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

by Shea,Lisa

  “Oh, I bet you could,” mused Coll with delight, his eyes lingering on her bosom. “Maybe I could help out in that regard.”

  “I would have thought you the last man to offer me help,” countered Morgan, eyeing him with suspicion.

  Coll spread his hands innocently. “I made a play for you, and I failed. I can admit that. If there is one thing one learns on the street, it is to recognize a worthy adversary, and to find ways to ally with that person. Take Cassandra, for example.” He chuckled. “That woman could survive an attack from a wolf pack, I swear. She has made a lucrative business partner for me these many years.”

  “She would not mind your spending time with me?” Morgan asked consideringly, her eyes narrowing with concern.

  “She would not need to know about that,” dismissed Coll with a carefree wave. “What you and I have is different than what Cassandra could possibly offer. She is cold and sharp.” His eyes roamed along her hips, her curves. “You are warm and lively. I appreciate that about you. I think together we could achieve quite a lot. Once this business with Cassandra is finished, and she is legally wed, I will have ample time to work on our relationship.”

  “So what are you doing out here, then, if Cassandra is so important to you?” asked Morgan with curiosity, leaning forward slightly.

  Coll glanced toward the door. “Joel had stolen some items from the den, that night the fight broke out. I bought them off of him at a decent rate, to fence later on. Cassandra was upset about me coming out to make the deal, but it was time sensitive. Either I paid him tonight or he went elsewhere.” His eyes moved toward the windows, frowning at the deepening shadows. “In fact, I should be on my way. There is still much to do before Monday.”

  Morgan allowed her face to grow sour. “On Monday she will have everything, while I will have nothing.”

  Coll leant over to pat her hand. “You have a fresh start in front of you,” he encouraged her with enthusiasm. “With my help, you will be far wealthier than you ever could have imagined.” He leant back. “You just find somewhere to stay in Reigate, and wait for me to arrive. I can be there Wednesday, or Thursday by the latest. I promise you, you will not regret it.”

  Morgan nodded doubtfully. “If you say so.” She let her eyes fall toward the table in a show of despair.

  “I do say so,” stated Coll emphatically. He stood, and Morgan stood with him.

  He stepped over to gaze down at her. “You are so much like me,” he murmured in a rumble, his eyes sweeping her with hot desire. “You let none claim ownership over you; you keep yourself apart from all bonds, all ties. You stand fiercely on your own. You trust nobody. We are two of a kind.”

  Morgan went go numb, made no move to resist as he gave her an appreciative pat on the cheek. Then he was turning, pushing his way through the room, striding out through the door and into the night.

  A strong grip took her arm, half pushed, half dragged her through the room, up the stairs, along the hallway. She went without resistance. She stood, passive, as he opened the door, led her through it, closed it behind them again. He turned to stand angrily before her, his eyes dark, serious.

  “What in the hell was all that about?” Sean growled, his eyes flashing.

  Morgan could barely hear him, barely register his emotions. “I got rid of him,” she assured Sean absently. “Our plans are not in jeopardy.”

  Sean’s voice was low and cored with iron. “You seemed quite comfortable with him back there,” he prodded.

  Morgan raised her left hand, staring at the empty ring finger. It seemed to mesmerize her. “He said we were alike,” she whispered. “That we rely on nobody.”

  Sean’s eyes moved from her hand back up to Morgan’s face, and he took in a long, deep breath. “Coll is a snake,” he ground out, the clenched muscles in his face relaxing. “There is nobody who would trust him in the first place.”

  Morgan brought her eyes up to meet Sean’s, feeling like a boat cast adrift, losing all sense of shore or horizon. “I had sworn to stand alone, but I am not like him,” she insisted hesitantly, her voice aching. Yet, so much of what he had said had rung true in her, had seemed like the mantra she had recited over so many years.

  Sean took in another long breath, then let it out, taking a step forward, standing before her. He took her hands in his own, then dropped easily to one knee, staring up at her.

  His voice was now empty of anger, holding instead a gentle calm. “Do you trust me?”

  Morgan looked down at him, and the feeling ran through her, filled her, enveloped her with its strength. She did trust him. She trusted him with her life, her soul, her emotions, her very being. She would keep him besides her always, to stand with her, to watch over her, to face life with her.

  “Yes,” she breathed, her eyes glowing.

  “If you have that capability – to fully trust in someone - then you are not like him,” he vowed. His eyes flashed for a moment. “You and Coll could not be any more different.”

  Then Sean was standing, drawing her in against his strength, his mouth caressing hers, filling her soul. She had landed on solid ground, her world was complete and rich and whole. Time and space vanished, and it was only him and her, together, his body against hers, his kisses echoing throughout her body, filling her with liquid longing.

  She slid her hands up along his back, drawing him even closer in to her, wanting to merge with him completely.

  He resisted, pulling back slightly, looking down at her with eyes dark with passion. “Do you miss Roger’s kisses?” he murmured in a low, rich voice.

  “God’s teeth, no!” moaned Morgan, her voice hoarse with desire, sliding her hands along his muscled waist, pulling his tunic over his head. She threw herself at him again, seeking his mouth, finding it, barely pausing as he drew off her dress, her chemise. Then they were tumbling into bed, kissing, caressing, and time cascaded by in a swirling mix of passion and heights and long, drifting descents.

  Finally, Morgan lay exhausted in Sean’s embrace, nestled against his chest, blissful contentment surrounding her.

  “Are you happy?” he whispered softly against her ear, his voice a low hum.

  “Yes,” she sighed without reservation, turning to nuzzle in against him. Then her world faded around her, and she was lost to an exhausted sleep.

  Chapter 22

  Morgan pulled her pillow over her head. The Sunday church bells rang out loudly through her room, shaking her headache into an even higher level of pain. Just how much had she had to drink yesterday? She remembered several rounds with the fishermen – or was it more than several rounds? She rolled to the side to nestle up to Sean, to take refuge in his arms.

  There was no one there.

  Her eyes sprang open, and she scanned the room. It was empty. There was a key on the low table, a stool by the window, a chamberpot in the corner, and nothing else.

  She staggered to her feet, pulling on her clothes, fumbling with her belt. She retrieved her dagger from beneath her pillow, then slid it into its scabbard. She gathered up her cloak and snagged the key with her good hand. She looked around the room, ensuring nothing else remained before heading out of the room, stumbling her way down the hall.

  The main dining room was empty, most of the chairs stacked up on the tables. A lone man stood behind the bar, cleaning mugs one by one. He chuckled as she came over to sit before him. She carefully placed the key down onto the bar’s worn surface.

  He set down the mug and poured out the amber liquid. “I was told you would like some mead when you woke, and an explanation,” he grinned.

  Morgan shook her head, drinking down the mead, looking up at him with bleary eyes. “So what is this explanation?”

  “Your friend said to tell you he was sorry for leaving you, but that you were … ahem … too tempting to wake up and say good bye to.” He glanced at her, chuckling, then went back to his cleaning work. “You are fully settled up, by the way, including that mead,” he added with a smile. “Unless you
would like some breakfast?”

  Morgan shook her head no, turning from the bar, making her way wearily out to the stables. Her horse was the only one in there, and in a few moments she had him saddled. She climbed on and prodded him out into the morning sunlight.

  The ride back to her home was tedious, every hoof fall seeming to come with interminable slowness. It amazed her at how time seemed to crawl when she rode without Sean by her side, how she missed his company. She found herself drawing her steed back to an even slower pace, to resist the finality of the approaching event.

  She wondered as each hour passed how he was doing. Was he at home yet? Was Cassandra greeting him with a smile, a hug, a kiss? Was he closeted in a room somewhere with Roger and Peter, filling them in on the progress made? Each time she stopped to nibble on an apple or snack from her bag she longed for Sean to be by her side, to share the loneliness of the road.

  By the time Morgan had pulled her horse into the stables behind her house, removing the saddle in the deepening dusk, she was exhausted. The weight of the heavy cloak had kept her from prying eyes, but it had also held the heat of the sun and ride in against her during the day and the dampness in as night had approached. Still, it had served her well. She had only passed a few people she knew on her ride, but none looked at her twice. With the harvest season in full swing, all sorts of tradesmen were coming and going on the roads.

  She pushed open the back door of her home wearily, glancing up as her mother turned from the counter.

  “There you are, my dear, we were getting worried,” Jocelyn commented quietly. “You go on up to bed now.”

  “But …” began Morgan, eyeing the side board.

  “Up with you, dear, you have an important day ahead of you,” shooed her mother, giving her a gentle push.

  Morgan was too tired to argue, and stumbled her way up the stairs, pushing open her bedroom door …

  The room was lit by the softest of glows. Lavender, rose, and white candles lined her windowsill, her dresser, her table. A spread of cheese, bread, and fruits lay out on the floor. And there, by the window …

  She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her in a rush. “You should not be here,” she whispered in a low voice, crossing to him, enfolding herself in his arms.

  “I pushed hard and made it to the keep by mid-afternoon; believe me, I have spent plenty of the time there,” Sean offered quietly, drawing her in gently. “I had to know that you made it home all right. After having run into Coll again, I could not leave it to chance.”

  “How did you get here?” asked Morgan, breathing in his scent.

  “Roger smuggled me back into town unseen. Not to worry, Cassandra will not miss me at all. She apparently feels we should not see each other for a full day before the ceremony.” He chuckled softly. “I believe she is feeling superstitious – or perhaps she wants one last night to spend with Coll, to guarantee his loyalty.”

  “You are so cynical,” grinned Morgan, turning her head against his chest. Her stomach rumbled. “Are those strawberries I see?”

  Sean laughed, then released her, settling down onto the floor, putting out a hand to help her down to his side. “Let us get some food into you, you must be famished.”

  Morgan took down a drink of ale, following it up with two bread-on-cheese layers. “That was not nice, by the way, abandoning me like that,” she commented, glancing sideways at him. “I did not like waking up alone.”

  “Oh?” Sean moved to sit behind her. His hands slowly began working their way down her shoulders, working their way through her knots. She melted back into him, sighing with pleasure. “So you missed me?”

  “Did I ever,” agreed Morgan, reaching forward for a slice of peach. She rolled over onto her front, and Sean laid besides her on the floor, pressing down along her spine, sending delicious sensations cascading throughout her body.

  “Do you like this?” he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble.

  “Yes, yes,” agreed Morgan, closing her eyes. She was beginning to feel full, and very sleepy.

  “Do you miss Oliver’s massages?” asked Sean, his voice distant, his fingers still gently kneading.

  “Who?” asked Morgan with a soft chuckle, her mind drifting. “No one but you,” she added with a sigh as he worked away the knot in her lower shoulder.

  “Would it be that bad, to wake up next to me every morning,” he murmured against her ear, his voice almost hesitant.

  She closed her eyes, soothed by his gentle touch, eased by the security of his body beside her, and fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 23

  Morgan stretched herself awake, the familiar walls of her bedroom fuzzily coming into view. She narrowed her eyes, struggling to focus. Candles. There were beautiful candles surrounding her, their soft colors reflecting from the window, the floor, the dresser.

  The previous night’s events flooded back into her memory, and she sat up, shaking her head. He was gone, of course, just like the previous night. She sighed. She could not have expected any differently. She shook her head as it finally hit her. His wedding was today. Sean was preparing to marry Cassandra.

  She made her way downstairs, and found the large bathtub half barrel was already set in the corner of the room, fresh water steaming in it. “You get to go first, my dear,” offered her mother from the kitchen area. “After all, it is not every day we go to a ceremony like this.”

  Jocelyn tossed her head toward the central table. “Your rose dress is there, as well as some other items from the keep. Oliver brought them by for you earlier today.”

  “Where is Dad?” asked Morgan with curiosity, tossing a piece of bread into her mouth as she moved over toward the bathtub. She stripped off her clothes, then lowered herself into the warm water with a sigh.

  “He is at the keep. He felt the men might do with some fresh weapons, or in some cases a new edge put on what they carried,” answered her mother with a chuckle. “Just in case the ceremony had any issues arise.” She turned her eyes on her daughter with mild amusement. “Trouble does seem to follow around behind you.”

  “Always planning ahead, that is Dad for you,” smiled Morgan, relaxing back into the water, rubbing down her body with the cloth. “So everything is going well?”

  “As well as we can hope,” agreed her mother. “There are a few strangers in the village, and it looks like the chapel will be as full as it ever has been tonight. It will be an evening to remember, that is for sure.”

  Morgan finished washing herself, then emerged to towel herself dry. She dressed herself carefully in a chemise, drew on the rose dress, then sat to brush out her long, dark hair. She wondered if Cassandra was going through this very same process, preparing herself for a life with Sean, as mistress of Lady Donna’s keep. The thought firmed her resolve. She would not let Cassandra get away with it.

  She went upstairs to let her mother bathe in peace, and while she was up there she heard the low rumble of her father’s voice, the soft laughter as her parents talked with each other. Her heart softened, hearing their gentle interplay. They really did love each other, and there were times that they were wonderful as a couple. Morgan wondered if she focused on the bad times, and ignored the many good times that they shared.

  Afternoon was just fading into evening when she came downstairs again. Her father and mother were at the table, decked out in their finest clothes. Jocelyn looked up with pleasure as Morgan came in to join them.

  “My dear, I have not seen that dress on you in years. You truly are beautiful,” gushed her mother. “Turn around, and let me see.”

  Morgan turned obediently in place, blushing.

  Her father walked over, giving a tug on the dagger she wore at her hip. “So it slides well from the scabbard?” he asked, his eyes checking the placement of the blade against her body.

  “Yes, Dad, I have used it several times already, if you might recall,” chuckled Morgan fondly. “I know the routine. It is perfect.”

  “I
just want you to be safe,” gruffly commented her father, pulling her close. “You never know what will happen.”

  “I will be surrounded by friends, and you will be there as well,” pointed out Morgan. “If anything does happen, I will hardly be alone.”

  “Well then,” mused her mother, “shall we be off? It seems to be about time!”

  Morgan pulled a cloak off the hook, wrapping it tightly around her. Together with her parents she went out to the stables. Her father helped her to saddle her horse, then hooked up their aging ox to the wagon for himself and her mother. In a moment they were riding side by side toward the keep.

  *

  Morgan was quite impressed when she reached the chapel at the keep. Usually the place was almost cavernous in its empty expanse. Tonight there was nearly standing room only, with only the very back pews offering a few seats. Dusk was falling across the room, and a plethora of candles covered every surface, sending dancing shadows across the congregation. Even so, their light was dim and shallow - only one or two faces could be seen in the gloom.

  Morgan smiled as she slid into the back row with her parents. It was perfect. Everything was in place. She stared out at the faces, looking to find her friends. She thought she could make out Oliver and Christian in the front row, but it was hard to see any person distinctly.

  There was movement from the front of the church, and Father Ornish made his way to the altar, his grey hair swaying as he moved. Then Morgan’s heart caught. Sean, wearing a dark grey tunic with silver embroidery, strolled out calmly to stand beside the priest. Sean was so handsome, so strong, his sword hanging easily at his side, she could not draw her eyes away.

  His body remained calm, but she watched as his eyes scanned the dark room with steady attention, searching. She wondered if he was looking for her. She sat back between her parents, pulling the folds of her cloak close. As much as she wanted to reassure him of her presence, she knew she could not. If she was spotted too early, she could be evicted by one of Lady Donna’s guards.