Seduced (14 page)

Ranald was running toward him. Laird Broccin,
too. 'Twas always surprising to see the old laird not fighting with
his son. He stood in the saddle and waited for just a breath, then
kicked his right stirrup free. Hades! He was stiff. Sore. He swung
his leg over Storm's haunch and lowered himself to the ground,
careful not to jar himself on landing.

"So, cousin. Ye decided to come from
hiding?"

Ranald's black-clad arm went around Raik's
shoulders. It looked like a friendly hug, but Raik felt the support
he offered and was grateful for it.

"Something like that."

"The next time ye sneak in and steal three
men to go raiding with ye, ye had best return with the cattle to
make it worth their while," a gravelly voice said beside him. 'Twas
Laird Broccin, Ranald's father.

Catalin hurried over and, after an appraising
look at Raik, handed her small son over to her old nursemaid. She
turned to Raik and beckoned with her hand. "Come to the solar. You
look to need a hot bath, food and drink."

As the men entered the keep, she called out
swift orders to the servants. Glancing again at Raik's face, she
slipped around her husband to walk ahead of them, slowing their
pace.

Raik sighed. He was grateful for that.
Ranald's wife had sensed his need to go slowly. No one would note
he was climbing the stairs like an old man, not sprinting up them
as was his custom. With her swelling stomach, they would think he
moved as if his feet were too heavy to lift only to keep from
crowding her.

"Catalin, yer blue kirtle and that apple red
smock beneath are sure more pleasing to the eye than Ranald's black
garments. Do ye think he will ever wear aught but monk's black?

"I try, Raik. Just this past sennight I sewed
a blue tunic of the same cloth and a shirt colored the lightest
blue of the sky at dawn." She chuckled and glanced over her
shoulder at Ranald. "He has yet to wear it."

"Tis too beautiful to grace the practice
fields, love." Ranald's dark, purplish eyes laughed back at
Catalin. "Would ye have it splattered with unsightly red?"

"Ha. I would not have any of your clothing
splattered with red, and well you know it."

Broccin cleared his throat. "A bit of blood
does not ruin a garment, woman. Ye should not try to weaken the
man. Make him cling to yer skirts and he will scuttle back to Kelso
Abbey, afeared to do aught but pray."

Catalin nodded thanks to Ranald's squire when
he swung open the solar door and they entered.

"Humpf! Not likely, Laird," she said.

Inside the room, she lovingly ran her hand
down Ranald's scarred face. "I do not think he will crave solitude
again." Her fingers lingered to rub softly over her husband's firm
lips. She sighed and blinked.

She turned to the squire and smiled. "Ask
cook to send our meal to the solar. When you return, bring clothing
from Sir Raik's chest." The young man was near out the door by her
last word.

Raik groaned and eased himself down on a
stool. "Ranald, what have ye for a blinding pain in the skull?'

"Depends on how ye came by the pain, cousin.
Did ye over-drink? Did ye tumble from yer horse? Or has yer head
come in contact with an angry fist?"

"Hm. I think 'twas a sword hilt, or maybe a
piss pot."

Soft fingers plied through his hair,
searching over the flesh of his skull. He knew 'twas Catalin. Her
light violet scent told him so.

"Ah, Ranald, here."

Her fingers withdrew, replaced by Ranald's
warm touch.

"Mmm. A lump bigger than the one Fergus gave
ye that year ye snuck into his bed and swived the lass awaiting
him."

"Raik. Shame on you." Catalin giggled behind
him.

"Why? The man is far too handsome. On top of
that, he has such pretty manners. 'Twas well worth the lump to hear
him cursing and railing in front of the lass. It shocked her more
than finding out it was me betwixt her legs and not him."

He watched as men brought buckets of hot
water to the bathing tub standing in the corner of the solar.
Servant women made eyes at him as they placed large drying cloths
on a stool near it and lingered overlong. No doubt they hoped to be
told to bathe him.

Catalin checked the water's heat and nodded
at them.

"That will be all."

Never had he thought he'd be relieved to have
three pretty lasses sent from the room. His brow creased. Strange.
Desire had not tightened his groin when their greedy eyes probed
over him. He padded over to the tub, hesitant about disrobing afore
Catalin.

Broccin grabbed a stool and brought it close,
then grinned at Raik.

"Near tore the clothes off ye with their
eyes, they did. I tried to sate their hunger whilst ye were gone.
Ranald near scorched my tarse off with that devil temper of his. I
dinna want his eyes sending their fire to me precious parts
again."

Catalin rolled her eyes and nodded toward the
steaming tub.

"Wrap a cloth around your waist and get into
the tub, Raik."

She kept her back to him as she busied
herself with packets of herbs and jars of ointments, preparing what
they needed for his wound.

"Do ye feel the need of sleep, or will
somethin' to ease yer headache do?" Ranald asked. He turned Raik to
face the light streaming through the window and studied his
eyes.

"Yer eyes change like they are meant to do.
'Tis safe if ye require rest."

"Nay. I slept soundly."

He stood and removed his shirt with Ranald's
help. After his last garment dropped to the floor, he secured a
drying cloth around his waist.

Water splashed when he stepped into the tub
and leaned back against the wooden rim. Catalin gently placed a
folded cloth pad behind his neck then removed the bindings around
his shoulder.

"Who closed your wound? I thought only Ranald
could pull flesh together in such a neat way." Catalin sounded
surprised as she carefully began removing stitches from Raik's
flesh.

"Baron de Burgh's haughty wife."

"Letia? Why did she not tell me? Had she told
me so when I sent a missive asking if they had seen you, we would
not have worried."

"Does anyone ever know what is in that
foolish woman's mind?" He accepted a cup from Ranald, peered into
the contents and sniffed. "What is in it? I will never drink wine
again unless I see it poured and know what floats beneath the
surface."

"Hm. 'Tis naught but herbs to ease yer head
pain. Tell me what adventures ye have been about."

"Warin brought me to Seton after his man
injured me. I heard him chide the fellow, saying I was not to be
harmed." He took several swallows of wine, not minding the taste of
the herbs. "I expected to awaken in the dungeons…like you warned
me. Instead, I found myself in a large bed within the keep."

"Ye are fortunate Warin is a kind man. Had it
been anyone else, they would have shackled ye in a cell. Who cared
for ye?" Ranald asked.

"Lady Letia and the old woman Maud took care
of my wounds. His lady surprised me that she knew any womanly
traits, much less how to sew stitches with such skill."

"They treated ye well?" Ranald asked.

"Aye. But they kept a guard at my door. The
man refused to bring my clothing or allow me to leave the
room."

"Humpf. I can understand why," Catalin said,
smiling down at him as she picked up a cloth and soaped it.

"Oh? For what reason, then?"

"No doubt the baron feared you would cause
trouble amongst the men of his keep if the women took to climbing
into your bed." Catalin tilted her head when Raik frowned.

"Ye let a lone guard stand between ye and
where yer coc.., er, yer tarse leads?" Broccin flashed his
daughter-by-law a mischievous grin.

Raik snorted. "I was not without bed
sport."

Catalin carefully washed the new scar while
the two men talked. Raik would have thought she was not listening,
but he knew she did.

"Warin allowed the women to revel in yer
skillful hands?" Ranald's voice sounded like he held back a laugh.
"No wonder ye took yer time returning to Hunter."

"Nay, not women. One woman alone."

"Ah. Who was she? A lonely widow no one else
could satisfy but ye? Was she comely?" Broccin's eyes glittered
with interest.

"I dinna know. I never saw her." Raik
muttered.

"How could ye tup a woman and not see her?
Were yer eyes bound?" Broccin rocked back on his stool.

"Nay. They took the candles from my room soon
after darkness fell."

Catalin's hands paused. He studied her. Why
had she stopped?

"Hm. Lean forward and I'll knead your neck
and shoulder muscles." As she scooted to the end of the tub, he saw
the questioning look she flashed at Ranald.

"There is more here than ye are tellin',
Raik. Best spill it all." Ranald face was a quiet mask as he sat
back on his haunches.

Raik heaved a gusty sigh, relieving his
tension. Ranald might help him make sense of it.

"Women were allowed to visit my room
throughout the day. The guard insisted the door stayed wide open.
He stood where he could see within. He had no need at first, for I
was hurting too much to pay heed to my tarse."

"So when did the visits start?" Ranald's face
looked as puzzled as he felt himself.

"When my fevers broke. Late each day, old
Maud brought my evening meal. At nightfall, she delivered wine,
cheese and hot bread afore I settled to go to sleep. About four
nights ago, I began having dreams of the most wondrous sort.
Flashes of colors floated about the room so beautiful anyone would
pay their last coin to have clothing made like them. They twisted
and clung around a woman.

"Never have I held such passion in my arms.
Her body was perfect. I judged she was tall. Willowy." He stopped
and frowned. "Not like Muriele. With more flesh on her body. Her
arms were especially firm."

He rolled his shoulders to remind Catalin to
resume her pleasant massage on the base of his neck.

"Did she talk to you? Could you not tell from
her voice?"

"Nay. Only a word now and again. Very low.
Our bed sport was most lively and pillows and sheets ended on the
floor. I awoke each morn to a perfectly made bed. Someone had
straightened the covers."

"Are ye sure ye didna dream the woman?"
Ranald grinned down at him.

"Nay. It was no dream. I said I awoke to a
perfectly made bed. Except for my pillow. I clutched it in my arms,
my face against it. It held the scent of lilies. The bed linens
smelled of the sun's freshness."

The soothing hands on his neck near clutched
him. He sat up, splashing water out over the tub's rims and faced
her.

"Do ye have an idea who she was,
Catalin?"

"Nay. I but feared you had dreams of a woman
who was not there. Mayhap 'twas a succubus..." She grabbed a small
glob of soap and gently started to wash his hair.

Raik laughed. "'Nay. 'Twas no female demon
who swived me in my sleep."

"Ha! Likely, they laced yer wine with white
poppy to aid yer sleep. That would account for the vivid colors."
Ranald nodded. "And the dreams of perfect bed sport."

"Nay. I didn't imagine the scent on my
pillow. And this past night, when Maud brought my nighttime wine
and cheese, I inspected each little thing afore I ate it. I poured
the wine in my basin. 'Twas then I knew they had put something in
it. I emptied it into the piss pot and went to bed.

"As usual, she came to me in the middle of
the night. I pretended the sounds of a man sleeping deeply. Tossed
about. Even snored a little. I waited until she slid between the
sheets and wrapped herself around me. Then I tried to drag her to
the window. There was just enough moonlight that I could see her
face."

"Who was she?" Catalin stopped all pretense
of washing his hair and stretched around to stare at his face.

"I dinna know. She screamed. Soon after,
something crashed into the back of my head. The next I knew, I
awoke fully dressed on the forest floor. Sword and all. Storm was
tied to a nearby branch."

"I canna believe Warin would treat ye so
shabbily." Ranald's lips had thinned to a white line, his eyes
heated with anger.

"Not so shabbily," Raik felt he had to add.
"A flask of water rested against my side. He left men to guard me,
too."

"How do ye know that?" Ranald's voice was
harsh.

"The dead louts. Two of them. With arrows in
their chests that I didn't place there. After I awoke and started
to make my way here, I heard horse's hooves leaving."

"Well, now, I hope this will end these
terrible games you and Warin play," Catalin scolded as she poured
rinse water over Raik's head and shoulders. "Grown men are worse
than children. Always looking for trouble."

Broccin stood and stretched, then spied ale
and cups waiting atop a table across the room. Going over to it, he
filled three of the cups and waited.

"Best ye get out of the water, lad. Ye dinna
want yer ballocks shriveled to dried fruit."

"Help him out, please," Catalin asked
Ranald's squire. She eyed the neatly folded, colorful garments the
squire had selected. "Ranald said you were to visit Muriele, Raik.
How did you find her?"

"She is well. Her hair grows. Sun turns it to
spun gold." He felt a pang, for he had not thought of Muriele after
he arrived at Seton.

"Did she accept yer suit?" Ranald stared at
him and quietly awaited his answer.

"Your suit?" Catalin swung around quite
gracefully for an increasing woman. "Oops!" She giggled and turned
her back to him.

Raik grabbed a drying cloth from the squire's
hand, feeling his face flush. Were she to tell of it, a shriveled
cock wouldn't heighten his reputation.

"Ye distract the man, Catalin. What suit,
Ranald?" Broccin asked.