Nic placed Morgan, clean from the bath and no longer covered in blood, under the covers of the massive bed where he had slept as more than just a guest. Featherstone was like home to him. He had known Connor most all his life. Now Nic felt he was in Connor’s debt for more than just his friendship.
Nic dressed slowly, as if he had aged over the course of the last few hours. He felt drained and lost for the first time in his life.
After he ate from the tray of food Mary had brought him, he sat, watching Morgan as she lay there. Her breathing seemed labored and unsteady. He knew Mary was praying in the chapel and he thought he should join her. Instead, he stayed by Morgan’s bed, having asked Mary to intercede on his behalf.
Needing to feel her in his arms, he gave in to the urge to go to her, to hold her. Nic crawled onto the bed, pulling her against his body, immediately feeling better. It felt right. This was where she belonged.
Was Morgan his destiny? He thought perhaps she just might be. Connor was right. Fate was a crafty witch and Destiny even more cruel. He had just found Morgan and might lose her.
Hours went by. He released her only to light the candles by the bedside.
As the candles burned low, Nic began to realize her breathing was back to normal. Her body temperature had risen. She was in a natural slumber. Only then did he, too, succumb to sleep.
~*****~
Morgan stirred as she sensed Nic’s presence next to her. She could barely see the single candle burning low through the tiny slits of her swollen eyelids. Where was she? The last memory she had was of the fight.
“Nic, are you hurt?” Morgan spoke softly, reaching out to touch him. Her mouth and throat were so dry, and it was painful to speak.
“I’m unharmed. It’s all right. Don’t panic and don’t try to talk. Drink this, just small sips,” he said, bringing a cup of warm liquid to her lips.
“Thank you,” she said after taking a few sips of the warm broth. “Where are we?”
Brushing the hair back from her forehead, he checked her for fever. It was slight and not unexpected. “We’re in the house of friends who welcomed us. You’re safe, and so’s your secret. Morgan, I know you’re the Duchess of Seabridge.”
He waited a moment to let his news register with her.
Morgan found that she was relieved that the secret was out and in the open.
“If you send me back, he’ll kill me.” Morgan tried to stay strong. “Are you going to send me back?”
Nic shook his head. Not on his life would he send her back. “Nay, Morgan. I won’t send you back,” Nic said.
Finally losing the battle with her emotions, she began to sob, relieved yet frightened of what her future would bring.
“Please, don’t weep. I promise I’ll keep you safe.” In order to soothe her, Nic placed her in his lap and wrapped a sheet around her shoulders.
She continued to sob. “Thank you, thank you.” She felt safe for the first time in seven years. The relief was overwhelming. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this situation. I fear that Uncle Lester will kill you for this.”
“Nay, he won’t. Please, Morgan, love, listen to me. Please, stop. You’re safe. I’m safe.” Nic could feel her sobbing still and wanted to soothe her. “Morgan, it’ll be fine. I promise. I know that I’ve let you down before. Never again, I promise.”
He felt her nod her head against his chest, sniffing loudly. She still believed in him even though he had let her down. He almost had gotten her killed.
Morgan quieted and tiny hiccups escaped her as he continued to hold her and ran his hand rhythmically up and down her arm without saying anything. He felt her relaxing against him.
“Morgan, love, are you better?”
She nodded her head, confessing, “It has just all been too much.” Seven years of too much, she wanted to say but held back. “I guess I just needed to let it out.”
“Hmmm,” he grunted, not fully understanding. Nic guessed letting it out by crying was something a woman needed to do. If he needed to let it out he would just have a grueling practice session with Connor or Cullen. He wondered if he would ever understand the fairer sex. Maybe he didn’t have to understand her to make her happy? Perhaps acceptance of her was all that was required.
“I need to go downstairs and talk to Connor. I haven’t left your side. Now that you know we’re safe and you’re not in any danger, do you think you’ll be all right by yourself for little while? I’ll stay if you wish it.”
She shook her head. “Nay, take your leave and go to your friend.”
“I promise to come back and check on you later. Try to sleep more, lass. You need to rest to regain your strength. Do you want me to blow out the candle or leave it burning?”
“Burning, please. I’m afraid of the dark.” Morgan’s graveled voice was barely above a whisper.
Nic rested his chin on her head and stared at the far wall. Anger grew within him as he could only guess what Brentwood had done to her.
“I’ll make Brentwood pay,” Nic vowed hotly.
When she stiffened, he drew his anger deep within himself.
“My anger is at your uncle, never at you, Morgan, never you,” he reassured her, continuing to rub her back in slow circular motions.
He waited for her to relax again.
“Get some sleep, lass. I’ll return shortly,” he said, then placed her gently on the bed. Next, he tucked the blankets around her and left the chamber, which he had not left for the past two days.
Chapter 19
Nic found Connor in the Great Hall by the fire. He motioned for Nic to take the chair beside him.
“What in the bloody hell have you gotten yourself into this time?” Connor demanded, handing Nic a mug of spiced wine.
“That battered and bloody young squire of mine is actually Morgan Pembridge.”
“Your duchess?” Connor asked with more than mild interest.
“Aye.”
Connor whistled through his teeth.
“All right, so she is your bride. Can you tell me what’s going on? How did this all come about? If she’s the duchess then why is she dressed as a boy? More importantly, why is she in the shape she’s in?”
Nic told Connor the entire story, leaving nothing out.
“It was the most unexpected thing I’ve ever seen coming from a woman. It was as if she had no thought of her own safety. She comes out of nowhere, stabs the one to my right in the neck with a dagger that she got from God only knows where. Then without breaking stride, scoops up the fallen man’s sword and levels a man three times her size.”
“Unbelievable!” Connor shook his head in wonder. The women he knew would freeze in terror, screaming at the top of their lungs for divine intervention. This action from a woman was foreign to him, but not unattractive. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He began to understand the admiration that he heard in Nic’s voice.
Nic continued. “All jesting aside, I owe this woman my life. She saved me from a lot of pain and physical harm and almost lost her own life in the bargain. She’s tough, Connor.”
“So I’m beginning to believe,” Connor said as he closely watched his friend.
“She has a strength I admire. If I had to go into battle, I might want her there with me.”
Connor snorted, protesting such an absurd idea. “Have you lost your mind, man? Women don’t go to battle. It’s barbaric to think of it.”
Nic continued to qualify his statement. “Aye, it is, but I’m half-serious. Look, she planned and carried out her own escape, thinking enough in advance to dress and act as a boy. Personally, I think it was ingenious. She was cunning enough to play a mute when I found her so she did not have to answer any questions until we were well past Seabridge’s reach.”
Connor raised an eyebrow and Nic continued.
“She’s exceptionally smart and brave when she manages to get past her distrust, which happens more and more the longer we’re together.”
Connor nodded, letting Nic talk
. His words were quite telling. Connor understood, knowing Nic as well as he understood and knew himself. Nic was falling in love.
Nic continued. “She’s pretty in an unconventional kind of way. Not that you can tell right now from all the swelling. I’m not displeased with Henry’s choice for me. If I must marry, I really do think she’s a good match for me.”
She was his from the moment she had awakened in his arms on the side of the road and covered in mud.
“She took a great chance, Nic. Dressed as a boy or not, she must have been desperate to take such a risk. Where was she going?” Connor ventured.
“My thought is she may have been trying to reach London and the king. She was quick to point out the night at the inn that she wanted something from me just as I wanted something from her. Perhaps she saw a way to have me take her to London in safety, and she would be my squire on the way. I got what I wanted, and so did she.”
“But you said you were heading north and she agreed to go. It was only after the brush with the search party that you decided to go to London. Are you sure this is not just some young woman’s ploy for the attentions of a guardian who’s careless?”
“Nay. She never blinked when I told her I knew she was the Duchess of Seabridge. And she was quite serious in saying he’d kill her if I sent her back. I believe her, Connor.” Nic took a long draw from his wine. He was worried. The loss of blood was deadly and had left her more fragile. The fever was under control, but that could go either direction very quickly, too.
“She’ll always carry the scars both physically and emotionally,” Connor was saying, mirroring Nic’s thoughts exactly.
“I know. I fear so, as well. Just add them to Brentwood’s ledgers. Those were his men.” Nic finished his wine. That fact only gave credence to her saying that Lester would kill him, too. That was the intention of that group.
“How can you be certain? They nearly killed her.” Connor rubbed his jaw in thought. “However, I can see where he would gain if highwaymen killed the both of you.” Connor poured them another goblet of wine and went to stoke the fire to life again. “You’re sure those were his men?” he threw back over his shoulder while he stoked the fire.
“Aye, I’m certain they were his men. I overheard one telling the others to ‘find Morgan.’ I don’t believe they were deliberately trying to kill her. I think they didn’t know she was going around the countryside disguised as a boy. She was wearing one of my hooded shirts, so they had no way of knowing that it was Morgan. I feel certain the man would not have fought with her had he known.”
Connor nodded. “They were expecting a young woman, not a squire. She’s tall enough to be successful with the ploy.” Connor could see where the confusion had almost cost the duchess her life.
The two men sat in silence for a few moments as the fire crackled and popped. Connor was the first to speak again.
“Does she know about Henry’s decree?” Connor watched Nic’s reaction.
Nic shook his head.
“When are you going to tell her?” Connor asked.
“Tell her what? That once the wedding has taken place I’ll have to take her back to Seabridge? I know I must tell her soon. I had wanted to take her to London and deposit her in Henry’s care before I leave to make the necessary journey home. But she can’t stay in Henry’s care indefinitely, and I must see her settled before I leave for my lands in the north. Seabridge is the most logical place.” What was implied was Nic would clean the castle of any threat before leaving her. And that leaving her wouldn’t be permanent. He had decided he would try and build a life with her after all.
“Will she be agreeable to this, do you think?”
Nic shrugged a wide shoulder. “I must marry when we get to London. What other choice does she have other than to agree?”
Nic understood that as a woman her choices were few. The king had decreed she would become his bride so she would become his bride. She could do worse for a husband than him, but aside from that, she needed a protector. His gut was telling him Lester Brentwood would kill her if she didn’t marry him. Maybe Morgan knew that her death was a foregone conclusion if she stayed behind those castle walls.
~*****~
Morgan backed farther into the shadows. “I’ve more choices than you could possibly know,” Morgan whispered to herself.
She had heard all she needed to hear. Nic had lied to her, and she was surprised at how much it hurt. Yet she had to face the facts that he was going to take her back to Seabridge once he married his woman who was waiting for him in London.
She wouldn’t go back. Nic simply didn’t understand and obviously hadn’t believed her when she said that Lester would kill her. Her heart hurt even knowing his betrayal wasn’t fully intentional. She had to get to the king, and it was now or never for her to make her escape.
Back in the sleeping chamber, Morgan quickly gathered her belongings. Feeling guilty but seeing the necessity, she took Nic’s coin purse and the small knife that he always kept close at hand. It was all the protection she would have. It was better than nothing. She would repay him once she was able to get her hands on her funds.
Slipping out and into the darkness, Morgan made for the stables. It was harder than she thought it would be to slip past the groomsmen. There was still considerable activity in spite of the late hour. Seeing her opportunity, she slipped unnoticed into the stall where Salt stood munching on fresh clean straw. She had little choice but to risk the ride with only a bridle and a blanket. The saddle was proving to be too much for her to secure and she abandoned the effort.
Just when she thought she wouldn’t have an opportunity to get out of the stables, much less the castle walls, a commotion ensued as two men approached the gates demanding entry in the name of the king.
Morgan held her breath as the gates lifted, admitting the king’s men across the bridge.
“Watchman, keep the gate open just a bit longer. We have two more coming. They’re not far behind.” Morgan heard them shout as the party rode into the courtyard, giving her the diversion she needed.
On Salt’s back, she slipped past the men and headed east into the night. Spurring the animal on through the darkness, she slumped over on the horse’s neck, her body screaming in pain. As she feared, while she was attempting to saddle her mount, the wound had ripped open.
Suddenly she was floating, rising above the pain. She didn’t feel or see the blood steadily streaming down her arm as it soaked into the dark woolen cape. Even with a foggy mind, she knew there was something wrong as her disconnection grew. Giving in, she slipped into the blackness closing in around her, which was darker than the night.
Chapter 20
The king’s men arrived at Featherstone with orders for Nic and Connor to report to the king at once. They had spent the balance of the night in discussions with Henry’s men. Nic was aware that Henry had some trouble brewing in Ireland, and the king needed the services of his two best men.
Nic cursed his luck. Morgan was nowhere near ready to travel, and Nic knew he dared not leave her here to her own designs. He might be away for months, and he knew she wouldn’t be here when he returned. She was too much of a flight risk, not to mention still in grave danger.
For the first time Nic’s heart was refusing to answer the call of his king. Torn between his responsibility to Morgan and his duty to King Henry, Nic was searching for a balance. He was squarely in that place he never wanted to be.
Nic figured eight days round trip to London and back to Featherstone. Then another four or five to take Morgan back to London. The plan would mean twelve days of hard riding, but it was plausible.
“Connor, I have to leave tonight and go to the king.”
“Are you going to ask Henry to delay your deployment?”
“Aye, long enough to get Morgan feeling stronger and safely deposited into his care. I don’t dare leave her here.”
Connor started to protest. “She’ll be fine.”
Nic held up his h
ands in a gesture to stop him from commenting further.
“Nay, don’t take offense, Connor. She’s willful and fully realizes the extent of her danger. Fear is a very motivating factor, and she could prove slippery.”
“She’s too weak to cause much trouble at the moment,” Connor said.
“Aye, but given a week, I’m afraid she’ll have your household up in arms.”
Nic’s words couldn’t have been more prophetic.
~*****~
Finishing the business with the king’s messenger, the men began to complete arrangements to leave. All Nic lacked was his knife and coin bag and to tell Morgan goodbye.
Upon entering the room, he knew she was gone.
“Bloody hell!”
He rushed out of the room and bolted down the stairs.
“You two search the castle for my squire!” he commanded, pointing to a set of soldiers sitting at a gaming table. Then he rushed out the door, going straight to the stables. Throwing the doors wide, he saw Vernon neatly in his stall. Right next to Trojan was Salt’s empty stall.
“Nay even a week to cause this much trouble!” Nic said to his horse. “Now we’ve a mess,” he said, running his hands through his hair. He didn’t need this kind of problem.
He should have known better; however, it didn’t make any sense to Nic that she would run. Behind these fortified walls, it would take a small army for Brentwood to reach her.
He now had a serious problem on his hands. His king was expecting him in three days and he had a runaway bride to deal with.
Promptly making his way back to the house, Nic gathered three men along the way and found Connor giving orders to his steward.
“What’s wrong?” Connor saw the tightness around Nic’s mouth, which never boded well.
“Morgan is not upstairs and her horse is gone.”
Connor stared at him in disbelief, then shook his head. “And it only gets better, Nic. Brentwood and his men are at my gates.”
They needed to find her and fast. She was outside the castle walls and was in no shape to survive if she began to bleed, if her fever rose, or if she came under attack. Any and all were possibilities.