by Shea,Lisa
Sean was waiting for them in the stables, his face relaxing in relief as the two dismounted wearily and came over to him. Angus quietly took the reins of the steeds, moving them off for their brushing.
Sean looked between them. “You had no trouble on your outing?”
Roger shook his head. “None at all, and we found something quite interesting.” He reached a hand into his tunic, drew out the folded square of paper, and handed it over to Sean without comment.
Sean glanced at him, then carefully unfolded the document. His face went pale with shock. He stood staring at it for a long while. His eyes moved from the names, to the date, to the seal and signatures.
“This looks exactly like mine,” he commented hoarsely. “The seal, the calligraphy, everything.”
“They must both be fakes,” agreed Roger, his voice low. He paused for a long moment, looking at his friend.
The reality of the situation flushed over Morgan, and she almost staggered back. It had been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. Sean was not married. Sean was not married.
Roger’s voice came as if from a far distance. “Sean, what do you want to do?”
Sean’s hands whitened with anger as he gripped the document. “I will call off the damned wedding,” he growled, his voice shaking with fury.
Morgan stepped forward, shaking her head. “No!”
Both men’s heads swiveled to stare at her in aghast shock. Sean’s face drained of color. “Good God, Morgan, you cannot mean for me to marry her?”
Morgan blinked in surprise, then she began laughing, deep gales of mirth bubbling over her, filling her, drenching her to her soul. She wrapped her arms around her waist, the stress and pain and exhaustion of the past weeks finally catching up with her, releasing in one long sweep.
It was several minutes before she could breathe again, and she stood giggling merrily, wiping the tears from her eyes.
The men eyed her cautiously, as if she had completely lost her mind. Roger spoke up first. “I think we should get you to bed, Morgan.”
“No, wait,” she insisted, the mirth still causing her to chuckle. “As if you sheep-herders would think I wanted Sean anywhere near that harpy.”
Sean’s eyes held hers with concern. “You told me to marry her,” he pointed out.
“No,” answered Morgan, talking slowly, as if to the youngest of the castle pages. “I told you not to call off the ceremony.”
Roger stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. “You asked Eli’s parents to come to the wedding,” he stated quietly.
Sean looked from Roger to Morgan, his face calming. “Oliver said that you asked your parents to come to the wedding, and for them to bring as many townsfolk as they could. He could not understand it at the time. He thought it meant you had given up, that you needed their strength beside you.”
Morgan looked up to Sean. “You are who I need beside me,” she growled, her emotions clear and open on her face. “Every moment I am away from you, every hour I lay awake at night, every morning that I push open my door and you are not there waiting for me -”
Intense longing thundered through her, and she fell back against the wall, turning her head to break her gaze, her breath coming in long, drawn out inhales.
He was not married.
Roger moved discreetly to stand by the stable doors, watching into the courtyard. Sean put the document down carefully on a nearby table, holding his hand on it for a long moment. Then he turned, coming over to stand before Morgan, putting a hand on either side of her shoulder, balancing himself against the wall.
“God, you are incredible,” he murmured hoarsely, his eyes searching hers. “Not a moment has gone by that I have not longed for you, thought about you … to think that during these agonizing hours I have been a free man …”
He lowered himself slowly, his mouth brushing against the right side of her throat, down to her shoulder, then up again, along to the edge of her cheek. She found herself turning her head, seeking his lips, but he resisted, following the curve of her neck. He brought his left hand away from the wall, gently caressing the other side of her neck, and she let out a soft sigh of pleasure. She brought her hands up to either side of his hips, sliding the fingers of her left hand around to the small of his back, pulling him toward her with the bandaged right, but he held himself back, continued his torment of her.
She could not take it any more. She moved her hands higher, wrapping them up against his shoulder blades, stepping forward to press herself full length against him, seeking his mouth with hers. He groaned then, brought her in to him, his mouth opening, his tongue sending waves of pleasure through her mouth, through her entire body. His arms held her in a strong embrace, and her soul melded into his. She pressed hard against him, kissing him, kissing him …
God, she wanted him, needed him, craved him with every fiber of her being.
Roger’s voice was sharp. “Hsst!”
Sean broke apart from Morgan at once, moving to stand before her, his hand dropping to his hilt. Morgan took in a deep breath, her legs shaky. She felt utterly ravaged, and wondered if her face reflected that feeling. Roger strode over to join the two, took one glance at Morgan’s face, then turned to Sean, his gaze serious. Sean took in a deep breath, then nodded, looking away in frustration.
Lady Donna stepped into the entryway of the stable, and Roger moved before Morgan as if shielding her from view. Sean strode up to Lady Donna, his face set in anger.
“She moves from man to man quickly, that one,” he snapped, glancing back at Morgan briefly. “At this rate, poor Peter will be next on her list.” He stalked out of the stables, heading back toward the keep.
Lady Donna looked between Roger and Morgan for a long while, her face resigned. “Morgan, I think it best if you vacate the keep by the date of the wedding,” she sighed at last. “If this is how you behave when you are on probation, I am afraid there is little left to say.”
Morgan dropped her eyes, unable to look at Lady Donna. When she raised her gaze again, Lady Donna had left.
Roger’s voice was tight. “I am sorry,” he murmured. “It seemed like the only solution.”
Morgan half smiled, patting him fondly on the shoulder. “You did exactly what needed to be done,” she agreed quietly. “I can handle the heat for another few days, if in the end it brings Cassandra to justice and peace to several families. It was not just Eli and Sean that Cassandra harmed, remember.”
“Giles? You really think Cassandra drove Giles to commit suicide?” asked Roger, shaking his head.
“I think there is only one way to find out,” returned Morgan quietly.
“It is a full day’s ride to Giles’ home,” warned Roger, “plus another day’s ride back.”
Morgan shrugged. “There are five days until the wedding,” she pointed out. “I have no job, and not much else to do.”
“I will go with you,” agreed Roger, putting his hand on his sword hilt.
Morgan shook her head. “Just as you were the perfect person to talk with Eli’s parents, I think Peter would be the one to talk with Giles’ family. He is an old friend, from long back. They would know him and trust him.”
“I can still come along to help keep you safe,” insisted Roger.
Morgan smiled gently. “You need to stay here with Sean. He needs eyes in the back of his head with that woman. If Cassandra senses that the noose is tightening, there is no telling what she might do. We have to keep her as complacent as possible.”
Morgan reached over and picked up the marriage contract Sean had left on the table, refolding it and tucking it into her sleeve. “Get the other contract for me from Sean, and then please talk with Peter.”
Roger nodded. “I would trust Peter with my life. I am sure that he could escort you as ably as I could, if not more so.”
Morgan smiled fondly at Roger, leaning forward to pat him tenderly on the cheek. “None could ever replace you, Roger, but I think in this case that Peter is best suited for t
he job. Please let him know I will be ready to head out in the morning.”
“Of course,” agreed Roger with a smile. “Shall we go in and face the music?”
Morgan chuckled merrily, hooking her arm into his, walking with him toward the keep.
The main hall was lit with torches and candles, and a pair of minstrels was sitting on stools in the center of the hall, playing a slow, lilting tune on recorder and lute. All eyes turned as Morgan and Roger entered the room, and she smiled up at him, sliding her arm around Roger’s waist. He gave her a squeeze, then brought her out onto the floor before the musicians.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked with an easy smile.
Morgan grinned more broadly. She was worn down, but she had not yet exhausted her reserves, and this was for the best of causes. They might as well cement her reputation, ensure Cassandra had no suspicions at all about what was really going on beneath her very nose. She curtseyed with a grin, and then they were in gentle motion, swirling, turning, smiling in pleasure. Another couple, then two joined into the dance, and Morgan found herself enjoying the evening. Roger was good on his feet, his brown hair moving in waves as he turned surely to catch her hand.
The song came to an end, and they applauded enthusiastically, Morgan hitting her good hand against her bandaged mitt. Roger bowed to her, then moved over to the couch by the fireplace, sitting alongside Peter, his head tilted to lean close to his fellow soldier’s.
Morgan smiled, then moved over to the head table, sitting next to Oliver, giving him a nudge. He handed her his mead automatically, and she took it down in one long swallow. He stood, going to the sideboard for another mug and the pitcher, returning to fill both of their mugs.
His gaze held hers with steady concern. “So your ride with Roger went well, I take it,” he murmured.
“Very well,” she agreed with a weary smile. “I could not have hoped for a better time.”
“I hear that Lady Donna has given you until Sunday night to clear out,” he added, his voice low.
Morgan glanced to the center of the table where Lady Donna sat watching the proceedings with a solemn frown. “She has,” Morgan confirmed, her shoulders tensing slightly. “I am sure that everything will work out all right in the end.”
Oliver held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “You know, if you need me,” he murmured quietly.
“I always need you,” teased Morgan with a chuckle. She rolled her shoulders. “In fact, it has been a while since your fingers have done their magic.” She turned to put her back to him, and in a moment his fingers were against her, his sure hands kneading away at the knots. Her injuries eased under his gentle touch, and she relaxed back against him with a smile.
The band started up a new tune, and Morgan’s smile grew wider as she saw Christian move toward the floor, guiding Letitia by the hand. Good for him. He deserved joy in his life, and Letitia was just the likely lass to match him.
Her eyes roamed the rest of the room. Sean and Cassandra were to one side of the fireplace, her arm tucked into his. She was busily whispering into his ear, and he listened, his face neutral.
Across from them sat Peter and Roger. Roger was still quietly talking into Peter’s ear. Peter had turned now, was gazing at her, nodding in understanding. In a moment he stood, walking slowly over toward Morgan.
Morgan watched him come, gave Oliver’s hand a pat to thank him for the massage, then stood. She smiled up at Peter, seeing the acknowledgement in his dark eyes.
Peter bowed. “Would you care to dance?” He held out his hand.
“I would love to,” she agreed, placing her fingers in his, moving toward the floor.
She heard the whispers and conversation start up immediately as she began dancing, and smiled in merriment. She moved closer to Peter, enjoying the music, laughing as she swirled in slow motion.
They danced together for another two songs, then even Morgan’s most valiant efforts to stay on her feet failed. She moved to sit down at the table again, and Peter joined her at her side.
Cassandra watched them with a sharp gaze, and in a moment she was strolling over to sit across from them. Sean, his eyes shadowed, joined her without a word.
Cassandra’s voice dripped with treacle. “I am so sorry to hear you will be missing our wedding,” she sighed. “I had so hoped to have you there, to watch our rejoining.”
Morgan’s eyes shot up to meet Sean’s, suddenly realizing the wrinkle in her plans. She needed to be there, to see Cassandra’s faults revealed publicly to the world. With all she had risked, she deserved that satisfaction. Her mind skipped quickly over the possibilities.
“Maybe I can enjoy it vicariously through your description,” she offered in a low tone. “Exactly how is it going to progress?”
“I was thinking of an early afternoon wedding,” grinned Cassandra, leaning back, twining her fingers into Sean’s with delight. “My dress is beautiful, of course, with the best embroidery and beads money can buy. I had really looked forward to having you see me in it, seeing us together as we hold our ceremony on the church’s front steps.”
“If you have your ceremony midday, then fewer people will be able to attend,” commented Morgan, a plan forming in her head. “I imagine you want the most people possible to witness your joining? You should have it in the evening, when everybody’s work is done for the day.”
“Why, you are right!” agreed Cassandra, her face lighting up. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Then nobody could see my gorgeous gown.”
Morgan shook her head. “You could hold it inside, and fill the church with candles,” she suggested. A vision came to mind, and the corner of her mouth tweaked up as her eyes lifted to meet Sean’s. “Perhaps a combination of white, rose, and lavender would be suitably romantic.” A smile grew on her face. It would be easy enough for her to remain hidden in those flickering shadows, to disguise herself in a cloak until the right moment. The romantic colors from her night with Sean would be the backdrop for Cassandra’s downfall. The beauty of the situation made her grin.
Cassandra nodded with growing appreciation. “Yes, that sounds exactly perfect,” she agreed. “You are right. I will do that!” She raised an eyebrow, looking over Morgan’s contented appearance with renewed attention. “You surprise me, Morgan. I would not have thought you so easy going about this.”
Morgan draped her arm into Peter’s, leaning up against him. “I have sworn never to marry,” she vowed, holding Cassandra’s eyes steadily. “If you want to take that risk, then I wish you the very best of luck in your own path in life.”
Cassandra’s mouth tweaked in amusement. “I am quite certain of my path,” she promised, “and this is exactly what I want.”
“Well then,” smiled Morgan, “I will leave you to it.” She looked up at Peter. “Ready for bed, my darling?”
He stood easily, offering an arm to draw her to her feet. “After you, sweetest,” he agreed with a wink.
Morgan gave a brilliant smile to Cassandra, then turned to Sean. His gaze was full on her, his eyes serious, and she nodded to him, holding his look for a long moment.
“Until the morning,” she offered to him roughly. Then she turned, moving with Peter to walk across the hall. He carefully escorted her up the stairs and down the hall. They stopped in front of her bedroom door, and he moved close to her, tucking his head down against her ear.
“We will be gone for two days? To go to Giles’ home?” he whispered.
Morgan nodded. “I have Eli’s marriage contract. Will you have Sean’s?”
Peter smiled wryly. “Yes,” he acknowledged. “Sean will get it to me later tonight. If Giles had one as well, we should be able to convince his parents to let us use it for our proof, if only for one day.”
Morgan smiled, then leant forward to kiss Peter gently on the cheek. “For luck,” she offered fondly. “I will see you in the morning.”
He nodded, stepping back, and she slipped within her room. Her exhaustion overwhelmed
her the moment she climbed into bed, and she fell fast asleep.
Chapter 19
Morgan woke to heavy thunder and rain, and pulled her pillow over her head. At least the injuries from the fight were healing well; only her hand still ached and throbbed. She counted herself very lucky that the thin blade of the stiletto had punctured a meaty part – had not impacted bone nor tendon. Still, the next two days of travel were not going to be any fun.
She climbed out of bed, went to her closet and pulled out a close-fitting dress of dark green. She carefully drew it on over her chemise, then awkwardly brushed out her hair into long, glossy waves of jet black. She fumbled as she one-handedly strapped on her belt and dagger, then gave herself a once-over before heading out the door.
She stopped, her heart catching. Sean was standing in the hallway, leaning on the wall, his eyes dark and serious.
“It seems you are with Peter now,” he commented evenly, his eyes focused on hers.
Morgan let her eyes flick to the left; she saw a door, slightly ajar, a ways down the hall. She grinned broadly. It was time to have some fun. She strolled slowly toward him, drawing to a stop only a few inches from him. He did not move, his eyes watching her with close attention.
She put her left hand against the wall, leaning in close, her lips only a whisper’s breath from his neck. “Peter is the man for me,” she agreed, her voice low but pitched to carry. “He is thick, like a bull, so powerful, so muscular,” she crooned, nuzzling against his neck gently. “He is experienced, oh so experienced.”
She heard a low growl deep in his throat, and chuckled softly. He deserved a little torment, for what he had put her through. “Do you not think I deserve some pleasure?” she asked softly, brushing her leg gently up against his thigh.