by Ruth Kaufman
“If I may, Lord Hastings,” Annora said. “Has my uncle produced sufficient, or any, proof that he speaks true, either about my health or any legal rights of guardianship? I’ve never seen a formal declaration or any official documents. Nor am I certain that he followed appropriate procedures to prove any claim against me. I wasn’t interviewed by a doctor or anyone else until I arrived here. Roger and his men simply took control of Amberton. I was powerless to stop him.” Admitting that made her stomach roil and drained her spirit.
“As I told Lord Hastings, I was in such a hurry to find you, so concerned for your safety, I neglected to bring such information with me,” Roger said.
Just what Annora thought her uncle would say. Likely he had no legal authority over her at all, no matter her state of health.
“Should he regain custody, Lady Annora, I’ll have his documents sent for. If the need arises, we shall lay that matter to rest as well,” Hastings said.
By then it might be too late.
• • •
Hours later, Annora ran out of Hattecliffe’s office, literally jumping with joy. She clutched a rolled parchment in her hand. Ninian followed, a broad smile on her face.
Morgan rose from the bench where he’d awaited her return. Hattecliffe had refused to allow him to stay, leaving him feeling useless, an unusual and unwelcome experience that reminded him of his arrival at Annora’s cottage.
She threw her arms around him. “It’s over! I have my proof that I’m not a lunatic.” She unrolled the document and showed it to him. “Isn’t it wonderful? Oh, Morgan. I can go home. And be free of Roger. I hope I never have to see him again.”
His heart lifted at Annora’s enthusiasm. He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the feel of her against him for a brief moment.
She released him, her smile fading. “And you can return to your quest.”
“As soon as you are safe at Amberton,” he agreed. “We’ll notify Hastings and be on our way.”
He sighed as they walked to their shared chamber to gather their belongings. Annora had come to care for him too much and didn’t know how to hide it. Most mortals didn’t. His kind needed human lifetimes to learn such subtle skills. He didn’t want to hurt her by leaving, but could see no way to avoid doing so.
Another sigh. Though helping Annora had been challenging, ’twas nothing compared to the task that had stumped him for countless years. The woman who had ensorcelled his father was as elusive as fog, drifting out of reach each time he thought he’d found her. Once he did, he didn’t know how he’d induce Nimuë to reverse the spell she’d placed on his father. Especially since she hadn’t achieved her goal of taking Merlin’s place at King Arthur’s side.
Morgan had made many mistakes attempting his father’s rescue, including trying to formulate the necessary spell on his own, despite Merlin’s insistence that only Nimuë could remove it. Morgan had refused to believe him, given the vast uncharted possibilities of the magical world. The hours he’d spent reviewing ancient tomes and treatises and mixing ingredients had honed his spell casting, but hadn’t succeeded in undoing the spell. Merlin had told him not even the greatest wizard could predict results when putting spells atop spells.
There had to be a way to free his father that didn’t require Nimuë’s aid, if only he could find it. If Jankyn ap Lewis succeeded where he’d failed, he’d never forgive himself.
Annora packed her meager supplies, but in his mind’s eye he was back in his father’s cave.
Nimuë had hidden Merlin well. It took several hours of traversing narrow, winding tunnels to reach the point where he could converse with his father, trapped in the midst of clearest, sparkling crystal at the bottom of a flight of treacherously slippery crystal stairs. So immersed in the earth was he, no one else had found or stumbled upon him in all these years.
“Take utmost care, my son. If she could steal my powers, there is always the chance Nimuë might bespell you as well.” Merlin’s voice echoed through the depths of the cavern.
“The temptress’s magic may be more powerful than yours at this time, but I’m not afraid she’ll ensnare me. I’ve learned from you, my father. I’d never succumb to a mortal woman’s wiles.”
“Never say never, my son. I didn’t think I would, either. Love is a power even beyond our control.”
“She won’t get close enough to me to work her magic. I don’t even like Nimuë, much less love her as you did.”
“Still do, my son, still do,” Merlin said. “You’d be surprised how tenacious love can be. Even after the worst betrayal, after decades of isolation with naught to do but think on the past and await the future, love can cling to life like lichen on the rocks. Nothing can wash true love away. No use trying to avoid it. Just makes matters worse.”
“I’m ready,” Annora said, breaking his reverie.
Morgan took her bag. The events of the past few days had taken their toll. Dark circles marred the skin beneath her golden eyes, which seemed dull. He recalled how they shone whenever she was in his arms and wanted to make them shine again. But ’twould only be a temporary revival, for they were likely to fade once more when he left her.
He’d told himself he wouldn’t care, that her feelings would mean nothing to him. But he couldn’t seem to control his interest in her. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to spend more time with her.
His father’s long-ago words returned to haunt him.
“No use trying to avoid it. Just makes matters worse.”
Was he falling in love with Annora?
• • •
Now-familiar horse sounds and smells heralded more travel. The air was surprisingly cool under a cloudy sky. No one in the busy bailey paid attention to them, but they’d donned their disguises as a precaution. Annora tugged on tight hose that had a nagging tendency to climb where they shouldn’t.
“You don’t need me any longer,” Ninian said as they collected their horses from the stable boys. “I must return to my shop. I have orders promised.”
“Who’ll escort you? A woman can’t travel alone,” Annora asked.
Ninian and Morgan exchanged another one of those glances. “I shall have all the escort I need,” she said.
“Why do you two look at each other like that all the time?”
Only time can grow certain types of friendships,” Ninian said. She hugged Morgan, long and hard, sending a spear of jealousy through Annora.
She had no right to such feelings. Morgan wasn’t hers, no matter how much she wanted him to be.
“Who knows when our paths will cross again.” He held her hands.
“Perhaps sooner than you think,” Ninian replied. She enfolded Annora in a hug. “Annora, Godspeed your success.”
“My thanks, Ninian, for all you’ve done. I can never repay your kindnesses, but I shall return every groat of your coin as soon as I am able. And recommend and purchase your wares whenever I can.”
The apothecary mounted Chimera and took the road south. She turned and waved.
Awkward silence followed. Annora was alone with Morgan. As much as she’d yearned for that very state, somehow a third party provided a comforting barrier. Ninian had prevented anything unseemly from happening.
Now, possibilities flowed. Under a tree, at night in a cave, in another stream…. The healer had only been gone a minute, yet Annora’s banked desires threatened to burst forth. She’d vowed not to pursue him again. He’d have to come to her.
If only she’d had more time to talk with Ninian about the art of seduction and the mysteries of lovemaking. The apothecary had offered a few ideas ranging from the highly intriguing to the almost disgusting and made Annora wonder where and with whom Ninian had come by her knowledge.
Nothing would stop her from offering as much enticement as an inexperienced woman could.
• • •
’Twas their first night alone since Annora had sewn his wounds in the cottage in Wales. Then she’d been fearful of the unknown,
he’d been gravely ill and weak and they’d been strangers. Now both were well and friends. Desire simmered beneath every gesture, every word.
’Twas enough to drive anyone mad.
A small but pleasant inn provided their shelter. Never again would he subject Annora to huts or caves. Tonight, she’d sleep in comfort while he made do with the floor. The room was clean, but the bed too narrow for both, and too short for him in any case.
They ate a tasty meal of mutton stew and just-baked bread the inn’s serving girl delivered with a jug of fresh ale. Morgan sat opposite Annora at a tiny table in the corner near the window. How enchanting she looked with the oranges and pinks of the sunset setting her aglow.
“In a few days you’ll be home,” he said.
She nodded, busying herself with piling their bowls back on the tray she set on the floor beside the door.
He toyed with his cup of ale as he pondered Annora’s future. Not that he should care, for his debt to her would soon be paid in full. He was merely curious, as any friend would be. “What measures will you take to ensure Roger doesn’t try to wrest control of you again?”
“I’ll hire guards loyal only to me.” She returned to her chair and took a sip of her drink. Primrose jumped onto her lap. She stroked the cat’s white fur. “I used to feel safe among my people, in my own home. Roger shattered that peace. Now I’ll need constant defense.”
“You could marry.”
Annora looked him in the eye, her face unreadable. She folded her arms. “I could,” she agreed. “Perhaps I will.”
Why had he suggested that? Because it was the obvious solution. Most women needed a man’s protection. ’Twas the way of things. Yet the thought of her with another man made his chest constrict.
“Stop thinking what you’re thinking.”
The voice in Morgan’s head was so loud it startled him. His great-grandfather rarely spoke, but when he did, he shouted his advice.
“RIGHT NOW.”
Great-grandfather was right. Morgan had been thinking about asking Annora to marry him. What was it about her that constantly beseeched him to stray from his path?
He knew all too well what came of mingling with mortals. Children. Rather, beings who belonged in neither the world of mortals nor immortals. Like himself and his cousin Rhys. They’d grown up knowing they were different from whichever group they lived among and suffered the awkwardness and derision of not being completely accepted by either. Only when blood was very diluted over many generations of mixing could offspring live comfortably in the mortal world.
Morgan couldn’t use his powers among mortals, because he’d be marked a witch or declared in league with the devil. He’d be carted off to prison or worse—drawn and quartered, hanged or burned. If he escaped, he’d have to travel far enough away to start anew while living in fear of recapture. Or, mortals like Jankyn ap Lewis who discovered what he could do would try to harness his powers.
On the other hand, immortals pronounced his blood impure and thus inferior. He couldn’t stand being looked down upon when he knew in his soul he and Ninian were as worthy despite their half-mortal heritage. Never could he submit his children to the pain of not belonging, of being different. Just one of the reasons he had to wait for his destined mate.
Until a hundred or so years ago, he’d thought he could be the one to push past that invisible yet solid wall of prejudice mortals also faced. Nobles married nobles, peasants married their kind. Mortal men could build castles, churches of indescribable beauty and sail the seas, but none of the knowledge gained over the ages had taught groups how to blend effectively.
“Morgan, are you well? Sometimes you get so lost in your thoughts you make me nervous. You’re right. I do need a husband.” She whispered, “I only wish it could be you.”
What? Had Annora just admitted that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him? She didn’t look surprised or hopeful, as if she’d unwittingly or on purpose confessed. Maybe he’d only imagined it.
Because by the Grail, ’twas what he wished, too.
The sooner they reached Amberton, the better. He had to be rid of her.
* * *
Annora wanted to bite her tongue. Had she just blurted that she wished he would marry her? What of her vow to let him do the pursuing?
Well, he hadn’t. She didn’t know how to dissemble. She’d spoken her mind and felt better for it. Morgan had been an annoyingly perfect gentleman all day except for a few glances she felt certain she’d read correctly as smoldering.
In a few days he’d be gone. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with regrets, what-ifs or missed opportunities. What was pride in the face of all they could share?
Her betrothed had died, Roger had abused her, ap Lewis had and did threaten her. Life was fraught with danger and misery. One should mine all the joy one could. When had she been happiest? In Morgan’s arms, receiving and bestowing comfort and pleasure.
She wouldn’t waste a minute of her remaining days with him. For a start, she’d employ the advice Ninian had offered.
Tonight she would seduce Morgan. Or embarrass herself mightily in trying.
• • •
Morgan sat on a stool sharpening his dagger and the mediocre sword he’d purchased in Llanarglyn. Annora moved about their small room, going through her bag for something or other, now looking out at the night sky. These restful, quiet moments with her were surprisingly satisfying. And frustrating. He should’ve learned by now not to want what he couldn’t have.
And she seemed restless.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Do you really wish to know?” she countered. “You’re good at sensing when something is bothering me. Are you good at reading my other moods?”
Annora took a step toward him. A strange gleam lit her golden eyes, a sensual gleam that made him wonder if whatever she was thinking was better left unsaid. “Do you want the truth? Can you handle it?” Her voice was low, husky. Enticing.
He nodded, his throat suddenly dry.
“I’ve made a decision.” She moved a step closer. “No more hiding. No more dissembling, at least on my part. I’m going to speak honestly. And tell you what I want, whether or not you want to hear it.” One more step, so that her toes were against his boots. “Only then will I be able to sleep at night. Only then will I know I’ve done all I can.”
What was she after? Already he was half hard, and she hadn’t said or done much of anything.
“I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together more than I can say, despite the dangers we’ve faced. Our kisses at the stream were particularly pleasurable. When you kissed me again outside the prison, we barely had the chance to….” She looked at her hands. Would she be able to continue? “I want to make the most of the time we have left. No worrying about consequences, right and wrong, or obligations. I’d like us to enjoy each other to the fullest. Can we? What do you think?”
What did he think? He thought he wanted to pull her onto his lap and make love to her that very moment. Did she know what she asked?
“I wish I had the experience to put more clearly into words how I feel about you,” she continued. “And the skills to show you.”
She was doing quite well simply standing there. Annora could but breathe and he’d want her. He was a besotted sap.
Why had he resisted her for days, forced himself not to touch her? She was willing. As long as they both agreed it was for the short term, was what she asked so wrong? He wouldn’t be so foolish as to think spending a few days with her would be enough to quench his need for her. But those days would be something. More than he deserved. Something to remember on long, sleepless nights.
He fought to keep a tight rein on the words of desire he longed to utter. She couldn’t know how much her offer meant. Because only if he maintained a modicum of distance would he ever be able to let her go.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “There’ll be no going back.”
• • •
<
br /> Morgan sounded cold. Matter of fact.
This wasn’t turning out as Annora had planned. She’d hoped her confession would prompt one from him.
Ninian had said men appreciated honesty in the bedroom, not coy simpering. All Morgan had done as she blathered on was stare, his changeable eyes not revealing any of his thoughts. No warmth, no encouragement. Maybe a glimmer of desire, but she might be imagining that because she so wanted to see it.
“I open my heart and all you can say is, ‘Are you sure?’ Not even, ‘That’s what I want, too.’” Annora wanted Morgan, but on equal terms. Would his body show her if his words couldn’t? No dissembling. No hiding. “Morgan, what do I mean to you?”
The risk of asking difficult questions was that you might not like the answers.
Morgan rose and swept her into his arms. The feel of him against her quelled a brief flare of protest. What did words matter when she could have this?
He captured her lips in a searing kiss.
Even better than before. Perhaps because it was the first time they’d been alone and uninterrupted since the cottage in Wales. Or because he’d come to care for her beyond initial attraction. Dare she hope?
She relaxed in his embrace and let his mouth and hands work their magic.
Over and over he kissed her, with less urgency than in the stream, less speed than at Llanarglyn, but more thoroughness. His mouth explored hers, nibbling, tasting, probing. His hands tangled in her hair. Deeper, deeper his kisses delved until she was ready to swoon from spiraling need.
Annora wanted to take his hand and place it on her breast. To throw off her clothes and feel his skin against hers, to know what it was like to have his hardness press against her. Inside her. She trembled.
How could she convince him they belonged together? Morgan could be lord of her castle, or she’d hire a steward and live with him. Stop, stop. Enjoy every minute now or you’ll waste this precious time.