by Shea,Lisa
Christian joined them from the kitchens, and Morgan was heartened to see that he, at least, seemed in a good mood. They settled themselves around the head table in relative silence, Cassandra quietly talking with Sean about her day’s activities. Sean listened without a reply.
Cassandra’s voice drifted out over the silence. “Lady Donna, would you have some time in the morning for a talk? I have an idea to discuss with you.”
“Yes, of course dear,” responded Lady Donna distractedly, her eyes moving amongst the men at her table. “I am at your leisure.”
Morgan’s headache returned in force. It was all she could do to eat her food, to bring her mug to her lips. She felt the worried gazes upon her, but kept her eyes lowered, kept her attention on what she was doing. When she had finished her meal, she pushed herself up at once, shaking her head at Oliver’s look. She was far too tired to manage any discussions tonight.
Alone, she made her way up the stairs, moved into her bedroom, set the bar behind her.
She lay awake in bed for a long while before falling into a restless sleep.
Chapter 17
Morgan only felt as if she had been beaten half to death by the neighborhood bully when she awoke the next morning. The sun was shining brilliantly through the windows, seemingly incongruous with the dark throbbing in her head. She worked her way through each of her injuries in turn, checking on the bruising, examining scars for any sign of infection. She was doing well, and she gave a heartfelt thanks to Daniel’s ointments for the results. The lad knew what he was about.
She refreshed her bandages and creams, then dressed in a soft green outfit. She made her way downstairs with careful effort. It was long past the hour of breakfast; the room was relatively quiet. Sean sat with Roger and Peter, their faces somber, their eyes trained on the closed door of Lady Donna’s study. The three looked up as she descended, and Sean stood at once. He began walking over toward her, but as he moved the study doors opened. Cassandra and Lady Donna walked out together, Cassandra’s eyes set with focus. She spotted Sean and moved directly toward him, hooking her arm in his as she reached him.
“I have talked with your aunt, and it is all settled,” she stated with a warm smile. “Since our initial marriage was so long ago, and your family was not able to be present, we have arranged for a fresh ceremony. A week from today we will have a new wedding, with all in attendance, and begin a new chapter of our lives.”
Sean looked between Lady Donna and Cassandra, his eyes sharp.
Lady Donna nodded. “I believe this would be a good idea,” she confirmed. “It is time for this situation to be resolved, for us to move forward.” Her eyes flickered to rest on Morgan for a moment, then she looked at her nephew again. “For all of us.”
Sean took in a long breath, staring down at his wife. She gazed up at him with angelic eyes, her pale skin serene.
“Of course,” he murmured, his jaw tight.
“After all,” chimed in Lady Donna, her face glancing at Morgan’s again, “it is the honorable thing to do. Daniel is a fine boy and deserves to grow up with his father.”
“Yes, it is the honorable thing,” agreed Sean, his eyes shadowed.
The words rolled around in Morgan’s mind, again seeming so familiar, so close … she flexed her fingers and was hit by a shooting pain in her hand.
Suddenly she visualized the scene clearly. She was sprawled on her back, the stiletto impaling her hand solidly into the polished table’s surface. Her body was receiving the first, tenuous waves of growing pain. Edward turned away from her, called over Coll, speaking with him about …
What was it he had said?
If she wants him dead, we can ensure he dies ‘nobly’, defending his honor as a soldier should.
She remembered now – Cassandra had said the exact thing at dinner. Edward knew Cassandra, was going to defer to her in determining Sean’s fate. The two of them had been involved somehow. Now Sean was going to repledge himself to her.
Her mind raced. How could she prove this connection? Edward was dead, slain by her own hand. All hope of corroborating the relationship by his testimony was gone.
Her eyes flashed up to meet Sean’s. “Is Coll dead?” she shot out, her voice hoarse.
Sean rounded on her, his eyes full of confusion. “Coll?” he asked, searching her face.
“Coll, the man I went gambling with,” pushed Morgan in frustration. “The man I knew from my childhood. Was he killed?”
Sean’s gaze shadowed. “No, his body was not among the corpses found at the gambling den. He must have slipped away in the chaos.”
Morgan sighed in relief, her hope growing. There was still a witness out there, someone she could find, could pressure to reveal the truth. “Thank God,” she sighed softly.
Cassandra’s eyes sharpened. “Surely you have learned your lesson,” she snapped in a low voice. “Coll is not the man for you.” She looked sideways at Lady Donna for confirmation. “With all the shame you have brought on your employer already -”
Lady Donna turned to gaze disapprovingly at Morgan. “Morgan, you are on probation here. It would not be in your best interest to be chasing after that reprobate.”
Morgan barely heard them, her mind a whirl. She had to find someone, anyone, to corroborate her suspicions, to prove Cassandra was not what she seemed.
Her hand dropped automatically to her hip, and she started, glancing down, finding nothing. Damn! The Sheriff still had her daggers, part of his evidence in his investigation of the gambling den fight. She could hardly wield a sword, but to go out without any protection at all …
“I need to see my father,” she ground out, thinking quickly. Surely he had some of her old daggers lying around the house. He would be upset with her, but he would not refuse to supply her with a means of defending herself.
Christian shook his head. “You should not be out of bed, never mind riding cross country,” he protested. “Your parents can wait until later.”
“I cannot wait until later,” Morgan retorted, her aches throbbing into fresh life. She turned on her heel, moving quickly toward the front door. There were footsteps at her side, and she looked over to see Oliver matching her stride, walking with her.
Her throat was tight. “You do not need to come; I will be fine,” she insisted.
“I want to come,” he responded in a low voice. “You deserve an escort. You deserve far more than that, but we will start with what we can do.”
In a short while they had mounted and were riding at a slow pace down the main road. Morgan began to doubt the wisdom of her actions; her head throbbed, her stomach corkscrewed, and she could only hold the reins in one hand. She focused on the road ahead of her, concentrated on staying in the saddle, on lasting the trip.
The keep faded from sight behind her, and at last she put voice to the question that had been dogging her. “Lady Donna must have been interrogating you for half the day. What was it about?”
Oliver sighed, glancing at her face for a moment, his brows creasing at the injuries visible there. “She senses that she does not know the whole truth,” he explained. “She is very confused about everything, and questioned us at length about everything we knew. We did not lie – but it was challenging to keep her in the dark.”
“Another week and this should all be behind us,” muttered Morgan, her voice low. “Then we can tell her all without risking our plans. I love my patron dearly, but she is as transparent as they come. Cassandra would know something was up in an instant, and would slip through our grasp.”
“What are you thinking?” asked Oliver, his eyes on hers. “Sean could easily put a stop to this renewal of vows. I imagine he only agreed to buy us some time.”
“No,” shot out Morgan with heat, her voice tight. Oliver stared at her, his eyebrows raising.
“What I mean is, right now Cassandra is perfectly at ease,” continued Morgan, rolling her shoulders. “She will not want to raise any suspicion, move from her location until
she has that new, legitimate contract in hand. She wants to get her hands on Lady Donna’s fortune.”
“What if we do not find proof in time?” asked Oliver cautiously.
“We will,” vowed Morgan. “I swear it.” She glanced sideways at Oliver. “The first step is to for me to get out to Eli’s parents, to have a talk with them.”
“Roger should go,” pointed out Oliver. “He was Eli’s best friend, the person Eli’s parents know and trust.”
“Then he and I can go together,” agreed Morgan. “I will try to find a way to arrange that without arousing any suspicions from Cassandra.”
“I am sure you can manage that,” chuckled Oliver, his eyes bright with amusement.
*
Morgan was at the point of collapse by the time she and Oliver pulled into her parents’ stables. She gave in and allowed him to handle the stabling of both beasts, then leant on him heavily as they moved toward the back door. Her mother answered the knock promptly, her eyes going wide as the two made their way inside, moved over to sit with careful slowness on the worn bench.
Morgan’s father put down a pair of tongs in the forge area, coming over to stare down at her. His face was somber, dark, but she saw the compassion in there as well as his eyes moved from her bandaged hand to the bruises on her face and arms.
“My God, little one, what have you gotten yourself into,” he asked at last, falling heavily into the chair by her side.
Her mother looked between her and Oliver, confusion blossoming on her face. “Wait a minute,” she commented, her brow furrowing. “It was not just you and Coll at the Rusty Nail. I remember now. Oliver was there as well. He said he would chaperone you.”
Asa’s face creased in fury, and he rounded on Oliver. “Some chaperone you proved to be,” he challenged. “I have trusted you for many years with the care of my only child. Look at her!”
Oliver’s face went white, and he dropped his eyes.
Morgan could not take it. Oliver did not deserve this lambasting, and her parents could not spread the news of his participation any further than these four walls.
“You must both promise me that none will be told of Oliver’s presence there that night,” she demanded, her eyes moving between them. “He was at the gambling den with me. It was because he was there that I made it out alive, with only the injuries you see. It could have been far, far worse.”
Oliver’s voice was tight. “That is not true,” he protested. “You should not have been there in the first place. I should never have let you go. We should have found another way to get to Edward. I let you and Roger talk me into this, and I should have stood strong, should have refused to let you participate.”
“Refused to let me act?” snapped Morgan with heat. “Just who are you to tell me what to do?”
Her mother sat down at her side. “Roger was there as well?” she asked, baffled. “You were doing this to get to Edward?” Her face lit up suddenly with growing understanding. “You were using Coll, using him to get to Edward,” she gasped.
Morgan rounded on her at once. “You must swear not to say a word,” she growled in anger.
Asa blinked, his bear-like shoulders coming forward in a hunch. “Why should we not be proud of what you have done?” he asked, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “You took on one of the nastiest loan sharks in the region, a man who has caused countless damage to families around here. You managed to wreak further damage on Coll, who we despise.” His eyes held hers with growing pride. “You did, in fact, kill Edward?”
Morgan nodded, a smile growing on her lips. “I stabbed him through the heart, just as we had practiced.”
Asa moved forward to envelop her in a gentle hug, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. “That is my girl,” he congratulated, pulling back. “We should have a celebration at the Rusty Nail, and let the entire village proclaim their thanks. Why all this mystery?”
“We have to wait another week,” sighed Morgan, the weight of the problem settling back down on her again. “There is more to this than you know.”
Her mother leant forward. “We can help,” she insisted with certainty. “Just tell us what is going on, and we will help you get out of it.”
“No,” countered Morgan, shaking her head resolutely. “I cannot drag you into this as well.” Her eyes went up to her father’s. “However, that overzealous sheriff still has not returned my daggers to me,” she groused. “It means I am currently weaponless.” She held up her bandaged right hand. “At least out of weapons I can easily wield.
“Say no more,” chuckled Asa, rising and turning. “First, though, I owe this lad here a new sword.” He went over to his work area, sorting through blades until he found the one he sought. He lifted the sword from its rack, bringing it over to present to Oliver.
Oliver stood, taking the proffered weapon with a smile, admiring the heft in his hand for a moment. He stepped into the open area of the floor, swinging the sword around him with growing pleasure.
“This is exceptional. The balance on this is perfect, and the grip could not be any better,” he sighed with satisfaction, giving the blade a spin. “You are deserving of your reputation, Asa.”
“As is my daughter,” growled Asa, nodding. “The sword is yours, a gift, to be used in keeping her safe.”
Oliver opened his mouth to protest, then saw the look in Asa’s eyes, and nodded. “Thank you,” he said gruffly, sitting to hold his new sword across his legs, running his fingers down its length.
“Now, as to some new blades for you, daughter,” muttered Asa going back through his supplies. “Let us start with your backup weapon.” He picked up and discarded several daggers, finally settling on one with a black hilt, lobbing it with a gentle twist toward her. She plucked it out of the air with her good hand, tossing it up in a spin, catching it again.
“That will do nicely,” she agreed, tucking it into her boot.
“For a main blade, I think this one will suit you well,” he commented, carrying over a dagger in a scabbard, presenting it to her with a wry grin.
Morgan’s eyes lit up when she looked at the scabbard. The leatherwork was exceptional, with a design of curled spirals running down its length. She pulled out the dagger blade and sighed with delight. The hilt was wrapped with green cloth, a golden spiral of metal thread holding it in place. The blade itself was razor sharp, with a cloud etched design tracing along the edge. An emblem of some sort was visible on one side.
It was a thing of beauty.
She flipped the weapon around several times, admiring its heft. “You have really outdone yourself here, father,” she praised, looking at it in awe. “Who in the world could have afforded such time and effort?”
“Actually, I had made that for Sean,” replied Asa, his eyes twinkling.
Morgan looked up in surprise. “Sean asked you to make him a dagger?”
Asa nodded. “The day after he had dinner here, he came by and paid for it up front, in full. This is made to his dimensions.”
Morgan shook her head, holding it up to him. “I cannot take it, if you have made it for another. You already have his money!”
Asa pushed it gently back into her hands. “I will give him the money back,” he bit out harshly. “My daughter will have the best blade available, and that blade is it.”
She smiled, putting the blade down on the bench beside her, opening her arms. Her father tenderly embraced her, holding her for a long while. Then he sat back, shaking his head.
“You know, it will be very hard to continue maligning you for the next week, now that we know the truth,” he commented wryly.
“You promised!” insisted Morgan, her heart beginning to race. “There can be no sign at all of what is going on!”
Jocelyn patted her fondly on the knee, shushing her. “Now, not to worry,” she soothed her daughter. “I am sure we will do quite fine for a week, helping you maintain this front. Do not be concerned about us. Not one peep of doubt will come from our side. We would no
t do anything to put you into harm’s way.” Her gaze slid to eye Oliver in speculation.
“Now, stop that,” insisted Morgan, removing her belt and sliding the scabbard onto it. “Oliver is not to blame. I was completely responsible for my involvement from start, middle, and end. If it had not been for certain of my activities, we would not have even known where Edward was or how to find him.”
“Things will get easier from here on out, though, right?” insisted her mother with hearty concern. “You are hardly in any shape to launch into another fight.”
Morgan nodded. “Trust me,” she agreed, chuckling softly. “I want this to go smoothly as much as you do.”
Jocelyn laid a hand tenderly on her daughter’s face. “Well, then, with all of that settled, will you two stay for dinner? We have a nice meal of beans almost ready.”
Morgan smiled in agreement, and the four enjoyed a long, leisurely meal, toasting with several mugs of mead. Both Morgan and Oliver brought out their new weapons several times, admiring the workmanship, discussing the creation with her father.
Jocelyn gave Morgan a warm embrace as she stood, preparing to go. “When will we see you again, my dear?” asked her mother tenderly.
Morgan thought about it for a long moment. “Sean is getting married next Monday,” she stated by way of an answer.
Her mother looked up in surprise. “Sean, the one you brought with you to dinner last week? I thought you …” she glanced over at Oliver, and cut her sentence short.
Morgan smiled wearily, nodding. “Yes, that Sean,” she agreed with a sigh. “They will be getting married at the chapel by Lady Donna’s keep. If you could, I would like it for you to be there. I would also like as many townsfolk as possible to attend.”