by K. E. Saxon
Finally, he looked up, thoughts racing. The first thing to do would be to...no, that will not work...but after...aye, then….
CHAPTER 20
THE NIGHT WAS warm, and there was a full moon gleaming silver-bright through the window. Morgana stripped herself bare for sleep—a thing she’d not done since losing her babe—and pulled the fur blanket from the bed, then climbed atop the mattress and curled on her side, away from the shining moonglow.
The linen sheet beneath her cooled her skin, and it brought, unbidden, a memory of the second painful night after the loss of their babe, when she’d failed in her attempt to seduce her husband. ‘Twas the last time she’d lain in bed thus, and after he’d bolted, she’d attempted to assuage her humiliation and grief by turning back to the remembered ritual she’d lived so long with at the convent—and that she’d gleefully (and rebelliously) ignored from her first night at King William’s court—of covering her body with a chemise. As if it had only just happened, again the shame, the hurt, pummeled her heart, clogging her throat with unshed tears.
Without realizing she was doing so, she bit the side of her finger, her thoughts, a chaotic tumble. She had made the right decision. Or...mayhap she hadn’t. For Robert had been so angered, seemed to have felt at least some twinge of jealousy, at Guy’s petition to wed with her. Was she making the right decision? Again, an image of the childing Vika swam to the forepart of her mind, and she thought resignedly, Aye, I am.
A jagged sigh slipped from her throat, followed by a lone tear burning a long trail o’er her cheek, and she closed her eyes tight against more. I must turn my thoughts on something—anything—else.
She began to sing:
“Nay, young rascal, fondle me not!
Fer I’ll not share yer lowly cot—”
Argh! She sat up and beat her fists into the mattress. He will not leave my thoughts! She dropped her head into her hands and sat there breathing deeply for several prolonged moments. Finally, with renewed determination, she lay down on her back, closed her eyes, and mentally began to recite the third psalm by rote...
“Et erit tamquam lignum quod….”
Feeling drowsy at last, Morgana rolled onto her side again, softly translating,
“And he shall be like a tree which...,”
...as she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
His soft kiss brushed her lips, then turned greedy as, with a virile groan of pleasure, his tongue plundered her mouth. The taste, so familiar, so longed for, brought his name forth in a whisper. Suddenly, warm, calloused hands cupped her face, tangled in her hair. One grasped the back of her head, urging her into a deeper embrace, as the other trailed down her frame, gliding o’er her breast in a feather-like touch, then o’er her belly, o’er her hip, o’er her thigh. She whimpered, lifting her hands to clutch at his shoulders, to cling in his hair, and brought her hips off the mattress in a quest to give his hand purchase where she most craved.
* * *
Robert breathed deep the intoxicating scent of her hair, of her pliant flesh. Her hips rose up, bringing her mons under his hand, and he slid his fingers o’er her labia, then pressed one, then two, deep inside the warm, wet, throbbing cushion of her womb. He broke the kiss. “What do you want, Morgana? Say it.”
“I want you! I want you, Robert!”
His tarse, already turgid, grew another inch. The sound of his own hammering pulse beat in his ears. “Then you shall have me,” he said, and devoured her mouth once more.
It had been too long since last he touched her thus. Since last he’d heard the passion in her voice as his name tripped from her tongue. He wedged a knee between her limbs as he positioned himself above her, and she spread herself wide for him. The head of his cock found her center. “I am going to love you until you swoon,” he rumbled next to her ear as he prepared to plunge.
“Laird MacVie!”
From somewhere far off, the sound of a fist pounding on a door jarred Robert, turned his mind from the woman in his arms.
“Nay! Answer him not,” she murmured.
“Aye,” he growled, bending down to drop another kiss on her lips as he began pressing forward again. “Ahhh! Christ’s Bones, I’ve missed this.”
“Laird MacVie! Are you in there? My pardon, but the King requests your presence forthwith!”
This time, the pounding became louder, more urgent, and again, Robert’s thoughts were yanked from the sensual to the mundane, and with it, Morgana, his lover beneath him, shifted from earthly to ethereal. Not now! Not now! He tried holding her to him, but ‘twas as impossible as embracing the mist on the moor.
Nay! A tide of despair washed o’er him, and the searing pain of unfulfilled passion gripped his groin in a vise.
“Laird MacVie?”
Robert struggled to swim up from the warm splendor of his dream into the cold temporal world that waited him.
The pounding continued, followed again by a disembodied voice coming through the heavy wood door. “Laird MacVie?”
“Aye,” he managed to croak, rolling into a sitting position and dropping his head into his hands. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the base of his palms, he called out, “Enter!”
* * *
Morgana’s eyes shot open. Her heart pounded in her chest, and an unbearable yearning throbbed in her womb. Blinking, she rolled her head on the pillow and scanned the chamber. She’d not closed the heavy drape o’er the bedframe the night before, and she could see much of the area in front of the hearth and window. The chamber, praise be, was empty. There were none to hold witness to her vocalized pleasure in her phantom lover’s caresses, no court gossip would be spouted of her fleshly dreaming.
On a desolate sigh, she rolled out of bed. She’d allow herself no more naked slumbering in future, for it clearly brought on sensual longings for the man she could not have.
If only...
Another sigh escaped her lips as she tugged a clean chemise o’er her head from the chest of borrowed clothes given her upon her arrival this day past, and walked to the washstand to do her ablutions of the morn. She needed to speak to Guy. If she could not speak to Robert about his false belief—and she could not will herself into doing so, no matter the desire to part ways without rancor—she at least needed to inveigle Guy to do so. And if the two were earnest in their threats to battle the other on the tourney field, then she hoped to quell that as well.
They’d not faced the other before, at least not as far as she knew, and Morgana had little doubt that Robert would be victorious, tho’ she’d seen Guy win more than he lost, and ‘twould be a close match, she knew. But Robert needed Guy as an ally, for they were neighbors, and Guy’s forces were strong, so this malice between them needed quashing. It meant defying the King’s edict, and she prayed his wrath, if he learned of it, would be mutable, even allayed, once she explained her reasons for such uncommon rebellion.
In another quarter-hour, she slipped from her chamber without being spied, and went in search of Guy de Burgh.
* * *
“This is truly your wish as well?” the King asked Robert later that morn as they walked side-by-side around the edge of the apothecary’s herb garden, his hands behind his back, his eyes perusing the landscape as they moved.
“ ‘Tis what Morgana craves, and I will not stand in her way, if she wishes to return to the nunnery.”
The King gave him a sidelong glance. “I thought you were set on believing she plotted to cuckold you with your neighbor, Guy de Burgh.”
“ ‘Twas a fleet idea. I know now, could not be true.”
“Why e’er not? He is a strong and powerful warrior, holds titles in both Alba and England, is well-liked by the ladies, and has a considerable fortune as well.”
Robert’s shoulders tightened. “Aye, and even so, they had no opportunity to plan such an end.”
“But he wants her now. Has petitioned me twice for her hand. And, I confess, ‘twould be a beneficial alliance for me as well, as t
he marriage of one of my Norman subjects to a native Gael would more strongly tie him to my will.”
“She will not wed him.”
“You are so certain?” the King said, turning away from him and bending down to smell the purple blossoms on the cluster of lavender next to the path.
“Aye. I am. She will return to the nun...”—Robert glanced to his left, and a lightning bolt of need near eviscerated him—“...ery….” There she was. Frozen in place, as a doe facing an arrow, staring at him. Their eyes met, and he felt his cheeks flush. A look flashed in her eye, and her visage went up in flame as well. Then she blinked, whirled, and fled.
His palms dampened, his brow moistened. His heart would not stop racing. ‘Twas as if she’d known of his carnal dream. Nay. Nay. ‘Twas impossible. A wish his heart made, that would ne’er be fulfilled. Slowly, he surfaced from his thoughts and realized the King was speaking again.
“...the marriage was not, at first, desired by you, but I did believe ‘twas a good match.”
“Aye, I believed so as well, sire.”
“But still, you do not love her.”
For some reason, the King’s certainty bothered Robert. Vexed him. “Aye, sire, I do.” And, on the chance that King William was still not clear of Robert’s meaning, he added. “Love her.”
The King grinned, and Robert squirmed inside.
“Your wife believes ‘tis her cousin you crave.”
“Nay, sire. ‘Tis Morgana. Only Morgana.”
“Yet you tupped her cousin, even still, and made a babe with her?”
“Wha?—Nay. Nay, I did not.”
“But ‘tis what your wife believes. She seemed quite certain.”
Robert’s heart began to glub, glub, glub in his chest. God’s Bones! ‘Twas the reason for her flight. He was a true buffoon, a prime idiot. Even tho’ it had been at Morgana’s urging that Vika stay, ‘twas before...and he should have known….
“Nay, ‘tis not my babe her cousin carries. ‘Tis Grímr Thorfinnsson’s. What is more: She has left with him to return to the isle of Leòdhas.”
“But your wife knows not of this?”
“Nay, sire. For Vika left the same day Morgana was taken by Donnach’s minions.”
“And you have not told her this.”
“Nay, there has been no time.”
“Grímr Thorfinnsson, you say? The husband’s nephew?”
“Aye.”
“Hmm. I must think on this….”
In a rush of renewed conviction, Robert stated, “I will not allow this annulment.”
The King lifted his gaze to Robert’s. “You no longer wish to grant her what she desires?”
“Nay, I’ll not.”
“Even tho’ by our laws you are no longer wed, now that you have both stated before me your desire to end your marriage? ‘Tis only the matter of the gaining the church’s agreement now, and Richard was a clerk of mine before he rose to the Bishopric of Dunkeld. I have little worry that he will speed the matter for me, if I wish it so.”
“Aye, but if I contest the annulment, and I will, and ‘tis delayed, then ‘tis only a matter of the both of us stating the opposite again, by those same laws.”
The King grinned at him again. “Excellent!” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Even tho’ she’s worth more to me without the cumbrance of marriage vows to you, I am pleased to hear it. For, I’d not have given her back to the church, no matter her wish.”
“Then that makes me doubly eager to curtail the annulment proceedings.”
“Good. Good.” The King resumed his previous posture, folding his arms behind his back once more. The two walked without speaking several paces more, until the King broke the silence saying, “You’ve not told Morgana your true feelings for her? That you love her above all others?”
The skin on the back of Robert’s neck crawled, traveling o’er his scalp. “Nay. But... She knows.” Or knew….
“I’m old now, but in my day…. Heed me well, young warrior knight: Speak the words, and often, else you’ll face this again another time.”
“Aye, sire, I will.” And he would, as soon as he was released from this meeting, he would.
The King inhaled, gazing up at the cloudless blue sky as they continued to amble down the garden path. “Aye, pleased I am indeed. ‘Twould also do you well to not delay the telling that you are not the sire of her cousin’s babe.”
“Aye, I had that very thought as well, my liege.”
“I've a few other matters to discuss with you, then you are free to seek out your lady.”
Inside, Robert chafed, but he dipped his head, saying gravely, “Aye, my lord King.”
* * *
“I will not wed with you, Guy de Burgh,” Morgana hissed not long later as the two swept through the doorway leading out of the great hall together, after at last finding her quarry breaking his fast in that chamber. “I am for the nunnery as soon as I am released to do so by my King.”
“You will ne’er be allowed to do so now; you are worth too much to the King to be given o’er to the church.” He sighed. “In any case, I only petitioned for your hand to vex Robert enough to fight for you.” He stopped walking, and she stopped as well. “However, if you and he do succeed in having your marriage contract annulled, then I—as I did before in the dungeon of this very abbey—humbly give you my troth.” He pulled in a deep breath and reached for her hand, but evidently thought better of it when he glanced past her, and seeing others passing near, dropped his arm back to his side. “Know this: You will be bartered off in marriage, and if you continue in your quest to end the one you have with Robert, then ‘twill be better for you to wed with me, your friend, than some other who may only want you for what wealth and power a connection to your family and the King may bring him.”
She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment, but knew she must speak the truth. Darting a look around her, she stepped closer to Guy and whispered, “I may be barren—or, at least unable to bear a babe to childbed. Robert’s babe flushed from my”—her eyes welled with tears again, her throat closed, but still she continued—“w-womb n-near to two sennights past. My pardon,” she said, sniffling and turning her face away. With quivering fingers, she brushed the tears from her cheeks.
Guy took hold of her hand. “I am sorry for your loss, dear lady. I did not know.”
She nodded, gulped back another fit of weeping, and managed to say thickly, “So you see why I do not wish to wed again.”
“ ‘Tis not uncommon, or so I have heard told. You will bear again, and well, I am sure.”
“And if I do not? Would you wed a woman who could not give you an heir?”
“Aye, I would. But only if that woman were you.”
Morgana lifted her gaze to his and gaped at him. “You—Are you saying you love me?”
“Aye,”—Morgana’s heart fluttered in dread—”and nay. I will not deny the deep affection I hold for you, but nay, ‘tis not the passionate love of which I believe you are speaking.”
Morgana nodded, dropping her gaze to their twined hands, before slipping hers from his grasp and stepping back.
There was a long, weighted pause, as if Guy was battling a decision to tell her something, before he said at last, “You asked me before about Vika. She was not at your holding when I arrived to o’ersee the dousing of the fires set by your uncle’s men.”
Morgana’s head jerked up.
“I was told by your mo—maid that she left the same morn as you, with her lover—the father of her unborn babe—a man by the name of Grímr Thorfinnsson, and that Robert was made aware of this before she left.”
“Grímr? Grímr is her babe’s father? Bu-But she said….” Morgana whirled and took several steps, then swung back around. “Aye, I believe it! The way the two of them behaved together. ‘Twas plain they were attracted. And he arrived at our holding only a sennight past Vika’s own arrival. He must have been hunting her! Oh, aye. Oh, aye.” She rushed over to Guy and gripped his
hands in hers. “Do you know what this means?” she said, looking glowingly into Guy’s dark-fringed blue eyes. “It means that Robert does not pine for Vika!”
“Aye, that is what it means, my dear lady. Tho’ I did not think it best these tidings should come from me, but from your husband. Still, if I have lightened your heart with this knowledge, then I am well pleased in doing so.”
Morgana’s jaw tightened. “Aye. My husband should have told me.” Again, she whirled around and stormed several paces away, saying, “Why did he not? Truly, I cannot ken it.”
“My dear lady,” Guy began in a gently chiding voice, “he has been otherwise occupied with the—and I’m sure you will agree with this—much more urgent need to save your life.”
She hurrumphed. Crossing her arms, she said, “Aye, but ‘tis his stubborn silence after that which irks me so.”
Guy took a step toward her. “Mayhap….” He took another step. “Mayhap, he only wanted to wait until all was settled, until he could relax his guard on you and enjoy your time together without worry or dread.”
Morgana dipped her head and bit her lip. “Well, why did he not say thus?” She swung back around. “I must halt this annulment!” Her eyes went wide and she beamed a grin Guy’s direction. “And I know just how to do it! Come,” she said, turning and striding with purpose toward the chapel. I’ll need your aid, and we have much to plan.”