Seeking The Truth - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 11)

by Shea,Lisa

  Sean ran his eyes down her naked body, his hand moving possessively to her waist. “I imagine he did,” he growled in a low voice.

  “Oh, he did not get that far, I assure you,” soothed Morgan. “However, your dagger came in quite handy. In short order I had it firmly at his throat. He agreed to let me leave the village, to head north, to never be seen again.”

  Sean nodded, his tense shoulders easing. “So he will report back to Cassandra that you are no longer a threat, and she will relax even further.”

  “Speaking of which,” added Morgan, looking up at him in curiosity. “Just how did you get out of the keep, and why did you not send Christian? I thought we had this all planned out?”

  Sean pursed his lips. “Your father was right. The rest of us felt Christian was not ready to protect you, with everything that was going on. Oliver, Roger, and Peter had already been implicated with you, and if one of them had left, Cassandra might have thought you were still lurking around to dally with them.”

  Morgan shook her head in disbelief. “With that in mind, she would trust you to go?”

  Sean’s eyes sparkled. “Not exactly. Lady Donna was talking with us about how much she wished my parents had been alive to see this day, to see their only son marry. Cassandra expressed her regrets as well.”

  His smile grew. “I let myself get swept up in their emotions. I said that I would like to visit my parents’ gravestones. I could spend some time with their spirits, to get their blessing before embarking on such a life-changing ceremony.” He looked down at her, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. “As you might imagine, both women immediately agreed that I should go, so that I could marry with a clear conscience.”

  Morgan snorted in disbelief. “Cassandra is a snake. I think it more likely she wanted you out of the way for a day or two so she could firmly cement her relationship with Coll in your absence. She needed to ensure he was well in hand before the marriage ceremony.”

  Sean nibbled gently along the edge of her neck. “You are so suspicious,” he murmured. “Just because she asked me, repeatedly, to take my time? And to not return until a specific hour?”

  Morgan’s temper flared into white heat. “To think that the wench would cheat on you in your aunt’s home -”

  Sean chuckled, running a hand tenderly through her hair. “Let her think she has everything under firm control,” he whispered against her ear. “Soon, very soon, everything will come tumbling down.”

  His firm touch coursed through her, a shiver ran the length of her body, and suddenly Cassandra and her manipulations seemed far away. She rolled gently so her good hand was more free.

  “So when are you due to return?” asked Morgan, sliding her hand up along his side, tracing the firm ripples in his muscles.

  His breath caught at her touch, and it was a moment before he could answer. “Sunday evening,” he responded hoarsely, his eyes gazing down at her lips.

  “Well then,” murmured Morgan, drawing him down to her, “It seems like we have plenty of time together, then.”

  “Not nearly enough,” groaned Sean, and then they were entwined, embraced, merging into one.

  Chapter 20

  Morgan drifted into wakefulness. Her body felt full, restful, and an arm was wrapped securely around her hip. She snuggled back contently into the form, and an echoing stir rumbled through his body in response. The room was barely visible in a gentle twilight of shadow.

  Familiar footsteps sounded on the stair, and Morgan chuckled as Sean tensed beside her, as he rolled over her to reach for a weapon.

  “It is my mother, you fool,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss him tenderly. He answered the kiss briefly, glancing at the door, then kissed her again more deeply, pressing down against her, and she slid her arms up around to his back, drawing him in, pulling him against her …

  A gentle knock sounded at the closed door, and her mother’s voice came through it, light with amusement. “Morgan, my dear, I thought you wanted to be out before morning?”

  Morgan gave a low curse, pressing herself into a sitting position, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs. Her mother was right, of course. They had a timetable to meet, and there was not a lot of leeway available to them.

  “Yes, coming,” she called out, and the footsteps retreated back down to the kitchen.

  Sean’s hand drifted down her hip, and she gave a low groan, almost turning back against him, fighting the desire with a fierce effort as she rolled out of bed to a standing position.

  “You are the one who will end up married to that hellion if we do not see this through,” she reminded him as she reached over to pull on her chemise.

  “Would you be my mistress on the side?” he propositioned with a chuckle, turning to sit on the edge of the bed, watching her with amused eyes.

  “Hah!” returned Morgan, moving to shake out her dress. “I may be many things, but I draw the line at becoming involved with a married man. I would never condescend to be the ‘other woman’. A man who cannot honor a vow is not worth my time.”

  “I would never ask you to be such a woman,” Sean agreed more seriously, standing and moving to pull on his clothes. “I apologize, that was poorly said.”

  She straightened her dress, turning to stand before him. She was struck by how handsome he was, by how his shoulders squared to take on any challenge, how the sword hung ready at his hip. “I forgive you,” she whispered gently, pressing up against him. “Your mind was befuddled by too much intimacy.”

  “Not nearly enough,” he groaned, drawing her in to a kiss. It was several long moments before she broke away from him, turning to take a brush from her dresser. She swept it carefully through her hair, her skill with her left hand improving somewhat, creating long, glossy waves. In a moment she was done, and she stepped forward to open the door. They descended the stairs together.

  Her mother and father were waiting at the table, a full breakfast spread prepared. Her father poured two mugs of ale for the pair. “We thought you might be hungry,” he offered gruffly.

  Morgan smiled her thanks and sat down, eagerly drawing eggs, bacon and other items onto her trencher. Sean did the same, and in a moment they were working their way through the food.

  Sean’s eyes dropped to the dagger at Morgan’s hip, then moved back to her father. “Thank you for the quality of your work on that blade,” commented Sean. “It has already repaid its price in full. I would like to commission a second one, in the same design and quality.” He dropped a hand down to the pouch at his side.

  Asa held out a hand, forestalling him. “My son, if you get my daughter through these coming days, that will be payment enough,” he commented quietly. “Consider it a token of my thanks.”

  Sean hesitated a moment, then nodded, meeting Asa’s eyes with serious regard. “You have my word, sir,” he promised, “Morgan will not meet with any harm. She will have her reputation restored, and have everything she hopes for.”

  “She had better – she deserves it,” responded Asa in a low tone, but Morgan saw the sparkle in his eyes. She finished off her meal in short order, then rose, Sean standing with her.

  “We really have to be off,” she offered to her parents. “We have a great distance to cover, and barely enough time to do it in.” She paused for a moment, then smiled at her mother. “So you will be at the wedding?”

  “You can count on it,” vowed Jocelyn, “and so will the rest of the village. We have made sure of that.”

  Morgan moved around to hug her mother, then her father. A rooster began crowing in the back yard, and Jocelyn glanced back for a moment, then reached behind her, handing over a leather bag full of food items. Morgan gave her a wave, grabbed an apple off the shelf to tuck into her pouch, then moved with Sean out toward the stables to prepare their horses.

  Morgan sighed in relief as they cleared the outskirts of town. They had been early enough that they were still able to get out before anyone was awake to spot them. She gave her horse a nudge, and in
seconds they were cantering in the early morning glow, riding side by side. She grinned in pleasure, relishing the fresh brightness of the dawn breeze on her face.

  They rode for several hours before pulling to the side of the road to take a break for lunch. Jocelyn had packed them a delicious picnic menu, and they ate through it with relish, stretching out in the bright sunlight, their horses resting by the stream.

  Sean ran his eyes down Morgan’s form. “I would not mind taking a break here for an hour or so,” he murmured.

  An answering heat rose within her; she pushed it away with tense sharpness. The pressure of the deadline was squeezing at her chest. The wedding was looming, growing nearer, a black cloud threatening to overwhelm her. In a moment she was on her feet, quickly gathering up the items and their cloaks.

  “You know we cannot,” she replied with a firm shake of her head, packing the gear. “We are short enough on time as it is. It is imperative we get you back to the keep by Sunday evening. We must be fully prepared to have this ceremony bring Cassandra down, and bring an end to this marriage farce.”

  “There is no rush,” soothed Sean, coming up behind her, his fingers sliding along the edge of her neck. “Peter has all three contracts. All he has to do is present them to Lady Donna, and to the sheriff -”

  “What would the sheriff charge her with?” asked Morgan in frustration, giving a last snug to her packs. She climbed up onto her steed, prodding him solidly to climb up the small slope to the quiet road. She waited there a moment while Sean joined her, then pulled the reins to head south.

  “She violated the sanctity of marriage,” came Sean’s voice in a reassuring tone. “She would be guilty of bigamy – perhaps even trigamy.”

  Morgan scoffed, her voice growing harsh, the thought of Cassandra escaping justice riling her. “Most likely those contracts are false, and she is not married to anyone. She would simply be guilty of having an enthusiastic sex life.”

  She furrowed her brow, looking out over the meadows. “We need more proof of her involvement in the men’s deaths. I agree that her treatment of her partners was abysmal, but she can hardly be charged for demanding presents and jewelry. As far as we can tell, she did not directly kill either Giles or Eli.”

  Sean chuckled, riding alongside her, his mouth sporting a wolfish grin. “I suppose you are right,” he teased, his voice light. “Cassandra was hardly acting any differently than most girls in courting. I would think her demands for attention rather typical behavior for a girlfriend. This is why marriage is so much better, with the courting wildness behind you. Things are under control once you marry.”

  “You prefer the control of marriage, where the man has full and final say?” snapped Morgan with heat. “Perhaps control would be Edward grabbing me, beating me, and attempting to rape me when I resisted his attentions. That would seem to be normal behavior for many husbands.” She moved her horse into a trot.

  Sean caught up to her instantly, and when he turned to her his face was serious. “Fair enough,” he agreed quietly. “There are bad elements in both wives and husbands, enough instances of flawed marriages that we could cite them for hours.” He looked across at her, his eyes steady on hers. “However, there are also bad elements in unmarried women and unmarried men. It is not the marriage that changes them.”

  “It is different,” Morgan ground out. “With a spouse, you are bound for life. Trapped. If you are mistreated, there is no escape. If you rely on them, you lose everything.”

  “It can be a partnership of support,” commented Sean evenly, his voice neutral. “Your partner can watch your back, can guard over you while you sleep. Your partner can share the burden. As the Gaelic say, ‘two shorten the road’.”

  Morgan did not respond. She leant over her steed’s mane, moved him faster into a canter, her resistance prickling at the idea of marriage, of becoming stuck, trapped. As the minutes rolled by she fell into the rhythm of the ride, the landscape scrolling past her, the words rolling around in her head.

  It was true, after all, what Sean had said about sharing the burden. She was so comfortable riding with him, so safe ensconced in his arms.

  She shook her head. Surely she felt that relaxed traveling with Christian, with Oliver?

  She glanced over at Sean, riding easily at her side. Her eyes trailed down his broad shoulders, to his muscular arms, the hands which held a sword with such skill. She brought her gaze back to his face, and his eyes turned to look at her in quiet regard for a moment before moving back to scan the countryside, ever alert for danger.

  She took in a long breath, then let it out again. She knew deep in her heart that it was different with Sean, different than with any other man she had known. He had gotten in, somehow, gotten past her defenses, and she trusted him. Despite all of her years of fortifying herself, of keeping men at bay, she had weakened with him.

  She ran a hand through her hair, looking along the road ahead with tense uncertainty. She needed to focus on their task at hand. There was not enough time to waste it pondering future issues. They still had to make it to North Heath by nightfall, the halfway point in their journey. That was her current mission, and anything else could wait.

  *

  Morgan finally relaxed as the first fingers of sunset stretched across the sky at the same time that the first outlying cottages of North Heath came into sight. The timing would all work out, after all. There was still hope.

  She reined back to a trot, then slowed further to a walk, relaxing into the slower rhythm. Sean moved close beside her, and she took a long drink from her skin before turning to talk with him.

  “So, you know this area?” she asked Sean with curiosity, glancing over as they passed a small outbuilding.

  Sean nodded, his eyes scanning the landscape ahead. “I come in and out of this region every once in a while, on my duties,” he agreed. “There is a little-used inn in town, where none will know us. It is called the Knight’s Rest, and offers reasonable food and low rates.” He looked over at Morgan with a smile. “Although of course, we will save money by getting one room and saying we are a married couple.”

  “No,” shot out Morgan sharply, her face stiffening. Sean glanced at her in surprise, and she added in a tense voice, “You are already married.”

  Sean waited a long minute, then commented carefully, “You understand that the marriage contract is invalid, yes?”

  Morgan pressed her lips together, her body tensing. “It does not matter,” she muttered. “People currently think you are married.”

  Sean let a full minute go by as they rode steadily in toward town. “Last night you were all right sleeping with a married man,” he pointed out, his eyes focused ahead.

  “No!” snapped Morgan, her voice hoarse, tinged almost with disgust. Sean did not respond, did not move his eyes, and yet confusion swept over her, the roil of emotions. She had, of course. She had invited him into her room, had willingly drawn him in.

  “You are not married,” she agreed at last, her throat tight, “and we are not married.”

  Sean rode beside her in silence, maintaining a quiet presence at her side, his eyes looking evenly ahead.

  Morgan gazed out over the rutted road which stretched before them, her face pensive. It was several minutes before she spoke in a low voice, her eyes focused on the dirt path.

  “When I was ten,” she half-whispered, “my parents were having one of their worst blow-out arguments in years. I put my pillow over my head, praying for it to end, and it only got worse. I heard sounds of breaking crockery, of the slam of a fist on a table. In desperation, I swore that if it would just stop that I would vow to never get married. It seemed the most powerful promise I could make at the time. And, to my surprise, the fight did subside, the noises did ease away.”

  She hunched her shoulders, still remembering the panic and fear of that long, dark night. “When I awoke the next morning, it was as if a new calm had become part of me. I realized how freeing my choice was. I would never
put myself in a position where I was trapped with a dangerous man. I would always have a safe haven. No matter what life handed me, I could retreat to my own private sanctuary.”

  She ran a hand absently down her horse’s mane. “Every morning since them, as part of my daily preparation for the day, I have renewed my vow to myself. I have promised myself that I would stand strong, stand alone, and rely on no other person.”

  Sean was silent for a long while, and their horses moved toward the town, the houses appearing more frequently beside them.

  “Do you enjoy working at the keep?” he asked quietly.

  Morgan glanced up in surprise. “Yes, very much.”

  “You enjoy working with the other men, training with them, taking your turn on the shifts?”

  Morgan nodded. “I like being a part of the team,” she agreed, then paused for a long moment. “That is different,” she finally commented. “I can trust in them.”

  “Why is it different?” he asked, his voice low.

  Morgan let several minutes pass while she thought about it. “Because I can leave,” she finally stated, but her heart was not in it.

  “Would you leave?” asked Sean quietly.

  “No,” admitted Morgan somberly. “As much as I have discussed it in the past days, I would never want to leave that keep, to abandon its defenses to another. It is where I wish to remain.”

  Sean nodded. He turned his horse to the right, and Morgan glanced up in surprise. They were there, at the inn, heading into the stables. The time had flown by while they talked. She thought about that while they dismounted and rubbed down their steeds. She followed along behind Sean as he led them into the tavern, arranged for their rooms, brought them over to a quiet table. In a few minutes a pair of bowls of stew, of mugs of ale were laid down before them.

  A pair of minstrels set up in a far corner, and in short order they were filling the room with a familiar tune. Morgan smiled, enjoying her stew, relaxing back in the quiet comfort of the darkened room.