Forbidden Read online

  “Speak of the devil’s helper, and the woman appears,” Hannah whispered. “I told her Ranald had been so large that it was a hard deflowering. I asked she arrange for a hot bath, for you had need of it to wash the blood from your thighs. That should singe His Hatefulness’ ears.” Her giggle sounded much like a young woman.

  Catalin’s grin ended in a yawn. For truth, Hannah had not lied. Only about the deflowering part. They both looked surprised when someone else bade leave to enter. Hannah stepped out onto the landing, for it was a young squire. She returned, rubbing her hands and smiling.

  “Yer husband is right quick with his thinking. He has sent his new squire, Finn, to guard your door to keep anyone from disturbing ye. He instructed Finn that when the bedding is gathered, he is to take it atop the keep and hang it below Ranald’s pennant flying there. All will know his master’s bride was pure!”

  “Hannah, surely the man must hate me even more, for he must lie to protect me. He has been without sin, yet I have forced him into a lifetime of deceit.”

  Catalin could say no more, for her bath arrived. The servants quickly filled the tub and left, except for the woman they suspected her father-by-law had set to report to him. She stood on the far side of the bed, stripping the sheet, when Catalin stepped into the tub. The woman smiled, near looked pleased on seeing the stains on Catalin’s thighs.

  “Oh, my lady. ‘Tis proof Sir Ranald is no less the man for having been a monk.”

  Catalin and Hannah looked at each other, surprised. Their spy did not relish the job Chief Broccin had given her? Mayhap she could become an aide instead?

  “Your name is Ada, is it not? I have only seen you weaving with the other women.” Catalin smiled at her and settled down in the water.

  “Aye, mistress.” She nodded and looked like she was about to add something but feared to.

  “Did the laird add to your duties because of the many guests?” Hannah went over to help her remake the bed. “Should that be so, it will ease, for he has been rushing them from the keep like he cannot abide feeding them another meal.”

  Ada laughed and nodded her head. “We had lasses aplenty.” She bit her lip and looked vexed at her new duties.

  “I am sorry for your extra work.” Catalin smiled at her.

  “Nay, dinna be. ‘Tis not the work I mind.” She banged her fists on a pillow, forcing the feathers around with vigor.

  “Perchance it is what he asks of you while doing it?” Hannah asked.

  “Ye know?” Ada’s mouth dropped. She stood still as stone, staring at Hannah.

  “Knowing Chief Broccin, I suspected.” Hannah nodded her head, her lips pressed tight.

  “Aye. It’s not right.” Ada glared at the pillow she had been punishing with her fists, opened her mouth to speak then closed it again. She grunted, slapped the pillow once more then words exploded from her. “Not right at all. He demands to have the stained sheet. No doubt to burn it.”

  “Do not worry. Lord Ranald has set a guard at the door for that very purpose. You can tell the laird you had no choice.” Hannah grinned at Ada, bundled the stained sheet in her hands and marched over to the door.

  “Here you go, Finn. You may tell your master the job is done.”

  She returned, smiled and dusted her hands together.

  Ada walked around the chamber, setting the candles back where they belonged. Creases formed between her eyes. She stopped. Looked back at Hannah.

  “I am no good at lying. My face turns red before a word leaves my mouth.”

  “If you tell him about Catalin’s stained thighs, it will be the truth. What troubles you?” Hannah stopped rinsing Catalin’s back to look at her.

  “I am told to search the room. For trickery. He said I was to find if the mistress used chicken blood or such.”

  “Then hunt away. Feel free to look everywhere. Under the bed. The clothing chest.” Hannah thrust something at her. “Take Catalin’s shift from last eve. You can fold it and put it away.”

  “I can truthfully say I opened her chests and found naught.” Ada grinned and placed the folded garment inside without as much as a cursory glance.

  “Uh-huh. Between us, we can provide His Hatefulness with enough tidbits. It may not be what he yearns to hear, but it will be most gratifying to tweak his nose a bit.”

  “I canna wait to tell him I saw proof afore my lady washed.” She grinned again and winked at Hannah. “‘Tis a shame we willna see his face when he spies the sheet flapping in the breeze.”

  The room was tidy by the time Catalin rose from her bath. Tossing aside the drying cloth, she ducked under the garments Hannah held out for her. She went to the bed, gave a little hop and climbed onto it. If ever she fell off during the night, she would no doubt break a bone or two. Once she had pulled her stockings and shoes to cover her feet, she heaved a sigh of relief.

  o0o

  Letia and Elyne arrived to collect her for the noon meal. When they entered the great hall, Catalin welcomed the absence of men.

  “I have ne’er seen guests prodded to leave as fast as Father did this morn.” Elyne’s lips scrunched together. Her nose wrinkled. For a few heartbeats, she stared upward at the massive rafters, then huffed and shook her head. “He all but shoved them out into the bailey.”

  “Aye, the stable hands had their horses saddled and ready before they even finished breaking their fast.” Letia’s brow knit. “We had planned to leave with them, but Warin awoke this morn with pains in his chest. I told him I refused to go this day, telling him I did not feel well.”

  “You are feeling poorly also? Could it be tainted meat?” Elyne chewed her lower lip.

  “Nay, I but told him that to keep him abed for a bit. I don’t know what ails him. Though he coughs often of late.”

  Letia shook her head, a slight frown between her brows.

  “The men are in the farthest corner of the castle grounds, training like they are about to do battle,” Lady Joneta said as she came through the doorway. “It’s best we eat. Cook will serve them a hot meal when they return to the keep.”

  “I, for one, am glad for the peace and quiet. How oft do we get the hall to ourselves?” Elyne grinned and hoisted a roasted chicken thigh high to brandish it above her plate.

  Catalin released a deep breath, thankful she had time to compose herself before seeing Ranald again. She could not rid her mind of the picture of him standing over her with the candle, his cold eyes gazing at her naked thighs. Though he controlled it, his face showed his quiet rage, for his skin looked stretched over the bones there. Not even the mask could soften the anger. And his eyes? They had turned from dark plum to jet-black. Their stare had cut through her, sharp as any blade.

  They soon finished their meal, and retired to the ladies solar. Several women sat there mending clothing, for training caused many a rent shirt or breeches. Coming through the doorway, a rough spot on the frame snagged Catalin’s yellow gown.

  “Blessed saints!” She picked the skirt up and noted a ragged tear. “Drats. ‘Tis best I repair it now.”

  She pulled the gown over her head and sat on a chair near the light. They were no sooner settled with their sewing than hearty laughter and boisterous voices below drew them scrambling to the windows.

  They made space for Catalin up front, since she was the shortest. Remembering too late that she was not fully clothed, she clutched her smock over her breasts. Letia, her eyes glistening with mirth, clasped her hand over her mouth. Elyne shook her head and rolled her eyes. Hannah and Ada crammed in with the other women at the window on the far side of the room, though they near had to hang out of it for as good a view.

  ‘Twas Catalin who spoke first.

  “Holy saints above. They are naked!”

  CHAPTER 11

  “Come, Raik. I would wash at the well. Dirt and grime cover me from head to toe.”

  Ranald slid from the saddle and handed Satan’s reins and his weapons to Finn. “We canna spend the day reeking of sweat and horse
.” Though his muscles burned, he was well satisfied that he’d had a warrior as skilled as Raik to train with this morn.

  The well stood in the inner bailey, not fifty paces to the right of the keep’s entrance. He disliked baring his body for all to see, but it couldn’t be helped. He knew his father strolled close, hoping to espy a telltale mark proving Ranald had lent his own blood for proof of a deflowering.

  “The well? Why not wait and bathe with heated water?” Raik asked then thought better of it. “Ah, how soon I forget. Ye are not used to comfort.”

  Ranald turned his back to the keep, and with one quick move, his tartan was off and crumpled on a boulder so wide and heavy no one had attempted to move it from its original resting place. His back muscles twitched, whether from strain or shying away from prying eyes, he did not know.

  Once Raik also was naked to the world, Ranald grinned at him.

  “Ye know, cousin, ‘twas not necessary for ye to strut yer bare arse before the keep?”

  “Ha. Did ye not think I wish to show my goods to lure a lass to my bed this night?” Raik chuckled and lifted arms bent at the elbows then flexed his muscles.

  “Aye, there is that.” Ranald took a bar of hard lye soap, dipped it in a bucket of water and rubbed it over his body.

  “Huh.” He frowned at the soap then sniffed it. “It’s far harsher than we had at Kelso. Do ye think I should give them a better recipe for making it?”

  Not expecting an answer, he pulled off his mask and took care to place it on the wide lip of the well, needing it close to hand yet far from the water splashed there. The skin on his back rippled, the cheeks of his arse tightened. He felt inquisitive eyes staring, their gazes roaming over him, and not the least of which was his sire. He took his time, seemingly occupied scrubbing the bloodstains off his sex and thighs.

  Several lasses stopped their duties to approach close to the well. Watching the men, their lips lifted in appreciative grins.

  Finn filled several buckets for rinsing. The squire upended two buckets of cold water over Ranald’s head. Raising his face to the sun, he splashed the falling water with his hands to clear his eyes. He pressed his hands over his prickly dome, down his hair, his arms, chest, even his legs, clearing them of the excess water before taking a cloth to dry himself.

  “Mayhap I should have worn a helmet. My pate is tender from the sun.”

  “From the looks of it, ye will soon have hair aplenty to shield it. Ye have the looks of a downy young raven. No doubt, a fortnight from now it will be covered.”

  All the while, Ranald knew his sire studied his flesh. He was used to the company of men, but his mind cringed at the display of his ruined back he was giving the women of the castle. He heard female titters, felt women’s eyes combing his body. It couldn’t be helped. He had best get used to it. After all, much of it would show when he wore a tartan without a tunic.

  “Hurry with the bucket, Finn, else this soap will peel the skin off my body,” Raik called.

  Raik jumped when Finn sloshed the cold water over his heated skin. He danced about and shook like a hunting dog coming from a frigid loch. Ranald laughed for the first time since entering Raptor Castle. Come to think on it, he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed.

  Had it been months? Mayhap, even years?

  He spied his father so close now he could touch him. He stretched his arms wide and turned full circle, much as Raik had done in the Infirmary garden. He was cautious to lower his head a bit when he faced the keep.

  “What think ye, sire? Did not God’s work hone my body as well as mind?” Ranald narrowed his eyes to stare at Broccin when he completed his turn. He picked up his mask, slid it over his head and tightened the straps.

  “Huh! God’s work? To do God’s work, ye need have been in the Crusades. Were ye too afeared of taking an injury that ye didna offer yer brawn to fight for God?”

  “God had full measure from me. I healed the broken and torn men that came to Kelso. Seeing ye are so good at it, I left the maiming and killing to ye.”

  “’Tis likely ye would have bolted on seeing yer first Saracen.”

  Chief Broccin’s cold regard crept over Ranald’s skin like mice scampering and hunting for a crumb in every crevice of a floor.

  “Did yer bride scream at the sight of ye when ye crept into bed?”

  “Nay, she admired yer handiwork.”

  “Humph! I wouldna be surprised if that lance betwixt yer legs never rose to do its duty.”

  Ranald quirked his brow at his sire, lifted his tartan from the bolder and belted it on in short order.

  “Hm. Did ye not note the new pennant this day?”

  “New pennant? I gave no permission for another’s standard to fly!” Broccin’s head jerked up. He noted the sheet hung so the stains were evident. Anger, red and shiny as a summer sunset, mottled his face. The veins in his neck bulged.

  Ranald was facing the well, his father’s back to it. He narrowed his eyes until all he could see was a filled bucket resting on the well’s ledge. He breathed deep. Held his breath.

  Cold water splashed down Broccin’s hips. He jumped forward, cursing.

  “By Christ! Where’s that boy! I’ll bloody his nose for splashing me!”

  “It wasn’t the lad’s doing. He long since has left. Ye admired my night’s handiwork with such awe ye backed into the bucket. Best ye have someone fetch dry clothing. Yer wet breeches cling so tight it’s apparent ye have a boil on yer arse.”

  Ranald turned away, stamped into his boots and glanced to see Raik was also finishing, though his movements were clumsy. It was nigh impossible for Raik to latch his belt, for he held one hand clasping his mouth, his eyes alight with mirth.

  “Come, cousin. I dinna know about ye, but after last eve’s labors and this day’s workout with ye, I am hungered enough to eat a boar.” Ranald cuffed Raik on the shoulder.

  Raik, his head tilted back, grinned like a fool. Ranald followed his gaze to see Catalin, with Elyne and Letia peering over her shoulders.

  He frowned. His bride was near nakit! Though she clutched a butterfly yellow garment around her, it had slid from her shoulders leaving the soft swell atop her breasts bare to everyone’s eyes.

  It would seem she enjoyed peering at bare flesh as much as Letia. Letia he kenned, for she was not a new bride. Catalin and Elyne should have closed their eyes and turned from the window. He would have words with his sister about it.

  And Catalin? His mouth tightened. He stared at her, putting his displeasure in his look. Why had she not turned on seeing nakit men before her eyes? Why had the sight not shamed her?

  Did she relish it? Was she so used to it?

  Sharp spears of doubt pricked his mind.

  Catalin gasped as Ranald’s dark gaze bored into her. She had earned her husband’s added displeasure for certain. Though it was too late, she jumped back, stepping on Letia’s toes, for being the tallest, she had stood behind Catalin and Elyne.

  “Ow, Catalin. For one so small, you have a heavy foot.”

  “I sense my brother is none too pleased with us, for I too felt his anger.” Elyne grinned. Wide. “But it was worth it, dinna ye think?”

  “Your cousin takes my breath away, Elyne,” Letia said. “And, Catalin? You did not tell us Ranald has such a wondrous body.”

  “Aye. Never have these old eyes seen anything so, so...” Hannah seemed for a loss for words. “When he bent over to shed the water on his legs...!”

  Ada did not have to speak more. Her smile said it all.

  “Anyone so fortunate to lie with either man will be well-pleasured.” Hannah rolled her eyes upward and let out a huge sigh. “Oh, to be a young lass. Though Ranald is taken, I would greet that Raik with my skirts hiked high did he come through my door at night!”

  That set the women to laughing.

  “Help me, Hannah. Run grab the first thing that comes to hand from my chest. I would dress before Ranald should chance to return here.”

 
; While the women talked, Catalin clutched her smock around her. She breathed a sigh of relief when Hannah returned carrying a kirtle that was the lightest hint of brown. It would have to do.

  “My brother and Raik are much alike in body, yet one’s skin is as dark as the bark of a tree, the other golden. Though his robes hid him from the sun, Ranald must oft have been without them,” Elyne said. “He is white, uh, below. Likely he wore some sort of braies with less cloth than usual.”

  Ada chimed in. “During the feast last eve, I heard a servant say Sir Domnall told another the monk was also Kelso’s Protector.”

  “Did you note the scars covering Ranald’s back? They even curve to his sides.” Catalin perched on the edge of the chair and rocked back and forth.

  “Though he lowered his face when he turned for his sire, the sun streaked his cheek. I could see…”—Letia tried for the right words to describe what the glimpse had hinted at,—“different types of skin are there. Raised like his back, though I do not see how?”

  “Moridac told me he didna believe his twin could ever heal. The whip’s tip had caught and pulled, tearing his flesh. Though Joneta tried, it was such agony for him, she couldna clear all of the damaged flesh from his wounds.” Elyne shuddered and rubbed her arms.

  Letia’s brow knit, looking as if she viewed the vision deep in her mind.

  “I caught just a flash before he tucked his head down. His eye is intact, of course. Three, mayhap four, stripes crossed from his nose and across his cheek and neck.”

  “Aye.” Hannah put in. “I would have noted more, but the way his, uh, rod swung, I fixed on it.”

  Ada fanned her face. “I never got my sight higher than the waist on either man. The muscles lodged there were the ones I noted.”

  “Often, when Father hacked his way through the Crusades, I prayed somehow he would suffer in turn.” Elyne’s face was grim with distaste for her sire.

  “Ranald will always hate me for having to enter the world again. He spied us looking. I should not have done it. He was angry.” Catalin curled on the chair, one hand cupped her neck beneath her chin.