Seduced

by Sophia Johnson

When Ranald studied his face, Warin looked to hide his concern by taking undue interest in plucking cherries from the colorful arrangement of berries, grapes, apples and figs close to his hand.

  "Nay. He wouldna."

  The muscles in Warin's face softened and his body relaxed.

  Ranald hoped he had read his cousin aright. More than once, he'd thought Raik was on the verge of taking a wife. It would be a good thing. Mayhap if he had a woman who kept him sated with bed sport, it would calm his lusty spirit. As reckless as he was of late, Ranald was afeared he might crawl between the sheets with the wrong woman one eve and find himself tethered with unwanted responsibilities.

  Lucifer's lice-ridden hair! Ranald wished he'd kept Raik with him. He had seemed bent on mischief. Mayhap he worried for naught. Thieving cows from Warin's pasture was harmless enough.

  Wasn't it?

  CHAPTER 4

  Raik strolled with Muriele from the orchard surrounding a newly painted chapel at Mary Magdalen's out onto footpaths leading around lush beds of roses where each bush challenged the next for the beauty of its blossoms. Quiet daisies and lovely flowers of every color vied with lavender and heather, while crawling ivy covered the ground with green.

  "'Tis strange to find a chapel in an orchard," Raik said as he studied her face.

  "Sometimes, a person needs to pray amongst nature to soothe their soul."

  "And does it soothe your soul, fair lady?"

  He had once described her as a tall sheave of wheat. 'Twas a fact, she was more comely than most with her wheat-colored hair and eyes of soft, light brown. It was likely her legs were long and finely muscled, her body fit beneath her tunic, for she moved with fluid grace. She was much like a young willow tree, one that would bend and sway to the wind's music.

  She shrugged. Her long legs picked up their speed. He let her put distance between them. She was slender. Too slender to his liking. Was she eating enough?

  "Yer hair no longer looks like a half-plucked rooster's!"

  "Rooster? Do ye not mean a hen?" She chuckled and halted, waiting for him.

  "I wanted to get yer notice. 'Tis truth, ye know. Never had I seen a woman shorn so close to her scalp."

  "Ye saw how ragged it was when I came here. We cut it close so it would grow evenly again."

  He liked the way her silky hair fell, the soft curls teasing her cheeks. The back flowed in waves near to her shoulders, giving her a girlish look. Funny how young she seemed until he studied her closely. No lass should have so many memories reflected in her eyes.

  "Afore I leave, I ask ye again if ye will wed with me."

  Muriele lowered her head, refusing to look at him. He grasped her shoulders then held her still with one hand while he tipped her face up so he could see her. As always, her light brown gaze focused on his lips, his chin, his nose…anywhere but on his eyes.

  "I canna wed ye. Ye honor me by the asking, but it can never be."

  "Are ye wed to another?" He felt a slight tremor pass over her back where his fingertips rested.

  "Please, Raik, do not press me."

  His heart couldn't deny the plea in her voice. He would let her be for now, but he'd come again in due time.

  o0o

  Afore dawn the next morn, Raik rode from the convent. A fortnight had passed since he'd left Ranald outside the curtain walls of Seton Castle. He'd sought pleasure amongst the lasses of England before his visit with Muriele. He hadn't wanted an eager cock to sway him when he made a decision of such import as taking a wife.

  Her continued refusal to accept him as a husband made her more desirable. Strange, wasn't it? Never had a woman refused him. Truth to tell, he'd not asked for a woman's hand before; only her sweet body beneath his.

  Storm was restless, his muscles quivering, near begging to stretch his legs in a run. He leaned forward and talked to the horse, then gave him a firm pat on his fawn-colored neck. The horse's powerful legs stretched out, and before long, they were galloping across the fields toward the forested hill beyond.

  He was as restless as the horse. He didn't want to return to Raptor Castle. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips. By now, Ranald had set Seton to rights. Warin would likely be up for a little game of thinning out the cattle.

  He set Storm to an easy trot through the wooded paths. These next few nights would be the darkest phase of the moon. A perfect time to stop at Hunter and pick up a few men ready for fun.

  o0o

  Aye. The next time the sun lowered, he found his men more than ready. They'd had a glorious time choosing the four finest cows in Seton's pasture. One for each of them.

  But they didn't get far before they rode into a trap. He sensed the men spread out in the trees long before he could see them.

  "Break away!" He prodded Storm to leap forward.

  Hearing his bellow, the men did the same. Horses crashed from amongst the trees beside the road. The air filled with the screech of swords leaving scabbards, then the clang and sparks as they struck and slid against each other.

  It was strange. In the murky blackness, the pursuing warriors edged between him and his men, battling and chasing them northward. Isolating him.

  "Do not maim Sir Raik!"

  Warin's voice. Nearly too late.

  If the man hadn't held back his power, the sword that slipped through Raik's defense would have severed his right arm from his shoulder. Searing pain ripped through his flesh and streaked down his chest.

  Still, he fought on. Blows landed against his back and legs, though not given by swords. Finally, a crack to the back of his head sent him forward on Storm's neck. Darkness rose up to meet him as he slid from the saddle.

  o0o

  Raik felt arms lowering him to men waiting to bear his weight. He bit his tongue to stifle a cry near bursting from his throat. Surely, Lucifer's jagged teeth clamped his shoulder's flesh and tried to tear it from his body.

  His head thudded as if a drunken Welshman plied his beaters on the skin of a bodhran within his skull and built a wild rhythm meant to call the ancient Druids from their graves.

  He swallowed to keep from spewing and shaming himself.

  Warin's voice faded in and out. From what he could make of it, he was furious. Strange. Warin berated the man who had struck his head. And the man who ripped his shoulder. Even stranger, the men's voices sounded shamed that they'd disappointed their baron.

  Sight and sound faded to black again. When next he awoke, a strong arm lifted his head while someone held a small vial to his lips.

  "Drink, Sir Raik. It will ease your pain while I stitch your wounds."

  The voice was soft, melodic. A voice he had heard before.

  "Nay." He meant the word to be loud. Harsh. It was near a shameful whisper.

  The man whose arm held his head aloft spoke. "Clamp this stick between your teeth so you do not cry out and disgrace yourself."

  He felt a smooth wooden spoon tap his lips and opened to receive it. Quick as a flash, the woman slid it between his teeth on the right side of his mouth, then slipped her finger between his lips on the left and tugged his cheek. Afore he knew what she was about, he felt the elixir slide into the pocket there. With the spoon between his teeth, he had to swallow.

  He glared up into eyes the color of wet earth. Ah, de Burgh's unnatural wife. He should have known. Only she would think to trick a man in such a way. She wouldn't hold his gaze but turned her eyes away. By the time he thought of a curse worthy of her stunt, his tongue refused to form the words.

  He fought the black haze fogging his mind. Weakness crept over his body, spreading from head to toe. Slowly, flesh and muscle melted and slipped from his bones. He had no more solid substance than feathers blowing in the wind.

  More odious yet, drool slid from the corner of his mouth, teasing a wet trail across his cheek and down his neck.

  Letia set her eyes firmly on Raik's most serious injury on his right shoulder. Her fingers probed the wound and, when they touched his flesh, his skin flinched
. Even drugged, the man despised her.

  "Fool. Had we not given him the potion, he would have refused my aid."

  Why did that sting her feelings? He meant nothing to her. Nay, 'twas a lie. For truth, he was her one means of escaping a loathsome fate should Julian take over the castle before King Stephen could choose a husband for her. She had to protect every one of the near forty helpless people Julian would surely cast out.

  If he didn't kill them.

  "He does not know what he does. The poppy takes reason from a man." Warin's gentle squeeze on her shoulder was comforting.

  "He has not much reason to begin with. What fool would make a game of raiding a man's cattle? He had to know he or someone else would one day be seriously injured. Or killed."

  "The same fool as I, love." Warin watched as she cleared bits of cloth from inside the wound. As blood welled faster, he handed her a pad of linen to hold over the gaping flesh. "Always, we have been careful to hold back our blades. A horse threw its head about at the worst time. The rider lost control of his weapon."

  Letia cautiously lifted a corner of the bloodstained pad and checked beneath. Satisfied, she picked up her needle and started closing Raik's flesh. The job was much easier with him sprawled like a man too deep in his cups. For certes, much easier for her. If she had to close his wounds with probing blue eyes watching every flicker of thought in her own, she wouldn't have the peace of mind to use fine, even stitches. True, he'd have a long scar. But with the care she took mending his flesh, it wouldn't heal as if a row of beets grew beneath it.

  She spread herbal paste over the stitches then put a thick, clean pad to cover its length.

  "Help me tie bindings around his shoulder and chest," she asked the man set to guard Raik. "We must keep the pad firmly in place."

  While he lifted the unconscious man, Letia slipped her arms around him winding and crisscrossing the strips of linen around his chest and shoulder. His flesh was warm, smooth. Her cheek brushed against his bare back. When she took a breath, his scent reminded her of fresh pines. That clean, rousing scent that drifted from dew-laden pines when she rode through the woods soon after daybreak.

  She wanted to leave this bedside as quickly as possible. Too many troubling feelings, feelings she neither wanted nor expected had tingled through her when she touched Raik. She washed her hands in a basin of clean water, keeping her face turned from the man sprawled helpless on the bed.

  Turning to the guard, she nodded. "Please remove the rest of his clothing then help Maud check for any other wounds that need tending. She worked with my father's healer. She knows what needs to be done." Her old nanny was the one who'd taught her to sew flesh as neatly as she would a hem on the finest cloth.

  o0o

  Letia had sensed Warin slip from the room once she started to stitch Raik's flesh. Now that she was done here, her footsteps were so hurried anyone watching would think she ran from the room.

  'Twas truth. She did.

  When Raik's eyes had finally closed, the probing stare hid all the mistrust, the dislike, leaving simply the man. For the first time, she noted how comely he was when he wasn't glaring at her.

  She burst into her husband's solar to find him at his table. He glanced up, nodded, but continued to write. He would soon be finished and then they could talk. He dusted the writing with sand then shook off the excess. He folded it with extra care and made the wax seal larger than usual, before he pressed his seal firmly into the hot wax.

  "You write to Ranald? Could you not send a servant to let him know Raik will be fine?"

  "Nay, beloved. If he knew he was here, he would come for him. No one must know for now."

  "Then to whom do you write?"

  "King Stephen. I must tell him of Julian's latest attempt. And I reminded him that he promised to find a young man, an honorable and kind man, to husband you when the time comes. I told him there was a chance you would be carrying a child. He has assured me he will choose someone who would protect you with an army ample enough to hold the castle against all others."

  He nodded to Leofwan who stood quietly waiting by a window opening. His advisor had once been his first in command until a Claymore had sliced off his right arm in battle the same day he lost sight from his right eye.

  "Father Paul awaits," Leofwan turned his head to better see the message then reached for it with his left hand. "Four of our most stalwart warriors will accompany him."

  Warin retrieved a small bag of coins from the corner of the desk and handed it to him. "This should provide them ample rest at inns along the way."

  Leofwan smiled down at the man who was more friend than master then left the room. Letia heard his boots striking each step as he hurried below.

  Warin beckoned to her and moved to a large chair padded with a thick tapestry pillow she had made especially for it. He drew her down on his lap, cupped her head on his shoulder and wrapped his arm snugly around her.

  "Beloved, Sir Raik will likely be fevered a day or two. We must then wait three days more for him to recover. No more than that, else he will be suspicious when he takes his healing potions."

  "Ha! I had to trick him before I could get anything past his mouth. He will not let me do it again."

  "'Tis true. But will he scorn our best wines?"

  "Hardly. At Raptor, he was always happy to down a pitcher while he studied the servant girls to select one to share his bed that night." She wrinkled her nose at him. "Or two, for that matter."

  "Aye. Tales abound of his skills at bed sport. But for all his swiving, never has a lass filled with child."

  She sat bolt upright. "Why, then, did you choose him?"

  "For that reason. Ranald once told me Raik would breed no bastard, for he knows the life it will lead. His mother was Ranald's aunt. Her brother insisted on sending the babe to Laird Douglas to foster. He did not want her shamed. He threatened to kill the man. Raik's mother told him he was a Saxon, but only to protect him. King Stephen knows who the father is. His family forced him to marry another."

  Warin sighed and rubbed his face. "We do have a small problem. His refusal to loose his seed within a woman. You know I have tried many potions over these last years. The herbalist told me of one nostrum that will make a man so eager he will have no chance to, ah, waste it."

  "What if he ever finds out I was his seducer? He will be furious enough. Knowing I have stolen a child from him, he will go well past rage."

  When she shuddered, he combed his fingers through the dark brown curls tumbling around her face, soothing her.

  "We will make certain he will never know. We look much alike. We have the same near-black hair, a similar jaw and blue eyes - though his are more intense. Our bodies are comparable. No one will know this child is not mine."

  Letia sighed with relief. "'Tis true. When the drug took him and his face relaxed, he looked enough like you that you could be father and son."

  "Aye. He will never know he has fathered a child on you."

  Thinking of Raik's face when he was angered, nay, in a rage, fear swept through her so hot it rivaled a baker's oven.

  Pray God, he would never learn of her deceit.

  CHAPTER 5

  Letia spent most all afternoon in the chapel, praying and seeking comfort. Rain had fallen for the past two days, and for the most part, they'd seen little of the sun. At the end of her long prayers, she opened her eyes, believing someone had entered with a candle. No candle, but a shaft of sunlight coming through the window opening. It flowed over the gold cross atop the altar, giving her hope that it was a sign God would forgive her.

  She swallowed and tried to strengthen her courage before she left the chapel. The solar was only two chambers down from where the Scotsman lay abed. She near collided with her old nursemaid who hurried from the room.

  "Careful, Maud. You do not want to suffer a fall!" Letia grabbed her shoulders and steadied her. "It has been but two days since Sir Raik's fevers cooled, but every time I pass his room, I hear silly g
iggling. Every young woman in Seton must have passed through that doorway."

  "Eh? Young?" Maud's eyes crinkled with humor. "The baron's widowed sister-by-law deemed I needed help carrying food to break his fast. I near dropped the tray when she simpered like a silly youngling. Why, she has more years than the Baron!"

  "She simpered?" Letia's mouth near gaped in surprise.

  "Aye. He's a charmer, he is." Maud nodded her head, a small grin on her face. "One look in them eyes and you want to do anything he asks."

  "Best you not meet his gaze, then. Lord Ranald's wife told me tales about how he can bring a man to do his bidding by holding his gaze and ordering it."

  "Truth to tell?" Maud's brows danced in surprise.

  "Truth. She entered the stable meaning to take Lord Ranald's horse an apple, but she saw Sir Raik in the gloom. He did not hear her, for the sheepherder's daughter was wailing in the straw. A warrior had dragged her there to rape her. Sir Raik called the man's name, stared him in the eye and told him to beg the girl to forgive him, and to kiss her feet as penance."

  "Nay!"

  "Aye. The man said the proper words then knelt docile as a lamb and kissed feet covered with mud and shite."

  "What did Lord Ranald's wife say to Sir Raik?"

  "Naught. She slipped away."

  "Mayhap that explains it. Ye should have seen the laundress when she brought clean linens for his bed. He smiled and asked for his garments. The silly girl near melted to the floor, she did! I had to pinch her ear to squash that dreamy look from her eyes."

  "You did not let..."

  "Course not. The man may be crafty as Lucifer, but I'm not witless."

  "Oh, Maud. How can I get through this night? Every time I think on it, I want to spew." Her old nanny was the only person she had confided in, for they needed her help.

  "Lovey, this night ye must pretend he is Warin."

  "What if he is cruel?"

  "Sir Raik is a gentle man. Never would he mistreat a woman. Now, Julian? Should he take over Seton, I fear he would not even wait for the battle to end afore throwing ye to the ground." Maud shuddered at the thought.