Forbidden

by Sophia Johnson

  “I will be most discrete. I vow I will not come between ye and Lady Catalin. I do not seek love from ye, nor do I wish gifts for my favors. Ye will have no need of yer mask, for yer scars add strength to a face more comely than most. I will wield no ties to bind ye. Should yer seed take, mayhap ye could find a warrior to be a husband to me.”

  Releasing his shirt, she ran her hands down his arms. She studied his face, though he didn’t know what she saw there, if anything. When he did not venture to embrace her, he noted the moment she changed from hesitation to determination.

  She rose on her toes, and as she molded her body to his, the soft mounds of her breasts brushed over his pounding heart. Could she feel it? Arms soft as warm velvet circled his neck. Long fingers combed through his hair, touched and caressed him, while she kissed him with skilled passion. His skin threatened to burst into fire beneath her lightest touch. His loins hardened and stirred when her tongue sought to pry between his teeth.

  Near panting with rising hunger, he determinedly unwound her arms from his neck and stepped back, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

  “Nay, Lady. I have no desire for a leman.”

  “No desire? Ye deny what my body felt? What my eyes can see?” Her gaze trailed down his length and stopped where his flesh betrayed his words.

  “Nay. I canna deny my response to ye, but ye insult me by thinking I can’t control temptation. Do ye forget I was without the pleasures of a woman’s flesh until I left Kelso?” Ranald shook his head.

  Muriele’s reaction puzzled him. Where he expected teary eyes and protests, she beamed at him like he had given her a handful of gold coins. He studied her through narrowed eyes. Was she daft?

  “What game do ye play, Lady?” He glowered down at her.

  “No game. I prayed ye would give me the right answer. And ye did.” She nodded and looked him square in the eye.

  “And what would ye have done had I thrown ye to the ground and burrowed myself between yer legs?”

  “This.”

  One hand darted into the folds of her kirtle. Her eyes widened with shock when he gripped her wrist and they tumbled to the ground together. He straddled her, then gathered both her hands above her head and anchored them there with one of his.

  Swiftly, he felt over her form until satisfied she had no other blades. His grip on the hand holding the dagger tightened. With a soft cry, she dropped the weapon.

  “Ye intended to stab me?” Astonishment sent his brows so high they near dislodged his mask. “Lady, had ye hidden blades aplenty over yer length, I would have taken them all from ye,” he growled.

  Muriele nodded gravely at him. “And had that happened, I would have summoned aid.”

  She puckered her lips like a woman inviting a kiss. Instead, a piercingly loud whistle rent the air.

  Ranald twirled off her and crouched, the dagger at the ready, as someone charged from amongst the drooping apple tree branches. He near dropped the blade as Aunt Joneta, both hands waving a hefty stick over her head, charged toward him.

  “Aunt Joneta!” He jumped up, his mouth agape on seeing her angry glare.

  Muriele scrambled to her feet and stepped between them. His aunt halted, looking surprised the young woman was not in distress.

  “I am sorry, Lady. Sir Ranald demanded to know what I would have done if he had accepted my offer.”

  The stricken look faded from his aunt’s eyes and relief spread over her face. Her pent-up breath escaped in a great whoosh as she dropped the heavy stick.

  “I feared I had been wrong when I told Muriele you would aid her, Ranald.” She raised a shaky hand to wipe it across her sweating forehead.

  “Ye knew Lady Muriele would plead to be my leman? What game do ye play?” He shook his head. “Aunt, how could ye?”

  Annoyed that they had tricked him, he scowled and glared down at her discarded weapon. “Huh! Ye meant to hit me over the head with that?”

  “Only if you took advantage of Muriele’s offer.” She grimaced. “And I would only have whacked your arse to make you let her be.”

  His left brow rose. His mouth twitched. “Would that not have aided a rutting man?” He shook his head, ridding the thought from it. “Ye are both making my head ache. What was this about? Make haste with the telling. I dinna have time to waste.”

  Muriele shifted her feet, looking ashamed. “I had to know if you were as honorable as I thought and as Lady Joneta told me. The quickest way was to find if you were easily swayed by lust.” A blush swept over her creamy cheeks and spread down her neck. “What I told you before was true. I had to flee my home. I fear those who threaten me will comb all of Scotland until I am run to ground.”

  “Ye expect me to protect ye from an unknown force?”

  Ranald eyed the beauty. She had said she was without family. Was she fleeing a lover? A cruel husband? Someone who would not cease hunting for her until she was back in his possession. The thought made him pause.

  “Is it yer husband ye seek to escape?” If so, he would have no choice but to release her to him if he found her.

  “Nay. I have no husband.” She shook her head, her gaze not wavering from his eyes. “Ye must cross the border. I have heard Lady Elyne and I are to accompany yer wife.”

  “How have ye learned of this so quickly?”

  His aunt chuckled and smiled at him. “More than a few people heard you argue with Catalin last eve, Ranald. Those who did have told the rest.”

  Cruddy Lucifer! Did the entire castle know each time he had words with his wife? As vocal as Catalin was in her pleasure, they for certain knew when he swived her. Mayhap he should move their bedchamber to a remote area. Like atop the wall tower that housed the supplies and weapons. By night, it would be most private.

  “I would ask yer help once we cross the border.” Fear lurked in the depths of Muriele’s eyes as she twisted her fingers into knots. Her quivering lips made her appear even more vulnerable. “I plan to seek refuge in a convent where no one would dare follow me.”

  “Jesu! A convent? What bug worms its way into a woman’s mind that makes her beg lodging with the good sisters? Do ye think ye will live a life of plenty? Ye must have an ample dowry to enter there else ye will be scrubbing floors, cleaning pig sties and grubbing in the earth squashing worms.”

  He doubted Catalin had not known of Muriele’s plight when she mentioned biding with the good sisters. If he had correctly read his wife’s expressions when sighting Muriele, she had no sisterly love for this slender beauty. They were as unlike as a spitting wild cat and a sleek white wolf, though both leapt to do battle when danger threatened.

  “If it meant I would be where no Highlander could ever find me, I would joyfully do so.”

  Muriele’s chin thrust out, her face determined, as she stood tall and squared her shoulders. She had changed before his eyes from helpless lass to a warrior woman ready to take up a sword and flay it about her—should she have need. He sighed and turned to Joneta.

  “Ye shielded her from Moridac? And now Father?”

  “Aye, Ranald. Though it is my brother who proves most persistent. After ye take Hunter Castle back from Smelly Hamon,” Joneta’s eyes twinkled saying the name, “it would take no great effort to provide Muriele with an escort to the nearest convent.”

  She nodded and smiled as if he had already agreed to their plan.

  He shook his head and glared back, showing them he didn’t like their wily stunt and his was the final say.

  “The Sisters of Mary Magdalen lies south of Hunter between it and de Burgh’s Seton.” Ranald rubbed his chin, thinking.

  “Why, it would take only a day once we are at Hunter.” Muriele’s eyes brightened like some inner sun had risen behind them.

  “Hmpf. For truth, a most treacherous day’s travel. One needs to take a roundabout way around Baron Rupert’s lands to reach the convent. It’s why I sent twelve of our own men to supplement de Burgh’s escorts when they returned home.”

  Shad
ows faded the light in Muriele’s eyes as her shoulders slumped. That glimmer of fear lurking in their depths broke through again.

  “I didn’t say I would not see ye safely there, Lady. Once all has been set aright at Hunter and I can spare a goodly escort, I will see ye settled at the Sisters with an ample dowry. Ye won’t have to pinch worms for yer keep.”

  Her reaction pleased him, for hope lit her face again. What could this comely woman have done to cause a man to hunt her like a wild animal?

  “Thank you, Sir Ranald.”

  Before he thought to fend her off, Muriele sprang forward and placed a hearty kiss on his cheek, near knocking off his mask in her eagerness. He jumped back like she had bit him. His hand covered the mask as he swiftly settled it into place. All the while, his left eye glared at his aunt. The kiss was not his doing, in case she thought of retrieving the branch and whacking him with it.

  “Enough of wasting my time. If I dinna see to the men, there will be no army crossing the border once we get word, no siege will start and certainly no escort to any convent.”

  He frowned and looked each woman in the eye, pausing a moment doing so. Noting by their hesitant faces that they had grasped his message, he nodded and strode away grumbling about annoying women taking up his much-needed time.

  o0o

  “Monday?” Catalin could not believe Elyne. “We leave in less than two days, yet your brother said not one word of it until now!”

  Catalin kicked a shoe so hard it slammed against the just-closed door. She jumped when it crashed back open and Ranald stood there, his hands propped at his waist, scowling at her.

  “If ye would rather indulge yer anger than prepare to leave, I am sure Father would be glad to have company these next months.”

  “Could you not have told me yesterday? Or even earlier today? Or were you too busy rutting with Lady Muriele amongst the apple trees to think of it?”

  Ranald’s cold stare was like adding tinder to a blaze that had started after seeing him stride from the darkness of the trees brushing dirt, leaves and twigs from his knees. A scant two heartbeats later, Lady Muriele had appeared.

  Catalin’s nostrils thinned; her hands clenched.

  “Moridac would never have flaunted his leman in front of his wife,” she yelled.

  A heated force, much like someone’s hands on her shoulders, pushed her back until she near staggered.

  A bestial growl rumbled from Ranald’s chest. Eyes narrowed with contempt, he spun and stalked out of the half-opened door. The force of its slam made Catalin’s ears ring.

  Ranald’s boots striking the steps gave warning of his anger as he stormed down the stairwell.

  CHAPTER 28

  Anger sizzling through Ranald’s veins sent waves of tension so strong its energy would shove tables, make chairs fly against the walls or, God forbid, might even direct itself against Catalin herself.

  His temper had not cooled by the time he burst out into the courtyard swarming with soldiers, horses, carts and even oxen.

  Ahead of Ranald’s every step, dust rippled in waves and lifted into the air. Feathers flew about as fowls squawked in fright, flapping their wings and taking great running leaps to escape him. Buckets toppled, and as they rolled, the splashing water formed muddy rivulets. Startled horses, their eyes rolling in fear, stomped and shied away until their surprised riders brought them under control.

  Ranald heard only blurred sounds. When a hound yipped and sprang out of his path, he took note of footsteps pounding behind him.

  “Hold, Ranald. Hold!”

  Ranald stopped. Squeezed his eyes tight.

  “What has ye in such a fury ye near destroyed all in yer path?” Raik’s ready grin spread across his lips, but his eyes flashed concern.

  “Naught that would keep me from my duty.” Ranald’s eyes hardened; his mouth set in a grim line. He scanned all around him, taking note of the turmoil and uneasy glances cast his way.

  Cormac left his position in line and rode over to him, a question in his eyes.

  “Start out,” Ranald ordered. “I will join ye soon.”

  “Aye, sir.” Cormac whirled his destrier, its great hooves stamping as he led it to the head of the column winding toward the barbican.

  Ranald studied the line passing before him to see everything was as it should be. Wagons filled with food, supplies and equipment for building a tent village, rolled ahead of others filled with weapons and armor. Sturdier wagons lugged battering rams, and finally, fatted oxen slowly tugged wagons laden with sections of trebuchets and catapults they would assemble at the siege camp. Foot soldiers marched beside and between them, ready to lend a hand. To the rear of the long row, mounted warriors waited to file in, their spirits high as they looked forward to a good brawl.

  “‘Twas right kind of King Stephan’s subjects to be fighting amongst themselves.” Ranald rubbed the back of his neck, easing his tense muscles.

  “Aye. Our men did a thorough job of pricking their tempers.” Raik grinned and nodded toward the moving line in front of them. “Cormac, and the men needed to set up the siege camp, will soon pass the heavy equipment. Dubne will guard the oxen and keep them moving.”

  “That leaves Father and Domnall to protect Raptor, though Lucifer himself knows Father is feared enough no one dares venture close.” Ranald gave a wry smile.

  Hearing Finn clear his voice, he turned to find him and another squire waiting to help him don his battle gear. He nodded and leaned over for them to pull on his heavy hauberk. Once it was in place, he stood tall and rolled his shoulders to help settle it more comfortably around his body.

  Ha. As if comfort was possible while wearing mail. He hooked his thumb beneath the mask, lifting it off. He handed it to Finn then slipped the helmet over his head. Holding the nasal guard and the back of the helmet, he adjusted it before nodding his satisfaction.

  Ranald had gone to their bedchamber to tell Catalin he would lead this first siege party.

  His cousin could tell her instead.

  “Make sure the women are ready to leave before dawn on Sunday. Dinna let them dally and delay ye.” Ranald turned his face aside.

  “I thought ye set out to tell Catalin earlier? Surely she didn’t say anything so worrisome it pricked yer temper?”

  Ranald snorted. “I had not the chance to tell her. And would ye not be angry to find ye came up lacking when yer wife compared ye to...” He stopped the words he had not meant to say. Looking down, he noted Raik’s surprised expression and scowled.

  “Tsk. Do ye forget I lack a wife, cousin?”

  His mouth set in a grim line, Ranald jerked his sword belt so it would not hinder his mounting. “If Catalin wants to think the worst of me, she is a fool. I dinna easily abide fools.”

  The stable master handed him Satan’s reins. As soon as Ranald swung up into the saddle, he began to relax. This was where he belonged. Where everyone accepted him for what he was, for what he could do. He was away from foolish women and their prying eyes.

  “See ye leave on time.”

  Ranald jerked his head in a nod to Raik and led Satan’s Spawn over to Dougald patiently waiting at the passage through the barbican. Soon they had galloped over the drawbridge and into the cloud of dust kicked up by the advance army. As he passed them, Ranald’s critical eyes scanned the men and supplies trailing across the land beyond the curtain walls. He and Dougald fell in with Cormac behind the standard-bearer flying Ranald’s snapping yellow banner with the twin black eagles.

  o0o

  Before dawn fully arose two days later, Catalin glanced up at the walkway over the barbican. Chief Broccin was not pleased to see her leave, though he had provided her with a small cart with brightly colored cushions and thickly padded seats. She had thanked him for his thoughtfulness and assured him she would fare well riding in it. She waved at him, for he had seemed truly worried over her.

  Elyne sat opposite her, her face uplifted as the sun sent its first weak rays over a distant mountai
n. Lady Muriele rode in another cart bigger than the first, carrying Hannah, Aunt Joneta and Ada. Thick cushions and padding covered the two benches along its sides. Stacked on one end were blankets aplenty for their comfort.

  “If Father could have kept ye at Raptor, he would have done so.” Elyne grinned at her. “It isn’t often that I have heard Raik yell as loudly as Father.”

  “Aye. With each breath, your father’s words softened until they faded away. You were standing close. What did Raik say that convinced him?”

  “He didn’t speak. He went very still; not a muscle moved, not even in his face.” Elyne frowned and tilted her head, looking puzzled. “He stared into Father’s eyes so long I didn’t know how he kept from blinking. Father relaxed and said Raik should not set too fast a pace, for it would cause ye discomfort and harm the babe.”

  “Hm. I have heard others speak of Raik staring at a man until the fellow did what he vowed he would not do. I thought mayhap he spoke so quietly none could hear.” Catalin wondered if he sensed they spoke about him, for he turned halfway in his saddle. His intense blue eyes stared into hers and he smiled before he turned back to face forward.

  Catalin took a deep breath of pine-scented air and shivered, for it reminded her of Ranald’s exciting scent.

  “I look forward to spending these next days in the open.” It had rained late in the night, but the dawn was clear with nary a cloud to mar the crystal blue sky. She glanced down and patted her expanding middle, for the babe had awakened early and seemed as excited as she.

  “Uh huh. I hope we feel the same tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.”

  And those next days passed without any untoward incidents. It was as if Ranald had swept all problems away, leaving them clear passage to Hunter Castle. That last day, Catalin lifted her face to the sun. Mayhap the beauty of the day was a sign that all would go well. Several leagues later, they rode out of the forest to see softly rolling hills in the distance with beech and rowan trees mingled with the pines covering them. Shimmering waterfalls interrupted the swaying green branches now and again. What most brought a smile to her lips was the sun turning droplets in the cascading water’s mist into sparkling jewels. Water crashing at the foot of the hill added to the roar of the rapids.