Seduced (20 page)

Everywhere she went that day, Freki followed.
He seemed as lost and lonely as she felt. Mayhap she should not
have banished him from the bedchamber. He kept to the edges of her
space. If she was alone, he ventured to stand close at her side.
Any time someone approached her, a disapproving grumble hummed low
in his throat. Her fingertips on his head quieted him. By
nightfall, he acted as if he had finished his mourning and was back
to being Letia's shadow.

For the next several days, pressure built so
strongly in Letia's belly that she could hardly walk. The day she
spied Ranald's warriors riding toward Seton, she heaved a thankful
sigh. She stood with Leofwan and Edmond at her side to greet Sir
Domnall, the competent knight who had trained Ranald to be a
warrior. After they made all the arrangements for the men's
comfort, Letia was more than ready to leave Seton in the three
men's competent hands.

The babe felt twice as heavy as before. Freki
whined and near plastered himself to her side. Leofwan sensed the
change and summoned Maud. She and Giles walked with her to her
bedchamber. By the time she reached there, her back ached, her
knees weakened and Maud called for the midwife to seek her
advice.

They put Letia to bed and dosed her with
herbs, hoping to lull the babe into staying within its nest until
its full time.

He was demanding and stubborn and would have
none of it. She was shamed to hear her screams sounding like a
woman daft with fear. For all his demanding an early entrance, two
days later tiny Aubrey howled with rage at leaving her warm
body.

Though the babe was small, his determination
was as great as his mother's was. The utter joy of holding her son
made up for his surprising arrival.

o0o

As was her usual habit when in charge of the
castle, she wore clothes much like Giles. For near two months, a
sea of tents covered much of the cleared land outside the castle
walls. As he had promised Warin, Ranald had provided more than
enough men to protect Seton. 'Twas not them Letia objected to early
one foggy morn.

The Raptor's men were welcome.

The approaching men were not.

She shivered at the ominous sight of sixty or
more warriors galloping through the thick morning fog, escorted by
Ranald's Black Raptor patrols. A herald rode at their head, waving
a red banner aloft.

Julian did not lead the men. 'Twas someone
she feared even more.

The Scotsman.

The brilliant yellow gryphon at the red
banner's center, its beak stretched wide as if screeching, appeared
to fly through the heavy mist toward them. She needed no more
warning than that. She felt Raik's presence even afore she could
make out his massive form seated on the great dun destrier.

Letia gulped. She was not ready for him. Too
many things in too short a time had happened.

The horsemen, surrounded by swirling clouds
of fog, cantered smoothly in a straight line up to the ditch. When
he found no drawbridge spanned the empty space, the herald's horse
near skidded to a stop.

"Edmund, do not lower the drawbridge," Letia
ordered from the shadows. "I do not want him inside the castle
walls."

"But, Lady, 'tis not Julian of Durham but
Lord Ranald's cousin Raik?" His voice rose in disbelief. "He comes
with King Stephen's herald and escort."

Leofwan's face was grim with disapproval.
"Resistance will be futile and could cause a siege. As Seton's new
baron, Lord Raik has the power of the king behind him.

She really had meant to heed Leofwan, but
fear kept her from it. Too well, she remembered when men had taken
over her home long ago and she had witnessed their brutal ways.

Raik's coming was no surprise.

She had expected it. Dreaded it.

"Do you go back on your vow to your late
husband?" Leofwan's words were clipped and cold.

"I intended to keep my promise to Warin.
Until
he
appeared. If he would go away for a while, I
could fortify myself to surrender the castle.

Her heart pounded with fear of the man below.
Never had she been such a weakling. She hid behind Edmund,
something she had never done. Leofwan refused to take part in her
defiance.

The drawbridge stayed up, the castle barred
to Raik.

"Open in the name of King Stephen!"

"Lady?" Edmund twisted his head to look back
at her.

She gulped and shook her head. "I cannot. Not
today. Mayhap tomorrow."

Ranald's man, Sir Domnall, raised his brows,
startled that she denied Raik entrance.

"Fetch yer man in charge of the castle's
defenses," Raik's voice roared from below.

Edmund stepped forward. "I have received my
orders. They are to secure the castle. For now."

"Do ye think yerself canny enough to keep me
camped outside the walls? What do ye do when Sir Julian arrives? He
will be hot for Seton once he kens the lady Letia is a widow."

Heaven help her.

"Dinna try my patience! Yer mistress is but a
weak woman who has not the right to defy me. Lower the drawbridge
and raise the portcullis. Now!"

She flinched at Raik's bellowed order. Anger
and disgust flowed from him like a forceful wave, surrounding her
with heat. Were he his cousin Ranald, his anger would cause a wind
such that Edmund would have needed to anchor her to his side.

Nay, he did not cause wind to blow. But his
words did ignite her anger. She would not take orders from him.

He was a barbaric Scot!

Mayhap she was not in her right mind. From
the startled way the warriors guarding the walls looked at her, it
seemed likely. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leofwan
motioning Sir Domnall to stay back.

She gritted her teeth, whipped out an arrow,
armed the bow, stepped forward and quickly released it. The arrow
zinged through the air heading directly at Raik's shoulder.

His shield flashed. The arrow vibrated from
the forceful strike.

She quickly sent arrows flying in a near
constant stream until there were no more.

Raik's nostrils flared, his lips curled as a
deep-throated snarl rumbled from his chest. Ranald's men were
likely laughing so hard they pissed themselves. They wouldn't
interfere unless he ordered them. Cursed Lucifer! He would go to
Hades and back afore he'd call on them.

Sweat trickled down his back, off his
chin.

His arse felt like he'd been in the saddle
for a sennight.

His hands fisted with suppressed fury.

This month past, King Stephen had ordered him
to the English court. When he learned the king was appointing him
baron of Seton, he was as elated as if he had drunk potent wine.
Until the king told of the conditions to Raik's new honors. They
might as well have laced his wine with mandrake.

Now some fool rained arrows down at him. As
one hit his shield, he glanced to see where the archer aimed then
whipped his shield to waylay the next. Though the fog hid the man's
face, he realized he was the only target. With his swift maneuvers
to thwart the arrows, the edges of his shield rang against his
chain mail.

'Twas strange. The archer took great care not
to injure Storm. The horse moved restlessly beneath him.

Finally, the arrows stopped. Looking up, he
spied someone duck behind Edmund's bulk.

Hearing a gurgle beside him, he lowered his
shield to glare at Cormac, his friend and first in command. The
man's mouth clamped shut, but his lips stretched in an amused grin.
Behind him, men coughed and near strangled with the need to
laugh.

It didn't help his temper.

"Do ye think me so foolish as to be chased
off by some foolish squire who does not yet shave?" The muscles in
his neck strained. Inside his sweaty helmet, his bellowed words
vibrated against his ears. His temper near reached the point of
rage.

"I but follow orders from my commander,"
Edmund called back.

"Then ye have a fool for a commander!"

He turned to the king's scribe and motioned
for him to show himself. The man's palfrey pranced forward. Sitting
tall with pride, his face haughty, the scribe whipped up his arms
and held aloft the scroll tied with purple ribbons and bearing the
king's seal. He twirled it with great dignity so Edmund could see
it from all angles, then bowed in his saddle and backed his horse
into line.

Storm stomped his front hooves, digging holes
in the ground in his impatience.

The familiar creaking and groans of the
drawbridge lowering drowned out all other sounds. When it was off
the ground as high as a man's knees, it dropped with a thud that
shook the earth beneath them and sent puffs of fog flying.

Raik slapped the reins and tightened his
thigh, urging Storm forward. The screeching of the portcullis as it
inched upward to its hiding place within the barbican walls near
muffled their horses' hooves.

As it slowly clambered upward, Raik didn't
wait for it to finish but leaned forward over Storm's neck to pass
beneath the lethal iron teeth. Did they want to kill him, they
could release the portcullis to slam down, pinning him and Storm in
its toothy jaws. Once clear, he sprang upright in his saddle and
studied the murder holes above and the arrow slits on each side of
the long entranceway. His skin prickled, noting light didn't stream
through. Armed archers stood behind them.

His jaw squared and his eyes hooded. If they
met an assault when entering the bailey, he would squelch it afore
it got out of hand. Should the need arise, Raik's legs firmed,
ready to guide his horse into battle maneuvers. His right hand
caressed his sword hilt while the fingers of his left flexed on his
shield's grip.

His teeth ground together when he cleared the
passage. He recognized Edmund and Leofwan standing in the middle of
the first row of men facing him. Behind them, warriors and archers
streaming from the interior of the barbican and those not needed on
the wall walks, hastily formed rows.

Domnall pulled up to Raik's side, shaking his
head. As he looked at the line of Seton warriors, his brows rose in
surprise while his eyes glinted with suppressed mirth.

The warriors atop the battlements remained on
guard. Raik nodded approval when they stayed put. His face set in a
grim line as he halted Storm not five paces from the men. He
removed his prickly-looking shield, fixed the men with his glare
and threw it to the ground. The arrows embedded in the yellow
gryphon painted there looked as if the mystical bird had sprouted
long feathers.

Studying the men, he read disapproval in
Leofwan's rigid posture and the thin set of his lips. Edmund
fidgeted and avoided meeting Raik's gaze. Edmund's left hand
reached behind him with light shoving motions. Why? Edulf stood
back and a little to his left. Raik's eyes narrowed even more. He
urged his steed forward a step. Edmund retreated a step. And
jumped, shifting his feet and quickly putting them down again. He
had stepped on someone's foot.

Raik led Storm even closer until the horse's
head was near Edmund's shoulder. He pulled the reins so Storm
nudged the warrior aside. Had someone ducked behind Edulf? He stood
in his stirrups and leaned forward. A squire, his head down, his
chin rested on his chest, hovered behind the taller man. A yellow
stain high on the left shoulder marred his tunic. Raik pressed
forward. Just as the squire attempted to run, he grabbed a fistful
of clothing at the scruff of his neck, lifting him high enough that
his feet were running in the air. Had they touched ground, no doubt
he would have streaked halfway across the bailey.

"Nay, my lord!"

"Have a care, my lord!"

Startled gasps escaped the men around him.
Huh. They thought to spare the lad a thrashing? He could wait for
that. 'Twas a more important person he needed at the moment.

Bone-chilling barks, followed by a fierce
howl rent the air.

Raik spied Freki near falling from the solar
window in the keep. The dog seemed angry and distressed. If he
didn't take care, his scrabbling against the wall inside the window
opening would cause him to catapult to his death.

"Freki! Down!"

His bellowed command interrupted the dog's
howling, but for how long?

"Keep hold of this dafty boy. I will deal
with him later."

He shoved the lad at Cormac. The boy
struggled and twisted until Cormac wriggled his brows at Raik and
grabbed the squire around the waist like a sack of flour.

Wriggled his brows? Was he feeling the
fool?

Raik pointed down at his bristling
shield.

"I would speak with the fool who commanded
the gates locked and chanced a futile siege. And I would know the
archer who meant to maim me."

Why did Leofwan grab young, hm, was it Giles,
by the shoulder to keep him from approaching?

He slowly backed Storm as he looked each man
in the eye. They were afeared. Not for themselves but fear that he
would harm the squire.

No one spoke. Many looked down at their feet.
At each other. At the sky. The younger warriors darted glances of
alarm at Cormac holding the cursing squire. He followed their
gazes.

"Put
him
on his feet." His words
came between near clamped teeth.

"'Twas I who advised Edmund," Leofwan burst
out.

Raik glared at him to remain silent and
watched as Cormac had need to swing his leg over his horses head
and slide off, hugging the captive to his side. He eased the squire
to his feet and gave him reassuring pats on the back.

Raik needed to take a slow, calming breath
before he spoke.

"I should have kenned it was the wondrously
gentle Lady Letia. Could yer maid not find suitable clothin' for ye
this morn?"

He wanted to shout and rant at her, to send
her as far from him as possible. He shuddered.