Forbidden

by Sophia Johnson

  He ran his fingers through his hair, and felt a shock of surprise at his recently shaved tonsure. Near frantic for some way to soothe her pain, he placed his big hands on her belly and felt the changes in it until they became familiar. When her muscles relaxed, so did his wife. When he felt them starting to tighten, her face grimaced, her hands clenched. If they didn’t last too long, she clamped her teeth, but more times than not, she shrieked loud as a mythical banshee.

  “Ye are as loud with yer laboring as ye are with yer pleasures, wife.”

  Catalin was too busy yelling and crushing his hands to swat at him.

  As soon as she quieted, he turned her on her side. He called out for the monk to give him a salve scented with lavender. When the man moved away, Ranald bared her back and spread it there. He rubbed and massaged her muscles, talking low and soothing, telling her what a beautiful bairn she would hold in her arms that night. When he felt her tighten, he gripped her hands and let her pull on him.

  “Scrub a knife to cut the babe’s cord. You will need a clean string or thin strip of cloth to tie around it first,” Catalin told him between gasps.

  He nodded toward Elyne, who hurried to ask the monk to prepare both. She rushed back, for Catalin’s pains came more frequently now. Elyne kept busy wiping Catalin’s face with cold cloths and peeking beneath the covers.

  Ranald straddled the bed behind Catalin, holding her up against his chest in hopes it would ease the birthing.

  “He is not there, Ranald. Should he not be out by now?” Elyne’s muffled voice asked after ducking beneath the sheet.

  Ranald groaned. “Elyne, have ye never been with a woman in labor?”

  Her head popped back out into the open. “Once. Aunt Joneta tended a, uh, friend of father’s. I but fetched and carried. They didn’t want anyone to know she was in the keep.”

  “How could they hide the howls?” Ranald’s brows rose. “My ears are ringing.”

  Catalin snorted.

  “Aunt Joneta plied her with whiskey early on and kept a stick between her teeth to bite on.”

  “Well, Hell! That was barbaric. Look again and tell me if ye see the top of the bairn’s head.”

  “Fool! Look for yourself,” Catalin shouted. Her teeth snapped together as she strained to choke back a scream. Her head slammed back against his chest so hard he expected to hear his ribs crack.

  As soon as the pain ebbed, he scrambled off the bed and had Elyne take his place. He threw back the sheets. And stared.

  “Shite! It’s there,” Ranald yelled. “Catalin, pull on Elyne’s hands and push yer belly muscles down.” He reached up and cupped his big hands on the dome of her stomach. When it tightened, he gently pressed downward, aiding the struggling bairn.

  “It comes!” He cupped the little head as it moved out into the world. “Little one, dinna be feared to greet us,” he crooned. “Ah, there ye are, lovey. A little more and yer little shoulders will be free.” He choked back his fear when the birthing seemed to halt. Then he realized he would have to guide the other shoulder out. Once he did, he was elated. Following each scream from Catalin’s throat, the rest of the babe quickly came forth.

  “It’s our son!” He cupped the bairn’s head and back in his big hand as he inched the little legs free of his mother. “Elyne, do ye have the knife and cord?” Hearing a gurgling noise beside him, he glanced up to see the young monk, his face pale, his eyes squeezed shut, holding them both on a clean cloth,.

  “Tie it, Elyne,” he ordered. She did. He cut the cord, then turned the bairn to lay, chest down on his big palm and forearm. The bairn squirmed, its little legs and arms waved as it gave its first weak squalls. Ranald stared, fascinated, at the wrinkled red body covered with a yellow and white substance.

  He placed the bairn on a bathing cloth and cleared his little mouth before he laid him atop Catalin’s chest. Her arms closed around him. Ranald looked at Elyne and shook his head.

  From beneath his monk’s robes, he pulled out the clothing he’d rescued from the path.

  “Do ye not think he needs cleansing?” His nose wrinkled. “He smells.”

  o0o

  Catalin awoke, and finding the babe was not in the crook of her arm sleeping, she screamed, “My babe, my babe.” She tried to struggle out of bed. Elyne jumped from a stool and rushed over to her.

  “The bairn is all right, Catalin.” She was struggling to keep her on the bed when Ranald burst into the room, his eyes wide with fear.

  Frightened by the noise, the babe in his arms squalled and beat tiny fists and feet in the air. Ranald had proudly been showing him off to Raik and the men who had gathered outside the Infirmary to croon and make over the little bundle.

  Some had been fathers before; others had never seen a newborn. All marveled that one so tiny could have such a strong voice.

  “Are ye in pain?” Ranald clutched the bairn to his chest, jiggling it gently up and down. White-faced, he stared at her swollen middle and gulped. “Dinna tell me another one is there!”

  “Nay. She feared ye had taken the bairn from her,” Elyne told him.

  “Aye, but only to show Abbot Aymer and the men.” He carefully placed the baby in Catalin’s reaching arms. “Do ye still fear me so, even though I swore to ye the bairn is safe?”

  Ranald stood back, his eyes stricken, as he watched his Catalin clutch the bairn to her breast. The tiny mouth latched onto her nipple and started suckling making soft, greedy sounds.

  “I love ye, Catalin. I always have.”

  Her fearful gaze calmed as she watched his face.

  “I love ye too much to have ye living in fear. But I would have ye safe. If ye canna bear to love a man as ugly as I, I will provide a safe place for ye and the bairn to live. I know ye still love Moridac. I canna take his place. I canna change being unsightly.”

  Catalin scowled and gave a very unladylike huff.

  “I did not love Moridac. Nay, that is not true. I did love him. But in a different way. I knew it was expected that we wed from as far back as I can remember.” She swallowed and smoothed her hand over her babe’s head, then looked him in the eye.

  “Did you never note that it was always you who made me angry? Always you, not Moridac or Raik whom I followed. Did you not know why I tried to rid you of all those slobbering women who sought you out?”

  “Aye. I kenned ye disliked me even then.”

  “Huh! You had best be prepared for me to dislike you more every day for the rest of your life, then.” Catalin rolled her eyes at Elyne, who was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Ye are right block-headed, brother.” Elyne slammed him on the back of his head with her open hand. “For me, it will take a rare man to earn a love as great as Catalin has for ye.”

  EPILOGUE

  Raptor Castle, Eighteen Months Later.

  Catalin held her hand over her mouth to hide her giggles as Chief Broccin, bent nearly double, took steps so small he near toppled over. Clutching his finger, Gregory, his black curls bouncing, stomped around. He chortled and turned his face upward to watch his grandsire with eyes so alike Moridac’s that Ranald oft thought his brother’s soul had returned with his son.

  Ranald stood behind Catalin, his chin rested on her head, his hands splayed across her stomach caressing the bulge there.

  “Do ye think ‘tis twins ye carry? Or do ye grow a giant here?”

  Catalin sighed. “Twins, for certes. You will have three to spoil now.”

  “Da?” Gregory wriggled his little fingers at Ranald, demanding he come to him.

  “Aye, Little Man?” Ranald chuckled, swung Gregory up in his arms to the child’s favorite spot—cheek to cheek—and hugged him close. Gregory liked nothing better than to kiss his father’s cheek. His scarred cheek, for he would grab the braid at his temple and place drooling kisses over every scar. “Have ye told Granda all yer secrets? Hm?”

  Ranald could not believe the change in his father since the siege of Hunter Castle. They spent most of the year at
Hunter, but every third month they returned to Raptor for a fortnight. Though father and son still clashed wills, Chief Broccin held his temper in check when Gregory was about.

  Hearing horses clattering over the cobblestones of Hunter Castle’s barbican, they looked toward the castle entrance.

  “Ah, mayhap the scouts have word of Raik.” Ranald kissed Gregory’s soft curls and handed him to Catalin.

  o0o

  Catalin watched Ranald and his sire hurry to the courtyard, while she and Gregory followed at a leisurely pace. Pray God they would hear good news about Raik, for no one had seen him for over a month. Why must men play such dangerous games? That is what it was when they crossed the borders and dared to raid each other’s cattle.

  This time, she feared the game had turned sour.

  In his last foray, Ranald had received word his cousin was wounded. His three companions lost track of him in the dark, for they only did such foolishness during the darkest phase of the moon. They had not seen him ride away, but they could not find him after the raid. What puzzled her was Raik most often preferred to raid the de Burgh’s. Yet when Catalin sent a message to Letia, she replied she’d not seen Raik.

  Mayhap the men today knew. Hearing shouts, she held her hand up to shield her eyes, for the castle’s entrance faced the sun. Her face spread in a wide smile. Though the man getting off his horse moved stiffly, there was no mistaking Raik.

  Catalin hugged Gregory close and hurried across the courtyard, anxious to learn of Raik’s adventures...

  -o0o-

  COMING SOON

  THE NEXT INTRIGUING ROMANCE IN

  Sophia Johnson’s Raptor Castle Series

  Each tale in the series has an unusual and exciting plot that will surprise you.

  Book 2. Seduced – Find out what sexy adventures kept Raik behind locked doors!

  Book 3. Ruthless – When a Highlander determined to honor his oath discovers Muriele, not even Ranald can protect her from Magnus. An intense cat and mouse game.

  Book 4. Surrender – Elyne has to admit Ranald warned her that spying on naked warriors would some day be her undoing. Her downfall is Graemme, Magnus’ younger brother! Sensual and humorous.

  Visit me at www.sophiajohnson.net to read more about each intriguing tale.

  In loving memory of my Dad, Albert Edward Johnson, Sr.,

  who introduced me to Alexandre Dumas.

  Reading The Man in the Iron Mask,

  The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers

  primed my imagination for historical romance.

  If he was with me today, he would argue they

  weren’t romances, and rightly so.

  But to me, they were historical

  romances in a grand way.

  Many thanks to Lori Devoti and the rest of the Debitudes (the original Kensington debut authors) for their encouragement and help in showing me how to break into epublishing, and to the Nuts of the Round Table, my critique partners.

  Thank you Delle Jacobs for your patience in designing a cover that will carry through with the Raptor Castle Series.

  I very much appreciate and thank Jessica Trapp for her review and edit of Forbidden. Her time away from her own writing was a gift of kindness

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Readers,

  I started Book 1 of the Raptor Castle Series with an unusual hero — a monk forced from his abbey to sire children. You can’t get a story more original than that, can you?

  Ack! Don’t suck your teeth. It really did happen. I’ve always been fascinated with the clan Macpherson and its motto: Touch not the cat bot (without) a glove.

  During the reign of David the First, Gillicattan, a significant figure, became captain of the clan Chattan. He sired two sons.

  When he passed away, his eldest son took over but died without issue. Gillicattan’s second son, Murdoch was the Abbot of Kingussie in Badenoch.

  The duty of leading the clan devolved to Murdoch. After obtaining a dispensation from the Pope, the Abbot became head of his family and captain of the clan Chattan. He married a daughter of the thane of Cawdor and sired five sons.

  The modern name Macpherson literally means son of the parson.

  o0o

  As in the Blackthorn Trilogy, please keep in mind that it is not always possible to use only words appropriate to the time. Also, Raptor Castle was quite close to the border. I kept the dialect down to few characters. Ranald and Broccin (Scottish) would not speak like Catalin and Letia (Northumbria), so you will find differences in speech patterns for them and for other characters.

  Relax and let your imagination take you into this tale of love through the ages.

  Sincerely,

  Sophia

  About the Author:

  SOPHIA JOHNSON is well versed in the medieval period and supports her research with lengthy trips to Great Britain. As a child in Key West, she would sit beneath a coconut tree and daydream while she listened to the sound of the waves and enjoyed the briny smell of the ocean. She wondered what life would be like if she awoke one morn to find she had traveled back through the centuries?

  Her parents were avid readers and passed on to their children their love of reading about far away places. Throughout her life, Sophia always had her nose in a book when she had free time. One day, her daughter and son-in-law came to visit and brought in a computer.

  When she asked what they were doing, they told her, “We want you to stop reading and start writing your own stories.”

  So she did!

  Her Tag Line is “Love Through the Ages,” the theme of her novels.

  www.sophiajohnson.net

  PRAISE

  FOR

  SOPHIA JOHNSON’S

  BLACKTHORN TRILOGY

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  ALWAYS MINE

  ISBN: 0-8217-7884-6

  Also available in Kindle Version

  Winner Laurel Wreath Award; Winner of 2nd place in More Than Magic & Beacon Awards; Finalist in Golden Quill Awards.

  “TOP PICK! Phenomenal!!...touched me in a way that no other book ever has. It is a heart stopping and surreal story that had my imagination taking flight. Always Mine was written by a woman who obviously knows her romance and has exactly what it takes to melt her reader’s hearts and remind them what true love is all about.”

  —Romance Readers at Heart

  “5 Hearts! Sophia Johnson continues to amaze me with her writing and intense story telling…Always Mine is not a novel that is a light read; it is a very emotional well-rounded loved story that will warm the toughest and doubtful romantics…She keeps me riveted and enthralled, counting the days until her next novel.”

  —Mystic Castle Historical Romance Society

  “4.5 Red Roses! …Always Mine delves into the deep rooted passion of two souls who love each other so completely it goes beyond the physical realm…sparks fly between the 21st century Brianna/Lydia and the medieval warrior Damron. Damron’s befuddlement at Brianna’s odd words that he knows are meant to demean him is hilarious! Time travel fans don’t miss Always Mine!”

  —A Romance Review

  MIDNIGHT’S BRIDE

  ISBN: 0-8217-8049-2

  Also available in Kindle Version

  Finalist Colorado Award of Excellence.

  “A heart-stopping love story wrapped in an enchanting mythic legend.”

  —Virginia Henley

  “TOP PICK! Sophia Johnson writes the perfect book with just the right balance of all the elements that make a romance what it is. Sassy, smart, charming and overflowing with sexual tension and good old fashioned humor…”

  —Romance Reader at Heart

  “5 Stars! I can’t resist Ms. Johnson because I know I’ll not be reading another cookie cutter historical romance… (Her) ability to successfully distinguish each book in the Blackthorn trilogy but link the three together keeps the trilogy refreshing…Midnight’s Bride is tenderly romantic, hysterically fun
ny and deeply passionate. A delightful read in every way, the Blackthorn Trilogy is terrific!

  —Joyfully Reviewed

  “5 Stars! Ms. Johnson’s witty dialog provides some very amusing reading, so much so that I lost myself in the tale…then there is the smoldering passion waiting to be unleashed in the ruggedly handsome Mereck; every woman’s fantasy. Each of the Blackthorn books have a different temperament governed by its marvelous characters; which causes me to eagerly await more delightfully delicious stories…”

  —Donna Zapf from Single Titles

  RISK EVERYTHING

  ISBN: 0-8217-7883-8

  Also available in Kindle Version

  Finalist Holt Medallion and the Maggie Awards

  “Very Intense…”

  —New York Times Bestselling Author Susan Johnson

  “4 Stars! Risk Everything has every element of a classis Johanna Lindsey: biting repartee, steamy sexual tension, a bold heroine and powerful hero and a rugged backdrop that suits the characters and their story. Johnson knows how to spin a tale that entertains and engages..

  —Romantic Times

  “TOP PICK! Sophia Johnson really knows how to tell a story. There is Depth and intrigue, a wonderful plot, and a beautiful love that took my breath away…had me wishing that it would never end, and left me gladly awaiting for the release of Sophia Johnson’s next book.”