Seduced Read online

  He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, then sat on the bed. The second pillow still bore that freshly washed scent as if it someone had just replaced it. He frowned at it. Gathering an armful of the sheets, he sniffed, then burrowed his face in the cool linens and sniffed again. Nothing. After wadding the blanket, he held it to his face, sniffing.

  None of it. Not one other thing smelled the same as his pillow.

  Lady Letia dressed his wound each day. Until now, he had remained silent, answering only questions she asked about how he was healing. Today, he would do the questioning and learn of the flowers growing in her gardens. He knew she had aplenty, for Ranald's wife had brought back cuttings from various plants when last she had visited here.

  o0o

  Letia's feet grew heavier the closer she came to Raik's door. Would she give herself away by trembling hands or shamed looks? Not until Maud nudged her did she know she had stopped. Maud's raised brows begged an answer.

  "Do you not think it best that I no longer tend his wounds?"

  "Lovey, if you do not, don't you think Sir Raik will notice? Or that Warin will worry all the more?"

  "There is that." Letia chewed on her bottom lip and tried to gather her courage.

  "He has watched you all morn, trying to judge if he has bid ye beyond yer strength. If ye stumble in this, he will make an end to it."

  "Would that be bad?"

  "Aye. Think on it. What if ye are not yet breeding? If ye stop now, maybe last night was wasted?" Maud sighed out a long, worried huff of air. "Sometimes it takes more than a night, ye know."

  "For truth?" The idea surprised Letia. "Catalin lay but once with Ranald and she bred."

  "Aye. But she was in love when she coupled with him." Maud scrunched up her lips, thinking. "Mayhap that caused her to be so fruitful."

  "Oh." Letia's shoulders slumped. How very silly of her. She near let her feelings get in the way of safety for all of Seton. She should be shamed even to think of quitting. Too many depended on her to protect them after Warin... Please God, do not take Warin!

  She had no more time to think, for Giles was already opening the door. His lips just stopped moving. Had he spoken?

  "I am sorry? What did you say?"

  "Lady, he tried to leave the room earlier. He seemed most upset that I would not fetch his sword." Giles grinned at her. "I ken he feared the beast would drag ye into the woods."

  "Humpf. I had my knife strapped to my leg and Warin protected me with his sword. I would not have welcomed his scaring the poor beast back to the forest to starve."

  "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.

  CHAPTER 10

  "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.

  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?"