Forbidden

by Sophia Johnson

  Catalin’s eyes rounded and she bit her lip when he turned and advanced on her. Clutching the cloth to her neck, she watched him like she thought he meant to dunk her again.

  “Come. Do ye want to take a chill? Get out of yer wet clothes.”

  “Huh! Do you not remember how I got this way?”

  He brushed her hands away, drew the drying cloth from her and slung it over his shoulder while he whisked her wet clothing over her head. She muttered so low he couldn’t hear the words, but he kenned they were of him being a lout of a husband, a churl of the worst sort who would dunk his increasing wife. He rubbed briskly over her back, her arms and legs before gently patting droplets from her breasts. He felt the blush heating her skin while he brushed the cloth over her belly.

  He studied her stomach. If the babe stirred, would he see its movements? Never had she been more beautiful. Not even that day when she and Moridac stood before the priest and spoke their betrothal vows.

  He had ached then, knowing that had he been first to leave their mother’s body, it would be he and not Moridac beside her.

  He ached now, knowing that had he been first, it would be his bairn, not Moridac’s, nested there.

  And had it been his, he would not think on sending it to Kelso—away from himself...from Catalin...from his father. He would have no need, for the laird would not waste even one breath to claim a bairn from Ranald’s loins.

  ‘Twas only Moridac his father had loved. Still loved. He had felt naught but hate for Ranald since his first breath.

  Moridac’s child was the sole thing on this earth that Broccin wanted. And Ranald had the power to make him suffer for all the pain and loss he had felt from the first time he reached up his arms and asked, “Da?” begging to be picked up and cuddled. Instead, Broccin’s booted foot had knocked him to the cold floor, before he stomped away with Moridac in his arms.

  Ranald shook. When had he dropped the towel? Gently, he cupped Catalin’s breasts and enjoyed their warm weight in his palms. He nuzzled his face against their creamy softness, and it was feeling that silken swell caress his scarred cheek that reminded him his face was bare. His heart near stopped beating. He swept her into his arms and tucked her face beneath his chin as he strode over to lay her on his side of the bed. Turning to the right so all she’d note was his unmarked left profile, he pinched out the candles before pulling the fire screen in front of the fireplace. Satisfied the room was again in shadows, he turned to her.

  “I am not moving from this spot, husband. It has just now turned warm.”

  Naught but Catalin’s eyes showed above the blanket she clutched beneath her nose. He padded over to the far side of the bed and crawled between the sheets, stretching his length alongside her. Snaking his right arm beneath her, he pulled her close so his heated flesh would warm her.

  He brushed his lips over her cheek before he nibbled gently at her full, lower lip. Stopping to place little kisses at the corners of her mouth, his tongue explored the outline of her lips. His mouth captured hers in hungry, lingering kisses. She sighed, her lips parting to entice him. His tongue slipped between, exploring the silky haven of her mouth. Hesitant at first, her tongue touched his then skittered away, before it returned to stroke and dance with it.

  As his lips glided over her cheek, down her lovely neck and further to again nestle between her breasts, he listened to her soft sighs, the uneven pounding of her heart. Her nipples hardened against his cheek, inviting him. Open-mouthed, he slid over her silky flesh and captured one. She gasped and strained to pull his face tighter to her flesh until he gripped the hard nub softly with his lips. While suckling one breast, he rubbed his rough palm over the other, liking the feel of the straining nipple tickling his hand. He lifted his lips to blow soft puffs of air on her glistening flesh, fascinated by her shivers. Capturing the other breast, he lavished it with the same sweet treatment.

  Catalin gasped and squirmed. Her hands rubbed feverishly over his arms and shoulders. When his lips started to wander, her fingers gripped his head, holding it tight to her breast. He was happy to oblige her. Rolling, he pulled her atop him. She gulped and braced her arms beside his head, her lovely, glistening breasts hovering over him. He moved freely from one pebbled nipple to the other, suckling and drawing it to fill his mouth.

  His hands roved freely over her shoulders, across her shoulder blades, then tickled their way down her delightfully sloped back. When he reached her firm nether cheeks, he traced the crease, tickling up and down its length until she squirmed.

  He reached down to grasp her thighs and opened them to straddle him, then coaxed her to her knees. His fingers explored the moist, tender flesh between her legs and stroked until she arched her head. He teased her breasts, letting one go then flicked it with his tongue when she offered it to him again.

  “Ranald.”

  Ah, such pleading in that whispered word. He had not the heart to tease her further. Reaching between them, he guided his straining arousal to ease up into her. New to this position, he needed to grip her waist to show her the rhythm. Awkward at first, she soon set the pace, sometimes stopping entirely. He watched her tense face, her eyes unseeing, concentrating on feeling him buck inside her. His teeth clamped together, subduing his rising passion, until he could no longer stand it. He surged up into her and quickened his pace.

  He abandoned himself to the heated pleasure. Wanting her to reach her peak with him, he slipped his hand between them and found where he entered her. He rubbed her flesh where it hugged around him until she whimpered even louder, then slid his thumb over and over her hard, slick nub until she throbbed around him.

  She stiffened and gripped him with her legs. Eyes squeezed tight, her body strained as she uttered warbling cries until she lowered her mouth to his shoulder. Opening wide, she clamped her teeth on him and held on, never so hard as to pierce his flesh.

  He rode the frenzied wave with her and groaned as he joined her climax. Spent, he wrapped her in his arms and turned to the side, exhausted.

  o0o

  Catalin awoke and peered through strands of red hair near covering her left eye. A thin line of light crept through the window opening, warning her it wasn’t long before the full-blown dawn. She shoved the curly hair aside and looked to find Ranald had already left the room.

  She rolled over the rumpled bed to where he’d lain. He had been long gone, for the sheets held no warmth. Seeing the imprint of his head on his pillow, she pulled it into her arms and nuzzled her face on the white linen. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes to savor his scent.

  Memories of their heated discussion of last eve flashed in her mind. Aggravated at herself for being such a willing slave to his lightest touch, she thumped the pillow and scrambled out of bed. Hopefully, Elyne would still be in the great hall breaking her fast.

  Catalin dressed with all speed, not waiting for Hannah to appear and help her. Though impatient, she was not such a fool as to go hurtling down the stairwell. Her reduced speed ‘fashed’ her, as Ranald had said once. She giggled. Fashed did sound more satisfying than bothered.

  Once she reached the safety of the great hall, she hastened to take a seat beside Elyne at the high table.

  “Elyne, why can I not talk to your brother without becoming so angry I could spit?” Catalin smiled up at the young servant who placed a steaming bowl of porridge before her.

  “Hm. Sounded to me like ye did a whole lot of that spitting in yer room last eve.” Elyne grinned and waved a wooden spoon at her.

  Catalin, busily selecting cherries and arranging them in colorful circles atop her porridge, jerked her head up to look at Elyne and missed her bowl. As plump, red cherries bounced and rolled toward the edge of the table, she jumped up to cup her arms and surrounded them. Surely, her heated face was as red as her hair.

  “Do ye think? I thought it sounded more like a cat howling,” Raik’s deep voice said behind her.

  Oh, cruddy worms! She dropped back down onto the seat. How had she miss
ed seeing him close-by? She ignored him and busied herself trying to herd the fruit close so she could add it to her porridge.

  “Nay. Ye didna hear her up close. I thought it the sweetest music, though my ears did ring now and again.” Ranald stopped behind her to lean down and nuzzle her neck. On his way back up, his teeth nipped her ear lobe.

  Drats. The men must have been in the solar. From the sounds of footsteps and chuckles, it was not just the two of them. She dared peek up to see no less than ten men leaving the great hall. Ranald paused at the doorway and winked, then chuckled as he walked away.

  Mayhap she could crawl beneath the table. But to what end, since they were now gone?

  “I am sorry, lovey. I didn’t know they were near, else I would have held my tongue.”

  Catalin shrugged, her mind busy searching to remember making any sounds when Ranald’s magical fingers had teased her. Hm. Oh, Blessed Saints! She remembered hearing her loud groans. It did not take too much of a stretch to say they were wails. Not being able to silence them, she had bit down on his shoulder. Next time, she would stuff her mouth with the sheet.

  “Ye said Ranald made ye angry last eve? Why?”

  Catalin’s stomach reminded her she had yet to eat. In between spoons of porridge, she whispered to Elyne.

  “I told him I was fearful of staying here at Raptor, in case the babe came before Hunter’s surrender. I asked him to let me go to Letia’s during that time.”

  “From the look on yer face, he said nay right away?”

  She shook her head. “He said he talked to Abbot Aymer about me staying at Kelso, but fearing no women could attend me there, he decided against it. He mentioned a convent, but he discarded that idea because Baron Rupert’s lands are too close.”

  “Then ye are to stay here at Raptor?” Elyne brows rose, not liking the idea.

  “He wasn’t finished. He said I would go with him. He has had a large tent made and a bed frame. When I protested, he said you, Lady Muriele, Hannah and Ada would also be going.”

  “What?”

  “You heard aright. We are all to accompany him there.”

  Catalin sighed and searched around in her porridge until a small red spot peeped up amongst the creamy gruel. She scooped the cherry up and plopped it in her mouth.

  “Why is he taking Lady Muriele along?” Elyne frowned.

  “Huh. What do you think? I fear he has made her his leman.”

  She fished out another cherry, but it rolled off her spoon and bounced on the table. Grabbing for it, she smashed it in trying.

  “Yuck.” She took a small piece of linen from her kirtle pocket and wiped her hand. “I will tell Sir Giric that we must plan to leave from the siege camp instead.”

  “That might work just as well. I will go with ye.” Elyne tilted her head, thinking. “The men will be too busy to even think of us during the day. We could leave soon after dawn one morn and be leagues away in a day’s ride.”

  Catalin frowned and looked down at her expanding middle.

  “It will be much harder to make good time. If we were going to Seton from here, we could take our time. Once at Letia’s and I had de Burgh’s escort, I would have no need to travel fast. Ranald would not know what was amiss.”

  “Oh! I was so distracted teasing ye, I near forgot about how I came to hear yer, uh, um, ye know.” Elyne grinned, looking most satisfied.

  “What happened? Do not tell me you listened at the door.”

  “Nay. I was sleep walking, until yer wailing woke me.”

  “Elyne!”

  Elyne snickered. “I was dreaming a handsome knight was taking us to King Stephen, but someone chased us. The knight took us to this secluded place. Stone walls surrounded a building filled with women. Thirty knights led by a man with a dreadfully scarred face, threatened to tear down the walls.”

  “You dreamt Ranald discovered our plan?” Catalin swallowed, fearing Elyne’s dream would come true.

  Elyne waved her hand in front of Catalin’s face, motioning her to wait. “Nay. Hovering overhead was a black eagle as big as a man. I think it may have been Ranald.”

  “Did the dream end there?”

  “Nay. The eagle swooped from the sky. The evil man tried to kill it, but the bird’s talons tore into the man. The man’s broadsword sliced into one of the eagle’s legs.” She shuddered, and continued. “The eagle’s beak plucked the man’s eyes out afore it killed him.”

  Elyne stopped when Catalin put her hand to her mouth and swallowed back stomach acids surging up her throat. She took several deep breaths before nodding for Elyne to finish.

  “Dinna worry. The eagle hopped on one foot over to me. It turned into Ranald.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked sheepish. “Raik’s hands touched my shoulder and I awoke. He was grinning at me because I was clutching the latch, ready to burst through the doorway.”

  “Oh, saints. We should pay heed to your dream. For truth, Sir Giric is a comely man and Ranald did mention the convent. But I wonder who the terrible man could be?”

  “Aye. I dinna think we have anything to fear as long as Sir Giric takes us to Seton and not the convent.” Elyne frowned at the people milling about. “Come, we must plan what clothing to take, and I must find a weapon for ye.”

  “Weapon? How could I carry a bow or sword?”

  “Nay. I will have my bow and quiver of arrows. And a short sword, too, come to think on it. What we need for ye is a good sized dagger, and mayhap a small one hidden inside yer kirtle.”

  Catalin’s mouth was still agape when they left the hall.

  o0o

  Ranald fought to keep a grin off his face as he left the keep. It wasn’t chivalrous of him to tease Catalin, but she amazed him. He had expected lusty behavior from the women he bedded in the past, for he was a young man with sexual appetites and stamina enough to pleasure even the most demanding lass.

  Many times, he’d heard the married warriors at the castle grumbling about their wives not enjoying sex, much less delighting in it. One man had grumbled that ‘twas like bedding a cold, giant fish that long since had stopped flapping its tail up to meet him.

  He barely had to touch Catalin for her body to get as hot and wet as any young lass he plowed in his youth. Truthfully, she was the most responsive woman he had ever bedded.

  “My lord Ranald?”

  A voice at his side and a soft hand on his arm turned his thoughts back from his bed. Raik pulled a long face at him, and with eyes twinkling and mouth fighting a smile, he dropped back to walk with Domnall and Cormac. Ranald stepped to the side to let the men pass, before he turned to frown down at Muriele.

  “Did ye wish to have words with me?”

  He had no idea what the lass wanted, thought she looked hesitant about speaking. For certain, she seemed to be rethinking her reason for stopping him. While he waited, his gaze traveled over her from head to toes. It was a most pleasant wait. She was more comely than most women at the keep. Other than his Catalin and Elyne, of course. Still, he grew impatient.

  “Speak up, lass. I have much that needs to be done.”

  “Please, sir, walk with me amongst the apple trees. I would speak where none would overhear.”

  Muriele lifted her hand in a gesture that invited his arm to rise and let it rest upon his sleeve. Cold swept from her fingers through the cloth. He kept silent until they were well into the grove. She looked around, appearing hesitant. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him.

  “My lord Ranald, I know not what tale others have told ye, but lest they be untrue, I thought it best to speak with ye.”

  “I have heard little. Only that my brother was thought to, uh, have a special interest in your protection.”

  Muriele flushed and lowered her eyes. He could not very well come right out and ask if she had been Moridac’s leman. She must have read his mind, though.

  “Ye have no doubt heard that I am without family and fled the Highlands to come here. I needed to escape a man who would have d
one me great bodily harm. My horse was too old and tired to carry me, so I resorted to walking, hoping to give her a chance to recover. Sir Moridac came across me whilst she was dying, her head on my lap. He was kind enough to wait until she breathed her last before he helped me to rise.”

  “It was considerate of my brother.” Ranald could not keep his brow from arching, wondering what Moridac was after.

  “He promised his men would bury my faithful old horse, and he offered me protection at Raptor Castle.”

  “Most fortunate, truly, that ye met a patrol from Raptor.”

  What had this to do with him?

  “He took me up in back of him and brought me to the castle.” She blushed and lowered her head.

  “I am pleased my brother acted with honor.” This was the type of tale he had expected of his twin, not all the stories of his excesses that filtered through even to the abbey.

  “As was I. He brought me to Raptor and told everyone I was his father’s ward. Chief Broccin was not quite pleased with this. But Moridac stood between me and all others who would prey on a helpless woman. Everything was well until that fateful day when Moridac again went hunting.”

  “Ah. A woman alone is sure to draw the Chief’s regard.” Ranald’s lips thinned.

  His sire thought nothing of picking up a lass and carting her off to his bed when the mood struck. More oft than not, he paid off her angry father or brother the next morn.

  “I am weary of this cat and mouse game with the chief. Lady Joneta has been most kind. She shares her bedchamber with me and has been diligent in her protection.”

  Muriele startled him when she stepped close and placed her long slender fingers on his shoulders and boldly raised her gaze to search his.

  “Have ye not noted I have tried to bring myself to yer attention? It has been many long months since I have had the, um, attentions of a man. Since the day ye returned to Raptor, I have craved ye as my lover.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Ranald stared at Lady Muriele’s face, trying to read her intent. These past months, he had thought she gathered her nerve to ask for his protection. Not as a lover. As a warrior to stand between her and any male who sought favors she didn’t want to give. Now, she boldly sought him as a man between her thighs. He grasped her wrists to remove her hands from his shoulders. She stopped him with her pleading.