“Nay,” she said firmly to the stillness of the chamber. She wouldn’t allow any man to have that much control over her. Tomorrow was her birthday. She would be twenty-one and free.
Chapter 26
Morgan dressed with the greatest of care. Selecting and discarding several gowns, she finally chose the emerald green silk, shot through with gold thread. The scooping, scandalous bodice showed off her creamy skin, providing the perfect backdrop for the beautiful cross now hanging from her slender neck.
It was the first time she had dared to wear it.
The rosewood cross and heavy gold chain somehow felt comforting to her as if connecting her to something greater than just herself.
Mary brushed her hair and wove flowers into a laurel with colorful silk ribbons that when placed on her head hung down her back. Nic was thoughtful enough to have a pair of soft kid slippers made for her, which arrived just that morning along with the dress.
Mary stepped back to survey her handiwork. “Oh, child, let me look at ye. Ye are simply a vision. Your skin is back to a beautiful cream, and your eyes are sparkling like emeralds.”
Morgan was stunned. No one except her father had called her beautiful, and that was because she looked so much like her mother.
“I thank you, Mary. The dress and headpiece are gorgeous.” She smiled nervously at the older woman’s appraisal.
“Have ye never been told ye are a vision, child?” Mary saw Morgan’s embarrassment and felt she knew the cause.
“Nay. I have always been too dark, too tall, and too flat to be considered beautiful. One suitor called me a giraffe,” Morgan said as she ran her hands down her breasts and stomach, feeling very conscious of her height. At six feet, she towered over most men and all the women she knew.
“Oh, that is such nonsense, just look at me. I’m round and short and Thomas thinks I’m beautiful. There’ll be others who will think ye beautiful.”
As she was leaving, Mary thought there was one knight in particular who would find Morgan irresistible tonight.
Morgan peered at her reflection in the mirror, wondering if Nic would notice her, and questioned why his attention even mattered to her.
~*****~
Mary let Nic know Morgan was ready. He was sitting in front of the great fireplace discussing with Cullen the probability that Henry would soon be calling them to London.
“My lord, she’s ready and looks beautiful tonight. I think ye will approve.” Mary beamed like an artist unveiling a masterpiece.
Nic tapped lightly on her door before opening it to her soft invitation. He saw her there by the window looking out into the early twilight. Her profile was sleek and graceful. Slowly, she turned to face him. Nic thought Mary had underestimated the effect. Morgan was beautiful, and she took his breath. He had no idea a woman could make him feel so calm, so strong, and so alive.
Nic crossed the room to stand beside her and gallantly bowed. Taking her hand, he slowly brought her palm to his lips, kissing the sensitive spot on her wrist. It was such an intimate gesture that it sent a tingling sensation through her.
“You look beautiful this evening, Morgan. I would be honored, Duchess, if you’d be my companion for tonight’s May Day festivities in the Great Hall.”
Morgan was surprised. She hadn’t dressed for public dining.
“Nic, I’m overdressed for the occasion. I don’t want to seem pretentious to our hosts.” She felt shy, suddenly aware of how revealing her dress was and realizing with a start that she had dressed for Nic’s eyes alone.
“Nay, Morgan, you’re perfect. Come with me. Let me have the honor, lass.” He crooked his right arm in silent invitation. Smiling up at him, she tentatively slipped her hand into the bend of Nic’s elbow; she found he wasn’t the only one having problems breathing.
He placed his hand over hers, and they descended the staircase to the Great Hall.
Cullen was standing at the base of the staircase and swore he was viewing a small slice of heaven.
Chapter 27
The feast was wonderful. In celebration of May Day, wine flowed freely and several kinds of meat, bread, and cheese covered the table. Dancing, music, and song brought happiness to the hall, and Morgan enjoyed herself immensely.
Nic watched her closely for any signs of fatigue. All he saw was a beautiful woman glowing with excitement. Feeling satisfied with her reactions to the evening’s festivities, he sat through the courses and the early evening with little interest in anything except this vision seated beside him. He couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off her, and he felt as if he were a lovesick youth.
Much to his dismay, she was having the same effect on all the men in the hall. She had danced with several of the men, and he was having trouble keeping unfounded jealously from dampening his spirits. She was his and all knew it as a fact, but they also knew he hadn’t fully laid claim to her, but that was about to change.
As the evening wore on, Nic excused himself when a messenger arrived requiring his immediate attention.
“Morgan, there’s an urgent message from Henry demanding my attention. Please, continue to enjoy yourself. Cullen will be here in a few minutes should you need anything. I won’t be long,” he said, then kissed her hand before he left to find Cullen.
Nic pulled Cullen aside and asked him to attend Morgan until he returned.
“I’ll attend her with pleasure, brother. She’ll be far easier to attend than Baron Whitten’s daughter.” Cullen’s dining companion was known for her constant whining, her vicious gossip, and her ill treatment to her household staff. She also had a voice so shrill it raked down one’s spine. Her exquisite beauty didn’t make up for any of that in his opinion, and he was grateful to have a reason to excuse himself. “Nic, Morgan looks beautiful,” Cullen said, and then he looked back at Morgan and let his eyes travel over her. “There’s no mistaking her for a lad tonight.”
“Careful, Cullen, you tread in dangerous waters, lad.” Nic realized almost too late that Cullen was just paying him and Morgan a compliment. “If I see you have designs on my woman, I’ll have you married off to Baron Whitten’s daughter before sunrise,” Nic teased and grimaced for the man who would have her as a wife. Life wouldn’t be pleasant. It was common knowledge the Baron’s dowry for her was astronomical, yet there had been no takers.
“Nic, do you hate me so?” Cullen asked, wide-eyed in overstated shock. “I always had my suspicions and now I know it for fact,” Cullen said with his hand clutched over his heart and exaggerated dismay etched into his attractive face. “You should’ve drowned me at birth, brother. Drowned me as a bairn to save me from the pain that I feel as a man knowing you so despise me.” Cullen finished his monologue with a dramatic flair.
“The evening is still verray young,” Nic said dryly, raising one dark brow. “I may yet have time to grant your soulful wish.”
Cullen burst into laughter and patted Nic on the shoulder.
“Go on, Nic, the messenger is waiting. I’ll be happy to guard your woman as if she were my own.”
Nic stood for a moment studying his younger sibling. For a split second, Nic didn’t see a brother. He saw him as one male would another. Nic was allowing Cullen into his territory. He prayed his brother’s motives were pure, for all their sakes, as he went to meet the messenger.
Fifteen minutes later, Nic had confirmation. It was as he feared. Henry was out of patience. He and his men were to report immediately, no excuses, no reprieves. He returned to the Great Hall as Cullen was seating Morgan.
“Cullen, we need to talk,” Nic said grimly.
“The news is not good?” Cullen asked as he stood by Morgan’s chair.
“Nic?” Morgan asked in anticipation. Was this the news she was dreading?
Nic laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and she automatically reached up to cover his fingers with hers.
“Nay, not good, but not unexpected either. The king has grown impatient, and we’re to report to London without further del
ay. Cullen, you need to ready the men. Aaron has the orders. Report to him. Give him what support he’ll need.”
“Aye, sir.” Cullen was in military mode. “When do we leave?”
“We’ll leave at dawn.”
Morgan watched as the two men talked. These two were so alike, yet so different. Cullen’s light hair and eyes contrasted Nic’s dark olive complexion. In profile they looked strikingly similar, and when they faced forward the family resemblance was even stronger.
She knew they had the same father but different mothers, yet Nic treated him as total blood. They had a close and genuine relationship.
“Is it known?” Cullen asked cryptically.
Nic knew exactly what Cullen was talking about, Morgan was sure.
“Nay, but soon. If you will, please excuse us? I need to speak privately with my… with Morgan.” Nic turned to Morgan. “Duchess, I’ll walk you back to your chamber where we can talk in private.”
Nic excused them from the guests and guided her silently upstairs to their chambers. Morgan watched his body language. She was becoming a master of reading his ways.
He has something on his mind, she thought.
Nic had to tell her he had married her. He would tell her that he would personally see to Brentwood’s elimination before he left for Ireland. He would tell her she would be free to live her life the way she wanted to live it.
He would have his own life back, too, but was that what he really wanted now? He thought not. When he looked at Morgan, he saw his future. He could picture his children and a good life with a good woman. Knowingly or not, Henry had chosen him a fine wife.
He held the door for her and after she passed through, he softly closed and bolted it behind them. For the first time in many days, an uncomfortable silence hung between them. He had to tell her tonight. They were leaving tomorrow.
Lost in her own thoughts, Morgan knew after tonight he would be forever beyond her reach. He was leaving tomorrow. This would be the last opportunity for her to be with this man as friend or lover. She wanted to take a piece of him with her to face her unknown future. This one piece would have to last her a lifetime.
He was on his way to London, to his king and his bride. He would take her to London until he married and then deposit her back at Seabridge on his way to his ancestral home. Or perhaps if she asked, he would leave her here at Featherstone to her own designs. She wasn’t sure what would be the worst form of torture: never seeing him again or going to London with him and seeing him married.
Tonight was all that mattered. All she wanted was to kiss him again, to touch him, to feel him.
He wasn’t totally indifferent to her. He had touched her hand, stroked her thigh under the table, and whispered closely into her ear all evening.
She, somehow, felt that she should feel shame at her thoughts, but she didn’t and what was more, she wouldn’t. She had long ago learned to take life’s pleasures when and where she found them. Tonight was all she would have, and she would take what fate would allow her.
She walked to the table and poured a single goblet of wine. She turned and closed the space between her and Nic.
He stood by the fireplace wrestling with his own demons of how to tell her.
“Morgan, I need—” Nic lost all coherent thought when he turned. She had loosened the lace openings down the front of her gown, which gave him a tantalizing glimpse of flesh.
“You have need of what, my lord?” The undercurrent of her words was thick with sensuality. With both hands around the goblet, she lifted it to her lips and drank. Turning the goblet around so his lips would touch where hers had been, she demanded, “Drink.”
Any thought of talking about the marriage ended as he took the goblet to his lips and drank from the communal cup.
Morgan took the goblet back and sensually licked a tiny droplet clinging precariously to the rim. She had no idea what that did for him. She nearly drove him over the edge with the tiny flick of her tongue.
Taking the goblet from her hands, he set it down and knew their talk would have to wait.
He had only one thing on his mind: laying siege.
~*****~
Just before dawn, in the bed where he had made good his threat of siege, Morgan watched Nic sleep. She had never dreamed of pleasure with such heights or pain of such depths.
He was leaving her today.
Tenderly brushing a lock of hair from his handsome face, she looked down at her lover and spoke softly in the coming dawn.
“You’re a thief, Nic, and it’s my heart you have stolen. Now I know what might have been but can never be.”
If she had doubts about loving him, she doubted no more. She loved this man with everything in her soul.
For her there could never be another.
Chapter 28
May 2, 1493
“Happy birthday, Morgan. Follow your heart.”
Morgan hovered in the clouds of light sleep before her eyes popped open. Her mother’s voice came in the times of her greatest need. She had stopped trying to figure out the phenomenon and just accepted it.
The first time she heard her mother’s voice was the morning of the fire. The duchess’ voice had awakened her. Maybe true love was stronger than life or the grave.
The house hadn’t arisen as yet, but she got up and calmly packed, being careful not to wake Nic. She had come to a decision and her mind was set. She would beg him to take her to London. It would grieve her to see him pulled from her by the king’s demands, but she had to talk to King Henry.
Maybe she could get her audience and be gone before Nic ever exchanged his vows. She felt her heart begin to die at the thought of him being forever out of her reach.
“You’re up early,” Nic purred from the bed where they had spent last night locked in passion’s embrace. “Come back and let me welcome the morning properly with you, lass.”
“Nic, please allow me to continue on to London with you.” Morgan tried her best to sound calm, but her voice was strained. The thought of going back to Seabridge was unsettling. “Please, I beg you. Don’t leave me here. I have to speak with the king.”
Nic threw the covers back, revealing the evidence of their union, the blood smeared crimson on the linens. He padded in all his naked glory over to where she was standing.
God, he is glorious, she thought. With his hair flowing, his body iron hard and firm as steel, he was completely at ease with his state of undress.
“What kind of greeting is this? No ‘good morning’? No ‘last night was wonderful’?” He teased as he reached for her.
Sidestepping his attempts to touch her, she wouldn’t let him distract her from her purpose.
“Nic, I’m serious. I’m not letting you leave me behind this morning. If you leave without me, I will only find a means to get to London on my own.”
Nic knew she was serious. He pulled her to him in a reassuring embrace. He placed his chin on top of her head and ran his hands up and down her back. She was stiff and unyielding.
Nay a good sign, Nic thought.
“You’re going with me to London. That has never been in question.” He pulled back to look into her worried face. “Morgan, of course, you’ll come. Why would you think I would do anything except take you with me? I had planned it all along. Besides, do you think for one minute after what we shared last night that I’ll have you anywhere except close to me? I want you even now, and it hasn’t been an hour since I made love to you.” He kissed her on the top of the head, thinking the subject closed. “However, I’m late and need to get dressed, but you, my lovely lady, have been the most exquisite reason I have ever had for being late to guard call.” He turned her loose and continued reaching for his clothes.
“Take me for the right reason, Nic, or I go alone,” she said as Mary knocked on the door, bringing in a tray of food.
Morgan hadn’t given thought to what the house servants might say or think if Nic was still here this morning. However, Mary didn’t seem
surprised or shocked that he was there. In fact, she seemed pleased to find him naked too.
Too late now, Morgan supposed. Besides, she had things of much greater importance to deal with this morning than what the house staff might or might not think.
Nic turned back to Morgan as soon as Mary left.
“All right, Morgan, what is on your mind?” he asked as he buckled on his sword. “Why would you think that I wasn’t going to take you to London for the right reasons?”
“Because you really want to take me back to Seabridge. Is that not your ultimate plan?”
“Aye, I do and aye, it is. However, not today. Did I say I’d not send you back to Seabridge? I understand such a move would put you into grave danger. That’s something that I swore to avoid at all cost. You’re verray important to me.”
Nic was now in full warrior dress. Morgan couldn’t help admire the aura of power and strength he exuded. He was magnificent. Her mother would have said he was a gift from the Goddess of War, yet after last night, she would argue that Nic was a gift from the Goddess of Love.
She shook herself, knowing she needed to get off the treacherous path her heart was taking her and answer his question about the night she ran.
“After I recovered from the fever, you asked me about the night I ran.” Morgan walked to him, her arms crossed over her chest. “You asked me why I would run from safety, run from Featherstone…”
Nic interrupted and finished her sentence. “And why you would run from me? So—now am I to get the why of it from you, Duchess?” Nic asked.
He was afraid he wasn’t going to like this answer. Crossing his arms over his chest, he mirrored her stance, not realizing how intimidating he appeared.
Morgan stood her ground.
She took a deep breath and continued. “That night I fell back to sleep after you left me and when I awoke, I came looking for you. You had said you would be downstairs talking to Connor.”
“And?”
“And, I went down the stairs and saw you and Connor by the great fireplace. I swear, I wasn’t purposely eavesdropping, but I heard you talking. You said you were taking me back and that you knew I couldn’t stay with the king indefinitely. You said that once you were married you would see me deposited back at Seabridge on your way home. I assumed you would be taking your tiny, blonde, and beautiful new bride with you and deposit me on the way past.”