by Ranay James
Nic saw the play of emotions across Morgan’s face. He knew she had gone from relieved to angry in seconds, and then to relieved again. So she had a temper when she felt threatened. Fight or flight? For her it would be a fight. He logged that as one more fact to remember about her.
She also had a sense of humor; he just had to keep trying to find it.
“Mount up. It is time for us to ride." Trojan danced sideways, eager to be on the road. Nic pulled him up beside Salt. "Let me give you two pieces of information, Morgan. First, do not question my honor when it comes to those I have promised to take into my care. If I leave you it will be because you have asked me to go."
"Second?" she asked softly, realizing she had hit a nerve with him.
"Heed my advice, it would be in your best interest if you learn to curb that temper of yours. You may find it gets you into serious trouble one day. As my squire, I would find myself honor-bound to come to your defense. And even if I am a soldier by profession, I am not one for taking a life for trivial reasons. That being said, if I find I must take a life on your behalf, I do strongly recommend you make it count. There may not be another in the offering.”
With those words of advice, Nic wheeled Trojan around and headed east into the morning sun.
Chapter 19
“Bloody bad luck,” Nic mumbled.
The run of good luck was not holding with the weather. They had enjoyed two great days of travel, but now it was miserable. Rain had started falling softly on them shortly after they broke camp.
The rain had turned from inconvenient to uncomfortable, and then to cold and dangerous. The misty drizzle quickly gave way to wind blowing the heavy gray sheets of rain sideways and the roadway was muck and mire. The travel was treacherous at times, risking broken limbs of both horse and rider.
Water ran down Morgan's legs and into her boots, filling them to the rim. Dumping the rain out was pointless. She had stopped that hours ago, realizing it was more trouble than it was worth.
The rain soaking through her clothes, making them cling to her like a soggy second skin, was the least of her worries. Her hands were numb.
The numbness she felt in her hands, feet, and backside were caused from equal parts unrelenting rain, cold weather, and the pace Nic had demanded they keep.
Never complaining, Morgan understood the need to place as much distance between them and the search party that was scouring the countryside for the Duchess of Seabridge. She hoped the search party, being sane men, probably stopped to find shelter from this God-awful weather. And Nic took the opportunity to gain some ground.
She had not escaped her uncle just to die of consumption brought on from having to sleep outside in rainy conditions. She hoped they would make the King’s Court tonight, and if that meant they pushed hard, so be it.
With that mental decision made, she detached as she had done so naturally over the years when she was threatened or physically uncomfortable. Withdrawing from what would do her harm had become a self-defense mechanism and she was good at it.
Chapter 20
Morgan impressed Nic, and that was not something easily done. He had driven them as if the Devil and his minions were behind them. Frowning, Nic was not so sure that her uncle might be the Devil if half his reputation was true. At any rate, the pace was grueling, even for him. Morgan had not spoken a word of complaint. She was quiet, and that was probably for the best. So, he left her to her own coping mechanism.
Nic had seen this behavior before in battle when men had endured all they could take. Nic though it best if she could continue the pace. As the miles rolled past, he kept a close eye and felt he was between a rock and a very hard spot. He knew they needed to make the King’s Court because of the weather. As tough as Morgan might actually be, she was still a woman and deserved better than a muddy bed on the side of the road.
Darkness came and without a light source, Nic could not see her face clearly. Still he knew Morgan was about to drop from her saddle judging from the sluggish and slumping outline of her body. He would have taken her up on his horse and settled her in front of him if they were not already so close to their destination.
He was exhausted. Hating to admit that condition did not change the fact. The past two nights' sleep had been fitful because of Morgan. Furthermore, he had not gotten any sleep in the saddle with the need to skirt the search party during the day. Now the infernal weather was slowing them up and the lack of sleep was beginning to wear on him. Contrary to popular belief, he was not indestructible in spite of what his reputation might be. And if he was this miserable, he could only venture a guess what Morgan was experiencing. Soon he would try to make it up to her.
Nic was looking forward to a decent shelter for them for the night. What sane man wouldn't, he questioned.
Nonetheless, there was still a catch. Originally, necessity dictated the deception Morgan had started. That necessity was still a driving factor and he had to be sure to keep the facade going. So, like it or not, Morgan would continue to act as his squire, as long as the search party remained in the vicinity. They were too close for Nic’s comfort, even though he was able to skirt them the first day and had been just in front of them or running parallel the last two days. The search party would be at the inn tomorrow, if his instincts were correct. He also felt sure they would stop and inquire because he'd stop if he were in their position.
His guess was the search party was still looking for a woman and a black stallion. No one would take note of a lone knight and his skinny young squire. Such happenings were commonplace throughout the countryside these days. However, the locals would quickly take notice of a lone knight and a young woman. The reward for the information was substantial and too inviting to expect them to keep her whereabouts a secret. He really could not blame the common folk for giving them up. With the astronomical reward Brentwood posted a man could feed a large family for years. Times were hard for these country people, and food precious and sometimes scarce.
The ruse must and would continue for Morgan’s safety. That brought him to another dilemma. Squires usually slept in the outbuildings with the horses or in the common room on the floor. As a rule, they did not have sleeping quarters of their own. That being the case, Nic was certain he would have to see what he could do about getting Morgan into a secure and warm shelter, while at the same time not raising suspicions. Having her sleep in the common room was not even a consideration, and he would continue through the night before allowing her to sleep in the stables.
Morgan was having problems of her own. She was beyond miserable and exhausted nearly to the point of falling out of her saddle as they slowly made their way up the muddy road approaching The King’s Court. It had been dark for sometime, and Morgan had no idea where they were. Nic had not offered to tell her, and she had not asked. At this point, she was past caring. She just wanted to get there and with as little delay as possible.
Morgan was anxious. They were approaching civilization and this increased the risk of discovery. She shoved her anxiety aside, trusting Nic's decision.
Besides, she could smell the smoke from a fire as it drifted along the breeze of the wet evening air. The smells of food were coming from where they would stop, and she could see the glow of the lights beckoning warmly, a beacon in the night’s inky blackness. It was the sweet promise of warmth, food, and an end to the interminable jostling in the saddle that kept her going.
“The King’s Court, my ass,” Morgan snorted as it came into view. She saw it was not King Henry’s Court at all, not by a long stretch. The King’s Court was a small roadside inn.
“Did you say something?” Nic tossed over his shoulder through the darkness, knowing what had elicited her comment. He wanted to draw her out but could not see the look she gave him. It was just as well.
For Morgan the prospect of warm food, a warm bath, warm dry clothes, and a bed was too much of a promised reward for her to remain too vexed with her traveling companion or with the delay in gaining he
r audience with the King.
She would have her audience...eventually.
Yet, with chagrin, she admitted it would not be today. Besides, a bath sounded, so much better.
Nic pulled Trojan up just enough to allow Morgan’s horse to come along side. He explained it was not routine for the squires to sleep in their own quarters in the inn, but rather in the outbuildings with the horses. As she was his squire this is where she would normally be required to sleep.
Morgan moaned with disappointment and hung her head. Her distress was so obvious.
Nic reached across and lifted her chin with his finger. “However, for not complaining about our pace, which by the way was necessary in case you were wondering, I promise I will do my best to get you inside. If not, we will keep moving. If I can get you inside, I will also try to get you a warm bath and dry clothes. Here is what we will need to do….”
Chapter 21
“Up you come.” Nic pulled her into his lap on the saddle. He immediately noticed how slight she was in spite of her height. “Keep this cloak wrapped around you and keep your face turned into my neck.”
Morgan did as she was told to do, savoring the warmth coming from his body. Feeling her body heat, Nic wondered why he had waited this long to hold her in his arms.
“Perfect. Now, do not talk under any circumstances. You are mute remember? Well, most of the time,” he added under his breath.
She gave him an elbow in the ribs.
His breath rushed out in the unexpected blow. It was far from damaging to his warrior physique, yet it was annoying all the same.
“Behave!” Nic ordered.
“You deserved that,” she said, annoyed more with the weather and less with him. "Too bad, I can't punch the weather gods."
"Were that possible, you'd have to stand in line," Nic said then laughed. He could see her point. “We are almost there.”
Nic spotted the young groom just yards ahead. “Ho there, Lad. I need your help. My squire has taken a nasty spill from his horse. I will pay you to tend the horses for me, and there will be an extra coin or two if you watch them through the night.”
“Yes Sir, it will be my pleasure,” the boy said as he reached for the coin Nic extended.
“Good, then run inside and secure me a room. Ask the matron to begin water for a bath for me and dressings for my man. When you finish taking care of that, come back to the stables. I will get the rest of your coin at that point.” He headed to the stables. It was never good to pay for all services in advance.
The boy ran into the warmth of the inn. Reemerging a few moments later, he gave them assurances the room was ready and the bath was coming up shortly.
Paying little heed to the other patrons seeking decent shelter from the elements, Nic carried Morgan into the inn through the common room and straight up the stairs. Given the number of people taking shelter, Nic was surprised they even had a room available. He suspected some poor soul was disappointed. Money talked and few could come up with the coin he just pressed into the innkeeper's hand.
The matron was aware of the supposed fall of Nic's squire and was inquiring how she could be of assistance.
Nic declined, thanking her. He was accustomed to tending the minor wounds of his men, he told her. Nic promised he would call if he saw he needed further aid.
“I believe the bath and dressings will be good. I would appreciate you securing a dry change of clothes for him. I will pay for the garments.”
“No, my Lord that will not be necessary. I’m sure you will return them as soon as your squire’s clothes dry by the fire.” Taken by Nic’s tall good looks, the matron of the inn blushed like a schoolgirl when he smiled at her. “Anything else?” she offered hoping for an extra coin for herself.
“My thanks, but that will be sufficient,” Nic said then courtly inclined his head.
Once inside the room, Nic placed Morgan on the bed. She tried to protest, but he placed a finger to her lips in a signal to be silent.
“Morgan, quickly roll over and face the wall,” he spoke softly hearing the footfall of someone coming.
She obeyed just as the door opened. It was the boy carrying heated water from the kitchen. He did not try to hide his excitement. Few knights came and went in their part of the woods, and those who did were not like this one. Most all the knights who he saw were poor. He knew this knight was rich and was in high favor of the King. He had seen the royal seal embossed on his horse’s bridle. Only a champion of the King had the royal seal to boast such accomplishments. He could not wait to tell his friends.
“Will your squire be all right, my Lord? He is not going to die is he? I could take his place should you find yourself in need of a new squire. I’m reaching my fifteenth year next month and not yet married, so I don’t have a nagging wife to keep me here.”
Nic had a hard time keeping a straight face. “No, he will be fine, I think. However, I will consider your offer for future reference. As to my man there, just a bath and some rest are all he will need.”
The boy cupped his hand over the right side of his mouth and whispered. “Perhaps, my Lord, he needs a few riding lessons, too?”
Nic laughed, the warm sound of it resonating through the small room and sliding over Morgan’s skin. “You just might be right about those lessons, young man,” Nic said then clasped the teenager on the shoulder.
Morgan did not take offense. What could she say? He was right. A few riding lessons were in order. Perhaps Nic would train her if she asked him nicely. He was not a total brute. In fact, so far he was far from it. Other than the tirade in the woods, which she fully understood, he actually was civil.
“Here is your coin and thank you for your services. You've done well. Now, off with you to tend the animals. We have ridden them hard today,” Nic said then began to close the door behind the young man.
“I will be back for the used water in just a bit, my lord.”
When the door was closed tightly, Morgan turned to face her traveling companion. Her eyes slid past Nic to look longingly at the hot bathwater. Nic noticed and did not blame her. The steaming water was like a siren, but her well being came first.
“Morgan, you must bathe quickly. I will go get us food. Do not open this door for anyone except me. Understand?”
Morgan answered him with a nod.
“Five minutes, no more, that is all the time you have. I will be back shortly.”
He turned on his heels and left the room.
Morgan bolted the door. Peeled off her sopping clothes and having only five minutes, she did not bother to wring then out before laying them by the fire to dry.
Sighing as she eased into the tub, the warm water felt heavenly. She could not remember the last hot bath like this she had the luxury of taking. Five minutes was not enough, but would have to do and was five more minutes than she had experienced in the last seven years.
As she quickly bathed, she took in her surroundings. The inn was clean and seemed well run. The room consisted of meager furnishings of a country inn. They served the purpose and Morgan was certainly not going to complain. Compared to her tower room, this was an abundance of luxury.
Placed close to the fire were two chairs and a table at which two could comfortably eat. There was a single stool that had seen better days. The bed, Morgan noticed was narrow. With Nic’s size, it would be a tight fit for him much less both of them. She was finding the thought of sleeping with him in the close confines of the room discomforting. Toweling off when the knock came, Morgan had mistimed her bath by just a half of a minute.
“Nic?” Morgan softly questioned through the door.
“Yes.”
“Give me a minute,” she whispered. “I need to cover myself.”
Nic sensed her movements in the room, and for a moment he indulged his imagination as his mind took him to a place he knew better than to go. He imagined her as she was at the pool: naked, beautiful, and his.
Morgan quickly gathered the bed cover and wrap
ped herself in it, then unbolted the door and stood behind it to let him enter.
He entered, not sure what he would find then quickly surveyed the room. Her clothes were neatly spread by the fire to dry, the tub's water was now used. What was even more evident was Morgan wrapped only in a sheet.
Damn! And that was about all the coherent thought he could muster.
He was not some young pup who could not control his urges, but she was making it difficult the longer he was around her. He dared not linger, not at the moment, especially knowing she was clean and naked under that wrapping. He needed to allow her to dress without his prying eyes.
“I have found you some dry clothes.” He placed them in the chair and continued. “I am going back down to see if there is any food I can scrounge. If not, I will go to the horses for some of our rations. Either way, I'll not be long. Bolt the door behind me.”
“Thank you for the bath. I know you did not have to do that for me.” She was very genuine recognizing that as a squire, Nic did not have to see to that small luxury for her.
His proud smile surprised her as their eyes held each other for a brief second. “Yes, Morgan, I did. And, I did so gladly, but you are welcome all the same.”
Chapter 22
Making quick work of binding her breasts and dressing in the clothes Nic had so thoughtfully found, she recognized his steps coming up the stairs.
“It’s me.” His deep voice eased through the door.
She unbolted then opened the door. He entered carrying a tray of food that smelled delicious. She took the tray then set it down on the table as she deeply breathed in the hearty aroma. As she rearranged the food for them and poured the wine, she heard the rustle of clothing behind her, and the soggy flop of them hitting the floor.
