by Ruth Kaufman
“Thank God.” She threw herself into his arms. “I was so frightened.”
For the moment he luxuriated in holding her and the way she pressed against him seeking succor.
Then she squirmed, sending bits of wood flying. She slapped the back of her neck and hopped from foot to foot.
“There are things crawling in my hair. Get them out! Out!” she squealed.
Quickly he plucked several spiders from the mass of her tangled hair. “All gone.”
Annora collapsed against him again, clinging as though she’d never let go. “What happened to the men? How did you free yourself?”
Relief washed over him. She hadn’t seen the lightning. The storm. She didn’t know what he was capable of.
“I managed to loosen the ropes. Then I defeated them.” Not a lie. It pained him to twist the truth. But how could he tell her he’d summoned lightning bolts when she wouldn’t believe he was immortal? “Come, we must be on our way.”
“Are they dead?”
“Yes.”
She shuddered, then nodded.
He’d considered merely stunning them. They only acted upon the commands of their leader, who deserved the ultimate punishment. But he needed to send a strong message. He’d do whatever it took to protect Annora.
He carried her through the forest, ducking under branches. She held onto his neck but twined her fingers in his hair, sending waves of desire through him.
“Ap Lewis will be furious,” she said.
“This cat-and-mouse game has gone on for too many years. He and I must settle our differences once and for all. He needs to know I’ll never lead him to my father.”
Unless he got hold of Annora again. But Morgan would never allow that to happen.
Making a man want to put his woman ahead of himself was one of the ways love made a man weak.
“LOVE?” His great-grandfather shouted. “DID YOU SAY LOVE?”
“You are clearly the lunatic, not she,” contributed Great-uncle Reynold.
Shock hit him so hard he almost dropped Annora. For once his relatives were right. He’d done one of the worst things any immortal could do. His best efforts to avoid her temptation had failed miserably. He had fallen in love with a mortal.
A mortal who denied his true self.
Now what? Now he’d abjure his feelings and his desire, despite the pulsing in his loins spurred by Annora placing her hand on his neck. Her merest touch made him want her. But he’d faced countless challenging, painful ordeals and survived. This was his first ordeal of the heart. He’d vanquish here, too.
With bone-wrenching sorrow, he knew he didn’t dare enjoy Annora’s company or permit her to work herself even deeper into his soul. He had to get rid of her as soon as possible so he could get on with his life.
When he no longer had to inhale her enticing scent, see her sweet face, burn to kiss her or catch glimpses of her fair skin that made him want to see more, he’d be cured of this sickness. When she was safe with the guards they’d hire and he didn’t have to worry about her, when he didn’t have the opportunity to take pleasure in the time they spent together, all would be well. He’d be restored. Able to focus again.
That was where his father had gone wrong. Merlin had followed his love, Nimüe, around like a puppy trails its master. He hadn’t tried to be rid of her despite all that was at stake, despite knowing nothing good had ever come of loving mortals. Instead, he’d done everything he could to please her, even sharing his secrets and powers with her as she toyed with his feelings. In the end, she’d tired of him and turned on him. Used her new skills to betray him.
Morgan halted abruptly, Annora still in his arms.
Two painful revelations in two moments. He loved Annora and blamed his father for succumbing to the wiles of a mortal.
Merlin, one of the most powerful wizards in all the land with significant responsibilities, should’ve had the strength, discipline and courage to resist any temptation. Even the enticements dished out by the woman he loved.
As his son did. As his son would.
* * *
Annora relished being held against Morgan’s chest as she waited for her heart to stop pounding. Her terror had ebbed enough for her to notice that his hair felt like silk against her fingers.
He had saved her. How blessed she was to have such a strong, devoted man on her side. He even took the trouble to hold back branches so they wouldn’t smack her in the face as he trudged through the forest.
Morgan helped her mount her horse. The feel of his hands on her waist made her wish he’d touch her somewhere else. She avoided looking in the direction of the oak tree as they rode away.
They continued toward Amberton, their silence more companionable than before. Annora decided to put the events of Ninian’s shop behind her. Maybe she’d been putting too much weight on the scale of fearing his outlandish beliefs had to keep them apart. Clearly Morgan would do anything for her, except for “very good reasons” Ninian had said, tell her about his past. So she’d concentrate on their future.
The future she hoped he’d spend with her. If only there was a way to be close to him again. She would find one.
Chapter 15
“At last, the moment I’ve been waiting for,” Annora said.
And dreading.
The familiar crenellated walls of Amberton awaited, as did her confrontation with Roger. Excitement and pride mingled with uncertainty.
Proof in hand, Morgan and John Twyn, sheriff of the shire, at her back with the ten armed guards she and Morgan had hired, she should be secure in her home in no time.
Then Morgan would leave her, forever. Unless she convinced him to stay and believed he cared about her in return. If she failed, she’d pack him enough food for an army, offer the best mount in her stables and watch him go without shedding a single tear.
Something about the incident in the forest had changed Morgan. He’d held her so close, been so tender after the attack, she’d hoped things would be better. They weren’t. After he’d carried her out of the woods and deposited her on her horse, he’d pushed them to ride harder than before. He held himself rigidly and acted annoyingly aloof.
He needed to stay on alert in case more men pursued them, he said. That might form part of his reasoning, but not all. Something new drove him.
Morgan had basically ignored her since they reached Hollywell, the largest village near Amberton, met with the sheriff and hired the guards at yet another inn. He’d spoken less, smiled less. Somehow she knew he wasn’t upset with her, but with himself. His actions proved there was no place for her in his present. But what about his future?
Last night had been most difficult of all. Annora had waited for Morgan to initiate a night of blissful lovemaking. He hadn’t, leaving her alone. Abandoned.
Refusing to give up hope that he still wanted her, she summoned audacity and moved to his side of the bed. Boldly she reached for him in the darkness, sliding her hand over his chest and shoulders. Anticipation sparked her desire.
A soft groan escaped him, then he stiffened. Not his manhood, his whole body.
“No, Annora.”
His harsh tone seared her with embarrassment. When he took her hand and lifted it from him, she thought she’d expire from shame.
Whatever closeness they’d shared evaporated into the mist. No longer lovers, they were strangers once more. If he distanced himself from her to ease their eventual parting, she might’ve been able to handle that. She had the feeling there was another reason.
The pain of Morgan’s rejection still haunted her. She wouldn’t give up. What they shared, could share, was worth the risk to her pride.
He didn’t ride beside her the next day, but ensured at least one guard separated them. At the moment, he hung back, bringing up the rear.
Dark clouds swirled overhead and a chill wind blew as the group halted outside Amberton Castle’s closed gate.
The sheriff kneed his horse and rode to the front. “Open the gate!
”
Annora didn’t recognize the guard who peered over the wall, then conferred with his fellow. Moments later the gate opened. Her heart lifted.
Home, at last.
The stable boys, brown-haired brothers, couldn’t conceal their surprise as Annora and the rest rode in.
“Lady Annora! You’ve come back to us!” the oldest, Alan, cried.
“Saints be praised. Have you been cured?”
Gossip spread so quickly Annora knew the entire staff would hear whatever answer she gave within the hour. She’d been so focused on Morgan and his treatment of her that she hadn’t given much thought to the most politic way to frame her return. Saying she’d been cured would give credence to Roger’s accusations that she’d been ill.
Best to run with the stark truth.
Annora dismounted without aid. She released Primrose, who bounded away, clearly glad to be in familiar surroundings. Handing Moonshadow’s reins to Alan, she said, “Boys, I was never ill. My uncle Roger made everyone think I was so he could take Amberton from me. He told many lies to everyone.”
“Roger said you were so sick you were in a hospital and might never get well,” Alan said.
So that’s how he’d explained her absence. “Another lie. I had to leave to get help. You see my new guards. Roger will trouble us no more. All will be well now.”
Followed by a growing troop of eager onlookers, Annora led the way into the great hall. Her heart lifted at the familiar stone walls, the sun streaming through her arched windows. Until she spotted Roger. Her smile faded.
He sat at the high table in what she still thought of as her father’s chair, enough platters of food to feed a small village arrayed before him. A bottle of wine lay on its side, dripping its remnants onto soiled rushes. Blotchy red stains marred his velvet tunic.
Roger waved his cup in greeting as he chomped on a turkey leg, a dissipated potentate. Except the kingdom, such as it was, belonged to her.
Was his drinking another facet he’d managed to hide from the king and Lord Hastings?
In a few short weeks, Amberton had declined from a well-managed, immaculate castle to a rotten, food ridden pigsty. In fact, a pig seeking scraps actually wandered amongst her three hounds as they made their way to her. It snorted when one snatched a juicy tidbit away. Annora gasped, her stomach twisting.
“Well, well. What have we here? Annora, the prodigal daughter, returns,” Roger said. “How did you manage to find your way back? I so feared for you, so worried for your safety, my beloved niece, a lunatic loose in the world, it drove me to drink. We’re fortunate you’re alive. But you don’t look well.” He laughed, then snapped his fingers. “Aldo, Jack. Accompany her to her chamber at once. Don’t you see how pale she is? She’ll need much quiet and rest.”
Two of his unkempt thugs hastened toward her. Annora felt no fear. Roger wouldn’t prevail this time.
“I’ve brought someone who wants to talk to you, Roger,” she announced.
Morgan stood silently by her side as Sheriff John Twyn strode forward. Her guards arranged themselves behind him as they drew their swords.
“Sir Roger Scrope, I hereby place you under arrest. You have unjustly and without judgment disseised Lady Annora of Amberton of her lands. You have willfully entered wrongly on her property and used force against her,” he proclaimed loud enough for all to hear.
A smile threatened to break through her calm expression. She’d accomplished more than she’d thought herself capable of. Escaped captivity, secured proof of her health, and would soon unseat Roger. Built a powerful team by securing aid from Morgan, Ninian, and Hastings. She couldn’t wait to restore her home to cleanliness and peace.
Roger drained his cup, then rose unsteadily. “What falsehoods are these? Lady Annora needed me, her closest male relative, to care for her. She invited me to stay and look after her properties. She can’t take care of herself. Everyone here knows this. Sheriff, I’m sorry for your trouble. Please join me. Perhaps you’ll indulge in a meal and cup of wine before you go. You and your men.” He waved the empty bottle at a servant. “You there, fetch me another.”
Roger’s silken tongue couldn’t sway the sheriff or the new guards. Yet she fought swirling apprehension.
John Twyn, short, stout with a broad, square face and hair the color of corn silk, said, “You may make your plea, but not to me,” the sheriff said. “All is in these writs of novel disseisin and trespass vi et armis. We also possess a writ of entry. You, sir, must depart at once or face the consequences.”
“Those writs are false. You can’t believe Annora. She’s very ill. A lunatic. She’ll weave lies, say anything to get her way,” Roger said.
Morgan replied, “She is not a lunatic and never was. We also bear proof of that from one of King Edward’s own physicians, William Hattecliffe.”
Her people gasped and oohed at the news, then murmured busily.
Annora couldn’t contain the satisfaction washing over her at Morgan’s defense. She wanted to throw her arms around him.
Roger turned almost as red as the wine. “Lies, lies I tell you! Good people of Amberton. See that man beside your ailing lady. He’s Morgan ap Myrddin, and has concocted these untruths to confuse you. I saw him at the king’s court, where everyone, even the king’s chamberlain, knows he wants Annora and her lands for himself. He is not a goodly knight, but a usurper. He has come to displace me, her uncle. Her family and true guardian.”
The sheriff turned to Morgan. “Is this true? You did accompany the lady in pursuit of these writs. Tell me you aren’t planning to be the next to deceive her. Do you want the lady and her lands?”
“We’re wasting time,” Annora said. “We have proof of all I say from the king’s chamberlain. Roger has none. Enforce the writs. Send Roger on his way.”
“I need to get to the bottom of this mess,” the sheriff insisted. “Do you, sir, want the lady and her lands?”
Annora’s throat tightened against his answer.
Morgan’s expression revealed nothing. “I aided her to repay a debt. And to protect her from Roger’s evil.”
Her heart sank, but she wouldn’t let a glimmer of hurt show. There it was, then. Chivalry and duty were his aims. Morgan didn’t want her. Hearing him declare so before all of Amberton made the pain worse. At least they didn’t know how she much she cared about him. Unless he kept his real reasons close?
“And that debt would be?” the sheriff asked.
“Not relevant,” Morgan said. “It’s been paid. What matters is that Annora is restored to her rightful place and her uncle displaced. I’ll no longer be part of this, because I’m leaving tomorrow morning. That’s my proof.”
So soon. Annora’s heart sank further. Her joy at returning home and defeating Roger, at her achievements, dimmed. There wasn’t enough time to figure out how to encourage him to stay. Would he give her this last night? They could find a way to be together without anyone knowing.
What if she made sure they were found together? He might marry her. But he’d resent being trapped and she’d never forgive herself for doing it.
The sheriff tapped his booted foot. “Very well. Sir Roger, I hereby command—”
“You were traveling together. With no chaperone. Whore. Slut,” Roger hissed.
Annora gasped. If this went any further, her reputation would be ruined. She didn’t care what words Roger threw at her, but the censure of her people would be hard to bear.
What irony. One reason she hadn’t accused Roger of attacking her was to preserve her good name. Embarrassment and shame had ruled within. Now, though Morgan had restored her with his lovemaking and she wanted him with all her heart, she could be ruined.
How could she put an end to Roger’s accusations?
Morgan tensed, as if restraining himself from attacking Roger. “Sheriff, this isn’t an inquest. Neither Annora nor I are on trial. Please deliver your writs so the people of Amberton can be about their duties.”
“So I sh
all,” the sheriff agreed. “Sir Roger, you have one hour to gather your possessions, and we’ll make certain each item you seek to take is yours.”
“I’ll appeal to the courts posthaste. You haven’t seen the last of me.” Roger stormed off in a huff.
Relief rushed out of Annora on a huge sigh. “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate your help. May I offer you some food and drink while you wait for Roger to pack?”
He’d be gone soon and no one would learn what she and Morgan were to each other. Their joyous nights would live on only in her memories. In her dreams. Better than nothing?
“Despite the squalor you now see, Amberton yields an excellent board,” she continued, gathering tears making it hard to talk. She had to act the hostess and lady even as her heart shattered.
The sheriff bowed. “My thanks, Lady.”
“Where is my steward?” Annora asked. “He needs to show my guards to their quarters.”
“He’s been dismissed,” piped up Kerwyn, the cook. “William Burneby and Sir Roger were always at odds.”
“I’ll take them, Lady Annora,” volunteered Henry, one of her erstwhile guards who’d fallen in with Roger. He went down on one knee. “If you’re willing to forgive me for believing Sir Roger’s lies. For not defending you.”
“My thanks. I accept your apology, for I know how persuasive my uncle can be. My dearest wish is that we can put the entire affair from our minds and be as we were.”
Annora froze. What she wouldn’t give to take back those words. What if Morgan thought she’d been talking about him in addition to Roger?
She’d never feel the same. Knowing and caring for Morgan had changed her forever. She swung around.
From the coldness in his eyes, now palest blue, she knew he’d taken her statement as a personal dismissal. He bowed stiffly, then left with the guards. Did he plan to sleep in the barracks and not under her roof?
“Morgan….”
“My lady, we’re so low on flour and eggs, I don’t know if I’ll be able to prepare a decent meal,” the cook complained.
