She quickly lowered her head, closed her eyes, and placed her hands into her lap. It was as if she was bracing herself for the blow she was so sure would follow.
He watched her for a moment more, eyes narrowing, trying to read her body language.
Was she cowering? Or was she just watchful?
“Please, I beg your forgiveness,” she said. The tears slide down her cheeks. The last few days were getting to her. She knew Nic wouldn’t strike her, yet old habits die hard.
Nic saw that all joy was gone from her as she fell back into the silence that Nic was growing to hate.
“I’m not angry with you, Morgan. Eat your food while it’s still warm,” he encouraged her gently.
Morgan didn’t eat another bite nor did she say another word as Nic continued with his meal. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, keeping her head lowered and eyes averted. The tension was thick between them, and he was angry with an enemy he didn’t know but was growing in his suspicions.
To break the tension, Nic began to tell her stories of court, of London, and the king.
It did the trick.
As he shared his experiences, she reappeared, inching past her caution. Her curiosity was stronger than the lingering wariness that she surely still felt towards him.
She sat in awe of the stories and began slowing eating again, so he continued to fill her mind with information that he felt she might find useful in the future while she filled her belly.
Her mind absorbed every detail, every word. He saw she couldn’t get enough, like a sponge taking in everything her hungry mind could absorb. Making a note to add that to the list of traits he was discovering about her, he could tell by looking into her eyes that there was a great intelligence there. He would feed that intelligence with each new adventure he passed on to her, especially if it distracted her enough to feed her physical body, as well.
With one last tale, he went on to talk about the swordplay that occurred between knights, explaining it as a way to keep his stamina up, his blade quick, and just to let off steam and energy. He talked about different offensive and defensive moves. He told her how to defend herself from an attacker. He talked of where the killing points were on a body using the uneaten bird as a model.
“Will you teach me? Please?” She ventured the question, biting her bottom lip and praying she hadn’t overstepped her boundaries with this knight.
The question surprised him, tempting him to quickly say aye.
“We’ll see.” He smiled patiently. That was all he would commit to in that moment.
Her face was an open book for him to read. It amazed him the way her eyes sparkled in the firelight as he talked and then how her disappointment was clear when he stopped and began to ready for bed.
She was so wrapped up in his stories she had forgotten all about his state of undress. Her eyes were having trouble staying focused on his face.
He’s beautiful, she thought.
And, to her mortification, he was speaking to her and she had been staring. She snapped her gaze back to his face.
Nic smiled secretively to himself. He knew her body and inexperience were wreaking havoc with her senses. Hell, even he was having a hard time keeping his hands off her. The draw between them was unmistakable and would become more so as time passed. However, she was inexperienced, and he wouldn’t take advantage of her until he properly married her before Henry and the priest. It was up to him to keep the lines clearly drawn.
“You may sleep by the fire or in the bed. It’s your choice, lad.”
He knew he was sleeping in the bed either way. He wasn’t about to pass up a mattress for a stone floor. He made the offer instinctively, knowing Morgan had to feel the choice was hers to make. Nic saw the indecision on her face but knew the soft mattress would prove too much temptation for her to decline. She walked to the bed and lay down. He walked across the room to join her, his towering form standing by the edge of the narrow frame.
“Morgan, roll over. I need to be between you and the door so that I can protect you from intruders if necessary.”
She almost panicked, knowing that would trap her between the wall and the wall of Nic’s body.
Nay, she thought, I’ll be strong. She would play the part of his squire.
“Nay, I’ll protect you, my lord.” And she felt she might actually do that very thing and die trying. He was a good man who reminded her of her father, not in looks but in manner. That was what counted. “It would gain you extra time to draw your sword should an intruder enter. They would have to come past me first,” she said as she stood to face him.
Nic might have found this humorous if he had given the comment any thought or if they had been in any other circumstance. However, since he didn’t stop to think and they were not in a different place, his reaction proved swift.
“Nay,” he said emphatically.
She wondered how one uncomplicated word could carry such weight.
“I repeat, nay.” Nic crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t have a weapon, nor do I know if you could use it even if you did own one. Now, get in bed and let me do what I do best, or go sleep by the fire.”
He knew he had challenged her but figured the soft bed would likely win in the end, and she would do as he asked by sleeping on the inside.
She looked into his handsome face for a few seconds and saw all she needed to see. Morgan had not lived this long without learning the lesson of when to pick her battles. This one was one she wasn’t likely to win. It wasn’t worth the energy to wage the battle, either. Furthermore, he wasn’t going to force her into compliance and have her back to a wall.
Fine, she thought, I’ll sleep by the fire.
Morgan’s blanket was in her pack by the plank door to their room. Without a word, she began to make her way toward the door.
Mistaking her intent, Nic was on Morgan before she knew what was happening. Whirling her around, his hands an iron grip on her upper arms, Nic pinned the full length of her body to the door with his.
“Don’t be foolish, lad” he demanded.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
He didn’t hear her words.
“There’s at least one search party out there looking for ya, lad, and who knows how many more. Did you think I wasn’t aware the hunters are after you like some prize game? You’re mine, and I don’t intend to let harm find you. So do not be rash and think to walk out of here, Morgan. You would be making a most grave mistake were you to try and leave.”
Nic felt her tighten against his body. Her resolve began to rise within her.
With determination, she met him squarely. Her eyes narrowed and her chin rose. Slowly she shook her head. “Nay, Nic. The mistake is already yours to own. My intent wasn’t to walk out the door but to get my blanket from my pack and sleep by the fire.”
Nic looked down to where she was pointing on the floor by her feet.
Coolly, she continued to deliver her warning. “You will release me and don’t touch me again, sir. I may be your squire, but I’m your squire by choice and by agreement. I need something from you. You need something from me. It’s just that simple. Furthermore, I’ll walk out any door I choose and at any time of my choosing. Don’t ever forget that, McKinnon.”
Holding his hands up in concession, Nic let her go and backed away a step. He was angry with himself as the silence hung thick between them and as he stood watching her pick up her pack. Morgan pushed past him, walking to the fire without a backward glance, and Nic knew any forward progress he may have made with his bride had just been undone.
~*****~
The inn was quiet, and still Nic couldn’t sleep. He kept seeing the caged animal peering out of those beautiful green eyes. He had somehow found a raw, open wound in her when he backed her to a wall. She came out fighting. Whatever Morgan was running from may have put mistrust and fear into her, but it had not broken her spirit.
He smiled. He found the thought pleasing.
It would be a shame to break such a
creature. Her mistrust was deep but her spirit was stronger, and his respect for her deepened as he thought about the fact that she had planned and carried out her escape. Granted, it had been far from perfect, but the fact she had tried and succeeded was commendable.
On the other hand, was it just a last act of desperation?
Was the unknown less frightening than the life she left behind?
Where was she heading when he found her? Nic hadn’t thought about that aspect. Had Morgan prepared to stay on her own? She had no way of knowing she would find her way to be here with him as her protector. So even as appalling as the thought might be, Nic felt certain that was exactly what she was planning.
The questions swirled through his head as he pushed unwanted images from his mind of the horrors that could have happened had he not found her when he did. She may not be aware of the evils of this world, but he was no stranger to the viler side of life.
He kept looking over at her sleeping on her side by the fire, noting the soft curves of her body outlined by the glow of the dying embers. The fire would be dead soon and she would get cold, but it would serve her right. She could have had the warmth and softness of the bed but made the choice to sleep on the floor instead. It was her choice.
Nevertheless, Nic knew it really wasn’t her choice. He had forced her to the fire just as he had tried to force her to the inside wall.
“Well, fine. You win, lass,” he said as he padded over to her, knelt down, and gathered her as if she were a sleeping child. Gently, Nic laid her on the bed. She never stirred as he pulled her to him.
She’s a heavy sleeper and I’m grateful, he thought.
The last thing he wanted in the wee hours before dawn was another argument with her.
“Stubborn wench. Little do you realize that you do belong to me,” he whispered into the night as he pulled her closer into his warmth.
Chapter 16
“My lord, the mounts are ready to ride.” The young boy whispered to Nic as he stood in the darkened hallway.
Outside it was very predawn and hours before morning prayers. It was time to leave. Nic had gone to ready the horses for travel, leaving Morgan sleeping in the narrow bed upstairs. They had to keep moving because to delay was inconceivable with the search party probably just hours behind them.
The young man, true to his word, had the mounts ready to go before first light. Nic went back into the inn to retrieve his bride. In the room, he lifted her into his arms carefully, taking the chance of waking her. Morgan barely stirred.
“Go back to sleep, Morgan,” he said gently, pushing her head into the curve of his shoulder.
Making his way through the common room with her in his arms, he edged past sleeping travelers, never noticing the man in the shadows.
“Ah, yes,” Stewart said under his breath.
The McKinnon was carrying the girl, who was wrapped in his cloak. Yet he could see her face as her head rested on Nic’s shoulder. Stewart was positive he had found his prey. She was with the knight that the drunken thief told him about while complaining about his loses in the Bristol pub.
Stewart slipped unnoticed out the side door.
~*****~
Morgan woke slowly to a gentle rocking movement. The faint light told her it was early dawn. Safe and warm, she didn’t want to come out of her sleep-filled paradise. There she was loved, cherished, and protected.
She inhaled deeply, then slowly let out the air in her lungs as she breathed a sigh of relief. She knew where she was. She was on a horse and in Nic’s arms. To her surprise it felt safe, regardless of the misunderstanding they had the night before. She felt something she had not felt in years: protected and totally secure.
Nic knew the minute Morgan woke. Her body went from soft and malleable to alert. He felt her stiffen shortly after leaving the inn. Nic braced himself for what he felt sure was coming. Then to his surprise, she relaxed against him again; he had never expected her to go back to sleep.
He enjoyed holding her. It made him feel good to know he could give her a few moments of peace and security. She had finally given him her trust in that respect, maybe not in him as a man, but she did have faith in him to protect her, and he would defend her to his death. Honor had nothing to do with it, he realized. She was worth dying for.
She was stirring, coming alive again. Looking into her face in the early gray light of dawn, her gaze was unfocused and looked as if she were far away, in a distant place.
“You smell the way my father smelled, like rich earth, hot flames, and crashing seas. I miss him,” she said with the sorrow clear in her voice.
It caught him off guard.
“Morgan,” he breathed her name and leaned in to kiss her. Abruptly stopping, he realized what he was doing.
Changing like quicksilver, she straightened, stiffening in his arms as she gained control.
“Nic, I really do understand the need to have me play the role of your injured squire while we were at the inn. That’s no longer necessary. You can put me down now. I can ride on my own. It’s safer that way.”
Would he ever figure this woman out? Shaking his head, he stopped Trojan and allowed her to slide down his leg to the ground, all the while holding her arms to prevent her from tumbling. Walking back to her mount, Nic watched as her hips gently swayed in the boy’s trousers that she had donned in the night.
He made a mental note to find her some looser clothing. That sweet little bottom and long legs were proving to be a distraction that he didn’t need and certainly didn’t want.
She eased alongside him as Trojan danced sideways. “Set whatever pace you feel necessary to get us safely to London. I’ll do my best to keep up.”
Following her suggestion, Nic set a moderately brisk pace, though not as grueling as the previous day. In the clear light of the day, Morgan decided she was acting immature for being jealous. She clearly had no reason. Nor did she have a right. He wasn’t her knight. He was, although, her employer in a manner of speaking, and she owed him respect.
For years after her parents’ death, she had prayed for a knight to rescue her. Seemingly, on the surface fate answered her prayer. However, there was no way she could let her girlhood fantasies run away with her. She was a grown woman and understood how fantasy and reality rarely crossed paths, and she knew that better than most.
She was no longer a child and had to look at the bigger picture. And that bigger picture was getting to London and talking to the king. When they arrived in London, Morgan wasn’t beyond using Nic’s connections to get through the outer gates of the palace. She wouldn’t need him once she spoke to the king and made her identity known. At least, Morgan hoped she wouldn’t need him. Still, she contemplated that she wouldn’t burn that bridge until she was fully certain. He was a man she didn’t mind having as her ally.
Besides, it was obvious his affections lay elsewhere. His body the night before in the bath was evidence of that fact. His very open and honest confession only confirmed it. And she wasn’t totally ignorant of how sex worked. He had been aroused. So was she, and those were waters she didn’t need to explore.
Images of him kissing the blonde, faceless woman came uninvited into her mind. She imagined Nic with those large and beautifully tanned hands framing the face of his woman. She could see Nic slowly lower his mouth to his lover’s lips, his hair cascading to cloak both his and his lover’s faces. She shook herself out of the vision, feeling the jealousy arise anew and much more fiercely than before.
What is wrong with me, she wondered.
She attempted to harden her heart.
Once they arrived in London, she would tell him of her true identity. He would be bound by rules of court to escort her to the king. Simply put, she outranked him in polite society.
Morgan felt she must get free of Nic as soon as he had helped her secure that introduction with King Henry.
He’s as dangerous to my person as Uncle Lester ever thought to be, even at his worst, she thought.
/> It was a different kind of danger, but danger, nonetheless. He was a danger to her heart.
Why was Nic not toothless and old? At least then she could feel more detached.
Lost in his own thoughts, Nic hardly noticed the landscape changing as they made their way eastward on a well-traversed road. His thoughts were just as dark as Morgan’s. Lord Brentwood must be to blame for her apprehensive behavior; there could be no other explanation for her leaving Seabridge in the first place and her fear of going back.
Nic also recognized that she didn’t fear him any longer. It was more that she distrusted him. Morgan obviously led him away from Seabridge because she had sufficient reason to run. Not striking him as a woman to run simply as a way to gain attention, he was sure Morgan made her escape for a very good reason. Her behavior only sealed his conclusions. And after the last night’s events, how was he going to persuade her to confide in him? He knew he had severely damaged his chances with her. It was obvious the lady didn’t trust easily, and he needed her to trust him. He needed to be able to size up his enemy, and the only way to do that was to get the information from her.
He slowed the pace. Leaning over, he grabbed Salt’s bridle, stopping them on the road. He saw the look she gave him. She was wary and rightfully so after his behavior the night before.
“Forgive me for last night. I was wrong.” He offered up an olive branch. “I overreacted just as I overreacted in the woods. I can be a grouch when sleep deprived, and I have never tried to claim sainthood because of it.”
“Probably just as well, my lord,” she offered. She wasn’t letting him so easily off the hook even if she understood.
He doesn’t want me to run, Morgan thought as she looked down at his hands holding the reins.
Turning to face him, she could see the set of his jaw as he looked at a spot between Trojan’s ears. He was collecting his thoughts. She could almost hear the wheels turning.
He faced her squarely. “Morgan, again, I’m verray sorry about last night and would ask your forgiveness for my behavior. It was uncalled for. I know that you don’t trust easily, and I’ve my suspicions as to why. So, I know that what I’m about to ask isn’t going to be easy for you.”