Seduced (8 page)

"Better the beast starved than he feasted on
yer bowels, lady," Raik's irate voice said on the other side of the
door.

Letia frowned as she entered.

"You should not be prowling around the room,
Sir Raik. You are just a day from the fevers and are weak."

She set a handful of clean, wrapped linens on
the table. His bed looked like, like... She turned her back to him
and motioned to Maud with her eyes. Had they not changed the
bedding after she had left?

He silently walked closer to her. A flush
crept up her throat and heated her face. Was the full-of-himself
Scot strutting about naked? She stole a glance from the corner of
her eye.

"Ye blush. I didna think ye were the sort to
shift yer eyes from a naked man."

"You are not naked." Letia frowned.

"And ye are disappointed?"

"That is fool's talk. Why would you think
it?"

"Ye frowned."

She sucked her teeth. If it were true, she
would hardly be disappointed from the view. Raik was a fine-bodied
man, as fine and strong as the warhorse he rode. From what she had
seen when tending his wounds, and what she had felt last night, she
did not have to gaze at him to see his body.

He stretched his arms out, bent his elbows
and lifted his hands as if he asked her a question with them. His
muscles bunched at the shoulders and he flinched, bringing her
thoughts back to where they belonged.

"Are ye through, lady?"

"Through? Sit. I have not even looked at your
shoulder today. You should not stretch the wound, for it is only
now growing together."

As he padded over to sit on the chair beside
the window, she studied him. His skin, a deep brown from the sun,
was firm over a broad, muscled chest that tapered to a flat, hard
belly. A drying cloth covered what had given her such pleasure
during the night.

She steeled herself to approach him. Maud had
placed all she needed there on the table, close to Letia's hands.
The knot that held the bandage around his shoulder and chest had
pulled tight during his fervor the past night. She had to cut it
away.

He had loomed over her in the dark, his arms
on either side of her head. Doing so had stretched the bandage to
its limit. Her hands began to tremble.

She motioned for Maud to finish removing it
as she stood behind him. 'Twould be dangerous if he learned she was
afeared of him. Glancing up, she met Giles' questioning look. To
quiet any suspicion he might harbor, she curled her lip when she
looked at Raik's back and shook her head, acting as if she would as
soon not touch the man.

A shaft of sunlight fell on Raik's head,
highlighting his shiny long hair. It was healthy and full, a deep
brown. Where the sun struck it, it appeared near black.

Once Maud removed the bindings, Letia washed
her hands in the basin Giles brought to her. She cautiously peeled
off the pads covering the wound. She worked down to the last one
then stopped.

Guilt gave her a sharp twinge, for dried
blood held the cloth to his flesh.

"You should not have banged on the door
earlier," Giles scolded. "You made your wound bleed."

"That puny exercise didna make it bleed,"
Raik muttered.

"Well, then, what..."

"Giles, empty the basin," Letia interrupted.
"I need hot water."

Silently, he tossed the water out the window
opening and did as she asked. Holding a clean pad of linen with her
fingertips, she dunked it in the water and drew it back.

Below full, black brows, Raik's gaze drew
hers to meet his. They were strange eyes. She had heard that if you
stared into them, they could hold a person in a trance. Likely,
naught but lust-smitten women felt so. Not tempting fate, she
spared him no more than quick glances.

"What flowers do ye grow in yer garden,
lady?"

Puzzled, she glanced up to find him staring
at her.

"As many as we can coax to grow."

"What, then, are yer favorites?"

She bit her lower lip, thinking. Mayhap he
felt the need to talk after being in this room alone. Nay. The man
was not pining for someone to talk with. Near every woman in the
keep added his room to their rounds each day. 'Twas a wonder they
did not trip over each other in their comings and goings. She
huffed and then shook her head.

"Ye snorted! Does that mean ye leave the
choice of flowers to someone who enjoys womanly things?"

Her head whipped up and she glared at him.
"We all see to the gardens. Each of us has beds of our favorite
blooms."

"And what grows in your own plot, lady?"

She laid the hot, wet cloth atop the dried
bandage and waited for it to do its work. His hands spread wide; he
raised them awaiting her answer.

"Great beds of herbs. And every medicinal or
useful plant that does not die if grown in a planned garden. Many
must grow in the wild, though. I gather them at the right time of
the sun or moon."

"'Tis surprising. Ye have no flowers of yer
own choice?"

"Lilies and wild roses. Iris. Sweet violets.
All depend on the times of the year. "

"I ken the rose is yer favorite."

Startled, she blurted out, "Why so?"

"Thorns."

She snorted again.

The flesh twitched around his wound. Was the
cloth too hot? Ready to snatch it away if it pained him unduly, she
looked up. Blue eyes calmly watched her. Her gaze shifted down to
his nose. That, too, was beautiful. Hm. She dared a glance at his
lips. He had pinched them together earlier. Not so now. They were
soft and sensual...

"That was a right dafty thing ye did this
morn." Raik ground out the harsh words between clenched teeth. His
handsome face had turned heavy with censure.

"Dafty? To feed a starving animal?"

"Aye. Only a foolish woman would do
such."

"Oh. Then a wise woman would have left him to
starve?" she spluttered. "To die of his wounds?"

His face turned stony; his eyes glared at
her.

She yanked the bandage off his shoulder. His
muscles jerked under her hands. She heard a sharp intake of air
through his teeth. She could not believe what she had just done.
Blood welled from several stitches. They showed signs that they had
near ripped out last night.

"I ken ye wished Warin had left me in the
woods to bleed to death?"

Though she had expected only anger, she heard
humor in his voice.

Raik arched his brows high. And waited for an
answer.

"Nay. I would not wish it so."

He nodded.

Letia motioned for Giles to bring her larger
medicinal supplies from outside the door. Maud had caused the
carpenter to build her a wide box with sides no higher than her
finger's length. He had lined it with leather inside and out. The
inside held separate boxed compartments where she placed various
sizes of clay pots, vials and jars, all with tops to keep them
fresh.

She searched through the assortment there and
selected a leather pouch with
Harebell
scratched in
charcoal on its side. She withdrew roots cleaned of any dirt and
put them in a small bowl with hot water to soak.

Turning, she saw Raik's questioning eyes.

"'Tis what you call Scottish Bluebell. We
find them growing wild amid un-reaped grass in the fields. 'Tis
best for healing wounds. It slows blood loss and soothes wound
fevers," she murmured then nodded her head for emphasis.

While the roots soaked, she selected a jar,
lifted off the wax stopper and used a small, broad knife to spread
some of the salve within onto a strip of linen.

He gripped her wrist and brought the knife up
to sniff what was left there.

"A salve mixed with Moneywort. The herb will
keep poisons from the wound," she explained.

He released her wrist. Without speaking more,
she spread the cloth over his wound. Atop, she added a layer of the
softened roots then linen to hold everything in place.

As her hands worked high on his shoulder,
they brushed against his jaw. The raspy feel of hair there made her
hand tremor. It must have affected him in some way, too, for his
nostrils quivered and he looked as if about to take a deep breath
near her skin. She jerked her hand away.

The pit of her stomach tingled on remembering
that after he suckled her breasts, his unshaven face had caused her
flesh to look burned from the sun. In the few times she had seen
him over the past year, he was always clean of any facial hair.
Leofwan handled this for Warin. She would ask his aid.

Thinking on that other beastie, the black one
outside the gate, she would plan with Warin on how she could win
the beasts trust so she could help it. She blinked in surprise. In
her worry over the animal, she had forgotten to avoid Raik's eyes.
She blinked again, nodded and started to turn to flee the room.

His big hand grasped her arm, stopping
her.

"Ye are not to try capturing that black
beastie."

"Who are you to say what I may and may not
do?" Her anger leapt at his arrogant demand.

Raik's jaw jutted; his lips thinned to a
disapproving line.

"You are but a woman." His voice became
harsh. "And one who thinks to use a man's position. Someone needs
to take you in hand and teach you your place."

"Someone? I have no need of
someone
,
my lord. I listen to my husband and to no other man. Do not hold
your breath waiting for me to obey you, you swellheaded Scot! You
are not and never would be my husband. Not even by the king's
command!"

At his amused bark of laughter, she turned
and near ran from the room, leaving Maud to finish the
bandaging.

Letia's burst of anger amused Raik as nothing
had since leaving Raptor. For all her attempts to appear as braw as
a warrior, she had much to learn of the ways of the world. Had her
father and Warin indulged her whims so rashly that the silly woman
thought she could disregard a king's command?

He did not envy the man who must one day take
Warin's place.

That poor wretch would have his hands
full.

"What is it, my sweet?" Warin put his arm
around Letia's shoulders when they met in the lower bailey.

"The Scot thinks women are useful only to
grow flowers and see to men's wounds." Feeling Warin pat her
shoulder, she reached up to put her hand over his. "Am I a foolish
woman for wanting to protect those I love?"

"Nay. Far from foolish. You are a helpmate
any man would be proud to call his."

"You do not think me fanciful because I felt
the black beastie called me to help him?" She studied his eyes to
find if he was humoring her or if he spoke the truth.

"Nay, wife. You are well used to caring for
the helpless. 'Tis in your nature to protect them."

When they stopped, he seemed to pick his
words carefully.

"You must always be wary of an injured
beast…or man. They will oft bite the hand that helps them. Never
seek to aid either without someone at your back with a ready sword,
beloved."

Nodding, she smiled up at him. "I was on my
way to oversee the children's sling practice. They are full of
excitement. I promised each could have something special to toss
this day." She lifted a good-sized sack and spread open the top so
he could see within. She laughed aloud at the surprised look in his
eyes.

"Rotted fruit?"

"Aye. When they sling the small stones, it is
difficult to see if their aim is accurate. Giles borrowed one of
the targets of a man's outline." She pointed to the figure standing
in the center of the grassy field. "Fruit splattering on it is
easier seen. Cook promised each child who strikes the target a hot
berry scone as prize. They will all get one regardless, but they do
not know it."

"Enjoy the wee ones, then." He smiled,
touched her cheek and turned to head for the stables.

Letia heard the children's chatter and lifted
a hand to shield her eyes. In their excitement, they were hopping
about the wall walk on the left of the bailey. Smiling, she climbed
the stone stairway leading up to it.

A chorus of squeals and bragging amongst the
ten children met her. She taught them in groups with others of
similar ages. This day, her niece stood quietly off to herself. Her
shining cinnamon hair and freckles was a reminder of the man who
fathered her.

"Look what Cook gave us to practice with,"
Letia called out. When she placed her offering on the stone
walkway, the children near fell over each others back trying to see
what lay there.

"Yew! Apples! They have worms," one girl
squealed. She squatted down, her arms pressed on her knees so she
could get a closer look.

"Radish with green stuff growing on them," a
boy with black hair pointed a pudgy finger at them.

"I want a plum! It will cover the target with
more worms than yer apple," a scrawny boy decided.

"First you must each take turns hitting the
target with your stones. Line up, now, smallest to tallest." She
waited while the children scrambled to do as she said. "Giles made
piles of ten stones for each of you. You must call out the number
each time you load your sling. Ready?"

The children pulled their slings from their
pockets and swung them back and forth with gusto. One by one, they
moved forward, loaded a stone in their sling and called out its
number. They swung their sling back and forth until comfortable
then released their stone. All craned their necks to see if it hit
the target.

Letia praised each one. If they did not hit
their goal, she pointed out how close it was or found some praise
for their effort. By the time each had ten turns, their aim was
more accurate.

When time to use the rotted fruit, Giles ran
down the stairs and jumped around in front of the target, acting
like a lad with little wit. The children stood where they could
see. One after the other squealed as they loaded their sling and
let their missile fly.