Seduced (9 page)

When an aim struck him squarely, no one
laughed harder than Giles himself. He made a deep, sweeping bow and
flashed his bright, toothy smile at the child being admired.

By the time all the rotted missiles were
gone, Letia's sides ached from laughing. She sent the children to
wash up before collecting their hot scones at the cookhouse.

o0o

"'Twas kind of you to offer yourself as an
added target, Giles."

Letia stood on a mounting block. As two boys
from the stable filled buckets of water from the horse trough, she
poured them over Giles head.

"Better wormy fruit than a bladder of piss,"
he said, grinning at her while swiping water from his eyes.

"Aye. But you'd best give your tunic to the
baker's daughter once we are done."

He cocked his head as if he did not know to
whom she referred.

"You cannot pretend you have not noted her.
You near drooled on your tunic when she sat for the noon meal."

His reddened face rivaled the apple skins
floating in the puddle at his feet.

Hearing the mournful wail of the injured
beast in the woods, Letia stood still, as did everyone going about
their business in the front bailey.

After the evening meal, she and Warin would
take their next offering to the beast. She planned to dose the meat
with a sleeping potion so the men could safely bring it inside the
curtain walls. If she could help it, she would, regardless of the
man in the locked room. But if Julian had too sorely wounded the
beast, it would be kinder to end its suffering.

The animal looked to have been magnificent
before his injuries. His body was much larger than any ordinary
dog. His back looked to be higher than her hip. Who was it. . .?
What god had such a dog? Maud had oft told her about Saxon legends
when she was growing up. Her mind searched and quickly
remembered.

"Woden!" she shouted as she emptied another
bucket over Giles. The young man jerked and turned his startled
face up to her.

"Lady, do ye require aid, or is it a war ye
plan?"

"No war. At least for the moment. Maud used
to tell me stories of the gods when I was young. I remembered what
drew my interest when I saw our howling beastie."

"The beast reminded ye of Woden?" His head
tilted in question.

"Nay. The god Woden had two giant wolves,
Freki and Geri, to keep him from loneliness. Two black ravens,
Hugin and Munin, scouted ahead for food as they traveled. The birds
were forever hungry. Ravenous. 'Tis why they are called
ravens."

She raised her hand and with her forefinger
extended, made a twirling motion with it, bidding him to turn his
back. When he did so, she gathered her skirts above her ankles then
placed one hand on his sturdy shoulder. He took half a step forward
and halted. When he did, she jumped down from the block, using her
grip on him to steady herself.

o0o

Raik did not lack for anything to occupy his
mind. Soon after the noon hour, the young laundress arrived with
fresh linens. Startled, she stopped inside the doorway, blocking
two servants behind her. One carried a pitcher of ale, the other a
heavy tray.

"Did ye wrestle a demon whilst ye napped, my
lord?" As she came into the room, she eyed the crumpled sheets
piled in the middle of the bed. The two young women who followed
looked him over and giggled as they placed his food on the
table.

Raik winced when he shrugged. English lasses
were a strange lot. They snickered for no reason.

"I sewed yer tunic. 'Tis not decent for ye to
stride around covered with naught but a too-short drying cloth,"
the laundress said. Her gaze dropped to the edge of his
covering.

He held his hand over his stomach to keep the
cloth there, then with legs slightly apart, bent over. Were he a
modest man, what he displayed would embarrass him. She laughed
behind him. He had just bared the hairy ballocks swinging betwixt
his legs.

He sprang upright.

"'Tis no wonder the maids fight to bring ye
water." She winked broadly and handed him his tunic. "Get about yer
work now," she ordered the girls. They turned and scurried from the
room, stopping at the door for another appreciative look.

He examined the fine stitching and tossed her
a kiss. Carefully, he tugged the tunic over his head and settled it
on his body before removing the drying cloth.

Raik studied the platter heaped with pigeon
pie, a roasted capon, beans and purplish red carrots lathered with
honey and cinnamon. A wedge of cheese, two apples and a plum stood
beside them. The wonderful smell of hot bread led him to follow his
nose to large scones wrapped tightly in linen. He groaned with
delight. He had a weakness for freshly baked scones.

"So yer mistress doesna plan to starve me
after all? Porridge wasna a hearty meal for a wounded man to break
his fast."

At Raptor, he had not hidden his disapproval
of Lady Letia. If she knew he favored hot scones, she would not
have provided them. He sensed her dislike for him. Had noted she
steeled herself to touch him. He grabbed a scone and took a huge
bite. His groan of pleasure brought a grin to the laundress'
face.

"Ye were lucky cook hid them for ye, else ye
would be eating brown bread."

"Hid them? Why should she hide them?"

"The small ones were gifted scones as prizes
for their hard work this morn."

"Children must work?" That didna fit with
what he had seen of the too-soft baron and his wife.

"All children here must work, though the
mistress makes it seem more a game that they play with her." Seeing
his questioning look, she added, "They learn to sling."

"What are their ages?"

"At five years of age, they start getting
used to the feel of the slings and tossing small stones. By the
time they reach ten, they have become skillful. By twelve, they are
accurate."

"How does she make it a game?" He talked
around a mouthful of pigeon pie then took a swallow of ale to wash
it down.

She grinned as she described this day's
practice as seen with the other women watching from atop the corner
tower. The mothers all had great pride when their child performed,
for Letia made over each one as if they were the best in the land.
Describing Giles' antics, she laughed aloud.

So. That was the reason she was atop that
mounting block. He had watched, frowning, because the squire didn't
go to the barracks to cleanse himself. Thinking on the worms
bombarding the squire's clothing, his nose wrinkled. He didn't like
the nasty things.

What had they talked about that brought such
a bright smile to her lips? She had gazed down at the young man and
her throaty laughter had floated up to him. He took another swig of
ale, his irritation mounting.

Every man in the bailey, and even those
standing guard atop the battlements, had taken their eyes from
their work to watch their mistress. No doubt, more than one was
awash with love for her.

Warin should keep his wife within the
keep.

He refused to let himself admire her teaching
the young ones a skill.

When he realized the laundress had continued
talking, he stopped still when some of her words seeped into his
mind.

"Did ye just say yer mistress caused sheep
bladders filled with piss to splatter Lord Julian?"

"Aye, she did. 'Twas Giles and the other
squires who provided the, er, missiles. Lord Ranald was right
surprised our lady had such an accurate aim."

Raik did not speak, picturing Julian's wrath.
He admired the deed; he didna admire the deliverer. No woman should
have done such. If Julian ever learned who caused it, there was
nothing, no matter how vile, he would not do to seek revenge.

No longer hungry, he stopped eating and noted
the girl changing the covering on his pillow.

He near stopped her. He didn't. She would
think it strange if he protested.

o0o

Throughout the afternoon, more than one woman
made her way to his room. He smiled and welcomed them, talking of
things of interest to women. All had heard rumors of his liking of
colorful garments, and he spoke to them about the different dyes
and cloths.

He had hoped the men standing guard would be
distracted. But though they kept the door wide open whilst women
were within, the men did not relax their stance.

It seemed everyone was curious about the
Scotsman their baron had brought home after a raid. He gathered
that if he had not been cousin to Ranald of Hunter Castle,
doubtless he would be in the dungeons awaiting ransom.

That gave him pause. He was strong enough to
ride Storm, so why did they not release him? If they had no other
reason to keep him. He could make it to Hunter Castle and Ranald's
care. Mayhap they
were
waiting for a ransom?

Late that day, he paced the room, swung his
good, left arm and kept himself moving. Though he still felt his
full strength had not returned, he feared if they confined him
longer than his injury required, it would weaken him. Were he with
Ranald, he would be on the practice field swinging his shield to
block Ranald's sword.

Kept in this room, he felt useless. Unmanned,
nearly. Guarded by youths and having women pawing over his body.
Well, not pawing exactly. Thinking of Letia of Seton's beauty, he
felt it a shame that it was not. The memory of her soft hands on
his flesh made his belly tighten, his groin to grow hot.

How would those same hands feel on his
stomach, making their way down to his cock? At the thought, it
stirred and filled.

To his disgust.

He bent over, touched the floor with his left
hand, squatted, touched the floor again and then rose. He repeated
the routine until he tired of it. It didn't work. A vision of soft
white hands touching his cock sprang it to eager attention.

Again.

Breathing heavily, Raik stretched out on the
cold floor and used his stomach muscles to rise to a sitting
position then slowly reclined again. He repeated the ritual until
his muscles burned. Finally, he pulled a stool over and sat,
seeking distraction as he studied the bailey below.

People came and went from the nearby village,
some bringing carts spilling over with produce. The castle cook
inspected the vegetables and fruits, taking near all with a
cheerful smile. The smell of baking wafted through the air,
straight to his nose. He stared around the walled area looking for
the bread oven but did not spy it. Perchance the wind carried it
from the other side of the bailey?

In the distance was the common grazing land
where he and his men had selected the largest cows. He frowned,
thinking about the prizes that he had failed to drive back to
Hunter Castle. Knowing Ranald's wife, she would have shaken her
head, looked up at the ceiling and then scolded him. She thought
'twas too dangerous a game he and Warin played. Ranald didn't
approve, either.

Come to think on it, mayhap they were
right?

Restless again, he dropped to the floor and
used his left arm to do pushups. By the time he finished, he was
tired enough he could enjoy the tray of steaming foods the servants
brought to him.

Now that he had subdued his urges, he enjoyed
leisurely dining on savory stew served in a large wooden bowl.
Breaking hunks off half a loaf of the hot bread he had smelled
earlier, he sopped up the juices and washed it all down with potent
ale. Leaning back, he stretched his legs before attacking half an
apple pie.

No sooner had he finished his meal and a
servant took the tray away, Leofwan, leading men carrying a bathing
tub and hot water, arrived. Never had he expected such courtesy.
While he soaked in the tub, he found Leofwan was as adept at
scraping the hair from Raik's cheeks with his left hand as any man
using both.

He was certainly friendly enough. They were
soon talking about their favorite weapons. Leofwan preferred using
a sword with his left hand, a mace and the two-headed flail. Raik
preferred the Claymore and the iron war hammer.

'Twas the best conversation he'd had since
leaving Ranald outside Seton. He regretted the man's leaving, for
he would have liked to question him further. Come to think on it,
everything Raik had asked about the freedom the Lady of the keep
enjoyed, Leofwan had parried so skillfully that only now did he
realize it.

He strolled over and tested the wine and
cheese left there. The fruity red wine was just sweet enough to
enhance the taste of the sharp cheese. He must tell Ranald about
the wine. It tasted of plums. He had spied fruit trees aplenty,
dark plums being among them. Perhaps someone here made it?

Finishing the wine, he peered out the window
and looked below. Nothing to catch his interest, for naught but
black night showed there. He pulled off his tunic and stretched out
on the bed.

Crossing his arms beneath his head, he stared
unseeing at the ceiling.

Visions of Lady Letia's stormy eyes brought a
frown to his face.

Lucifer's hairy balls!

He was hard as his sword's shaft.

Again.

Letia swallowed, took a deep breath and
opened Raik's chamber door a crack. Silence greeted her. She turned
her head and nodded to Maud before entering with no more than the
soft rustle of her cloak to announce her.

Raik's light snores led her straight to the
bed. Thank heaven Leofwan had again removed the candle. The room
was as dark as the moonless night outside the keep. She would have
but two more nights of the blindfolded moon, and then she could not
depend on clouds to keep the room in darkness.

Listening to the heavy, masculine sounds of
his breathing, her heart's beating quickened. Was he sleeping too
soundly to be of use to her? She cringed, thinking on it this way.
Catalin had told her of Raik, of how he had vowed never to breed a
bastard like himself.