by Shea,Lisa
“I thank you for the mead,” she offered throatily, licking her lips with slow attention, smiling as his eyes blazed with desire. “I definitely want to consider your very kind offer to me. First, I have something I must confess to you. It is a burden I must get off my chest.”
Coll’s eyes went to her bosom, on full display in her red outfit, then returned greedily to her eyes. “Yes, certainly,” he agreed, sliding his chair even closer to hers.
Morgan bit her lip, only slightly exaggerating her nervousness. This was a calculated risk she was taking. By all appearances Coll did not remember her from their teenage encounter, over ten years ago now. She could try to hide it – but if she sat talking with him for any length of time, it was very likely the connection would suddenly spring to his mind. She wanted to control the situation, control the information. Perhaps by bringing it out into the open early on, she could make it part of her bait, part of what drew him in to her.
She slid down onto one knee in front of him, bringing both of his hands into hers, holding them pressed against her chest. His eyes widened, his lips parting in open desire as she stared up at him with innocent apology.
“You must promise me that you forgive me first, before I tell you,” she pleaded. “I am so sorry, and only you can release me from my torture.”
“Yes,” he replied immediately, his eyes hot on her chest, all other thoughts lost. “I forgive you, completely, for whatever it is you might have done.”
“You know my name is Morgan,” she admitted softly, fluttering her eyes seductively, “but perhaps you do not recall. It was so long ago. When I was only a child, not understanding the ways of the world, you wanted me, and I was frightened. I did not know what I was doing. I was a scared, foolish youngster.”
She looked up at him with wide eyes, pressing his hands deep into her chest. His eyes narrowed, then blinked in shock. He almost pulled back, but she leant in to him, and desire flashed through him again, greed soaked into his gaze. The childhood pride fought with adult passion in his face, and the adult side won out. He drew her up to sit on his lap, and she went with willing docility. His need was hard beneath her legs, and she allowed herself to smile at him shyly, turning to press herself up against him.
“Then I am forgiven?” she whispered gently against his ear, nuzzling his throat softly with her lips. He moaned at the contact, sliding an arm around to encircle her waist, to rest a hand on her thigh.
“If you agree to this loan with Edward, then certainly, all past injuries will be easily forgiven,” he promised, his voice hoarse.
Morgan reached forward to the table, picking up her mug of mead, holding it before Coll. “A toast then, to our new arrangement?”
Coll picked up his own mug, bringing it forward to click against hers. “Yes, to us.”
Morgan tipped her head back, downing the drink in one long pull. Coll stared at her for a long moment, a grin growing on his face, then he matched her motion, putting the empty mug down on the table. “You are a firebrand, just as I remember,” he groaned in a low voice, sliding his hand along her thigh.
Morgan put her hand on top of his, twining her fingers into his, holding his hand in place. “How does this work?” she asked seductively, leaning in against him. “Do you just give it to me right here?”
Coll nearly choked, looking at her chest and then back into her eyes. “In the middle of the bar?” he gasped in amazement, looking as if he half liked the idea.
Morgan brushed her head against his ear. “The five pounds,” she reminded him gently. “That way I could buy another drink.”
“Oh,” coughed out Coll, his body emanating heat. “I do not have that with me. You will have to come with me tomorrow, to meet Edward in person for that. Certainly, though, we want to keep you properly lubricated.” He called out to Felix for another round of mead. Felix brought the mugs over in a few minutes, giving Morgan a concerned look before setting down the mugs and returning to the bar.
Morgan picked up her mug slowly, making a show of admiring the liquid within. If the messenger rode at top speed, she figured he would make it to the keep in under a half hour. Assuming he immediately found Roger and delivered the message, Roger would return at the same speed. How long had passed so far? Maybe five minutes at the most?
Morgan took a deep breath and immersed herself into her task at hand. She was sinking lower and lower into a stagnant cesspool. Coll’s hands were slimy eels slithering across her body, and she bit back a shudder at each touch. She drank her mead slowly, lingering over each mouthful, drawing out the experience as long as seemed reasonable. The minutes crawled by with nerve-shattering slowness. She was grateful that the room had emptied out by now, that there were none present to witness her degradation.
She had almost given up hope when she heard the pounding of hoofs outside, pulling up sharply at the door. Her heart tripped into a faster rhythm. She had to distract Coll so his focus was on her, not on Roger.
She turned so that his back was to the door, then slid her hands up behind his neck, pulling him into a hard kiss. He did not resist even a moment; he had his arms wrapped around her in a split second, pulling her tight against him. His tongue moved deep into her mouth and she almost gagged, holding herself back with sheer force of will.
Roger barreled into the room, hand on his hilt, his eyes scanning the room with quick attention. His eyes went wide with shock when he saw her. Morgan knew she had to act quickly, before he interfered with her plan. With her free hand she made a sharp wave to Roger, pointing him at the bar. He almost did not stop, but his gaze held hers, reading her serious mood, and he took in a long breath. He stalked over to the edge of the bar, his hand remaining at his hilt, his stance teetering on the edge of quick motion.
Morgan readied herself, then broke off from the kiss, pushing Coll back with effort. “Oops,” she giggled, tingeing her voice with embarrassment. “I am sorry, Coll. My mother has sent her servant out to find me. I am afraid I need to get home before she rousts the entire town.”
“Surely you do not have to go so soon,” growled Coll in disappointment, seeking to draw her back down to his lips. “You have such a sweet taste, I could eat you up whole.”
“My curfew is past for tonight,” repeated Morgan, adding an overlay of sadness to her tone. She let her eyes brighten. “However, tomorrow she believes I am to go to a friend’s house.” She leant forward with a sultry look. “I can come out with you to have a full night of gambling, and to meet this Edward of yours.”
Roger straightened in surprise, his eyes going with attentive focus to Coll’s back. The thought flashed through her mind that Roger would go for the straightforward method – to attack Coll here, to try to torture the information out of him immediately. Roger took a half step forward, and her eyes widened in shock. If he thought this was the subtle approach that would not alert the authorities …
Roger saw her look, took in a deep breath, letting it out in a long rush. He swirled his cloak so that it covered his sword, then stooped down, hunching his posture. By the time Coll had turned, Roger was a weak, feeble man, leaning against the bar for support, waiting patiently to escort his mistress back home again.
Coll barely glanced at Roger with dismissive scorn before turning back to Morgan. “Tomorrow you will be mine for the night,” he agreed with pleasure. He helped her to stand, then turned to slide a hand down to her waist, drawing her in against him with an aggressive pull. “First, I need a kiss to seal the deal.”
Morgan thought of resisting. However, she wanted no hurdle, no matter how minor, to exist between her and the meeting with Edward. Would one more kiss really matter? She tilted her head upwards to Coll. He pulled her in to him even more strongly than before, his hands lowering to fondle her buttocks, his tongue driving down her throat, pressing in at her. The humiliation seemed to last a lifetime.
When he finally broke away his eyes were bright with fiery passion.
“You will never find another lover lik
e me,” he promised her with a low growl, then ran his eyes down her one last time before turning and walking out of the bar.
Morgan waited a long moment to be sure he had gone before striding over to the bar counter.
“A double mead, and a bowl,” she asked Felix hoarsely. He had the drink on the worn counter in a second, then placed the large, deep wooden bowl beside it.
Morgan drank down the double in one long draw, keeping the last portion of the alcohol in her mouth to swish around and gargle. She let the liquid burn into her mouth, let it wash away the remnants of slime and disgust she felt before spitting it strongly into the bowl. Her lips felt swollen and bruised from Coll’s leave-taking.
Felix shook his head. “I do not know how you did it, Morgan,” he muttered. “That man is the worst type. Even more confusing, I do not know why you did it.”
Roger stood tall before her. “She did it for me,” he explained, putting a hand out to her cheek tenderly, then drawing her in against his chest, holding her there protectively for a long while.
He finally rested his head against her brow. “Just how much did I reveal to you last night?” he asked with curiosity.
Morgan chuckled softly. “Maybe you did have a little too much to drink,” she agreed quietly, “and maybe I helped that along a bit.”
He leant back slightly, shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised?” He looked down at her. “So tomorrow this Coll guy is going to return and take you to see Edward? To gamble with him?”
Morgan nodded. “I told him I had run out of money tonight, and he offered to have Edward loan me five pounds. Apparently I need to go see Edward in person for the deal to take place.”
Roger glanced at Felix, who put his hands innocently in the air. “I have not heard anything,” he promised them both. “I have known Morgan since she was a wee lass, and I trust her completely. Whatever you two are up to, I will help if I can.”
“We will see you tomorrow, then,” stated Morgan, taking Roger’s arm and heading out of the tavern toward the stables. They saddled and mounted in short order.
They began walking their horses side by side. Roger looked ahead of them for a long while, not speaking. Finally he broke the silence.
“Morgan, you are taking a great risk for me in order to avenge a man you never met. I have no right to draw you into this.”
Morgan gave him a wink. “The only reason I know about any of this is that I seduced you and got you drunk,” she pointed out with a ready smile. “I believe I am fully at fault for being involved in this affair in any way.”
“I wish I remember more of the seduction part,” grinned Roger. “Apparently that came sometime after the getting drunk part.”
Morgan shrugged innocently. “It was rather an interwoven process,” she mused, her eyes twinkling.
The barest tendrils of light were drifting across the sky by the time they rode in through the main keep gates, moving their horses over to the stables. They were just closing their horses into the stalls when Sean strode into the central hall of the stable, his face taut with worry, his eyes shadowed. He let out a long exhale as he saw Morgan, his face relaxing slightly.
“You are all right,” he murmured in relief, his shoulders loosening. His eyes sharpened as he took in the signs of heavy kissing on Morgan’s mouth. He rounded on Roger in a flare of fury.
“Here I thought you went after her to bring her home safely,” he shot out, his voice hard.
Roger took a step forward, his eyes blazing. “You have no right,” he challenged coldly. “With everything this woman has gone through, you have no right to say anything, to think anything, about what she has done.”
“How about your behavior?” snapped Sean, his voice dropping to a growl. “You vowed not to touch her, and now it appears you manhandled her to within an inch of her life! You call that honorable?”
Roger drew his sword instantly, and Sean’s was out in a heartbeat in response. Suddenly Peter was skidding in through the stable doors, calling out to the two men in quick staccato. “Roger! Sean! Put up your swords! What in the world -”
Roger and Sean circled each other, their eyes sharp with focus. There were the sounds of running feet, and in seconds Oliver and Christian had burst into the stables. They took one look at the situation and launched themselves toward Morgan’s side, drawing their swords in unison, standing before her protectively.
Roger’s face was flushed with fury. “What I do or do not do with Morgan is none of your business,” he thundered. “You are a married man. A married man. You broke your wedding vows and pursued Morgan. She deserved far better than that, and your lack of honor disgusts me.” His eyes swept down Sean in cold disgust. “When we return to London I will be asking for a transfer to another group.”
“As will I,” added in Peter harshly, taking a step back, looking between the two men. “Please, Roger, put up your sword,” he added, his voice weary. “He is not worth it.”
Roger hesitated a moment, glancing back at Morgan, then took a step back, lowering his sword into a guard position. “Maybe you are right,” he agreed, looking over to Peter.
Morgan watched as Sean scanned the men in the room in a long look. She saw the scorn, the disdain which emanated from each pair of watching eyes. Finally his eyes came to meet hers, his gaze exhausted, shadowed.
Morgan shook her head slowly, refusing to feel pity. He had brought every ounce of this on himself. She felt the harsh satisfaction of justice to see him reap what he had sown.
Sean dropped his head, looking down for a long while, his breath coming in deep draws. Slowly he resheathed his sword, his hand resting on his hilt. Then, finally, he raised his head to look at her again.
His eyes. They held strength, resolution, longing, and sorrow. She had just struggled through a long night staring into the eyes of a dishonorable man, had seen the base, twisted emotions they held. Looking into Sean’s eyes, she could see nothing even remotely similar, no hint of the same heartless coldness. Her world whirled; nothing made sense.
She put an arm out to Oliver, to Christian, gently standing them down. Then she took a long step forward, moving to a position in front of Sean.
“Sean, what is going on?”
He took in a long breath, holding her gaze, then let it out again. His voice was low and flat.
“I do not remember marrying Cassandra.”
There was a long moment of shocked silence. Roger broke it, looking over his fellow soldier with skeptical hesitation. “You mean you do not remember saying I do?”
Sean shook his head, leaning back against the wall in weary resignation. “I mean I do not remember any of it,” he stated again, his voice growing stronger. “I do not remember asking her to marry me. I do not remember talking to a priest. I do not remember a ceremony, or conferring with her father, or signing any document. I thought I had every day of my time with Cassandra etched on my brain. I remember courting her, I remember sleeping with her. I do not remember anything having to do with a wedding vow.”
His eyes went to Peter’s. “You were there, you were with me during the months afterwards. My plans were always to return to her, to go back and marry her. Why would I need any such plans if I had already married her?”
Christian’s face creased with doubt. “Maybe you had married her in secret,” he chimed in, running a hand through his red curls. “Maybe it was a ploy to confuse the others.”
“To what end?” asked Sean with quiet honesty. “I swear to you, I thought I left her a free woman. When I heard she had married another, I resigned myself that it was the end of our romance. I put her completely in the past. The thought that she carried my child was never even a distant consideration to me – never mind that there had been a legally binding contract.”
Roger sheathed his sword, coming to stand before Sean, his eyes focusing on the man’s with serious attention. “You are sure it is your mark on the document?” he asked, his voice holding a growing tone of concern.
“It does look to be my mark,” agreed Sean somberly. “She presented the document to me the day after she arrived. I had never seen it before, at least not that I can remember, and I examined it quite carefully. It seems to be authentic. She says …”
His face hardened, and he looked away for a long minute. When he spoke again, his voice rang with self-disgust. “She says I was thoroughly intoxicated. According to her, I could barely stand during our wedding ceremony.” He shook his head, his jaw tense. “Such an important day, a life-changing event, and not the smallest hint of it is anywhere in my mind. I cannot remember one moment of what she describes.”
He brought his gaze back to hold Roger’s. “I am sorry for all the pain my actions have caused,” he stated, his voice steady and low. His gaze swept the room. “I apologize to each of you here. I have been trying to do what is right, to take the actions which honor require. It seems every step I take makes something worse.”
He offered his hand out to Roger. “You especially, Roger, are blameless in all of this. I apologize wholeheartedly for what I said.” His eyes were haunted with pain, but he took in a deep breath, then continued. “You certainly have every right to do anything you wish with Morgan, and she with you.”
Roger hesitated for a long moment, then stepped forward and shook Sean’s hand. “I am very glad to hear you were not knowingly using Morgan,” he responded, clasping his friend’s hand firmly. “I could not reconcile that action with the man I have known these past fifteen years.”
“Using Morgan,” replied Sean, his voice tight. “I could not have willingly hurt a hair on her head. God’s teeth, I could never use her, I -”
He bit away the words, turning his head away. “You have every right to spend the evening with her,” he repeated again. He took in a deep breath, then looked up at Morgan, his eyes gazing into hers with an angst-filled longing.