Ever since unrest had taken its hold on Northumbria, she had formed the habit of putting the next day's smock and kirtle atop the clothing chest before she went to bed. She eased away from Warin, careful to put her pillow against his back to keep him warm then made swift work of donning her clothes.
Leofwan's soft scratch on the door found her already dressed and bending over Warin to listen to his breathing. Now, she held her breath as she went to ease open the door. Relief flooded her, for Leofwan was smiling.
He leaned close to whisper, "Lord Ranald sent the bastard's army scrambling to get away even afore we could see him."
Letia's brows rose. "How could he do that?"
"Arrows. Flaming arrows. His men unleashed a goodly number that lit up the sky."
"How long before they arrive?" Warin's voice was stronger than it had been the night before.
"Time enough for you to don your clothing and go below to the great hall."
When Warin's back was turned, Letia approached to lend a hand. Leofwan shook his head at her. Her husband's dignity was more important than any help she could give him. No man's pride could stand having his wife dress him as if he was still a youngling.
"I will leave you to your preparations, love," she said, flashing him a smile.
He straightened his shoulders and grinned as he stood on his own with no need to brace himself against the table. She wriggled her fingers in a sassy wave as she left the room. Instead of going below to the great hall, she hurried to the corner tower. Standing atop the wall walk, she studied the approaching army and took deep breaths of the cold morning air. Gusts of wind pried her unruly brown curls loose to blow across her eyes. Raising her hands, she swiped them aside.
Hidden by darkness, her eyes probed the mist to study the man who rode beside Ranald. Her senses screamed it was Raik. The men were alike in size, both controlling horses larger than most—Ranald's, deep black; Raik's the color of a young fawn. She said a swift prayer that she need not face him this day.
Seeing Raik below made her want to hide, to disappear. How could she face him, knowing what Warin planned?
Even distant as he was, his presence filled her mind. He removed all other sights, all other feelings from her.
'Twas not true!
Shivering dread remained.
o0o
"No one can mistake yer presence, cousin." Raik's deep baritone voice rang with mirth. "When that beast ye straddle reared up as the men loosed the arrows, the superstitious coward feared the Black Raptor was about to fly down the hillside to seize him in his talons." Pulling off his helmet, he freed his hair.
Though it was still near dark, the flaming arrows had created small fires that gave light enough to see Julian's men flinging themselves on their horses and fleeing.
Ranald of Raptor Castle studied the scene below them. "I dinna ken why they leave all behind."
"Mayhap Julian is afeared of matching swords with ye."
Ranald snorted, not bothering to look at his cousin. "More likely, he fled from ye. He remembers ye were without a weapon when he carved that scar on yer neck."
"There is that. I thought old King Henry would have him flogged when Julian used the king's ceremonial sword. The king grew even more livid hearing Julian yell he would someday have the pleasure of killing me with it."
"Aye. As if it would ever belong to him. He was a coward then and an even bigger one now." Ranald's voice echoed his scorn.
Raik's keen eyes probed the darkness, studying the field outside the castle walls.
"When they first spotted us, did ye see his back as he scurried away?"
"Me? Ye are the one with an eagle's eyes. Ye see things that mere men like I canna hope to see." Ranald grinned at his cousin.
A cloud shifted, allowing a glimmer of light through. A movement on the corner tower drew Raik's interest. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. The woman had an athlete's body, alluring to some men, intimidating to others. Irritating to him. He did not need to see curly, brown hair or eyes the color of dark wet earth after a summer rain to know who it was. He could picture the small nose that wrinkled when she disapproved of something. Mostly, when she gazed at him.
It was Letia de Burgh lurking behind the merlon.
Humph! Why was she on the battlements and not in her bed where she belonged? Had she slipped from her husbands arms to seek those of a young, virile warrior? He clamped his teeth together and watched her every movement. He wanted to shake her. Wanted to shove her back through the tower door and order her to return to her room.
What was it about this woman that caused such harsh feelings? Feelings he had never felt about any other lass.
Raik rode in silence, then made up his mind and pulled Storm to a slow walk. Ranald raised his brows and held up his right arm, stopping the men behind them.
"What?"
"Ye no longer need me at Seton."
"If I did not ken ye better, I would think ye avoid seeing the de Burgh's."
"Nay. Not Warin. I like the man. I enjoy our skirmishes too much to end them. 'Tis his Letia that rubs me wrong."
"For truth?" Ranald's eyes widened and he tilted his head studying Raik's face. "I find her admirable."
"Huh. Ye admire a foolish woman who does not know her place? That seizes a man's duties? No man should ever have given the lass such freedom."
"Given? Freedom? She had to defend her father's castle to keep anyone from knowing of his death until de Burgh arrived."
"That is another reason. Why did she marry a man who was her father's friend? She should have let the king decide who her husband should be."
"By the time Stephen decided, Julian would already have taken her and the castle."
"De Burgh is too gentle. He should not allow her the use of weapons. 'Tis not a woman's place to wield them."
Raik frowned. Aye, she was beautiful. But her air of confidence made the hairs on his arms tingle, his stomach clench. His hands twitched and wanted to grasp her flesh and force her to be naught but a woman. A soft woman. One a man could take to his bed and teach her how to please him.
"Ah. She riles ye because she isna helpless. She does not need ye as a man." Ranald shook his head at him. "Well, she does not. She has Warin."
"Ye make it sound like she threatens my maleness."
"Does she not?"
Raik sucked his teeth. "No mere woman controls my manhood. I'm the one with a tarse. She is only a vessel." He huffed, disgusted. "Nay, she is no threat to me."
Ranald snorted. "If someone penned this cock and hen together, I think feathers would fly. The cock would have a battle on his hands to control that particular hen."
"Ye make no sense, cousin. I leave ye at the bend."
They were nearly even with the corner of the curtain wall. Before Ranald's herald could announce his presence, the screech and grind of the portcullis rising rent the air.
"When will ye return?" He twisted slightly on the saddle to look squarely at Raik.
"I thought to explore a bit to sample these English lasses panting for a real man's cock." He grinned wide, his startling blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Before I return, I plan to retrieve the cows Warin last thieved from Raptor."
"Dinna get caught. One of these days, ye will carry this game too far. Ye might find yerself a prisoner in Warin's dungeon."
"Tsk! How frightening. And I suppose the Lady will have her way with me?"
As he kicked Storm into a gallop, his ringing laughter traveled on the wind.
o0o
Prickles of fear danced over Letia's flesh much like drops of snow sliding off her hair and finding their way down her quivering back. Hearing Raik's laughter drifting up to her as he veered off to the right, she heaved a sigh of relief. God must have paid heed to her prayers.
She folded her arms and hugged herself as she watched his back disappear. Ashamed, she took a deep breath. Never had she been weak-kneed or a fearful fool around men. Yes, she had been leery of some, cautious w
ith many. As with Julian. She knew better than to ever turn her back when he was near. He was a man she would distrust even if he were on his deathbed.
Across the field beyond the curtain wall, something stirred the bushes beneath the lush trees. She squinted and watched. Aye. The branches moved. Something paced behind them. Something smaller than a man but larger than most dogs. Not a goat. Nor sheep. Boar, mayhap?
A blood-chilling howl cut the air. Her breath hitched then held. Quick as a flash of heat lightning, a large, black beast thrust his head out of a bush and snarled bare-teethed at the men then vanished. Could the legends of Hell Hounds be truth? She prayed not.
Letia frowned and put the foolish thought from her mind as she descended the wall walk stairs. She was frightened of more worldly things than a hound from Hell. But why did she fear Raik? She trusted him. Had never heard anything dishonorable or cruel about him. Ranald's wife thought highly of him, and women at Raptor Castle watched his every move, their eyes hot with lust.
Women had no need to watch him closely, for his size made him easily seen. That and his brightly colored clothing. She huffed. The memory of his eyes, hot and lustful, as his gaze traveled over every woman rankled her. Mayhap she exaggerated about it being every woman. Truth was, it was all but the very young and the aged he eyed.
And herself.
At her, he tensed and looked about to shudder. His jaw twitched, too. Mayhap from trying to keep himself from saying something hurtful.
Letia straightened her shoulders and forced a smile as she stood at Warin's side. They waited to greet Ranald and his men there on the steps of the keep. The warriors were entering the bailey, and the resounding noise of the horses' hooves striking the cobblestones made thinking on serious thoughts nigh impossible.
After the black-clad knight dismounted, Warin stepped forward to clasp his shoulder.
"Ranald, you are a most welcome sight this day."
"Aye. Mayhap I am to ye, Warin. If my feelings were of a delicate nature, I would worry about yer guests who departed with such haste."
"Well, now. Mayhap the sight of you bursting from darkness amidst flames might have made my unwanted company timid?"
"Aye. 'Tis the truth my face doesna foster friendship."
Letia watched him rub his hand over the right side of his face as if soothing the many scars there. He did not seem aware that he was doing so. The left side was comely. Nay, more than comely. 'Twas so beautiful it compelled you to take a second look.
All who knew him trusted him, his judgment, his strength. Letia took a step forward.
"Welcome, Ranald."
"My wife sends her love and bade me give ye a kiss." Ranald took Letia's outstretched hand and feathered a kiss atop it. "She plucked on my sleeves with near every breath, demanding I bring her along. She near drove me to beat her."
Letia laughed when his deep, plum-colored eyes twinkled at her. The day Ranald beat his wife would be the day the sun rose in the north.
"Come. Break your fast. Cook has prepared food for all." Letia smiled at his men quietly waiting beside their horses. Ranald nodded down at her and turned to Warin.
"If it meets with yer approval, Warin, my commander can post my men to relieve yer guards in shifts so they can rest and eat."
"I would take it as a kindness. They are bone-weary." Warin lips twisted in a wry smile. "We kept the battlements well manned. Julian may be reckless in his tactics, but he's dangerous."
Though the day had barely begun, the great hall looked busy as an ant nest. Servants carefully carried trays laden with food or large pitchers of ale as they sidestepped a careless leg or flying elbow.
The room suddenly hushed. Tension eased on seeing the two men talking and smiling as if all was right with the world.
"'Twas a beautiful sight, Lord Ranald, seeing the back of Julian of Chatton and his army racing south." Letia spoke loud enough so those nearby could hear and pass on her words.
"Aye, it was. Do you think he had time last eve to clean your present from his body, beloved?" Warin grinned at her and chuckled.
Ranald's head swiveled to study her face. He stopped walking. His right brow lifted, stretching the scar dividing it even higher until it met a hank of thick black hair the wind had caused to fall there.
"Present? Ye gave that jealous gowk a gift?" His face showed disbelief.
Letia bit her lower lip as she seated herself between Warin and her sister. How could she tell a man who had once been a monk what she had done?
"Um. I did not give him a present he enjoyed, my lord. The squires provided missiles that were suitable to the occasion."
"Wormy meat?" Ranald's head tilted, his eyes still asking for answers as he sat to Warin's right.
"'Twas much better than that, Lord Ranald." Her sister leaned forward to look at him and giggled, then reached up to make sure her scarf remained securely tied around her scarred neck. "We women thought to prepare it ourselves, but we had not the right, uh, parts to do the job correctly."
A burst of laughter from a nearby table did not make Letia's task easier. Warin hugged her shoulders then turned to Ranald. He pointed toward the squire standing between two young men swinging their arms as if readying slings then releasing them amidst great laughter.
"Do you see the mischievous squire across the room acting out our little drama? I assigned him to serve Letia in all things. When she asked for three special missiles, he hit on the idea."
"I take it he kenned the occasion needed somethin' more offensive than rotted meat?"
"Aye. He supplied three sheep bladders filled with piss. A gift from Seton Castle's men. 'Tis why the squires celebrate this morn. The slingers aims were better than anyone could hope."
Ranald burst out laughing. "May I meet the men who could launch such an attack?"
Warin beckoned to a young page. "Tell our two heroes to come to the high table."
The boy ran off swerving between tables as fast as a young pup chasing a barn cat. He jerked the sleeve of a redheaded slinger sitting at a front corner table, excitedly relayed his message then raced off to pluck another's sleeve. When the man shook him off, the boy tugged at a long hank of blond hair, then jumped back to escape his grasp.
The boy talked fast when he found his feet leaving the floor. His captor frowned, looked toward the high table, and seeing his lord's nod, set the boy on his feet and lightly buffeted the back of his head.
Ranald smiled at the two men standing across from the table. "Where did ye learn to sling with such good aim? Is it true a good slinger must start at an early age?"
"Aye, my lord. We trained with the children at Lady Letia's keep. The lady was smaller than us, but when we teased her overmuch, we couldn't outrun the pebbles from her hand sling."
Ranald thanked the men and turned to Warin.
"Hm. I take it there is no third man?"
Warin shook his head. "Nay, my lord. If you remember, my wife is a skilled slinger."
Ranald stared thoughtfully at Letia, then a slow smile spread over his face adding such a glow that one would not note that ravaged side.
"When Warin told us a year past how ye held down yer father's castle, and of yer skills, I was a fool not to believe they could equal a man's. Tell me, Lady. Did Julian see ye?"
"I do not believe so. I wore the same clothing as the men around me." She frowned, thinking of her unease. "But I always have the feeling that he knows when I am there."
"Did he call to ye?"
She shook her head. "Nay. Though each time I moved from behind a barricade, his head jerked up to stare at the battlements. 'Twas like a fox scenting a fowl."
Ranald nodded and frowned. She took an uneasy breath and became aware of the food around her, and of how hungry she was.
Letia hadn't had much time to eat in the past sennight, but now she realized her stomach had long since been empty. Servants placing platters of quail pies, baked fish and sliced ham, among other things, on the white tablecloths, made her mout
h water.
She smiled and prepared a bowl of Warin's favored hot porridge, spooned butter atop it followed by a splash of milk and set it before him. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted through the heavy white napkins covering them. She broke a piece off the end of the bread, Warin's preferred part, and handed to him. He smiled and brought her hand to his lips for a quick kiss.
o0o
Ranald was aware of everything that went on around him, from the wind rustling through the trees when he left Hunter Castle to the loving way Warin treated his young wife. He was also aware that Warin de Burgh was making an effort to appear hale. Ranald had treated many men who would have died without his aid. He recognized the lack of color in Warin's flesh, the way a spasm crossed his face, his eyes clamped shut now and again then rapidly opened so no one would note.
Worry lurked in Letia's eyes, too. Every now and again, her skin gave the slightest quiver and she'd brush her fingers over it.
Fear. Mixed with dread.
'Twas more than having Julian threatening outside the walls. More than sorrow when she looked at Warin.
She knew what the future held.
"Was not your cousin Raik riding beside you earlier?" Leofwan asked.
"Aye. He claims life at the castle is too tame." He chuckled and winked at Warin.
"Your cousin keeps us on our toes, for certes. Our cattle have worn a new road going back and forth between here and Raptor."
Warin looked uneasy. Why was that? And why did he take Letia's hand and pat it in a way that one would soothe another?
Before he spoke again, Warin cleared his throat. "Was he unsure of his welcome here?"
"Nay. He knew ye didn't need his sword arm." Ranald leaned close and murmured, "He isn't tied to any woman, so he thought to sample the lovely lasses so close to our borders."
"Ah, I see. He is of an age where a man grows restless and is harder to please."
"Too, I believe he intends to visit my sire's ward at the Convent of Mary Magdalen."
"Surely, he would not dally with a woman within convent walls? I did not judge him as a man who would do such." His brows furrowed; his lips twitched.
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