He was beginning to have a better understanding of his runaway bride. She was smart.
That much he was beginning to see.
Chapter 9
“Wake up, Morgan.” Nic nudged her with the toe of his boot. “It’s time to break camp. Hurry, now. We must make good time today if we’re to arrive at The King’s Court by nightfall.” The King’s Court was a small roadside inn known for hospitality and discretion. And Nic was in need of both.
At the prodding, Morgan rolled over, moaning from her aches and pains. Nic was correct. She was sore due to her fall, the cold night, and sleeping on unforgiving ground. Even her old dirty cot in the tower had some cushion against the stone floor. Not sure if she could get up without help, she tentatively sat up and began to stretch her protesting limbs.
In the early morning light, Nic noticed the evidence of her close call with death. Her lips were blue from the early morning cold, and she had a very nasty bruise on the left temple. He was thankful the fall hadn’t killed her. That didn’t negate the fact that they couldn’t linger.
“I won’t say it again, up now, and hurry. I’ve already broken my fast and watered the horses. We’re just waiting on you to bundle your belongings, and then we can head out. You can eat as we go.”
She nodded, getting up quickly.
“Your cloak, Morgan, pack it. It looks too much like a woman’s garment.” He really couldn’t afford to have someone recognize her. “Here, take this.” He tossed her an extra woolen shirt from his pack. “Put it on if you need the added warmth.”
He stifled a laugh when she pulled the shirt on over her head. The sleeves went to her knees and the tail hit her midthigh. She flopped the arms around several times until her hands finally appeared. She was giggling at how absurd she must look.
“Let me know if you need more,” Nic offered as he mounted Trojan.
She nodded, thankful for his guidance and his thoughtfulness.
She followed his lead. Obviously knowing where he was heading, Morgan remembered the day before him saying something about going to the king’s court. That was excellent news to her, considering the alternative. Feeling her spirits rise, Morgan was certain this would work out after all.
Putting her trust in fate and her mother’s words, Morgan settled in for whatever the day was to bring.
~*****~
As they mounted up and headed east, the stallion demanded her full and undivided attention. This gave Nic the opportunity to watch her without her being aware of his scrutiny. He was coming to some conclusions.
The first conclusion was he actually liked her.
Her short hair was almost a riot of curls from the damp and the lack of a brush. Nevertheless, somehow it wasn’t unattractive. She was tall. Not that it mattered. He was a massive man, and his height of six feet seven inches always left him with women a great deal shorter, sometimes uncomfortably so. However, she was very slender and that was somewhat alarming to him. Normally, he liked his women soft and plump, to leave no doubt he was bedding a woman. Morgan, on the other hand, was passing nicely for a teenage boy. She was six feet tall, and in his opinion, she didn’t have enough weight on her bones to sustain her. He wondered if she might be ill, yet she seemed healthy. He guessed time would tell on that point, too.
Morgan reminded him of a colt, all legs. At least she wasn’t a mute, but he had no other way to discover if she was of normal intelligence. In time, he supposed. He needed to have a wife who could stimulate his mind, as well as his body. He knew she could speak, though he wasn’t ready to tip his hand. As a result, the judgment would just have to remain undecided until he could engage her in conversation. He was also looking for an honest woman. In his experience, most women of nobility were not forthright. Morgan, at this point, was no exception.
She had lied to him and was still lying to him. In her defense, he understood her motivation, even if he didn’t know the whole story or all the sordid details. He might have done the same if he were a woman and found himself in similar circumstances.
He felt sure there must be a good reason for the duchess to run and take on a disguise. He would get those details soon because his having those details were paramount in keeping her alive. He had no doubt that her instincts to survive were strong, and those same instincts obviously served her well to this point. He didn’t take the lack of trust personally. She is wary of me, and well she should be, he acknowledged inwardly. He was a stranger to her and he wouldn’t discourage Morgan’s behavior until he could prove he wasn’t going to harm her in any way. It would take some time for her to see him in his true light.
He wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man with nothing except honorable intentions toward her. He would never knowingly harm her, and she would see that at some point. She was his woman and would eventually be the mother of his children. He would protect her and his future children with his life. No harm would come to her, at least not from his quarter. Furthermore, just because he didn’t want to marry her, that didn’t translate into him taking his frustrations out on her. Henry’s displeasure was enough to prevent it, even if his own honor didn’t dictate it.
“Demon, you’re a beast,” Morgan mumbled, breaking through his thoughts. Nic could see that she was having a devil of a time in her attempts to keep the horse out of the brambles and herself on his back.
Another issue, he thought with a sigh.
He needed to get her another horse before this one stopped allowing her to control him, and that was exactly what was going on between those two. The horse was just docile enough to allow her to keep her seat.
Not for the first time, he wondered exactly where she picked up this beast. Had there been a choice in taking the horse versus another? Nic was beginning to think not. He had also changed his opinion of the horse. At first, he thought the magnificent animal untrained and unruly. Now, he knew Morgan was simply an inexperienced rider. So much so, it surprised Nic that she even knew which end of the horse she was supposed to face.
The fact the horse was too much animal for her was only one reason why he needed to get her a different mount. They could ill afford for her to take another tumble from its back. Furthermore, this horse would just draw too much attention to them.
“Come, Morgan. Let us get off this road.” He grabbed the reins of her horse and led her farther into the woods off the main road.
Nic dismounted and walked up beside her. “Come down off that brute.” He waved her down, then held up his hand to help her dismount.
She refused his offer of help, sliding off Demon’s wide back and falling flat on her rump on the leaf-covered forest floor. Nic turned away from her before she could see him smile.
Stubborn wench, he thought. But he admired her spirit of independence.
“Morgan, now that we’re close to Bristol, I need to trade your mount and get one more suitable for you. I need you to stay behind while I do it.”
Nic saw her expression. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at him speculatively.
“It’ll be less noticeable if a knight rides in on a horse like yours. And I think we both can agree that being noticed is something neither one of us wants or needs with the search party still in the area. You know it’s best.”
Morgan still looked suspicious. Nic sighed heavily. He really didn’t have time to debate his position on this.
“You trusted me last night to guard your very existence. Now, you don’t trust me with the exchange of your horse?” Nic questioned. “Are you afraid I’ll take him and not come back?” He felt perhaps that was exactly what she was thinking. He paused as if he expected her to answer the question. Morgan only stared.
What am I in truth afraid of? she wondered. His stealing her horse wasn’t it; she decided that rather quickly. If that were his intention, he would have had plenty of time to steal her horse that morning while she slept. It was something else that nagged her.
“If it makes you feel better and gives you a feeling of security, I’ll
leave you Trojan. I can assure you his worth far exceeds this animal’s value. He’s a trained warhorse, and I don’t have to tell you a man in my profession values his horse as much as his own life. Don’t think for one moment I would leave him behind. I might leave you behind, but never him,” he teased.
She found no humor in what he said and stayed silent. His leaving her was what she feared. He saw that clearly.
So did she.
He allayed her fears. “I promise, I’m not abandoning you, Morgan. Stay here out of sight and stay as quiet as possible. I’ll be gone much of the day. On my honor, I’ll try to be back at the latest by midafternoon.”
Morgan didn’t know what to feel. She would be totally defenseless and alone. He was correct, however, so she would remain behind.
“It’s obvious that we cannot go to Seabridge, so I’ll bring back enough supplies to get us to London.”
Morgan nodded yet was uncertain.
Nic cupped her shoulder and lightly squeezed it, offering reassurance. “I’ll come back, Morgan. You have my word as a king’s man. In the meantime, you’re not to leave the area. Stay put, you hear me?” He shook his finger for emphasis. “That’s an order and not a request. Do you understand?” He waited for her to acknowledge him. “Good, and use this if you have to,” he said as he shoved a mean-looking knife into her hands.
He was no longer jesting and his command was serious. Her safety depended on her following his order and staying put. He had to trust her as much as she did him.
Nic gracefully swung up onto Demon’s back, the beast protesting to the added weight of the unfamiliar rider. As Demon settled, bowing to the Nic’s superior skills, Nic paused to give Morgan an opportunity to protest. Instead, she awarded him with a single nod of consent and a small uncertain wave of goodbye.
Wheeling Demon around without a backward glance, he headed back to the main road and into the late morning sun.
~*****~
“What’s taking that man so long?” Morgan wondered aloud.
She could have bartered a dozen horses, secured all the necessary supplies to support a yearlong siege, and baked bread in the time it was taking him.
Morgan was growing restless. Not always a good thing, she thought. Her apprehension was a big part of that restlessness. She was alone but that didn’t bother her. It was a natural state. Yet, somehow this time it felt different, and she was growing concerned for Nic’s safety. It never occurred to her that she was in any danger.
Nic’s company wasn’t so bad now that she was beginning to become accustomed to him. As long as she kept her distance, thinking of him as protection, she was in truth very comfortable. Only when she thought of him as a man did her uneasiness resurface, and that wasn’t because she felt he would abuse her. She was his responsibility, and she knew he would take that responsibility seriously.
They had ridden in silence, talking little. Well, she was supposed to be mute after all, and he was a man of few words and even fewer words spoken about himself. She knew that he was extremely confident in who he was as a man and a soldier. That being the case, he probably didn’t feel the need to secure her approval or impress her. She was his squire, and even if he treated her with respect, she was still no one of importance.
Most everything Morgan knew of Nic was what he had shared the first day. He was from the far north of England, and she would have picked that up from his accent. His burr was unmistakably a result of his roots in the wild Scottish Highlands and hanging around King Henry’s men. It was a mashed-up mix that she at times struggled to understand. He told her he was heading north after he finished taking care of some business at Seabridge. That corresponded with his accent. She knew it was nasty business, but obviously, it wasn’t urgent business or currently they wouldn’t be heading back to London.
She knew he was King Henry’s knight and in high standing. No doubts there.
“That is obvious,” she said to Trojan as they walked in the woods together.
Morgan had watched him practice the previous day prior to turning in for the evening. With his fighting skill, she could see him being high on King Henry’s list of favorites. With his dark good looks, it wouldn’t surprise her if he were a top favorite of the ladies, too. He was one of the most devastatingly handsome men she had ever seen, which was even more reason for her to keep her distance. Her survival instincts were telling her to stay close enough for the protection that he was offering but to preserve enough distance between them to never touch.
Coming back to her surroundings and out of her thoughts, Morgan realized she had wandered away from the clearing where Nic had left her with clear instructions to stay put. Thank heavens she had brought Nic’s prized horse with her.
“Leave me behind, but not his horse.” She made a most undignified sound at her mental musings of Nic and what he could do with his horse. “Although he is beautiful,” Morgan said as she patted the beast, lovingly running her hand over his neck. “You, not him.”
She cleared up that distinction in her mind. Trojan snorted.
“Oh, all right. I confess. Nic is, too,” she said as Trojan nudged her arm, as if calling her bluff. “I always was a bad liar. There, happy now?” Trojan bobbed his head.
Morgan continued to wander, seeing no harm in it. The day was mild and there was no one in sight.
After an hour, Morgan had to admit she was lost.
“Oh boy, Trojan, Nic is going to be pretty upset if he returns and finds you gone,” she said, stroking his velvety nose. Trojan bobbed his head in agreement. “Can you back me up that this was really not intentional?”
Just as if he understood her, he shook his head setting his bridle to jingling.
“Nay, huh? Will you not reconsider?” Morgan asked as she hugged his neck in comfort.
He pawed at the ground once as if to put his foot down. Maybe he did understand more than she thought?
“Well, see if I pull the burs out of that tail of yours ever again.”
Trojan blew softly.
“Right, I just confessed that I’m a bad liar. Very well, fine. So, I’ll pick the burs, but you have to confess that Nic’s concern and affection for you are almost unnatural.”
The horse was the man’s main concern, she was certain, and she couldn’t blame him. Trojan was a fine piece of horseflesh and critical for his chosen profession. This lovely animal was gentle when necessary, but he would tear your face off if the need presented itself. That training was reserved for only the finest, and she would love to breed him to some of her stable stock. The outcome would be fantastic.
Taking a deep breath, she reasoned that she had time to find her way back.
After another half hour, she was more than a little nervous. She was walking in circles, remembering that same fallen log from an hour past.
“Oh, aye, I should have listened.”
Why had she not listened to him? Taking a couple deep breaths to calm her heart, Morgan looked around to take her bearings. She had remembered the morning sun rising to her back as she set off in search of the roots and berries she had bundled in her shirttail.
She needed to be back before Nic even knew she had wandered off.
“There’s time, right, boy?”
Trojan bobbed his head in agreement just as if he understood her.
“Now, who’s the bad liar?”
Chapter 10
“Damn it, Morgan!”
Little did she know that Nic was already aware of her little disobedience and was oscillating between frantic and furious. Where could she have wandered off? Fearful to call out, Nic kept his control. If the search party had not cleared the area, and he suspected they hadn’t, he could place her into greater danger.
Nic knew from the news in the town tavern that the party sent by Lord Brentwood had just left the inn that morning. The best he could discover from the information he gathered was they were continuing to head east. The word was they were looking for the Duchess of Seabridge, and there was a s
izable reward for her return.
What worried Nic most was the lack of stipulation of her condition upon return; she only needed to be alive. That said a great deal to him about the uncle who was claiming to want her back. Not to place stipulations on her condition of return all but insured she might come back but not necessarily in one piece, or unsullied.
The claim was that unknown assailants had kidnapped her, plucking her from the tender arms of her distraught and loving uncle. He guessed it would never do for word to get out that Morgan was running of her own free will.
Nic smiled despite himself. It had been a smart move on Morgan’s part to dress the part of a young boy. What surprised him was her age. She was twenty, not looking a day over fifteen.
“Where is she,” he cursed silently, continuing to track her and wondering how in heaven and hell one slip of a girl could be so much trouble.
“And, by God, where is my horse!” he cursed her further for not following his instructions.
Thankful for the distinctive pattern of the shoe Trojan was wearing, he finally picked up the tracks, all the while telling himself that she was fine and it would just be a matter of minutes before he found her. Nic was fighting a rising concern, a feeling foreign to him. Surely, it is just fear and concern of losing my horse, he reasoned.
~*****~
Meanwhile, Morgan was more confident. She knew where she was and continued her trek back toward the clearing. As she walked, she picked early-ripened nuts and berries along the way. Finding her way again relieved her of the fear of being lost and allowed her to become so absorbed in the day and the beauty of the forest that she didn’t hear the noise behind her.
Once she did there wasn’t time to react.
The men were on her before she could scream, and one of them placed a filthy hand over her mouth and nose. Holding his blade tightly to her throat, his rank mouth, full of rotting teeth, hovered only inches from her own. She gagged from his breath.