Seduced (3 page)

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
mouth 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.

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?

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.