My Once & Future Love (Unsung Knights of the Round Table #1)

by Ruth Kaufman

  “My thanks, Lord Hastings, but I’m afraid that won’t suffice,” Morgan replied. “To ensure Annora’s safety, I must stay with her. We’ve endured too much for it to be any other way. I know ’tis not orthodox, but we must share a room,” he persisted. “’Tis not as if we’ll be alone. Ninian will sleep there also.”

  The king’s chamberlain nodded. He seemed the perfect courtier, attractive and smooth. “As you say. For Mistress Ninian.” He looked at her, a shrewd gleam in his eye. “More of your mint powder would not go amiss.”

  Ninian nodded. “By all means. I’ll send some as soon as I return to London. No charge, of course.”

  Annora made a mental note to add the cost of the mint powder, whatever that was, to the ever-growing list of monies she owed Morgan and Ninian. Assuming they succeeded.

  “Excellent.” Hastings jotted on one of the sheets of parchment covering his desk. “Lady Annora, you are fortunate that I have a room available with two beds. Else you’d have to sleep in a chamber full of ladies and Morgan would bed down in the hall.”

  “Our thanks.” Morgan bowed. “We hope not to impose upon King Edward’s hospitality for more than a few days. We wait upon William Beauchamp.”

  Moments later, Annora thought she’d drop from exhaustion where she stood. Hundreds of spear pricks niggled her feet and each movement strained her neck. She longed to reach this promised chamber and collapse on the bed, but first they had to wend their way there.

  “What a delight this journey has been,” Ninian said.

  The healer’s boundless energy and her easy confidence made Annora feel even more tired. “How do you do it, Ninian? Do you concoct potions to maintain your vigor?”

  “No,” she replied. “But that’s an excellent idea. I wonder why I never thought of it in all these years. I’ll create a variety of such mixtures when I return to my shop, and name the first after you.”

  Annora lagged behind as Morgan and Ninian bent their fair heads together and began a quiet conversation. For once she was too tired to care.

  Their room was small and dim, with two dark velvet-curtained beds facing each other. A brazier glowed against the wall between them.

  By now Annora understood Morgan’s defensive strategies. Without asking she went to the bed farthest from the door and climbed upon it. Though she longed for a bath, she needed rest more.

  “Ah.” Her head sank into the soft, fresh pillows. When had anything felt so good?

  Twice. When she’d kissed Morgan in the stream and when he kissed her outside ap Lewis’s castle.

  How quickly he’d become important to her. She craved both his company and his touch. He seemed attracted to her, but obviously not enough to pursue her or deepen their friendship by divulging information.

  Annora sat up to kick off her heavy boots. Silently she bemoaned her sore feet as she tugged off her filthy boy’s clothes and snuggled into the wrinkled robe retrieved from the bottom of her bag. Later she’d arrange for that bath. And come up with something for Primrose to eat. Mayhap he’d find some mice first.

  “Ah,” she breathed as she slipped under the covers.

  “You should eat something before you sleep,” Morgan advised.

  Food. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. Rations had grown rather scarce, despite Ninian’s foraging skills. She couldn’t remember when they’d last eaten a full meal.

  “I’ve sent for a tray,” he continued. “Unless you’d rather join the court.”

  Morgan had thought of everything. He was courteous and efficient, but unfortunately maintained his distance.

  “Thank you. A tray then, if I can stay awake that long. Not that it wouldn’t be wondrous to see the king and those he travels with. Mayhap tomorrow.” Though she wanted to dress as a woman, as a lady, once more, the effort to do so seemed overwhelming. She closed her eyes, succumbing to cozy lassitude.

  “I’ll let you know when Beauchamp arrives,” Ninian said.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Morgan asked.

  “A fellow healer and close friend happens to be in residence. Since we won’t be here long, I’d rather share her room to get the most out of my visit. We need to exchange remedies and recipes, and will likely be up talking well into the night. I’ll see you both on the morrow.”

  If Annora didn’t know better, she’d think Ninian wanted her to be alone with Morgan. Which is what she wanted as well, despite her exhaustion. With all she’d endured, how others thought a lady should behave or what they thought of her no longer mattered. She wanted Morgan as her lover for as long as she could have him. The only question was, what did he want?

  He busied himself unpacking his satchel, his broad back to her. Then he unbraided two small side braids in his hair, long fingers freeing the silvery locks, now slightly wavy. Someday she’d braid it for him in the morning, then enjoy the anticipation of waiting till night when she could unravel the braids she’d woven.

  Annora yawned and closed her eyes again.

  Morgan said, “You’ve traveled many miles for your cause. I know one way to relieve your fatigue.” He sat beside her on the bed. “Give me your foot.”

  Morgan’s nearness dispelled the need for sleep. He wanted to touch her, if only her foot. She complied, sliding her left foot from beneath the covers and resting it on his thigh, curious to see what he had in mind. Eager for his hands on her.

  “The right one first,” he said.

  He kneaded her right foot again and again. He pressed his thumbs and knuckles against certain spots, the arch, the center, and then ran his fingers down each toe and added a slight tug.

  His touch was reviving, yet sensual tingling flowed from her feet to her woman’s parts. Who’d have thought the foot could be a source of arousal?

  “Where did you learn to do this?”

  “I spent several years in China.”

  Here was an interesting fact. “You’ve been to China?”

  “I’ve lived a long time, Annora.” Morgan glanced at her in surprise, as if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to. “The Chinese believe that pressing parts of the feet in certain ways can heal many illnesses by releasing blocked humors. They say doing so restores the flow of energy, or chi.” He paused. “Different parts of the feet are said to represent different parts of the body.” He continued applying pressure, in some areas almost to the point of pain. “It would feel even better if we had some lotion.”

  “This is so good,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.”

  Suddenly she wanted him to work his magic on her calves, her thighs, everywhere. She needed to kiss him, to—

  Morgan dropped her foot, his expression the same as when he’d abandoned her in the moonlit stream. Never would she forget that look, as if he’d been scorched. He moved off the bed. His gaze seared her, but in a good way.

  “What about my other foot?” she asked.

  A knock at the door signaled the arrival of the food.

  • • •

  Morgan thanked the gods for offering him a reprieve. What had he been thinking? Only to offer Annora some relief. The long journey had been hardest on her. But caressing her foot had roused him. Her innocent moans of pleasure stirred his need.

  The more he tried to stay away from her, the more he was drawn closer. Even as they walked through Hertford’s narrow halls to their room, he’d yearned to touch her, prompting him to ask Ninian if she had put a spell on him. He’d believed her when she swore she hadn’t. Yet his lack of control where Annora was concerned and his uncommon desire for her suggested some sort of magical interference, some celestial persuasion. Had his mentors been present, they’d be appalled by his weakness.

  Morgan walked slowly to the door to give his desire time to recede. But it didn’t as he carried the tray of soft bread, meat, cheese and fruit to her bed. All he could think of was touching her, filling her until they both exploded with satisfaction. He placed the tray between them to maintain some distance.

  He shouldn’t have allowed Nini
an to leave.

  Waiting for the physician chafed. The thought of sharing a room with Annora didn’t sit well, either. Immediately his mind filled with detailed visions of her brushing her hair before the fire, down to the golden lights the fire would accent in the auburn waves, the soft curves of her breasts revealed by her robe.

  He’d have to meditate all night to keep his focus away from her.

  “I’m so hungry I can’t decide what to eat first,” she said with a smile as she reached for the cheese.

  How it pleased him to see her happy. And safe.

  “Mmmmm. This is delicious. I don’t know when I’ve appreciated food this much.” She leaned back against the pillows and chewed. Each thing she tasted earned an appreciative moan. Or a sigh of delight that made him want to toss the tray to the ground along with their clothing.

  Even watching her eat turned into an erotic adventure. Annora looked like the goddess of plenty, with the heaping tray before her and her satisfied smile. The same smile, the same sounds he’d hope to enjoy when they—

  Morgan had to stop his wandering thoughts and get away from her. He grabbed a piece of bread and topped it with several pieces of meat and cheese.

  She leaned forward, reaching for the fruit, offering him an alluring view of her cleavage. His erection surged. He’d eat on his bed. As he rose abruptly, the tray tipped. They both grabbed for it, his hands covering hers.

  She smiled again, this one just for him. Her eyes glittered with desire. “Morgan, I want you to kiss me. Right now.”

  Her bravery in speaking her mind heightened his admiration. He wanted that, too. He should say no, should resist her enticing demand. Instead he dropped his food onto the tray as he nudged it further onto the bed, then slid his hands up her arms to bury his fingers in her hair.

  Their mouths met and blended. He clasped her close, impatient to hold her. Her tongue darted out to meet his. She learned quickly. He liked that.

  Annora leaned back and he followed, his weight pressing her into the pillows, her breasts against his chest. Off. Their clothes had to come off. Morgan pulled away, shocked by the force of his need for her.

  Never, not in his many hundreds of years, had a woman felt so right, so necessary. He’d enjoyed his share of women and knew they’d enjoyed him in return. But there hadn’t been one he wanted as much as he wanted Annora.

  Annora would see the physician, get her proof, and return to Amberton. The knowledge that they’d soon part, that he’d never see her again, must be the cause of his heightened desire. But she should remain pure for the husband she’d have someday. He shouldn’t be intimate with a mortal woman…. So many shoulds and shouldn’ts.

  “Have you thought this through?” his great-uncle Reynold asked loud enough to make Morgan’s ears ring.

  “He wants the girl. What business is that of ours?” asked Great-aunt Matilda.

  Surely at the moment they didn’t expect a reply.

  Morgan released Annora with more reluctance than she’d ever know. “Annora….”

  He started to rise, but she clasped his wrist.

  “Don’t. Don’t leave me again. We may not have another chance. We don’t know what the future will bring.” She unwrapped her robe, revealing her slender form to his view, as if daring him to refuse her. Daring him to deny the extraordinary attraction sizzling between them.

  He couldn’t. He took in her full breasts, curved waist and the auburn curls between her slender thighs. Her lovely face, filled with longing. Already he was painfully hard.

  “Unless you don’t want me?” The uncertainty in her face speared his heart.

  By the Grail, she was beautiful. How was he to walk away from such a gift?

  • • •

  Annora forced herself to remain still as Morgan stared at her. Embarrassment at both her boldness and nakedness threatened, but the burning need in his gaze restored her confidence. Yet despite his desire, something kept him from her. Mayhap an innate sense of right and wrong, or something from his mysterious past. She could almost see the internal tug of war he fought.

  This was his last chance. Twice she’d pursued Morgan. If he left her as he had at the stream, she’d never expose herself to him again…neither her body nor her interest. No matter how much she might want him.

  “Touch me, Morgan,” she whispered.

  He didn’t move.

  Swiftly she shrugged off her robe. She took his hand and placed it over her breast. Instantly her nipple hardened.

  He groaned but removed his hand. “’Tis not that I don’t want you.”

  “Then what?” she asked. “I cared for my betrothed very much. But he too was honorable. We were bound to wed, yet he’d do no more than kiss me. Even though betrothal is akin to marriages and many couples…act before the wedding mass. He died before we could share any physical pleasures. Our life together was cut short. You and I only have a brief time. I want to make the most of it.” She slid her hands up his chest. “Why is that so wrong?”

  “Because I am promised to another,” he answered.

  “What?” Annora reared back, grab her robe and cover herself. She couldn’t conceal her shock. “Neither you nor Ninian have breathed a word about a betrothed in all the days we’ve spent together.” She looked into his eyes. Something didn’t ring true. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He bowed his head as if seeking guidance. When he looked up again, his eyes had turned a mysterious shade of cerulean.

  “I do have a promised mate,” he said. “No wedding date has been set.”

  Annora’s heart churned with virulent jealousy as she closed her robe and tied it tight. “Where is she? Are you close? Do you love her?”

  For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer.

  “No,” he said softly. “We haven’t even met.”

  “You haven’t even met?” Her heart lifted. Maybe there was still hope.

  • • •

  Now he’d done it.

  Desperately seeking a logical reason to keep away from Annora, Morgan had broached the subject of his destined mate.

  “Did your parents sign a contract when you were young?” she asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  He knew she burned with questions he couldn’t answer. The more time they spent together, the closer he felt to her and the more he wanted her to know him as he truly was. To see if she liked that man as much as the one he showed her. Each time his heart pondered sharing part of his past, his head and relatives warned him against it.

  She was not for him. Their time together would soon end. So why not enjoy each other as Annora had said, accept their compatibility and mutual desire for the gifts they were? He’d only mentioned his potential betrothed to distance himself from her temptation. It could be decades, centuries before he ever met his mate. He hadn’t spent the past hundreds of years like a monk. Why start now?

  Because Annora deserved a man who’d love her, cherish her, and stay with her, his conscience proclaimed. And one who could be completely honest with her. How he could he make love to her when she didn’t know he was immortal? A Knight of the Round Table? He couldn’t deceive her. Or tell the truth.

  “I’m sorry, Annora. But that’s all I’m willing to say. Go to sleep.”

  If she felt half as unfulfilled as he did, she felt miserable.

  • • •

  The hour was late. Annora alternately dozed and watched Morgan read an arms treatise he’d borrowed from the castle library. It pained her that she’d have to be content with watching him. Because of his supposed betrothed, he’d probably never touch her again. There was more to that tale. What he’d said made no sense. She wouldn’t beg, not for information or more of him.

  She had to admit that looking upon him was pleasant and safe. Not stimulating like his touch. Not as confusing as wondering what he might do next or thinking of the sinful things she wanted to do in return when he kissed her. Now, he was her knight and she was his lady.

  Court
ly love wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

  Someone pounded on their door.

  “I need to talk to you,” Ninian called. “Let me in.”

  “What could she want at this hour?” Annora hopped out of bed and went to the door.

  As she passed Morgan’s bed, he winced, then put his hand to his forehead as if to ward off a sharp pain.

  “Don’t open it,” he ordered.

  “But ’tis Ninian,” she said, already pulling the door open.

  For a fleeting moment Annora was back in the cottage in Wales before she let Morgan into her life. Then, too, she’d been warned not to open the door, by Emma.

  Then as now, danger lurked on the other side.

  Her uncle Roger stood before her, clutching a disheveled Ninian to his tall, fleshy frame. He held a dagger to her throat.

  “Surprise.”

  Chapter 7

  “He bound my hands,” Ninian explained to Morgan with an apologetic look. “There was nothing I could do.”

  “Silence.” Roger looked both ways down the corridor before pushing Ninian into the room, maintaining his grip on the dagger. The utter satisfaction in his brown eyes scalded Annora like acid. He wore another new robe. Different jewels glittered in his hat than when she’d last seen him.

  “Never again will I sleep with the door unlocked, even in a king’s palace where all should feel secure,” Ninian said.

  “I said silence. I knew I’d find you, Annora.” Roger kicked the door shut. “It was only a matter of time. But you’ve sorely tried my patience. What have we here? Are you sleeping alone with a man? You’ve brought more disgrace to your name. Lunatic and whore.” He spat. “Who are you?”

  Morgan tensed. “Morgan ap Myrddin.”

  “Are you taking advantage of her lack of faculties? What kind of man would do that? Most shameful.” He crossed his arms. “Now I see. She hasn’t told you….”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Annora said, raising her chin. “Lord Hastings gave us this chamber,” she said. “He knows we’re here. Even you wouldn’t dare harm us in the king’s castle.”