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  Seduced

  Book 2 of the Raptor Castle Series

  SOPHIA JOHNSON

  THE SEDUCTION

  The most desirable woman he had ever touched, had ever longed for, was not in his imagination. Raik's lips pressed tight. His eyes narrowed. The muscles in his face became taut.

  He had spilled his seed in her. Twice. He, who had vowed never to do such. Was she fertile?

  His hands fisted. His nails dug into his palms.

  She was real. He would find her.

  And when he did...

  THE RECKONING

  He carried her pressed against his chest, struggling and fighting, toward the shaft of light. The soft glow from the moon crept up her hip, her side.

  She screamed and kicked out at the stone window ledge, forcing him back. Raik wrested her back into the faint moonlight. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her cheeks, as he relentlessly compelled her to face him.

  "Ah, lady of the night. I would see who steals into my dreams and shares my bed unbidden!" His voice rasped with fury.

  Relax and let your imagination take you into this tale of love through the ages.

  Copyright 2011 by June J. Ulrich

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  The book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, localities, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Electronic books or eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of the work.

  Cover design by Delle Jacobs

  http://www.dellejacobs.blogspot.com

  Visit the author's website at www.sophiajohnson.net

  CHAPTER 1

  Seton Castle, Northumbria, August 1144

  The agony of Hell's fires could torture me no more than what I now suffer. My dear husband asks that I do an unthinkable, sinful thing...

  Letia de Burgh forced her thoughts to a dark corner of her mind. She must deal with more pressing worries now.

  An army swarmed outside the walls of Seton Castle.

  The faint light heralding the sun's rise revealed their leader, who kept well beyond the range of Seton's archers. Julian of Chatton was there as he had been every morning for a sennight. The gold and purple trappings on the massive destrier were so impressive it made the rider appear thin and insignificant.

  "Why won't this Hell hound leave us at peace?"

  Letia scowled and pounded her fist against her thigh. From the great height of the barbican guarding the castle's entrance, she signaled her archers to release a volley over the merlons. As Julian's warriors raised their shields, the high-flying arrows sang as if swarms of giant bees rained down on them. Amidst the heavy thumps of arrows striking shields, the cries of warriors split the air as arrowheads found soft flesh. She nodded, satisfied with her archers' aims.

  "De Burgh! Raise the portcullis," Julian's gravelly voice bellowed. "I will enter. Seton belongs to me."

  Before anyone could detect it was a woman who commanded such deadly arrows into their ranks, Warin's most trusted advisor Leofwan grasped Letia's shoulder to urge her back out of sight.

  "His greed knows no bounds. He hopes the strain of constant sieges will speed Baron de Burgh from this world," he muttered in disgust.

  "My husband may be into his fiftieth year, but he still has the body of a strong warrior."

  "Aye, Lady. But does he have the sound heart of one?" His face filled with sadness.

  She ignored the question.

  He knew the answer.

  "This, this witless ass has no right to Seton!" She spluttered and thrust a finger toward the man below. "Before his death, King Henry denied he was a royal bastard." She stopped pacing and snorted, "Henry should know. He was quick enough to claim his true bastards. All twenty-four of them."

  He grunted. "Aye. 'Tis what angered Julian the most."

  Letia picked up her bow, drew an arrow from her quiver and stood behind a merlon. Peering out the embrasure to her left, she waited for a perfect shot. Impatient, her left hand flexed on her bow's grip, her right tapped the arrow against her leg.

  Attired as a young warrior, she normally had no need to hide. But Julian's instincts were much like a lean wolf long deprived of a mate. Whenever she showed herself, his eyes narrowed and his nose twitched as if he sniffed the air.

  "How I would love to send an arrow into his black heart!"

  "Ah, Beloved. You are a fierce warrior on my behalf."

  Hearing her husband's deep voice, Letia propped her bow and arrow against the stone merlon. As she turned, she tried to mask her fear for him with a cheerful expression.

  Warin de Burgh leaned heavily on his squire's arm as he stepped through the upper doorway of the barbican tower. Straightening, he squared his shoulders. Despite his pale face, he looked as sturdy and vital as the massive oak tree on the knoll behind the army.

  "My lord, surely you have not rested long enough." As she caressed his handsome cheek, liking the rough feel of his unshaven jaw, she noted the flash of pain in his blue eyes that he tried to hide with a wink.

  "Long enough," he said with a reassuring smile. "Now, that nithing Julian must see me else he will grow overbold."

  He turned to his squire waiting at his elbow, his master's helmet cradled in the crook of his arm. Taking it, Warin settled it over his long, dark-brown hair.

  "The helmet will make me more readily visible. 'Tis a shame I have never favored a beard." He arched a dark brow at Letia. "Do you think it would have made my appearance more threatening?"

  "You are fearful enough, my lord. The fool's knees would collapse if he had to meet you in open combat."

  Letia smiled and studied her husband. Thankfully, the helmet hid the silver streaks that had grown wider at his temples this past fortnight. His blue eyes were sharp and alert, his nose straight - all but for that slight mark halfway down its length. His lips were firm and unyielding. Not like when he was alone with her. Then they were soft and tilted a bit at the corners.

  Warin flashed a grin and nodded. "Let us send this whelp on his way."

  At spaced intervals along the wall, slingers stood behind the archers at the same merlons. Beside them, piles of stones stood close to baskets of arrows. At Warin's signal, the archers released their arrows. While they speeded their way to their targets, the slingers sidestepped to the low embrasure to fire their slings. Using an underhand release, they fired their stones into the mass of warriors.

  As the sun raced across the sky, Warin's face grew drawn and pinched, his movements slowed. Even so, he remained quick to take the measure of the enemy and direct his men to squelch any attempts to break into the castle.

  Letia thanked the good Lord that Julian's men were inept at handling siege engines. For that matter, they were no more experienced at scaling ladders. Able warriors were scarce and Julian was far too stingy with his coins to hire experienced knights.

  Her left arm and shoulder quivered with the strain of firing so many arrows. Though Julian ventured closer, she thought to resort to her sling instead. He thrust his fur-trimmed, green cloak back over his shoulders and removed his helmet as he waited in the midst of his favored men. A stiff breeze blew long, black hair from his face and snapped the cloak behind him.

  Letia pictured the expression on his thin face. It would not be pleasant, for he had been surprised at Seton's skillful resistance. His brown eyes would be squinted in anger, his nostrils pinched and his lips pressed together.

  She grinned, anticipa
ting the special greeting she would lob toward that hated presence below. She signaled the two slingers to her left and to her right to load their sling with their special missile.

  "It is time the sweet-smelling peacock prancing below has a bath!"

  She swung her empty sling back and forth, accustoming the muscles of her right arm to their new position. She nodded to the lad waiting beside her. The squire had more mischief in one lone fingertip than most boys had in their whole body. It was he who suggested a fitting tribute for their enemy.

  The clever squire positioned a missile in her sling's leather cradle, then stepped away giving her ample room. She nodded to the two grinning men on either side of her, rocking their own readied slings. She swung her own in short arcs then stepped up to the embrasure.

  "A present, lout! Wear it in good health," she hollered.

  With one quick swing of her arm backward, she slammed it forward. Her finger and thumb holding the knot of the release cord opened at the right moment, and her gift to Julian flew through the air.

  She ducked behind the merlon, thwarting an arrow flying past her. After releasing their slings, the two men beside her also jumped back to safety. Letia peeked around the merlon and noted horses near bumping into each other and men shouting curses while they swiped their hands over their faces, their clothing.

  She grinned. Never had she seen such a lovely sight. Only God could have guided their aims.

  The curling hair Julian was so proud of, no longer floated in the breeze.

  It dripped. Plastered to his head.

  The young men in the barracks had happily contributed toward the squire's special weapon—three sheep bladders filled with piss and sewn closed

  Julian shook his sword at the barbican and took a deep breath to yell in a hoarse, precise voice, "When I find the lout who thought of this, I will lock him in a cage to swing from a hook on my barbican wall. He will be left to the elements and raptors till there is naught but gleaming bones!"

  Truly, she could hardly blame him. He screeched again and all but foamed at the mouth, so agitated he could barely keep to his saddle.

  His mount shied then bolted. The great stead galloped through the warriors, scattering them. It headed straight for the gap between his army and the castle walls bristling with warriors.

  Letia watched in amazement as the horse reared, twisted its massive body and raced back over the uneven ground normally covered by the drawbridge. Seton's archers laughed so hard their aim was not as it should be. Fortunately, for the castle, unhappily for Julian, his body bristled with arrows enough to take him from the field.

  She looked over her shoulder to grin at Warin. Instead, she caught her breath. Her wide smile fled as she clamped her lower lip between her teeth. Leofwan and the squire supported Warin as his knees buckled.

  CHAPTER 2

  "You must rest, husband."

  Letia crossed the dimly lit room to the spacious bed standing upon a dais. Covered with wool blankets, Warin sat propped against oversized feather pillows, his face near as white as the cases covering them. She raised a small cup to his lips.

  "Please drink. It will ease the pains that plague your chest so you can sleep, love."

  He held up one finger to silence her, a small frown drawing his dark brows closer.

  "Nay, Letia. First, we must talk."

  More uneasy than ever now, she dreaded his next words. When they were alone, he always called her beloved and used her name only when vexed or intent that she should heed him. When she placed the small cup beside his favorite knife on the bedside table, her arm brushed against his sword hilt, moving it. She carefully settled it back at its accustomed place—should he have need of it.

  "Can we not talk in the morning? Ranald and his men should reach us this next sunrise."

  "Ah. You make my point, Letia. After I am gone, you cannot expect our friend will always arrive in time to protect you from vermin"

  "Hush, love, do not ask me..."

  Warin’s fingers rested against her lips, stilling them.

  "I must. It is the only way. I dislike the idea of another man’s touch on you as much as you do, beloved. But you must be increasing with a child. Soon. And you must marry again when the time comes."

  Warin blinked away the welling moisture in his blue eyes. Always, she'd thought his eyes so beautiful they made her heart skip. Not just beautiful because of their deep shade of blue. Beautiful from the kindness, the love and compassion that shone from them every day. It tore her soul to see pain reflected there. And dreadful sorrow.

  Sorrow for what he asked of her.

  Letia squeezed her hands together on her lap and clenched her teeth to still her wobbling chin.

  How selfish she was. Since Stephen had usurped the throne from his cousin Matilda, anarchy was rampant. So many castles had fallen. The victors turned widows and the infirm out as if they were naught but flea-bitten mongrels. Warin not only wanted to keep her safe, but also the many people they had rescued and cared for at Seton.

  His plan depended on her placing her faith in Raik of Raptor Castle, Ranald’s cousin. A Scotsman who had looked at her with much displeasure and scorn.

  "Humpf! I do not trust Raik. What of the times he has raided our cattle? Those skirmishes took their toll on you."

  Warin grunted softly. "He never injured me overmuch. Or I him."

  For answer, she leaned close and ran a fingertip over the white ridged scar low on his jaw.

  He chuckled then winked at her. "Aye, there is that. But I returned the favor when I fetched our cows back."

  He sighed and enfolding her hand in his, cuddled it to his chest.

  "I took Raik’s measure when we were at Raptor Castle. He is faithful to those he deems family or friends, and he is as skilled at fighting as Ranald and myself. Never did I hear a woman or man say he had mistreated them."

  "We have only seen him in the best of times, husband. And you know he does not think highly of me."

  "I will learn more when Ranald arrives on the morrow." Warin gently brought her fingers to his lips to kiss each one. "You are right, beloved. I am weary. Give me your potion and I will sleep."

  She picked up the cup then slipped her left arm under his neck to lift his head. "I added extra honey to the mead to lighten the medicine's bitter taste."

  He drank it without complaint, though the mead was not as warm as he normally liked it. He sighed and smiled up at her when he was done.

  "Come, beloved. Lie beside me. You, too, are tired." His lips lifted in a mischievous grin. "Your creative squire near fell over the wall laughing, you know."

  Letia shrugged out of her robe and slid naked between the sheets. "Uh huh," she murmured. "He found the volunteers to fill the bladders."

  Turning to him, she stretched her body alongside his and put her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest. Her body heat would help keep him warm throughout the night.

  Trying to stifle a yawn, he rubbed his cheek against her curls. His lids started to droop.

  "Few women have the skills to defend their castles. And now you have defended two against the same man. Julian." He blinked, fighting to stay awake, his words spaced apart, pulled from his mind with effort. "Any man would be proud to call you wife, belov..." His voice faded in a sigh as he fell asleep.

  Letia didn't sleep, though. She listened to the sounds of his light snores, thankful that she could hear them. As she rubbed her cheek on his shoulder, she tightened her arm across his muscled chest and hugged him as closely as she could.

  She wanted to cry. She wouldn't. If they could count on King Stephen to protect Seton; if unrest didn't cover the land; if Julian wasn't sniffing around, Warin wouldn't be so fearful for her.

  Her father had protected her by betrothing her to the one man he trusted. Warin. Now it fell to Warin to do the same. She knew he had thought long and hard on it. If she had a child, or if she was breeding when he passed away, King Stephen would seek an honorable man to husband her
and be Seton’s new baron.

  She remembered Raik's face when he learned of her skills the last time they were at Raptor. His expression had hardened and his compelling blue eyes had narrowed and stared at her as if she was some unnatural creature. Disapproval smoldered from every inch of his taut body.

  How could she deceive a man who stared into her eyes as if he bored into her very soul?

  She kissed Warin's neck, nuzzling her face beneath his chin and taking comfort from his warm, spicy scent. She sighed.

  How did one mislead a man such as Raik? Her heart thudded. Her skin prickled. He was vital to Warin's plan.

  If there only was another way.

  Imagining his fury if ever he learned of it, she shivered with fear. She hadn't a glimmer of doubt he would deal harshly with her.

  Sounds in the night did naught to ease her mind. Someone or something cried out. Nay, surely, not human. A beast...mayhap a dog? Could a dog shriek as loudly as that? And howl? Chill bumps stole over her body. Her scalp felt like it crept down the back of her neck. From the dreadful sounds of it, it was in terrible pain.

  God in Heaven! Could Julian be venting his hatred on a defenseless animal?

  Silence. She held her breath. Her throat thickened. Had it died?

  All throughout the night there would be periods of quiet, then the eerie howls and cries would knife through the darkness.

  Finally. A long howl, cut short. Then total stillness.

  CHAPTER 3

  Fear kept Letia awake. Fear that if she slept, Warin would slip from her and she wouldn't be able to comfort him in his last moments. Fear, too, that Ranald wouldn't come. After what she had done, Julian's rage would be boundless.

  Exhaustion finally took over and she fell into a sound sleep. It seemed like she'd no sooner closed her eyes than the chamber lit up as if the sun appeared at her window. It was most strange. From one opening, light flickered; from the other, that last darkness before dawn.