Forbidden (13 page)

“I fear the cuts will fester.” Catalin
flushed again and rolled her eyes. She flopped back on the bed.
“But I cannot ask Ranald to spread his legs to look at them.”

“Oh, aye, you can. But you had best be ready
to lie beneath him right after.” Hannah uncovered the dry bread she
had brought. “I though your stomach might be a little stressed this
morn. Eat afore you sit up again.”

“Before dawn, I was sick. I tried to swallow
it back, but it came too fast. His face was so hard, though his
words were gentle. He will never forgive me for not telling
him.”

“You did not trick Ranald. Broccin would not
have let you get away. He wants your lands, your filled coffers.”
She eyed Catalin and frowned, looked at the sheets and nodded her
head. “I think Moridac told his father what he had done.”

“What?”

“I thought it strange when he insisted his
own servant tend your laundry. ‘Tis likely she is the one sent here
to spy on you. She must have told him about the sheets that day.
Ah. And told him that you had no bloody cloths, no woman’s time
after Moridac’s passing.”

Catalin gagged and grasped her mouth. A cold
cloth on her neck soon calmed her.

“Hateful man. That is the reason he goaded
Ranald. He came sneaking into the room afore dawn, but Ranald
expected him.”

They both hushed hearing a light scratch on
the door. Hannah opened it a crack and whispered to someone, then
closed it.

“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!”

“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.”