“I am afraid she is not feeling well today. But I am certain a visit from you would do her health well.”
“I’m sure she would rather rest in peace without any visitors.”
Hugo adamantly disagreed, making her promise to visit his wife as soon as she was done eating.
After one bite of her ham, the room grew quiet.
Morgan glanced up and immediately saw the reason. Derek was making an unprecedented appearance. He stalked into the room wearing tight leather breeches and a loose-sleeved shirt. Thank God he couldn’t hear the rapid beat of her traitorous heart.
The two hunks seated across from her moved over to make room for him, even after she subtly gestured for them to stay put.
“I see you are being well tended to,” Derek said crisply, still standing.
She managed a tight smile. “Unlike some people I know, your men are very attentive and well-mannered. Not one of them has left the table without excusing himself first. Isn’t that right, boys?”
A few men mumbled under their breath, but most kept right on eating like a gang of ravenous wolves.
Derek arched a brow. “Ahh, perhaps I should reward them.”
“Oh, no. Let me do the honors. I’m sure I can cook up something pleasurable for them.”
His jaw hardened. “I am certain you could indeed.”
His statement was crammed with innuendo, but before she could tell him she meant that she would bake his men some cookies, Hugo cut in.
“You have not eaten all day,” Hugo said to Derek. “Have a seat.”
“He’s probably much too busy,” Morgan said.
With a wry smile, Derek took a seat. “I always make time for a meal.” He grabbed a roasted chicken leg from the plate set before him and sank his teeth into the tender meat. Swallowing, he then turned his attention back to Hugo. “‘Twould seem I owe you thanks for solving the error in my calculations the other day. If I had known you had a way with numbers I would have sought your help long ago.” He shook his head. “For days I worked on those figures. How did you do it?”
Hugo stared blankly at Derek, obviously clueless as to what calculations he was talking about.
“Did you hire someone then?” Derek asked.
“It was me,” Morgan informed him.
He nearly choked on his meat. “You are serious?”
“Completely. In fact, I’ve been wondering when you were going to thank me for fixing such a careless mathematical error.”
“I am certain she did not mean careless,” Hugo added.
She shrugged.
Derek lifted a skeptical brow. “You expect me to believe you are skilled in the practice of numbers?”
“I’ll prove it.”
“Indeed. And how will you do that?”
“I’ll do your bookkeeping for you.” Not only would it give her something to do, she thought, she’d feel as if she were earning her keep while she was here. “I’ll start first thing tomorrow morning. And if you don’t like the job I do, you can fire me.”
“Fire you?”
“You know, send me packing…lay me off.” She rolled her eyes at all the blank stares and extended her hand toward Derek. “Do we have a deal?”
“‘Twill give you more time for hawking,” Hugo urged.
Fixing her with a level stare, Derek wiped his hand on a linen cloth, and then clasped his fingers firmly about her hand. Goose bumps spread up her arms and heat flowed through her veins.
“One misplaced number,” he said gruffly, “or one missing shilling and you will surely regret offering your services.”
“You can count on me,” she said confidently without looking away, her hand still firmly clasped within his.
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely,” she said, giving his hand an extra squeeze.
Shaking his head as if she’d lost all sense, he rose from the bench and spouted quick instructions to his men. She thought he was going to say something to her directly when he turned his gaze back on her. Instead, he regarded her curiously and left without another word.
~~~~
After visiting Matti and entertaining her with a story about Snow White and the seven dwarfs, Morgan made her way to the sewing room where she found Odelia and two young women, both of whom she guessed were about eighteen.
“Sit here,” Odelia said, patting the stool next to her. Then she handed Morgan a linen shirt, a needle, and a spool of wiry thread. The two younger women watched quietly as Odelia told Morgan what to do. Before long they were all chatting and sewing as if they’d met a dozen times before.
To her left, she soon learned, was a young girl named Shayna. Her hair, the color of milk chocolate, fell past her shoulders, and her eyes were a dark forest green. The other woman, Ciara, seemed a bit shy. Her eyes darted about and her hands trembled. Although her teeth were crooked and yellowed from lack of care, she, too, was pretty with curly auburn hair and brown eyes.
“Is it true that Robert DeChaville is wandering nearby villages in search of you?” Shayna asked Morgan. “A more thrilling prospect I cannot imagine: having two men, such as the likes of Lord Vanguard and Robert DeChaville, lusting after you.”
Morgan looked to Odelia for help. Odelia merely shrugged, her needles clicking away.
“Hogs turd, I’m sure,” Morgan said, quoting one of the kids she’d been playing with, hoping to sound medievalish.
Shayna grinned.
“You know how rumors spread when people have nothing better to do,” Morgan added.
“What are you going to wear to the king’s banquet?” Shayna asked next, easily flitting from one subject to another.
Morgan chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll be going to any banquet.”
“Aye, you’ll be attending,” Odelia stated firmly. “‘Tis for you after all, in honor of Lord Vanguard and his betrothed, which means you.”
Shayna laughed. “I am certain her ladyship does not need reminding of who she is.”
Odelia gave Morgan a piercing glare. “You can never be too sure.”
Morgan ignored them all as she tried to concentrate on what she was doing. Patiently, she made her stitches the way Odelia had shown her, pleased that an actual design was taking shape on the fabric.
Shayna released a long sigh and said, “You wouldn’t want to miss the banquet, my lady. ‘Twill be an affair to remember. If you would like, I could design a gown for you.”
Morgan shook her head. “Thank you, Shayna, but it won’t be necessary.” She had no idea when she might suddenly disappear and find herself back in her own time.
“Oh, but it will,” Shayna told her. “It is to be held at Windsor Castle and you will be introduced to King Henry himself. There will be feasts every day and tournaments. Dozens of handsome knights will joust for their ladies’ pleasure. Is that not romantic?” Shayna leaned closer. “Sometimes a lord will attain special knighthood through the king himself and that knight is honored with a gift of a fine horse, jewels, or land. Oh, and the entertainment,” Shayna went on excitedly, “is sure to be spectacular. You must tell us all about it when you return.”
“You do make it sound wonderful,” Morgan said. Hoping to change the subject since she didn’t plan to be around long enough to visit the king, she said, “Have any of you ever heard of a knight known as the Earl of Kensington?”
Ciara shook her head. “The name does not sound familiar.”
“If there is an Earl of Kensington, Lord Vanguard would know of him, my lady. ‘Twould be a good idea to ask him,” Shayna said. “Is he someone you know personally? Is he as handsome as the other men flocking to see you? Is he married?”
Morgan laughed. Shayna was definitely a romantic. “I don’t know much about him except that he’s well favored by King Henry.” She lowered her voice and added, “Truthfully, I need to find him so I can warn him.”
Shayna sat up straighter. “Is the earl in danger?”
Odelia rolled her eyes in disbelief.
; “Yes. It’s been said that once the Earl of Kensington sets out to find his one true love who has been lost to him, he will be killed in an ambush near Swan Lake.”
“Ludicrous,” Odelia muttered. “Whoever spouted such rubbish?”
“I don’t remember the author’s name,” Morgan said, “but it’s true.”
Odelia frowned.
“You are eager to marry Lord Vanguard, are you not?” Shayna asked.
Morgan thought about it before she spoke. “Not all women want to get married.”
Shayna scoffed at the notion. “Lord Vanguard is many a young maiden’s dream.”
“I guess there’s no denying he’s easy on the eyes,” Morgan agreed as she thought of his strong jaw, beautiful eyes, and solid physique. “Before I met him though I had been told he resembled a hideous monster and that he was capable of killing a man with a merely a glance.”
The room grew deathly silent. Odelia’s face had paled to a ghostly white sheen. Apparently the women weren’t used to talking so bluntly about Lord Vanguard.
“Well,” Ciara added nervously. “He might indeed cause a few people to fall dead if he ever wears that,” she said, pointing at the linen shirt in Morgan’s hands.
Morgan held the shirt up for closer examination.
Shayna and Ciara tried to hold back their laughter, but as soon as Morgan glanced Odelia’s way they all burst out in a wave of hysterics.
When Shayna finally attempted to speak, an unladylike hiccup escaped, causing new peals of laughter. Morgan laughed hard enough to cause her stool to fall over, sending her rolling to the floor with her arms wrapped tightly to her sides.
No one was too sure how long he’d been standing there, but they did finally notice him. Instantaneously, the room quieted.
Standing beneath the doorframe, Lord Vanguard appeared suddenly to be a foot taller than the last time she’d seen him. So tall, she observed, that he had to bend so he wouldn’t hit his head on the wooden beam as he entered the room.
Still on the floor, and getting a worm’s eye view of him, Morgan tried to appear nonchalant as she sat up. “Did you want something?”
“You,” he said.
Morgan blushed. Her new friends weren’t any help at all. They all stitched furiously. Not one of them would look her way.
When Morgan glanced back at Lord Vanguard, he winked, making little effort to hide his strange mood. Maybe, she thought, the overconfident man wanted to make up for leaving her so suddenly last night. Forget it.
As Morgan pushed herself from the floor, she was about to tell him she was having too much fun to stop what she was doing when suddenly he stepped forward, swooped her easily into his arms, and carried her from the room before she could say anything at all.
“Put me down,” she said from atop his right shoulder. “You had your chance and you blew it!” She tried to wriggle free, but her attempt to get away was useless.
Derek strode swiftly down the long spiraling staircase. All eyes were on them as they crossed the landing and swept through the great hall. Morgan caught a glimpse of Emmon and Hugo as they passed by. “Do something,” she pleaded.
They just stood there…looking extremely pleased instead of horrified by their boss’s bad manners. Derek probably carried a different maid over his shoulder every week. The people here at Braddock were most likely accustomed to his barbaric ways.
Morgan clung to the back of his shirt. As they passed through the inner bailey, she heard giggling from a small boy she’d taught to play leapfrog the other day. “See if I teach you any more games,” she told the boy, pointing a finger at him.
The boy’s big eyes widened in horror before he ran off.
Derek’s solid strides didn’t slow.
Morgan pounded a fist against his back. “I’m never going to forgive you for this, Vanguard, unless you put me down this minute!”
She kicked her feet and flailed her arms, but it was useless fighting him. The man, without benefit of any armor, was made of steel.
“If you put me down,” she said calmly, hoping a different approach might work, “I promise not to run. We’ll talk…about everything. I’ll listen to every word you have to say without interrupting.”
Derek stopped and leaned his head low enough so that he could see her face between the crook of his arm. “When I put you down wench, it won’t be to talk.” A wry grin spread across his lips.
“What does that mean exactly? That you intend to tease me and tempt me and then run away again?”
A small tic pulsated within his jaw. But instead of spouting his ire, he surprised her by throwing back his head and giving vent to a torrent of laughter before continuing on.
She frowned at his laughing at her, especially in front of the stable boy. Stable boy? What the hell were they doing in the stables?
Derek moved quickly past the horses before he plopped her atop a tall pile of straw, plucked bridle and reins from the wall mount, and then went to his horse, a huge white stallion that snorted and stamped its giant hooves within its stall.
She tried to stand, but her legs sank into the soft hay like quicksand. She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you think I’m riding that beast you’re crazy. Besides, I’m allergic to horses,” she lied. “I get a terrible rash.” She held up her left forearm, revealing a couple of flea bites.
~~~~
Derek scowled. He had little care for the woman’s nonsensical sniveling. If she could manage to take Emmon’s horse and run off, then she could handle any steed he had to offer.
After his horse was readied, he mounted the stallion and rode to where she awkwardly stood within the pile of hay, refusing to move an inch.
“Have it your way.” He leaned low and with one arm he lifted her, plunking her onto the animal so that she was snug on his lap.
Before she could protest further, he turned the stallion full around in the cramped quarters, leaving the stables far behind as the horse’s hooves thundered beneath them.
Derek held his betrothed tightly within his arms. Waves of impatience swept over him at the thought of all the raw emotions the wench had so quickly managed to unleash inside of him. After leaving her at the table earlier, he had found himself in the garden, a place he rarely, if ever, visited. And for what? To find her and listen to more of her ridiculous fabrications? Furious at himself for considering dawdling with the woman, he had gone to his bedchamber to retrieve his sword. And it was then and there that he had heard enough merriment to fill two castles. Finding his betrothed on the sewing room floor, her eyes sparkling, he had instantly realized what he must do. He would have his fill of her, finish what he began last night, and quickly, before another day was wasted. For he was certain that only after he had taken her would he once again be clear headed and able to finish his growing list of tasks.
His stallion whinnied and relief flooded through his veins as they neared Swan Lake. He knew fair well that he could not take much more of this tortuous ride. With Amanda’s buttocks resting full against him he was already as hard as stone.
Bringing his stallion to a halt, he lifted her off of his lap and placed her gently on the ground. Her face had lost all color as if she truly had been afraid for her life.
As he took the stallion toward a group of trees to provide shelter against the sun, he recalled what Emmon had said about Lady Amanda being an experienced rider. If that were true, then what was she afraid of? Surely she was not trying to put on an act for his benefit, pretending to be the fair and chaste maiden. What kind of fool did she take him for? Besides, had she not dared him to finish what he started?
He shook his head as he secured the reins. He wanted her, and thus he would have her. It was as easy as that. Nothing here to stop him now, not even his own foolish thoughts. He needed to get some work done. Until he had her beneath him, once and for all, ‘twas useless trying to accomplish anything else. The woman was like a leech on the brain, sucking all reasonable, intelligent thoughts until there was naught
but mush. He would not allow this incessant mind-wandering to continue. She was his betrothed, by God, and bedding her would be his right soon enough.
~~~~
Morgan steadied herself by an oak as she watched him jump from his horse and tie the reins around a branch. Without hesitation, nor modesty, he began to throw off his clothes, one piece at a time, until he was completely naked.
Her eyes nearly popped from their sockets. She quickly directed her gaze toward the ground and tried to catch her breath. When she resumed a fairly reasonable breathing pattern, she felt compelled to take a peek…or two. She hadn’t seen him naked in the light of day. Heck, she hadn’t seen him naked in the dark either, but she was confident no man would come close to what she was seeing now.
The sunlight struck his profile just so, giving her a striking view of his handsome face. He had a full but firm mouth and a cleft in his chin. His neck was thick, straight and powerful, which by scanning lower she could see was synonymous to the rest of him. Her cheeks grew hot, her palms moist.
He headed for the lake. Standing near the water’s edge, he looked like a proud warlord, sun-bronzed and weather-toughened. Even the scars of battle etched across his backside added to his picturesque stance. Dizziness swept over her. Only after he dove into the icy water was she able to regain her composure.
A knot constricted her throat as she tried to decide what to do. She wanted him; that much she knew. Losing her virginity wasn’t the problem…she’d been hoping and yearning that the right man would come along for years now. But losing her heart was another matter altogether. She tried to envision making love to him today and then returning home, to the future, without him.
A cold fist clamped over her heart. She couldn’t make love to him. Any intimacy between them would only hurt them both when it came time for her to leave. And she felt unreasonably certain that the time would come sooner rather than later.
Return of the Rose Page 8