She had torn her clothes from her body, uncaring that she was turning them into rags. It touched his heart to hear the sounds of anger and impotent rage coming from her as she stripped the garments away. She threw them to the ground, as if they represented something more foul than what they were, and he watched as she stomped on them in fury and frustration. He had known in that instant she was remembering the earlier attack and maybe something more. Worried for her, he stayed and was beginning to see that under her shell of control was a fragile woman, but a woman with a strong spirit, too. She was going to be fine given time and an environment where she could thrive. She was a survivor and he respected her for that strong spirit.
He remembered his moments of indecision. If he went to her to give her comfort, then she would have known he had discovered her secret. If he did nothing, she would continue to carry the burden alone. He decided her secret needed to be maintained for just a little longer. He could always soothe her wounded spirit later. He knew things didn’t go away that easily, no matter if he did insinuate she needed to let it go.
Lying there, Nic wondered why he even cared that she carried her anguish alone. He should not be worried if she hurt emotionally, but he did. That wasn’t part of the responsibility of his position as her husband and protector. His responsibility was for her physical safety and well-being only. No one expected him to do more for his wife than to see to her safety and to give her children. Moreover, he dared anyone to doubt he would do his duty by her. He had no other choice as a knight of the realm and as her husband.
Morgan began to move in her sleep. Nic wondered what demons she harbored. Pulling her closer, he soothed her with soft words as he looked into her lovely face that was so trusting in sleep. Unconsciously moving to adjust her body against his, he brushed away the veil of silk from her cheek, feeling something deep inside him stir to life. His long dead heart began to beat.
“Be easy, my sweet. You’re safe. I’ll not let the monsters or dragons get you this night,” he said while tenderly kissing the side of her forehead. “Or ever.”
Strange that he should feel that to be a vow. He was beginning to discover he was also not without his demons to wrestle. As Morgan settled, her breathing became regular; Nic drifted into sleep, giving over to the effects of the warmth and rightness of Morgan’s body pressed to his.
Chapter 13
Morgan woke with a start. The sun was shining, the early morning rays warming her face.
Where am I? she wondered.
As she sat up and blinked the fog of sleep from her eyes, she realized she was in the clearing. Looking around, she also realized she was alone.
Why would Nic leave her? Morgan knew he was really angry yesterday. She could sense it. But she had apologized for her disobedience and for the fact she had almost cost Nic his horse, but surely it didn’t warrant desertion.
She didn’t see him, the horses, or the supplies. She saw only a handkerchief holding a lump of cheese and the wineskin left by the cold ashes of last night’s fire.
The bastard had left her there alone with no idea where she was and no way to protect herself. He took her mount and her supplies, and he’d left her here alone. Anger swept over her. She knew it was partly to cover her fears. Anger was an emotion she could better handle than the cold strangling grip of fear.
She stomped around the camp, jerking up her meager possessions. There wasn’t much to collect. “And he has the nerve to accuse me of thievery?” she asked the field rabbit who had stopped his grazing close by to watch her. “I’ll hunt him down, and I’ll make him pay for this,” she vowed.
“Perhaps, you’ll allow me to join you in this manhunt? I’ve not run anyone through in a few hours.”
Nic was quick to remove the amusement from his face once he saw that she was actually in distress, which was thinly veiled by anger. It shocked him a little that his perceived abandonment would affect her so. Did she think him so untrustworthy as to steal away from her like a thief in the night?
Morgan whirled at the smooth velvety voice behind her. She had not heard a sound until he spoke. Relief filled her, and she let that emotion show on her face.
What was also evident to Nic was that the relief Morgan felt was short-lived.
“Have the decency next time to tell me you’re leaving!” she snapped.
“Why? To give you an opportunity to shoot an arrow into my back?” He raised one dark brow in amusement.
“Nay. I don’t know how to shoot… yet,” Morgan said as a catty little smile graced her lips, and it left Nic wondering if he was actually safe or not.
Nic saw the play of emotions across Morgan’s face. He knew she had gone from relieved to angry in seconds and then to relieved again. So she had a temper when she felt threatened. Fight or flight? For her it would be a fight. He logged that as one more fact to remember about her.
She also had a sense of humor; he just had to keep trying to find it.
“Mount up. It’s time for us to ride.” Trojan danced sideways, eager to be on the road. Nic pulled him up beside Salt. “Let me give you two pieces of information about me, Morgan. First, don’t question my honor when it comes to those I have promised to take into my care. If I leave you, it will be because you’ve asked me to go.”
“Second?” she asked softly, realizing she had hit a nerve with him.
“Heed my advice. It would be in your best interest if you learn to curb that temper of yours. You may find it will get you into serious trouble one day. As my squire, I would find myself honor bound to come to your defense. And even if I’m a soldier by profession, I’m not one for taking a life for trivial reasons. That being said, if I find I must take a life on your behalf, I do strongly recommend you make it count. There may not be another in the offering.”
With those words of advice, Nic turned Trojan around and headed east into the morning sun.
Chapter 14
“Bloody bad luck,” Nic mumbled.
The run of good luck wasn’t holding with the weather. They had enjoyed two days of mild weather for traveling, but now it was miserable. Rain had started falling softly on them shortly after they broke camp.
The rain had turned from inconvenient to uncomfortable and then to cold and dangerous. The misty drizzle quickly gave way to wind blowing heavy gray sheets of rain sideways, and the roadway was turned to muck and mire. The travel was treacherous at times, risking broken limbs of both horse and rider.
Water ran down Morgan’s legs and into her shoes, filling them to the rim. Dumping the rain out was pointless. She had stopped trying hours ago, realizing it was more trouble than it was worth.
The rain soaking through her clothes, making them cling to her like a soggy second skin, was the least of her worries. The numbness she felt in her hands, feet, and backside were caused from equal parts unrelenting rain, cold weather, and the pace Nic had demanded they keep.
Never complaining, Morgan understood the need to place as much distance as possible between them and the search party that was scouring the countryside for the Duchess of Seabridge. She hoped the search party, being sane men, had stopped to find shelter from this God-awful weather, while Nic took the opportunity to gain some ground.
She hadn’t escaped her uncle just to die of consumption brought on from having to sleep outside in rainy conditions. She hoped they would make the King’s Court tonight, and if that meant they pushed hard, so be it.
With that mental decision made, she detached as she had done so naturally over the years when she was threatened or physically uncomfortable. Withdrawing from what would do her harm had become a defense mechanism. She retreated within.
~*****~
Morgan impressed Nic, and that wasn’t something easily done.
He had driven them as if the devil and his minions were behind them. Frowning, Nic wasn’t so sure that her uncle might not be the devil if half his reputation was true. At any rate, the pace was grueling, even for him. Morgan hadn’t spoken a word of co
mplaint. She was quiet, which was probably for the best. So, he left her to her own coping mechanism. He had seen this behavior before in battle when men had endured all they could take. Nic thought it best if she could continue the pace.
As the miles rolled past, he kept a close eye and felt he was between a rock and a very hard spot. He knew they needed to make it to The King’s Court with all haste because of the weather. As tough as Morgan might actually be, she was still a woman and deserved better than a muddy bed on the side of the road.
Darkness came and without a light source, Nic couldn’t see her face clearly. Still, he knew Morgan was about to drop from her saddle, judging from the sluggish and slumping outline of her body. He would have taken her up on his horse and settled her in front of him if they were not already so close to their destination.
He was exhausted. Hating to admit that condition didn’t change the fact. The past two nights’ sleep had been fitful because of Morgan. Furthermore, he hadn’t gotten any sleep in the saddle with the need to skirt the search party during the day. Now the infernal weather was slowing them up, and the lack of sleep was beginning to wear on him. In spite of his reputation, he wasn’t indestructible. And if he was this miserable, he could only venture a guess what Morgan was experiencing. Soon he would try to make it up to her.
Nic was looking forward to a decent shelter for them for the night. What sane man wouldn’t be? he questioned.
Nonetheless, there was still a catch. Originally, necessity dictated the deception Morgan had started. That necessity was still a driving factor, and he had to be sure to keep the facade going. So, like it or not, Morgan would continue to act as his squire, as long as the search party remained in the vicinity. They were too close for Nic’s comfort, even though he was able to skirt them the first day and had been just in front of them or running parallel the last two days. If his instincts were correct, the search party would be at the inn tomorrow. He also felt sure they would stop and inquire because he would stop if he were in their position.
His guess was the search party was still looking for a woman and a black stallion. No one would take note of a lone knight and his skinny, young squire. Such happenings were commonplace throughout the countryside these days. However, the locals would quickly take notice of a lone knight and a young woman. The reward for the information was substantial and too inviting to expect them to keep her whereabouts a secret. He really couldn’t blame the common folk for giving them up. With the astronomical reward Brentwood posted, a man could feed a large family for years. Times were hard for these country people. Food was precious and sometimes scarce.
The ruse must and would continue for Morgan’s safety, which brought him to another dilemma. Squires usually slept in the outbuildings with the horses or in the common room on the floor, and as a rule, they didn’t have sleeping quarters of their own. That being the case, Nic was certain he would have to see what he could do about getting Morgan into a secure and warm shelter, while at the same time not raising suspicions. Having her sleep in the common room wasn’t even a consideration, and he would continue through the night before allowing her to sleep in the stables.
Nic wondered how Morgan was holding up. It was evident to him that she was having problems of her own. She looked beyond miserable and exhausted nearly to the point of falling out of her saddle as they slowly made their way up the muddy road approaching The King’s Court. It had been dark for some time, and there was no way that Morgan would know where they were. Nic realized that he hadn’t offered to tell her, and she hadn’t asked. At this point, he figured that she was probably past caring and just wanted to get there with as little delay as possible. Nic was trying to accommodate.
Nic could see that Morgan was anxious. They were approaching civilization and this increased the risk of discovery. He hoped that she would shove her anxiety aside and trust his decision.
Besides, he could smell the smoke from a fire as it drifted along the breeze on the wet evening air. The smells of food were coming from where they would stop, and they could see the glow of the lights beckoning warmly, a beacon in the night’s shadows. It was the sweet promise of warmth, food, and an end to the interminable jostling in the saddle that kept them going.
“The King’s Court, indeed, pfftt,” Morgan snorted as it came into view. She saw it wasn’t King Henry’s court at all, not by a long stretch. The King’s Court was a small roadside inn.
“Did you say something?” Nic tossed over his shoulder through the darkness, knowing what had elicited her comment. He wanted to draw her out but couldn’t see the look she gave him. It is just as well. I can imagine, he thought.
Nic hoped that the prospect of warm food, a warm bath, warm dry clothes, and a bed was too much of a promised reward for her to remain too vexed with him.
“Not exactly the king’s court I had in mind,” she said and recognized that this was just a slight delay in gaining her audience with the king. She would have her audience… eventually. Yet, with chagrin, she admitted it wouldn’t be today. She shoved her disappointment aside. A bath sounded so much better.
Nic pulled Trojan up just enough to allow Morgan’s horse to come alongside. He explained it wasn’t routine for the squires to sleep in their own quarters in an inn but rather in the outbuildings with the horses. As she was his squire, this is where she would normally be required to sleep.
Morgan moaned with disappointment and hung her head. Her distress was obvious to him.
Nic reached across and lifted her chin with his finger. “However, for not complaining about our pace, which by the way was necessary in case you were wondering, I promise I’ll do my best to get you inside. If not, we’ll keep moving. If I can get you inside, I’ll also try to get you a warm bath and dry clothes. Here is what we’ll need to do…”
He quickly set the plan and was glad Morgan agreed with little dispute.
“Up you come.” Nic pulled her into his lap on the saddle. He immediately noticed how slight she was in spite of her height. “Keep this cloak wrapped around you and keep your face turned into my neck.”
Morgan did as she was told to do. Savoring the warmth coming from her body, Nic wondered why he had waited this long to hold her in his arms.
“Perfect. Now, don’t talk under any circumstances. You’re mute remember? Well, most of the time,” he added under his breath.
She gave him a playful elbow in the ribs forcing his breath to rush out in the unexpected blow. It was far from damaging to his warrior physique, yet it was annoying all the same.
“Behave!” Nic ordered.
“You deserved that,” she said, annoyed more with the weather and less with him. “Too bad, I can’t punch the weather gods.”
“Were that possible, you’d have to wait until I was done,” Nic said, then laughed. He could see her point. “Take heart. We’re almost there.”
Nic spotted the young groom just yards ahead. “Ho there, lad. I need your help. My squire has taken a nasty spill from his horse. I’ll pay you to tend the horses for me, and there’ll be an extra coin or two if you watch them through the night.”
“Aye, sir, it will be my pleasure,” the boy said as he reached for the coin Nic extended.
“Good, then run inside and secure us a room. Ask the matron to begin water for a bath for me and dressings for my man. When you’re finished taking care of that, come back to the stables. I’ll get the rest of your coin at that point.” He headed to the stables. It was never good to pay for all services in advance.
The boy ran into the warmth of the inn. Reemerging a few moments later, he gave them assurances the room was ready and the bath was coming up shortly.
Paying little heed to the other patrons seeking decent shelter from the elements, Nic carried Morgan into the inn through the common room and straight up the stairs. Given the number of people taking shelter, Nic was surprised they even had a room available. He suspected some poor soul had been turned out to place them. Money talked, and few could co
me up with the coin he just pressed into the innkeeper’s hand.
The matron was aware of the fall of Nic’s squire and inquired how she could be of assistance.
Nic declined, thanking her. He was accustomed to tending the minor wounds of his men and promised to call her if he needed further aid.
“I believe the bath and dressings will be good. I’d appreciate you securing a dry change of clothes for him. I’ll pay for the garments.”
“Nay, my lord, that will not be necessary. I’m sure ye will return them as soon as your squire’s clothes dry by the fire.” Taken by Nic’s tall good looks, the matron of the inn blushed like a maiden when he smiled at her. “Anything else?” she offered, hoping for an extra coin for herself.
“My thanks, but that’ll be sufficient,” Nic said, then inclined his head in a courtly manner.
Once inside the room, Nic placed Morgan on the bed. She tried to protest, but he placed a finger to her lips in a signal to be silent.
“Morgan, quickly roll over and face the wall,” he spoke softly, hearing the footfall of someone coming.
She obeyed just as the door opened. It was the boy from the stables and his three younger sisters carrying heated water from the kitchen. They didn’t try to hide their excitement. Few knights came and went in their part of the country, and those who did were not like this one. Most all the knights the boy saw were poor. He couldn’t wait to tell his friends.
“Will your squire be all right, my lord?” the boy ventured, growing bold after the third trip of bringing hot water. “He’s not going to die is he? I could take his place should you find yourself in need of a new squire. I’m reaching my fifteenth year next month and not yet married, so I don’t have a nagging wife to keep me here.”