by D. F. Jones
“He said horrid things.” Mary-Margaret stiffened, her voice dead of any emotion.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Morgan pushed her way to her sister’s side. “I would have done more than stomped on his foot and jab him in his stomach.”
The burst of anger heated her blood. The fact that her sister withheld the information didn’t surprise her. A healthy competition existed between all the Stelton children, except Mary-Margaret. She was the negotiator--the one who preferred to avoid confrontation.
“Please don’t give me that look, Morgan. I refused to tell anyone for fear of the consequences. Where would that leave Father? I walked away from Rowland with a smile and an air of indifference. It deeply bothered him. Confrontation isn’t always the solution.”
“No, it isn’t, but in this case, I think he saw it as a weakness that encouraged him to continue.” Did Mary-Margaret understand what Rowland was doing? “He isn’t the type of man you let get away with anything. It simply emboldens him. I don’t see an easy solution. I’ll be glad when our visit here is over, and we can return home.”
“Your father needs to be told of Rowland’s activities,” Gray said. “Not only to protect you. You’re being used as a tool to provoke others against your family.”
Morgan didn’t need him to fight her battles. If anyone was to speak to her father, it would be her.
“He’s in with the king. I’ll go with you,” Devon said and faced Mary-Margaret and Morgan. “We’ll escort you to the garden where the queen is with her ladies.”
“We do not need an escort from here to the garden.” How dare they come along and treat them like children, unable to care for themselves.
“Trust me—”
“I trusted you three years ago,” she interrupted Gray. “It proved to be a bad decision.”
He froze at her words.
Morgan took her sister’s hand and nearly dragged her away already regretting what she said.
Somehow Gray reached the door before her and barred them from leaving.
“That’s a discussion for another time. You are Rowland’s target. You must understand that because you and Mary-Margaret are identical twins neither of you are safe.” Gray’s words were simple, the menacing quality of his voice was deadly.
“Are you speaking about Rowland?” She waved her hand dismissing his words.
He took a threatening step closer.
“You’re serious? We’re surrounded by our father and brothers to say nothing of the king and his guards.” She tried to step around him toward the door.
“Hear me.”
His staid calmness was more frightening than if he had bellowed.
She dropped her sister’s hand. Mary-Margaret rushed to Devon’s side.
He was right. She could argue, insist, and march off on her own, but she would never jeopardize Mary-Margaret.
“You have my thanks for your concern. Mary-Margaret and I would be grateful for your company.”
They left the solar, Gray matching her stride to the garden doors without saying a word.
“I would not let anything happen to you, ever,” he said at last.
She tilted her head toward him. A spark of some indefinable emotion was in his eyes.
“You were always a champion.” A deep sigh escaped her lips.
They stopped before the doors. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed her knuckles, then lifted his gaze. His smile melted her resistance.
“Always your champion, my lady.” For a moment her heart softened. For a moment she saw a spark of the man from three years ago. For a moment she wanted him more than life itself.
Devon opened the garden door, made way for the two sisters, and without another word, the men left them in the company of the queen.
The queen’s ladies-in-waiting sat in a half-circle as they worked their needlepoint and enjoyed the sun.
“Mary-Margaret, I’m glad you joined us,” the queen said. “You’ve brought your sister. Welcome, Morgana. It’s not often you sit with us.”
“Your Majesty.” They both curtsied.
The queen’s women were deep in conversation, gossiping about a young courtier and his rejected proposal. Laughing about a king’s officer who thought himself better than anyone else.
Morgan chose a seat across from the women, uninterested with their conversation. In the quiet surroundings, she folded and rolled the edges of her belt. Her mind raced between challenging Gray about his absence and recounting her revelation.
“Lady Morgan.”
She turned toward the queen.
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“You’re unnaturally quiet, sitting like a caged animal. I can feel your unease across the room. I’ve always found a walk in the garden soothing. There’s a quiet spot in the far corner, by the gardener’s shed. No one ventures back there. A few minutes of peace and quiet and you will be like new.”
Morgan rose and glanced at her sister. Mary-Margaret gave her a gentle smile before she continued with the others.
“With your permission, Ma’am.”
The queen dipped her head and then returned to her sewing.
She hurried down the steps, eager to distance herself from the others.
This part of the castle was complete. The king wanted his queen to have a comfortable place after the baby was born. Stone walls surrounded the large garden. Thick hedging incorporated with trellises and arbors softened and warmed the area.
Morgan fled down the path between square planted beds and raised banks covered in turf for sitting. She hurried past beds filled with flowers, herbs, shrubs, and fruit trees. Her pace slowed as she walked the final path toward the far corner then sat on the turf and leaned against the gardener’s shed. Her head back and eyes closed, she enjoyed the warm sun on her face.
“Where is he now?”
Morgan’s eyelids sprang open.
Rowland.
She stood.
“He and Saville are in the king’s chamber,” Fulko reported.
“Wait for him and bring him to me. He may intimidate the others, but not me. When I get through with him, he’ll wish he’d never set foot here,” Rowland said. “I’ll wait in the usual place. I’m looking forward to seeing the king’s face when we present him with the head of the traitor.”
The door to the shed began to open. Morgan searched the area, desperate for a hiding spot. The thick hedging provided the best cover. She hid in the shrubs, her green gown blending in.
Rowland and Fulko took off back to the castle.
There was no time to go for help. She made her way at a safe distance and watched the men split up. Fulko moved toward the castle, Rowland headed for the unfinished tower.
What was he planning? She made a quick decision and followed Rowland.
Rather than cross the ward, Morgan ran along the perimeter in the shadow of the wall. She waited while he entered the unfinished area, the same one where she and Alex practiced. She could navigate the passages blindfolded.
Chapter 7
Gray and Devon stood by the window in the Great Hall, looking out at the upper ward.
“I nearly choked when I listened to Westervelt’s suggestion. He laid the groundwork with a politician’s expertise,” Devon said.
“Philip wasn’t fooled. Neither was the king.” Gray’s gaze was fixed on the grounds outside.
“I agree,” Devon said. “It’s a clever strategy. Philip’s sons are as good as any small army. For Rowland to control the border, he must be rid of them. He can’t kill all seven, so he elevates them, extols their prowess as warriors, and suggests they be the king’s official guards at Rhuddlan Castle, far from home and the Scottish border. With Mary-Margaret and me in Knaresborough, the only one left at the border is Morgan.”
He didn’t need Devon to tell him what he already knew. Morgan was in Rowland’s way. He either controlled her or...
“Or convince Edward the family are traitors,” he said. “Edward would confiscate their land.
I’m sure Westervelt has plans to acquire the estate.”
Gray caught sight of two figures walking in the upper ward near the construction. He pushed away from the wall and moved to the window for a closer look.
“I wonder what Rowland has been up to. Fulko comes this way, while Rowland crosses to the tower.”
“At least Morgan isn’t following him. You know she won’t stay put,” Devon warned Gray as he peered over his shoulder. “Morgan will go after Rowland by herself for what he’s done to her sister.”
“Aye. You are right about that. She’s like her brothers.” Gray turned from the window, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his neck. He let out a deep breath. “Find out what Rowland’s man is doing. I’ll go to the tower.”
Devon slipped out the side door of the Great Hall, Gray close behind.
Once out of the castle, Gray crossed the lower ward and entered the tower. Construction had stopped for the celebration. He navigated around stone blocks and tools that laid idle, waiting for work to resume. The slap of leather against stone echoed and faded in the distance. He was close. Careful not to make any noise, he moved closer.
Rowland stood in the center of the chamber.
Gray circled the outside of the room among the great pillars, taking care not to be seen.
Rowland spun toward him.
“Fulko, is that you?”
“I didn’t find him.” Fulko entered through a doorway not far from Gray. “Saville was speaking to Mary-Margaret. What now?”
In the quiet, the faint whisper of cloth at Gray’s right caught his attention. Someone else was here. He inched toward the sound.
Rowland put his hand out, indicating for his man to be quiet. “Who goes there?” Rowland asked.
Gray stopped in his tracks.
Silence.
He breathed easy when suddenly, the sound of rubble echoed through the area. Someone else was in the chamber.
“I said, who goes there?” Rowland asked, more emphatically.
Gray carefully slid around the corner of the pillar. His foot caught on a piece of material. He knelt and picked up a green kirtle. Morgan’s? He peered around the edge.
“Take off your hood and show yourself or I’ll skewer you where you stand.”
“As you wish.” The person let her cape and hood slide to the floor. Morgan stood in front of Rowland and Fulko in britches and her loose-fitting shirt.
“You look more like a boy than a woman.”
Gray, on high alert, flattened his back against the wall. Devon was right. Morgan, her sword drawn, faced Rowland and Fulko.
“I thought to spare you, make you my wife.”
“Wife?” She laughed. “I’d rather go to a nunnery.”
Even in the dim light he saw Rowland’s eyes light in anger. Did she have any idea what she was doing?
Morgan remained relaxed and glared at Rowland which made him angrier.
“You’ll marry me unless you prefer I tell the king you and your family are the traitors, stealing secrets and giving them to your Scots lover. You’ll be lucky if the king doesn’t execute all of you. Don’t be a fool. We’ll marry and I’ll take my rightful place at the king’s side.”
“I have no desire to be associated with you. Surely you have heard the gossip in court. Well laughter would be a more accurate description.”
Morgan played a dangerous game. He wasn’t certain how Rowland would respond to the insult. Gray drew his sword and readied himself for action.
“I’ll make you suffer. Little-by-little, cut-by-cut until no one will recognize you.” Rowland took a menacing stride toward Morgan.
Gray stepped out into the open and with a sweep of his arm, moved her behind him.
“Take a last look at her.” Rowland mocked. “While you lie here dying, you’ll watch as I carve her into pieces. A pity. Will you still want her? She won’t be so beautiful.”
Morgan moved to the side and stood next to Gray.
He didn’t argue. It wouldn’t matter if he did. From her stance and the way she held her sword, he was certain she knew how to use it.
Fulko made the first mistake. He thought Morgan an easy target. She spun at his clumsy attack, took the offensive and drew first blood. Morgan took full advantage of his hesitation and came at him ready to kill.
Gray distanced Rowland from Morgan but kept her in sight. He recognized much of his own style in her footwork and control of the blade. Each placement of her foot, thrust of her blade, flowed from one to the other in a graceful, deadly dance.
Shadows filled the room. Morgan nimbly maneuvered the area, anticipating obstacles, using them to her advantage. She’d obviously been here before.
He and Morgan kept up the attack, and drove Rowland and Fulko out of the room, into the open. The sound of metal clashing against metal echoed in the ward.
Royal guests and castle staff took to the windows and porch gaping at the fight.
Fulko attacked Morgan with all his strength. She spun against his body, the force sending the pins flying from her hair.
The gasp from the onlookers made him smile. Dressed like a boy, they hadn’t expected a woman.
Galloping hooves echoed on the stone bridge at the castle gate.
“Surrender. The king’s men are here. Surrender and it will go easier on you,” Rowland said.
Gray’s sword was locked at the hilt with Rowland’s. Twisting the edge, he pushed hard against Rowland, then stepped to the side.
The resistance gone Rowland stumbled forward.
Gray’s left fist burst forward and caught Rowland in the jaw.
Rowland appeared shaken but he rallied. He came after Gray, his sword raised.
Gray positioned himself and stood back-to-back with Morgan, each parrying and striking.
“Enough,” the king commanded from the castle porch.
The four stopped mid-strike and lowered their swords, pointing the tips at the ground.
“Stay alert,” Gray whispered.
“I know, never turn your back or let your guard down. Not even during a truce.”
Gray smiled. Those were the words he’d said over and over to Alex when they trained. The ones he neglected to follow.
The riders advanced and circled the small group.
Rowland pointed to Gray and Morgan. “Arrest them.”
Gray gripped his sword. Had Philip and his father been able to sway the king? Here he stood, surrounded by six warriors, in the center of the king’s castle. He glanced at Morgan. He couldn’t fight his way out, but he would do anything to protect her.
Anything.
The king’s men didn’t move or speak.
The silence lengthened. The tension in the air almost suffocating.
Gray sensed more than saw something move. He spun.
Fulko lunged at him, aiming at his chest.
The onlookers gasped.
Before he raised his weapon to block the attack, Morgan crossed swords with Fulko. She brought her weapon up and over, the momentum forcing his sword into a high arc. In a swift movement, she pulled her sword away and, holding it with two hands, swung hard, striking Fulko in the side.
The man crumpled to the ground.
Morgan stood over Fulko, the point of her sword at his heart, her eyes on the king.
“Bring them to me,” the king commanded and went inside.
A swell of cheers went up throughout the castle.
Gray stood at her side. “Stand down. It’s over,” he said.
She loosened the grip on her weapon.
He gently took it out of her hand.
The guards led them to the king.
“You fought well,” Gray said. “Like your brother, an equal. I couldn’t ask for a better person at my back.”
Morgan’s eyelids lowered as she let his words sink in.
“I appreciate the compliment, especially coming from a king’s champion.” Her voice was a whisper, her heart pounding.
“I speak the truth. You
learned your lessons well. Your family should be proud of you. I am.” He continued walking.
There were many reasons to love Gray, and almost as many reasons not to. He had been honest with her all those years ago, and she, well she had been a peevish child. Wanting what she wanted. Him.
They reached the Great Hall and stood before the king and his court.
“Lord Westervelt gave us information that the evidence against the MacDonalds is false. We thank the Westervelts for their untiring devotion to the crown. In trying to arrive at how to show our gratitude, I came upon a plan the Westervelts described as a triumphant opportunity. What better way to show our appreciation than to honor the Westervelts as the official guards at Rhuddlan Castle.
“They and their man will leave for their new post within the hour. Lord Stelton’s sons will be their escort.” The king waved them away.
Rowland and his father bowed and backed out of the hall, taking Fulko with them.
“Philip, I thought it was a touching tribute to Rowland’s plan for your sons to escort them to Rhuddlan.” The king rubbed his hands together and gave his attention to Gray and Morgan.
“Lady Morgan, that must be the new fashion my queen mentioned.” The king looked at her britches, loose fitting blouse, and wild hair. “You two fight well together. Lord Grayson I suggest you not get her angry. Lord Philip has discussed your petition. It is agreeable to the crown. Do you have anything to say to Lady Morgan?”
Gray faced Morgan. “Marry me.”
She tilted her head at the command.
“My love,” he bent down on one knee, a devastating smile on his lips, “in front of your king, and this assembly, I declare my love for you as I should have three years ago. I would have you for my wife. What say you?”
“Your words are... They are beautiful.” She gave him her hand to raise him to his feet, “but you needn’t bend a knee to me. Today we are equals?”
“Nay.”
“Nay?” She tried to pull back her hand, but he wouldn’t let it go.
“Not only today, forever. Forever equals.” He slipped his arm around the small of her back and drew her close. “Marry me, Morgana Stelton. Today, I didn’t fear for my life. I feared losing you. You are my life. Marry me.”