by Shea,Lisa
She rose finally, stepping from the tub, drying herself off. She wrapped a towel and robe around her while the men came in to ferry away the water, then the tub. Then she was left alone in her sanctuary.
She pulled open her drawer of fragrances, looking briefly at the several larger containers she normally drew from, their scents powerful and alluring. Pushing them aside, she reached into the back, where a small, engraved poplar box sat. Her mother had always advised her to pick the newest rose buds, and had given her this box to store them in. Morgan had done the task as a rite of summertime, but had never bothered using the buds. Their scent had always seemed too feeble, too lackluster.
She opened the lid of the box, looking in at the small pink items. Taking in a deep breath, she began to gently crush the flowers within the box. As she did so, a most wonderfully complex aroma began to emerge, layered with shades of scent. She breathed in deeply, smiling. A new start indeed.
She spent a long while brushing out her hair, braiding it into a series of cascading loops down the side of her face. She wove in a pair of rose-colored ribbons. She slid on a fresh white chemise, a subtle white-on-white embroidery of ivy tracing along the neck and sleeves. Then she drew on the rose dress. Hesitantly, she picked up her hand mirror, afraid she would look like a spinster, like a wallflower fading into the shadows.
Her breath caught. She had never thought of herself as beautiful. She had thought she needed the obvious displays to draw men in to her.
She laid the mirror down slowly, thoughtfully.
It was long after noon already – the party would undoubtedly be in full swing by now. She could hear the faint sound of music and laughter from her window, but the gardens were on the opposite side of the keep, far from view.
She hesitated for a long moment before pulling open her door, heading out into the hallway, down the stairs into the quiet main hall. She glanced around the empty room, then walked toward the side door, hoping to slip into the party quietly. Normally she went for a grand, loud entrance – today she would try a quieter way.
Servants were moving to and from the kitchen buildings, ferrying dishes of lush red strawberries, platters of grapes in a variety of colors. She followed the flow, hearing the party before she saw it, coming around the corner to see over two hundred people filling the gardens, laughing, talking, with minstrels wandering through the throngs, servants circulating with food and drink.
She tucked herself back for a moment, her eyes searching. There – Lady Donna was standing at the edge of the herb garden, elegantly attired in an ivory dress, her hair pulled back into cascading curls. Morgan took in a deep breath, then moved forward steadily. She had faced down drunks in the Rusty Nail who outweighed her by two hundred pounds. She could handle this party.
Lady Donna turned as she approached, popping a raspberry into her mouth. “Welcome, my dear,” she greeted cordially. “You are simply a picture of beauty, and I am delighted to have you in my gardens. Are you a friend of -”
Her mouth hung open, and for a long moment she simply stared in shock at Morgan. Morgan blushed deep red, her stomach fluttering with butterflies.
“God’s teeth,” swore Lady Donna finally, taking a long swig of her ale. “I had no idea that was you. You look … you are simply stunning. Stunning.” She looked up and down Morgan again, then her eyes began to sparkle. “Has Sean seen you yet?” she asked with a chuckle.
Morgan shook her head no. “I just came down,” she admitted quietly. “I wanted to come to you first, to make sure I looked all right.”
Lady Donna nearly choked on her ale. “Looked all right?” she muttered to herself, laughing quietly. She turned and waved down a passing servant. “Go fetch Sean right away,” she asked with a smile. “Tell him I want to introduce him to someone.”
She took Morgan’s hand and led her over besides the fountain, further from the heavy scent of herbs. “That is rosebud fragrance on you, if I am not mistaken,” she commented with a wink. “Let us go for the full experience here, and see how he reacts.”
Morgan’s heart pounded in her chest, and Lady Donna took her hand, softly squeezing it. “Calm,” she gently soothed. “Watch the fountain. Follow the water’s motion. Drink in that tranquility.”
Morgan did as she was told, and to her surprise she did draw in her breaths more easily, release the tension in her shoulders as the waters flowed up and around and past the stone sculpture. The shaking in her hands settled and calmed.
“Here I am, Aunt,” came the deep rumbling voice behind her. “Please introduce me to this beauty; I believe your garden has a new flower to treasure.”
Morgan smiled, then turned slowly, keeping her eyes lowered, offering her hand with a gentle movement. He took her fingertips in his, slowly lowering his head and lips to them, his eyes raising to meet hers. Slowly, ever so slowly, she raised hers to gaze into his.
He froze. His look became lost for a moment, then he straightened up, releasing her fingers absently, stepping back, his eyes running slowly from the dark cascades of braids around her face, down the elegantly embroidered dress of rose, down to the hem which skimmed the grass. Then his eyes traced themselves back up her to meet again at her own eyes.
Morgan glowed. Before his perusals had turned her hot, fiery, as if he were eating her up. Now it was as if he were adoring her, praising her, filling her with strength, imbuing her with what she needed most.
Behind him, Lady Donna made a gentle twirling motion with one hand. Obediently Morgan turned in place slowly, sweeping her eyes around the throng of the party, the maelstrom of voices and colors and smells, then returning her gaze to Sean’s dumbstruck face.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered softly. He slowly stepped forward, reaching out a hand, and she gently laid her own into it. Again he brought his lips down to her skin, but this time it was with reverence. He pressed his lips against her fingertips for a long moment, drawing in a deep breath, releasing it in a sigh against her fingers.
He straightened, then held out his left arm. She withdrew her fingers gently from his grasp, taking his arm with a soft smile. She gave him a shy squeeze, and he smiled down at her, his face proud and reassuring all at once, before he slowly began walking out into the group.
Christian and Oliver were drinking by the main buffet table, and turned with smiles as they saw Sean walking up toward them. Christian’s lips drew into a pout. “You always find the prettiest women,” he challenged. “It must be some skill you learned in the field. Do not let Morgan catch you, though, or she will tan your hide in ways you never dreamt of.”
Oliver had stopped with his mug halfway to his lips, his eyes focused on Morgan, and he gave Christian a hard nudge in the ribs. “What?” called out Christian in teasing annoyance. “You know as well as I do that -”
“That what?” asked Morgan sweetly, her smile spreading across her face. “Just what would Morgan do to me?”
Christian started, downed the rest of his drink in one long gulp, then without hesitation reached over to fill his mug back up again. He looked again at Morgan, his eyes reflecting disbelief.
Oliver stepped forward, a smile on his lips. “You are stunning, Morgan, but I am sure you know that,” he chuckled softly. She offered him her hand, and he lowered his head to it, kissing it gently.
Christian looked up and down her outfit in confusion. “Has the world turned upside down?” he burst out. “How can I kiss you in the stables when you are looking like that?”
Sean’s eyes held his. “I am afraid you cannot,” he responded, taking her hand and refolding it around his arm smoothly. She chuckled, leaning against him slightly, and he moved on, leaving the two men behind.
He led them toward the rose garden, where Roger and Peter were talking with two older gentlemen. Roger gave a friendly wave. “Sean,” he called, “you remember the lawyers. I am afraid we have gotten caught up in work, where you seem to have found all the pleasure. Come introduce us to your new friend.”
; “Certainly,” agreed Sean with a growing grin. “Peter, Roger, this is Penelope.”
Morgan gave him a gentle nudge, then moved forward to give Peter a fond embrace. His eyes brightened as she drew close, and he was smiling widely by the time they finished the hug and she drew back.
“So you did wait for Odysseus after all,” offered Peter, his face glowing, looking her over. “Was it worth the patience?”
“The courtiers may still have their chance,” teased Morgan, turning to wink at Roger. His face went red as his eyes widened in recognition, drawing his gaze down her length in surprise before pulling her into a hug. “God’s teeth, I did not recognize you, Morgan,” he gasped, stepping back.
Sean’s arm came smoothly around her waist the moment she was free, and she leant against him, neatly fitting in against his side.
“Yes, well, it is an old dress,” she admitted, pinkening. “My mother made it for me when I was younger, and I am afraid I have only worn it that once.”
Peter shook his head, looking at her. “It is not just the dress,” he commented quietly. “It is your face. You look happy.”
“I am always happy,” objected Morgan, tilting her head to one side in thought. She looked around her at the party, at the beautiful gardens which flowed out like a multi-colored river around her. “I am very pleased with my life here.”
Oliver’s voice was low but steady. “Peter is right,” he commented as he and Christian moved up to join the group. “You are glowing today, Morgan. It is as if someone put tinder to you, and caught you alight.”
Morgan blushed, used to men looking at her, but not in such an intimate way. Sean’s arm steadily supported her; she soaked in the strength of his body at her side. She turned to look up at him, was caught in the depths of his eyes, and time slipped away.
*
Morgan gave a long yawn, and Sean turned to smile at her in amusement. Only a few partygoers remained in the herb-scented night air, downing a last mug of ale or talking with a friend in a quiet corner. Most had long since trundled off to home and bed.
“Come on, sleepyhead,” he teased her gently. “The sun set long hours ago. Let me escort you up to your room.”
Morgan did not resist, going with him into the keep, across the quiet hall, up the long stairs, her pace matching his easily. They came to a stop before her door, and he turned to face her, to bring his hands up alongside her cheeks tenderly.
“You were really something today,” he praised her gently. “I would not have thought it possible, but once again you have astonished me.”
She blushed beneath his perusal, her gaze caught by the pride, the appreciation shining in his eyes.
He slowly leant forward. Tenderly, so tenderly, he kissed her on the mouth. She slid her hands along his waist, and he drew her in, wrapping his arms around her, deepening the kiss, holding her in the gentlest of embraces.
She melted against him, feeling the kiss down into the deepest part of her soul, the innermost corners of her heart. In the past she had wanted him as a physical sensation, a short term appetite. Now she longed for him as a missing part of her very being, as a half of her whole.
When he pulled back, the separation ached as a physical loss; the yearning threatened to overwhelm her. She glanced at her door handle, then back up into his eyes. She would give in. If he would open the door to her room, she would not hold him back.
He smiled at her for a long moment, his face a mixture of desire and contented calm. Then, laying a hand tenderly against her cheek, he turned and walked back toward his room.
Morgan almost called after him, but she held back, staying silent as he headed into his own room, closing his door softly behind him. She brought her hand up to her cheek, to where he had touched her. Then she turned and went into her own room alone.
Chapter 10
Sunday morning dawned with gentle breezes, the slightest hint of autumn crispness coming in through Morgan’s windows. She stood and languorously stretched. She felt surprisingly fresh and awake. Usually after parties she could barely move because of the throbbing headache, but this morning she felt alive, renewed. She smiled at that, then climbed out of bed.
She dug through the closet again, rejecting a few dresses before coming across another rarely-worn item from the back. This one was in deep russet, with designs of autumn leaves floating along the hems. She smiled, pulling it over her chemise, then brushing her hair back into a turned sweep along her face. She found a bronze pin in the shape of a resting doe to pin it in place with. She added on the head scarf and bronze circlet before pulling open her door.
Sean was leaning against the wall opposite, his eyes following the door as it moved, and came to his feet as she stepped out. “So yesterday was no dream,” he murmured softly, his eyes taking in her appearance with a smile. “Can you be even more lovely today than you were yesterday?”
She slid her fingers beneath his arm as he moved to stand on her right side, and together they descended the stairs into the main hall. Lady Donna and the others were sitting at the head table as they came into the room, and Lady Donna stood slowly, nodding with pleasure as she saw them. The other men stood as well, their eyes going from Morgan to Sean in one long sweep.
Sean motioned with his arm. “Gentlemen, shall we?” Morgan smiled in contentment as the four men fell in behind her, almost as an escort, Peter offering his arm with chivalrous courtesy to Lady Donna. Together the group headed out through the doors to the chapel.
As they reached the pew, Morgan slid her hand down Sean’s arms, lacing her fingers into his. She did not detangle herself from him as they sat in the smooth wooden benches, and he did not seek to pull away from her. She felt the press of his thigh against hers during the long sermon, felt the comforting weight of his fingers in with hers. She barely heard a word the priest said. Instead, she was wondering what it might be like to have this feeling with her every day, to have Sean’s strength and intelligence and caring at her side every day of her life.
She had always thought of marriage as a chore – as something foolish people dove into without much thought. She thought of it as a burden that people took on in order to create children and run a household.
Now, suddenly, she craved that partnership more than she had ever wanted anything before. It would not matter if they had children, or had a large keep, or owned horses or a fine coach. All that would matter was that they were together, side by side, facing whatever the world threw at them.
When the sermon had ended, the pair stood, and with his hand still gently holding hers he guided her out of the chapel and back toward the gardens. She saw with a smile that a small table had been set up in the gazebo, with a selection of fruits and breads laid out on it. A pair of chairs were positioned side by side, facing out over the fields of lavender.
Sean guided her around to her seat, then once she was settled in he moved toward his own, sitting at her right.
They ate in contented silence, drinking down the ale, eating the bread. Every once in a while Morgan would lay her hand on the table, and Sean would put his over hers, caressing it, holding it. There was no need for words. She soaked in the tranquil whisper of the breeze, the melodic lilt of the robins in the apple tree.
Morgan knew that the gardens held a larger picnic, that the usual hubbub of activity was in full swing, but she felt no draw to move into the noise, no usual desire to submerge herself into its depths. She was content where she was.
Letitia moved in with a fresh pitcher of ale, stopping to whisper something softly in Sean’s ear. He nodded at her with a smile, then turned back to Morgan, leaning over, refilling her mug, moving his hand back into hers. The hours drifted by in quiet progression, the clouds floating gently across the sky, the butterflies floating from blossom to blossom. Eventually the sky began to tint from blue to peach, from rose to a deep orange.
Sean took in a deep breath, then pressed himself to stand, quietly holding out his hand. Morgan gazed at him for a long moment,
then rose to be by his side, placing her hand tenderly in his, going with him as he moved in toward the keep.
There were a number of people in the main hall, and Morgan smiled to see Christian and Letitia sitting together in a corner, their hands entwined. She glanced up at Sean, but he shook his head. He drew her around the corner to the stairs, led her up without a word, and brought her to stop before her chambers. A delicate spell wove around them, creating a cocoon where only the two of them existed. She leant back against the door, gazing up into his eyes. She drew her hands slowly up his arms, caressing his neck, pulling his head down toward her. He came under her guidance easily, lowering his lips to hers, kissing her softly, tenderly, his tongue tracing against hers, filling her, soothing her.
She breathed into him, running her fingers through his hair with gentle abandon, holding nothing back. She had released herself to him. Her body melted into his, merged into his, lost of all thought of seduction or control or intention.
He pulled back slightly, holding her gaze, and then his eyes moved slowly to the handle of her door. They came back to hold her own, his gaze dark, serious.
A shiver ran through her, and she realized with sudden clarity what he was doing. He would not open the door and go into her room, her sanctuary. She had to open it herself. She had to bring him in.
A last hesitation, a final resistance, ripped down her spine. It would have been so much easier if he had done that action, if he had moved in while she passively watched. If she did this herself, actively bringing him into her life, it would be irrevocable. Was that really what she wanted?