Seduced (4 page)

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.

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 giggling. 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."