by Ranay James
Chapter 31
Nic found Connor in the great room by the fire. He motioned for Nic to take the chair beside him.
“What in the bloody hell have you gotten yourself into this time?” Connor demanded, handing Nic a mug of spiced wine.
“That battered and bloody young squire of mine is actually Morgan Pembridge."
"Your Duchess?” Connor asked with more than mild interest.
"Yes."
Connor whistled through his teeth.
“All right, so she is your bride. Can you tell me what's going on? How did this all come about? If she is the Duchess then why is she dressed as a boy? More importantly, why is she in the shape she is in?”
Nic told Connor the entire story, leaving nothing out.
“It was the craziest thing I have ever seen coming from a woman. It was as if she had no thought of her own safety. She comes flying out of nowhere, stabs the one to my right in the neck with a dagger that she got from God only knows where. Then without breaking stride, scoops up the fallen man’s sword and then levels a man three times her size.”
“Unbelievable!” Connor shook his head in disbelief. The women he knew would freeze in terror, screaming at the top of their lungs for divine intervention. This action from a woman was foreign to him, but not unattractive. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He began to understand the admiration that he heard in Nic’s voice.
Nic continued. “All jesting aside, I owe this woman my life. She saved me from a lot of pain and physical harm and almost lost her own life in the bargain. She is tough, Connor.”
“So I’m beginning to believe,” Connor said as he closely watched his friend.
“She has a strength I admire. If I had to go into battle, I might want her there with me.”
Connor snorted, protesting such an absurd idea. “Have you lost your mind, Man? Women do not go to battle. It’s bad luck.”
Nic continued to qualify his statement. “No, not usually, but I’m half serious. Look, she planned and carried out her own escape, thinking enough in advance to dress and act as a boy. Personally, I think it was ingenious. She was cunning enough to play a mute when I found her so she did not have to answer any questions until we were well past Seabridge's reach."
Connor raised an eyebrow and Nic continued.
"She is exceptionally smart and gutsy when she manages to get past her distrust, which happens more and more the longer we are together."
Connor nodded, letting Nic talk. His words were quite telling. He understood and knew Nic as well as he understood and knew himself.
Nic was falling in love.
"She is pretty in an unconventional kind of way. Not that you can tell right now from all the swelling. I am not displeased with Henry’s choice for me. If I must marry, I really do think she is a good match for me.”
She was his from the moment she had awakened in his arms on the side of the road and covered in mud.
“She took a great chance, Nic. Dressed as a boy or not, she must have been desperate to take such a risk. Where was she going?” Connor ventured.
“My thought is she may have been trying to reach London and the King. She was quick to point out the night at the inn that she wanted something from me just as I wanted something from her. Perhaps she saw a way to have me take her to London in safety, and she would be my squire on the way. I got what I wanted, and so did she.”
“But you said you were heading north and she agreed to go. It was only after the brush with the search party that you decided to go to London. Are you sure this is not just some young woman’s ploy for the attentions of a guardian who is careless?”
“No. She never blinked when I told her I knew she was the Duchess of Seabridge. And, she was quite serious in saying he would kill her if I sent her back. I believe her.” Nic took a long draw from his wine. He was worried. The loss of blood was deadly and had left her more fragile. The fever was under control, but that could go either direction very quickly, too.
“She will always carry the scars both physically and emotionally,” Conner was saying mirroring Nic’s thoughts exactly.
“I know. I fear so, as well. Just add them to Brentwood’s pile. Those were his men.” Nic finished his wine. The fact only gave credence to her saying that Lester would kill him, too. That was the intention of that group.
“How can you be certain? They nearly killed her.” Connor rubbed his jaw in thought. “However, I can see where he would gain if highwaymen killed the both of you.” Conner poured them another goblet of wine and went to stoke the fire to life again. “You're sure those were his men?” He threw back over his shoulder stoking the fire.
“I’m certain they were his men. I overheard one say to ‘find Morgan’. I do not believe they were deliberately trying to kill her. I think they do not know she is going around the countryside disguised as a boy. She was wearing one of my hooded shirts, so they had no way of knowing. I feel certain the man would not have fought with Morgan had he known.”
“They were expecting a young woman not a squire. She is tall enough to pull it off.” Connor could see where the confusion had almost cost the Duchess her life.
The two men sat in silence for a few moments as the fire crackled and flames popped. Connor was the first to speak again.
“Does she know about Henry’s decree?” Connor watched Nic’s reaction.
Nic shook his head.
“When are you going to tell her?” Connor asked.
“Tell her what? That once the wedding has taken place I will have to take her back to Seabridge? I know I must tell her soon. I had wanted to take her to London and deposit her in Henry’s care before I leave to make the necessary journey home. But she cannot stay in Henry’s care indefinitely and I must see her settled before I leave for my lands in the north. Seabridge is the most logical place.”
“Will she be agreeable to this you think?” Connor asked.
“I must marry post haste when we get to London. What other choice does she have other than to agree?”
Nic understood, as a woman, her choices were few. The King had decreed her to become his bride so she would become his bride. She could do worse for a husband than him, but aside from that, she needed a protector. His gut was telling him Brentwood would kill her if she didn't marry him. Maybe she knew that was a foregone conclusion if she stayed behind the walls of that castle.
“I have more choices than you could possibly know,” Morgan whispered to herself then backed further into shadows. She had heard all she needed to hear. Nic had lied to her, and she was surprised at how much it hurt. Yet she had to face the facts that he was going to take her back to Seabridge once he married his woman who was waiting for him in London.
She would not go. She had to run and it had to be now
Chapter 32
Morgan held her breath as the gates lifted. A couple of the King’s men were coming across the bridge.
"Watchman, keep the gate open just a bit longer. We have two more coming. They are not far behind.” Morgan heard them shout as the party rode into the courtyard giving her the diversion she needed.
She slipped passed the men on Salt then headed east into the night. Spurring the animal on through the darkness, she slumped over in the saddle. Her body screamed in pain. The wound had ripped open while she was saddling her mount.
Suddenly she was floating, rising above the pain. She did not feel or see the blood steadily streaming down her arm as it soaked into the dark woolen cape. Even with a foggy mind, she knew there was something wrong as her disconnection grew. Giving in, she slipped into the blackness closing in around her, which was darker than the night.
Chapter 33
The King’s men arrived at Featherstone with orders for Nic and Connor to report to the King at once. They had spent the balance of the night in discussions with Henry’s men. Nic was aware that Henry had some trouble brewing in Ireland, and the King needed the services of his two best men.
Torn between the duty
to his King and the duty to his bride, Nic cursed his luck. Morgan was nowhere near ready to travel, and Nic knew he dared not leave her here to her own designs. He might be away for months, and he knew she would not be here when he returned. She was too much of a flight risk, not to mention still in grave danger.
For the first time Nic’s heart was refusing to answer the call of his King. Torn between his responsibility to Morgan and his duty to King Henry, Nic was searching for a balance. He was squarely in that place he never wanted to be.
Nic figured eight days round trip to London and back to Featherstone. Then another four or five to take Morgan back to London. The plan would mean twelve day of hard riding, but it was plausible.
“Connor, I have to leave tonight and go to the King."
"Are you going to ask Henry to delay you deployment?"
"Yes, long enough to get Morgan on her feet and safely deposited into his care. I don't dare leave her here.”
Connor started to protest. “She will be….”
Nic held up his hands in a gesture to stop him from commenting further.
“No, do not take offense, Connor. She is a handful and fully realizes the extent of her danger. Fear is a very motivating factor, and she could prove slippery."
"She's too weak to cause much trouble at the moment," Connor said.
"Yes, but given a week, I'm afraid she will have your household on its ear.”
Nic’s words could not have been more prophetic.
Finishing the business with the King’s messenger, the men began to complete arrangement to leave. All Nic lacked was his coin bag, and to tell Morgan good-bye.
He entered the room, scanned it, and at once, he knew she was gone.
“Bloody hell!” he cursed. He did not need this kind of problem.
He rushed out of the room and bolted down the stairs.
“You two search the castle for my squire!” he commanded, pointing to a set of soldiers sitting at a gaming table. Then he rushed out the door, going straight to the stables. Throwing the doors wide, he saw Vernon neatly in his stall. Right next to Trojan was Salt's empty stall.
“A week?” Nic asked his horse. “Damn her,” he said, running his hands through his hair.
He should have known better, however, it did not make any sense to Nic that she would run. Behind these fortified walls, it would take a small army for Brentwood to reach her.
He now had a serious problem on his hands. His King was expecting him in three days and he had a runaway bride to deal with.
Promptly making his way back to the house, Nic gathered three men along the way and found Connor giving orders to his steward.
“What is wrong?” Connor saw the tightness around Nic’s mouth, which never boded well.
“Morgan is not upstairs and her horse is gone.”
Connor stared at him in disbelief then shook his head. "And Brentwood and his men are at my gates."
They needed to find her and fast. She was outside the castle walls and in no shape to survive if she began to bleed, if her fever rose, or she came under attack. Any and all were a possibility.
Connor placed a hand on Nic’s shoulder in a show of solidarity; he knew the situation was crucial.
“Nic, we must leave soon. We can’t disobey a royal command no matter the personal cost to us as men. We do not have much time, but we will do what we can in the time we do have. Come, let's rally the men. She probably slipped out when the King’s men came in and the gate was open.”
“So she has several hours on us at this point,” Nic said with reason. "Which might be good given Brentwood is bellowing at the front gates."
“She is probably headed for London, and we are, too." Connor said, hoping that was the case. "Worst case, we ride ahead of the others.”
Connor and Nic made their way into the bailey. Brentwood and nine men were waiting at the gates. He was being detained and not happy about it.
“McKinnon, I demand you return my niece immediately! I know she is here,” Brentwood yelled.
Nic was in no mood. “Go to hell, Lester.” Nic was impatient to begin the search. The longer they delayed the farther she would be from them.
“I have legal right to her,” Lester proclaimed, having no idea the thin ice he was treading.
Nic saw the evil lurking below Lester's surface, and knew this man was the cause of his bride’s mad and insane bid at her freedom.
“No, you don’t have any right to her, not any longer you sadistic bastard.”
“You will deliver her to me at once,” Brentwood demanded, having no idea who he was dealing with.
Nic was quick to counter that command.
“Not on your life would I deliver that girl back into your care.” Nic did not want him to know he was making a run to catch her. The less the bastard knew the better.
“You will regret this, McKinnon,” Brentwood spat as he pulled hard on the bit of his horse, making the poor creature’s mouth bleed.
“Not today and never tomorrow. Now, get out of my way.”
Lester made an aggressive move. Nic pulled his sword. The point pressed to Brentwood’s chest was a fraction away from piercing his black heart. “Dresden, escort this piece of horse shit and his men to the western edge of Holden land. Kill them all if Brentwood so much as acts like he is going to resist,” Nic commanded the Master at Arms.
"Yes, sir. It will be our pleasure to escort him off the property."
“You’re a dead man,” Brentwood said with a hiss as he turned his mount and headed out the gates accompanied by three dozen of Connor’s best men.
Already mounted to ride, Nic and Connor and a party of six turned their horses east into the morning sun to begin their search.
Chapter 34
It did not take long for them to find Morgan. She was no more than a mile from the castle. Nic saw her first and thanked God. They could have flown past her, never expecting her to be so close. Morgan’s crumpled body had pinned Salt's reins beneath her, and that one lucky move was the only thing keeping her and the animal close.
Nic spurred Trojan into a faster pace leaving the party behind. Coming to an abrupt stop, he baled off his horse, just feet from where she lay motionless, face down on the grass.
He braced himself for the worst. The night had been very cold. She was alive, but burning to the touch. Nic knelt down on one knee and picked up her motionless body just as Connor arrived and dismounted.
“Is she alive?” Connor asked grimly. He feared the answer.
“Yes, but barely. She is burning up and she has lost more blood. Here, hand her up to me. And let’s pray to God it is not too late.”
Connor handed her to his friend. Leaning down to receive the bundle his friend offered up, Nic felt a rock in the pit his stomach. Again, he had failed to protect her. If she died, it was his fault.
Once they were back at the castle, Connor dismounting first, took Morgan very gently from Nic’s arms. Turning to make his way back inside, Nic stopped him. If she died, it would be in his arms and in some ways by his hands.
“Connor, give her over. She is my mine to protect. For all the good I’ve done.”
Conner studied his friend and realization struck. By God, Nic was not just falling in love, he already was in love with this woman.
They reached the room, and Nic placed her on the bed then sat beside her in the chair that he had occupied the days before.
“Bring the priest, Connor. She needs the Last Rites and quickly. It cannot wait.” The words almost stuck in Nic’s throat.
Connor turned to go, but stopped in the doorway turning to his friend. “Nic, she needs to hear your voice and feel your strength. Do not give her up for dead.”
Seeing that he was not getting through to Nic, Connor tried another approach.
“Nic, tell when have you ever given up what belonged to you without a fight? If you love her, Brother, then fight for her.”
Nic just looked at Connor as he turned to do his bidding.
>
It did get him to thinking. Did he love her? In his mind, Nic admitted that he had grown to care for her. How that happened, he did not exactly know.
Was it because the King had given her to him, and she belonged to him as Conner had implied? She was his possession, and therefore that is why he cared? No, he doubted that was all there was to it.
Morgan was not a woman any man would ever fully control. Nor should a man want to control her. He knew controlling her would destroy the essence of the real woman.
He loved her spirit, her grit.
“No!” his heart was screaming. “You love her, period.”
It hit him full force. He did love her. Body and soul, he loved her. For so many years, he built walls, keeping those at bay who pursued him. It had never occurred to him he could fall for the one woman who wanted nothing more than to get away from him.
He studied her; she was dying. There was no refuting it. It was in God’s hands, and he prayed for the first time in more years than he could remember. Looking down at her gray, ashen face with the bruises still very vivid, the helplessness he felt was overwhelming. He loved her and he was losing her.
He would not let that happen. If she lived, he vowed he would set her free. That freedom was something she was willing to die to possess. He would marry her and leave her to let her live her life unencumbered. She would be safe from Brentwood and any other predator who might think to posses her for the land and wealth she would bring to them. She was worth so much more than just the title, and she deserved a life on her terms.
The priest quietly entered with Connor just a step behind.
“Father Francis, thank you for coming,” Nic said, standing to greet the spiritual leader of the people of Featherstone.
Father Francis came to the bed and began the last rites. Suddenly, Nic stopped him.
“Stop, Father, not yet. You will marry us first.”
