye little fool! Who do ye think would win
out if one lone woman and two old men tried to stop me? Eh?"

Muriele quieted, knowing the truth of it.

The only deaths she could stand on her
conscience were Feradoch and Magnus' own.

Magnus steeled himself to ignore the warm
arse pressed so intimately between his thighs. 'Twas bad enough his
balls were like two large, hard stones he was sitting on, but his
deranged cock didn't care Muriele had murdered two people in cold
blood. It well remembered the ecstasy of the spasms her hot, slick
body squeezed around him as she climaxed. It swelled and near
exploded when her hood blew back and the clean, sweet smell of
apples drifted from her skin and hair.

'Twas all that moat scum, maggot ridden
Lucifer's doings!

He yanked her hood up and anchored it between
her head and his chest. If he couldna smell her unique scent, he
could pretend she was any woman he captured to take back for
justice.

They had ridden as fast as possible until the
mountain road became too steep and the horses labored. They had no
need to hide, for no one would know she was missing for a sennight
or more. 'Twas swifter to use the best roads headed west toward
Galashiels. By the time anyone picked up their trail, they would be
well into the Highlands and beyond their reach.

His stomach turned and vomit near surged to
his mouth when he thought of handing her off to Chief Olaf. He knew
him too well. He would insist Magnus carry out the punishment as
part of his oath. He steeled himself not to think of putting a
noose around the lovely neck he had nibbled and licked his way up
to the sweet spot beneath her ear...where the thick knot of the
noose would rest.

"'Tis well past the noon hour. If we don't
stop soon, I'll piss myself," Sweyn said as he drew alongside him.
"You can change horses and give this one a rest."

Startled from his thoughts, Magnus stared at
him and then nodded. They would pull off the road where they were
close to water. Sweyn had filled a canvas bag with bannocks made of
oats, a loaf of hard brown bread, dried meat, and a round of
cheese, some apples and nuts.

If they kept up this pace, they would reach
the Highlands sooner than he expected. 'Twas easier to travel a
straight route and not bounce all over Scotland much like a
Highland cow weaving after eating soaked grass beside a still.

His arse would thank him for the chance to
take his weight off it. He turned his horse's head left to leave
the road and follow the sounds of rapids on the other side of the
trees. They used caution as they approached, for he didn't want to
encounter men who lived in the woods after falling into disfavor
from the men they served.

"All's clear," Sweyn said softly, looking at
Muriele.

He dismounted and came over to take her from
Magnus' arms. When Magnus moved his arm from where he'd clamped it
around her waist, his hand brushed the side of her breast. She
cringed as if something repulsive had touched her.

Once Sweyn had her, he held her shoulders
until he was sure her legs would hold her upright. She twisted her
head, throwing off the hood and looked him in the eye. With her
bound hands, she motioned toward the cloth tied around her
mouth.

"Take it off," Magnus said. "But the first
time ye raise yer voice, lass, I'll stuff yer mouth with soiled
clothing."

She answered with a glare then turned her
back on him and looked at Sweyn.

"May I go into the bushes to, er, tend
myself?" Her face flamed.

"Let her, but stay within a tree's width," he
told Sweyn.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but he
waved her off.

"Nay. Ye can tend yerself with yer hands
tied."

She turned and entered the woods where Sweyn
led her. He had no need to go after her for she returned in good
time. Without so much as a glance at Magnus, she strode over to the
rocks beside the rapids and lifted her clothing to kneel on the wet
rock. Though it was agonizingly slow, she cleaned her hands and did
her best to put water on her face.

Magnus stared at her. She reminded him of a
dog trying to wash its face after wetting its paw then rubbing its
eyes.

"By Odin!"

Magnus stomped over to her and untied her
hands. When he freed her, he felt a flash of guilt. Her skin was
aflame and rubbed raw around the prominent bones on top of her
wrists. Why hadn't she said something?

Fool! How? He'd not given her a chance to say
a word after he woke her in the convent.

He guessed she'd give him an earful now. He
hardened his heart not to believe a word from her mouth.

Muriele was grateful to be away from Magnus.
Every breath she took, his scent reminded her of the many nights
she had lain with her head cuddled beneath his chin. His beard now
covered more of his face. He looked like a different man. Even
harder. One who had stifled all feelings of empathy.

His name as Ruthless had taken over his mind,
his being. He no longer looked like the man she'd fallen in love
with. Saints help her! 'Twas the first time she'd admitted her
feelings for him...before he left Kinbrace without a word to her.
If he had beaten her, she wouldn't have felt more degraded. By his
silence, she had become a nithing to him.

Too lowly to confide in—good only for his
cock's pleasure.

Now, she didn't want to speak to him. She
feared all the hurt, the abandonment, would break through and she
wouldn't be able to control her urge to kill.

Part of what had happened afterward was her
fault. She'd let the hurt make her vulnerable to Feradoch. How
could she not have seen in his eyes that hatred filled his
beautiful body. His pretense that all he wanted to do was protect,
comfort and love her had all been a lie.

As Feradoch courted her, she'd been so
confident of his goodness she hadn't even thought about her ruined
back. For the man who prided himself in having everything lovely,
the sight of her flesh must have been truly disgusting.

Grunda had tried to warn her. She thought
'twas only because her old friend had seen falsely into the future
and believed Magnus and she were fated to be together forever.

Esa's face as Feradoch choked her never left
Muriele's mind for long. At every one of the many masses at the
convent, she'd prayed Grunda had been able to save her. And she had
added prayers of forgiveness for killing Feradoch. Would she go to
Hades for trying to save her friend? If so, she knew Lucifer would
use Feradoch as his minion to torture her for eternity.