Seduced by Sophia Johnson

his
boot and jumped back. The dog did not move. The men spread the
carrier on the ground and started to roll the sleeping dog onto
it.
    They jumped backward and near fell over
themselves when they disturbed the injured leg and the dog thrashed
about. His strange, yellow eyes opened mere slits; his jaws opened
much wider. Both sides of his mouth were torn. Had someone forced
chains between his jaws too? Then taunted him with food? After he
again settled down, they lifted the four ends of the poles and
carried the beast to the stable.
    As she rode past the keep, she tried to keep
her eyes lowered. She could not. Some force willed her to look
upward. The harder she fought it, the stronger was the urge to do
so. She gulped and took one quick glance at the window above. The
Scotsman stood there, his arms crossed.
    If fury were a color, a red haze would
surround him. Muscles bulged in his forearms as if he fought the
desire to strike her. One quick glance at his face was near her
undoing.
    The force of his stormy blue glare was so
near a physical thing that she fought not to sway in the saddle.
She gritted her teeth, looked straight ahead and continued to the
stable.
    A stall, with higher walls and gate than
customary, stood off to itself. Sleeping quarters for the stable
hands divided it from the horse stalls. They carried the beast
there and lowered it to the straw covered floor.
    "Remove the poles but do not move him." Letia
waited until the men left the enclosure then motioned to a stalwart
slinger to come to her.
    "We need your aid to tie strips of leather
around his front legs and then secure his snout."
    The freckles across the red-haired warrior's
nose looked darker than usual. He hesitated, then clamped his jaws
together and swallowed before kneeling. Warin held the dog's head
up as the man did as she bid.
    When he was done, Letia worked fast, not
wanting the beast to awaken before she was through. It took longer
than she had expected, though. Warin aided her when he could. 'Twas
his decision to leave the chain around the dog's neck for now. The
skin was too raw to take a chance for the blacksmith to cut it
free. She coated the black neck with salves that would at least
start the skin to healing then concentrated on the rest of its
injuries.
    "Julian's men must have secured the dog's
chains to a post." Warin shook his head in sympathy. "No doubt they
tormented the helpless beast with swords or spears."
    "Aye. At least his smaller wounds are clean."
She carefully treated each one. "Ugh. I hate maggots." She
swallowed and steeled herself. "Much as I dislike them, 'tis a good
thing they have eaten away the dead flesh."
    She shuddered as she cleaned the maggots and
bits of dirt and leaves from the yawning wound on the animals
flesh. Earlier, she had boiled water and steeped herbs in it, which
she used to flush the wounds clean. Starting at his back and around
to his groin, she stitched the flesh together.
    Warin kept a steady hand on the big, black
head as she worked. It took as many stitches as she had sewn on the
Scot's shoulder. Much less fancy, though. This flesh required
speed, not delicate mending.
    "You must hurry. He begins to awake," Warin
warned.
    She hurriedly coated her work with healing
salves and settled back on her haunches. She could do no more.
    Letia talked and rubbed the black head all
the while Warin and Giles untied the leather straps holding
him.
    "Were you Freki, Woden's wolf, and not an
earthly hound, his ravens would have warned him you required aid."
Letia shook her head at the silliness of her words. "I shall call
you Freki. Such great size deserves a great name."
    As if he sensed her words, he took a deep
breath then opened yellow eyes to blink sleepily at her.
    Giles set a large wooden bowl filled with
water within the dog's reach and placed scraps the servants had
collected from the evening meal beside it. Warin helped her to rise
and they hurried from the stall. Piers swung the tall gate