My Once & Future Love (Unsung Knights of the Round Table #1)

by Ruth Kaufman

  “Sir Roger dismissed several of us, saying their wages were better spent on other things. Will you bring them back?” Her housekeeper, Margaret.

  Her remaining staff, including Emma, enveloped her. So much to do, to repair. As soon as she was able, she’d go to Morgan and explain.

  * * *

  Morgan said no once. Don’t go to him. It’d be too demeaning.

  This is your last chance. Won’t you feel worse when he’s gone if you don’t try?

  Hours and many completed tasks later, after standing with her guards as the sheriff escorted Roger out, two women argued in Annora’s mind as she removed her travel-stained garb. One bold and brave, willing to risk any hurt to pursue her lover, the other cowardly and unsure because she’d already been rejected outright. Would the awkwardness of that incident ever leave her? She didn’t know if she could put herself through the pain again.

  But what if Morgan regretted turning her away?

  Then he’d come to you.

  He should come to me. Unless he feared for her reputation. Unless he truly wanted to leave things as they were and not reawaken their passion.

  For a single night, Morgan would sleep on her lands. Then he’d go, and she’d never know how he fared or where he was. Or if he found contentment in another woman’s arms. More happiness than he found with her. She shuddered.

  Her defeat of Roger, her triumphant return, the flood of apologies from her servants for not doing more to support her, should make her overjoyed. Morgan’s impending departure diminished the satisfaction. He was all she could think of as their last moments ticked away. She was tempted to wait by the gate so she could see him once more, could at least bid him Godspeed.

  How she cared for him.

  How she loved him.

  Annora gasped as the truth hit her. Her feelings for Morgan had grown so strong, but because of his impending departure and outrageous stories about being immortal, she’d refused to name them. Her heart ached with her discovery. He’d never know.

  Which was for the best, for he obviously didn’t love her in return. If he did, he’d be with her now, relishing their last night. Promising to return.

  Pathetic and painful, unrequited love. No wonder romances and bards spoke so often of it. How long did the soul-deep aching last?

  Annora climbed into bed, her own bed with its fresh-smelling, soft linens and Primrose curled up in her customary spot at the foot. A nicely stuffed mattress, at last. But she tossed, then turned, unable to relax. She hopped out of bed and ran to the door. With her hand on the latch, she paused.

  He doesn’t want you.

  She wouldn’t sleep tonight. Her large room with its familiar tapestries and furnishings somehow felt lonely, confining, though she could leave at any time. Because Morgan wasn’t in it.

  She pulled a silk robe over her thin wool sleeping gown and went to her garden near the kitchen. With Roger gone and her guards in place, she knew she was safe. How wondrous to have the freedom of her own home again, something most people took for granted.

  Winking stars comforted her. Surprisingly, she’d come to take pleasure in sleeping outside, and appreciated watching the stars before she fell asleep and waking with the sun. Waking with Morgan nearby.

  She took a deep breath, seeking solace. Aimlessly she strolled past herbs growing near the gate, past the vegetable garden where remnants of onions, garlic and leeks resided. Ivy climbed the stone walls, and autumn gentians bloomed profusely beneath four apple trees in the rear. Moonlight turned the flowers an eerie bluish-white.

  She bit back a scream. A man lay on the ground in the shadows beneath the rowan tree. He turned at her approach, moonlight glinting off his silver hair.

  Morgan. He too had needed the freedom of the night sky.

  All the feelings she had for him rushed to the fore. She yearned to declare her love, but feared he’d reject her again.

  “Morgan. How can I thank you for all you’ve done?” If immortality and magic existed, he was the quintessence…still, serene, beautiful with his eyes seeming to glimmer, a moonglow halo around him. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t guided and supported me. Or I would, still locked in my room with Roger presiding as lord of my manor.”

  “You are most welcome.” His eyes were her favorite shade, a rich blue green. The color they’d been when he made love to her.

  “Do you need anything for your journey? More blankets, food? All that I have is yours. That is, all that Roger hasn’t used or spent.”

  Concern darkened his gaze. “What has he done now?”

  “My housekeeper and steward will help me take a thorough inventory tomorrow. So far I know he let some of my staff go, sold some of my mother’s best plate, and ate and drank his way through a mound of stores without replenishing them.” She plucked a cluster of bright red berries from the tree and toyed with it. “’Tis a shame Roger ended up like this. His father poisoned his mind, convincing him Amberton should be his. Instead of pursuing other options, Roger spent his life lying in wait and plotting against me.”

  “Do you think he’ll give up?”

  “No. I think each defeat makes him more determined. Maybe my uncle suffers from his own form of madness. But I’m no longer vulnerable and trusting. And I have armed guards to keep him from my door,” she said. “You face a long journey. What can I offer to ease your way?”

  “The nights grow cold even for me. If you had a cloak to spare, I’d appreciate it.”

  A cloak was all he wanted of her now. Nothing more intimate than that. Her heart shriveled. “Then you shall have one. And as soon as my finances are in order, Ninian shall have her coin.”

  Silence. He sat on his blanket, arms wrapped around his knees. She stood beside him. With all they’d been to each other, there was so much left to say she didn’t know where to begin. If she did, she might not be able to stop the flood from spilling forth.

  All that matters is how I feel when I’m with you. I’m sorry if I hurt you by not realizing that days ago. I’m sorry I can’t believe you. But I can still love you. Kiss me. Tell me you still want me. Make me feel wonderful again. Don’t ever leave.

  “I’ll be off at first light.”

  As if she needed the reminder that they only had a few hours left. “So you’ve said. My best wishes for success with your father and Jankyn ap Lewis. I hope you find peace. Will you…will you send word how you fare?”

  Morgan rose, his face so dear to her perfectly enhanced by moonlight. She’d always remember him, just like this.

  “Aye, Annora. From time to time. If that’s what you desire.”

  She desired far more than a mere letter from time to time. She desired him, and knew she’d never stop. For the first time, Annora believed in magic. She’d fallen under his spell, a spell of love.

  God help her, she loved Morgan, this incredibly handsome, caring, strong and mysterious man. Why had it taken so long to accept the depth of her feelings? Because she feared she couldn’t bear giving her heart to someone who wouldn’t offer his in return. Who didn’t want her love in the first place.

  The man she loved would soon walk out of her life without knowing how she felt about him. Without even kissing her farewell.

  Not if she could help it.

  She stepped closer. He didn’t retreat. A good sign.

  “Morgan, you were right,” she began. “I’ve been a stubborn fool to place so much credence on what came before we met. All that matters is how I feel when I’m with you. I’m sorry if I hurt you by not realizing that days ago.” She put her arms around his waist. He didn’t reciprocate, but he didn’t remove hers, either. “Kiss me. Tell me you still want me. Make me feel wonderful one last time.”

  Almost all of the words she longed to say. She just couldn’t confess her love. Or beg him to stay. Though that was her dearest wish, he’d told her too many times about the importance of his goals.

  Morgan took hold of her arms as if he was about to push her away. She held on tigh
ter and leaned into him. “Don’t refuse me. Don’t send me away again. Unless…you don’t want this. Unless you don’t want me.”

  * * *

  Annora felt so good in his arms. Too good. And she looked too beautiful. Moonlight turned her hair a vibrant red. The low-cut sleeping gown beneath her robe revealed the enticing curves of her breasts. Her rose scent would haunt him always. Already his erection pressed against his hose, eager to be inside her once more.

  Annora’s arrival at the evening meal marked the first time he’d seen her garbed according to her station. She’d taken his breath away. He’d admired her in the simple gown she wore when they first met, found her irresistible in tight boy’s hose, but fine and well-fitted fabrics emphasized the glory of her auburn tresses and hugged her curves in a most flattering way. A gold necklace set off her creamy skin to perfection. He wanted her then and he wanted her more now.

  “The gods help me, I do want you, Annora. I always have. I’ve tried not to. It’ll be hard enough for me to leave you as it is. If we make love again I fear ’twill be impossible.” He slid his hands into her hair, cool and soft against his fingers. “I’ve never desired a woman as much as you, nor cared for anyone so deeply. Can you be content with that?”

  “No,” she whispered. “I need more. Much more. Morgan, I love you.”

  Morgan clutched her tight, his heart closer to breaking than it’d been in his hundreds of years. He loved her and she loved him. Wondrous.

  As much as he yearned to, he couldn’t reciprocate the confession. Because if he did, he knew she’d never give up until they were together for the rest of her life.

  If only love was all that mattered.

  In the end, being with Annora would destroy him on many levels. He’d fail his people, for an immortal should marry his destined mate. Watching her grow old and die would devastate him. If his children were mortal, watching them die years later would prolong the agony. If they were immortal, they’d be outsiders as he was.

  Would the joy of the years he and Annora would share, the joy of raising children with her, outweigh his future pain? He could seek his destined mate after she died. What were a couple of decades to him? But he knew he’d never want another wife. No woman could compare to Annora. She’d ruin him for all others. Maybe she already had.

  He released her. Her smile faded, perhaps because he hadn’t spoken the words she wanted to hear. She licked her lips and looked at the bright berries in her hand. Did she know rowan twigs were used to ward off evil and protect against enchantments? He should be safe beneath this tree, then, from the spells her beauty and spirit wove around him.

  “Annora, sweet, that means more than I can say. But wanting and loving are two different things. You love what you see. I’m more than flattered. But you don’t love me as I am. Because you don’t know everything about me.”

  “I know all I need to know. Kiss me, Morgan. Don’t let us leave things without sharing each other again. Right here, right now.”

  His blood pulsed with the need to make love with her.

  “Don’t send me away as you did the other night. I couldn’t bear it. Give me these few hours. I’ll never ask more of you,” Annora pleaded.

  His heart wrenched. She wouldn’t have to ask because he wanted nothing more than to give. How could he deny the woman he loved her final request? How could he deny himself what he most wanted?

  Morgan took her face between his hands and kissed her with all the love inside him. He couldn’t say the words, couldn’t divulge the power she had over him. He’d show her.

  His mouth moved on hers, their tongues mating. Though he was more than ready for her, he wanted to make this slow and special. So neither of them would ever forget.

  Annora clearly had something else in mind. She kissed him with passion, urgent and bold, hands roaming, rubbing herself against him as if she couldn’t get enough. Each time she brushed against his groin he thought he’d erupt with pleasure. She pulled off her clothes, standing before him in the tree-dappled moonlight, dazzling as a goddess. Orange-red rowan leaves floated down to decorate her hair as they adorned his blanket.

  Need raged within him, hot as the flame that forged his sword. Morgan tossed his clothes to land on bushes, branches. He swept her into his arms and laid her gently on the blanket.

  Her nipples puckered, from the night’s chill or from desire.

  “You’re so beautiful. I want to cherish every inch of you,” he said.

  “Cherish me later,” she whispered, reaching for him. “I want you inside me now.”

  Annora guided him into her. He groaned as her silky wetness closed around him, squeezing him just so. Magnificent. Slowly he slid in and out, savoring each sensation.

  She gasped softly with each stroke. As she met every thrust with a push of her hips, her gasps turned to soft moans. Her pleasure sounds drove him wild. She encouraged him to go deeper, harder, her hands on his hips urging him to move faster, leading him toward a paradise he’d never imagined.

  Higher, higher, he flew, a hawk soaring toward the sun. The light grew brighter, hotter. She clasped her legs around his back. He exploded.

  Annora gripped his shoulders and drew him close. He turned, bringing her atop him. She smiled and kissed him, slow and deep.

  “I love you, Morgan ap Myrddin. I always will.” She settled against him and rested her head on his shoulder, her hair blanketing his chest.

  Tears gathered as his arms tightened around her. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been moved to cry. Their incredible lovemaking combined with her heartfelt words had unlocked his hardened, jaded heart. A drop slithered down his cheek.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. Was the darkness lifting, making way for dawn? No, not yet.

  He’d been so immersed in their lovemaking, in his desire for her, it hadn’t even occurred to him to worry that they might have made a child. He shivered.

  “Are you cold?” she asked.

  “Never, when I’m with you.”

  She smiled down at him, her eyes aglow. “Let’s do that again.”

  Chapter 16

  Morgan awoke with a start, Annora still wrapped in his arms. After enjoying several bouts of lovemaking that exhausted even him, they’d fallen asleep. Together. He liked that too much.

  The glow of daybreak rose over the garden walls. Birds chirped cheerily, contrasting with his grim mood. Their respite from reality had ended.

  “Annora, you must go inside.”

  Night had concealed them, but anyone might find them now. In her world as in his, reputation, not reality, was often what mattered most.

  “Sweet, wake up. Hurry now.”

  She sat, unbelievably delectable with her tousled hair and sleepy eyes, deep red ivy on the walls a perfect backdrop to her beauty. She glanced at the sky, at him, then jumped up and pulled on her robe.

  “Morgan, I—”

  Women laughed beyond the gate. If they happened to peer over the wall….

  He picked a bunch of blue gentians, then thrust the flowers into her hand. “Take these. Go, Annora.”

  With a quick kiss, she ran into the castle.

  Morgan hated to let her go. They hadn’t said goodbye. He’d never be alone with her again. He felt emptier than when his powers had faded after ap Lewis shot him. As if his heart had gone with her.

  Annora was temptation in the flesh. How could he resist the lure of her enchantments, stronger than those practiced by any immortal he’d ever known?

  The protection of the rowan tree couldn’t compete with the power of Annora’s magic.

  * * *

  Annora fled into the castle, a morass of emotions draining her. How could she savor the satiation from their garden interlude when her face burned with embarrassment at almost being seen in her lover’s embrace? She didn’t care what they thought, but didn’t want to be caught in the act, either. After being judged for her “madness,” she didn’t need more scrutiny. This hasty escape wouldn’t
turn the most exceptional night of her life into something to be ashamed of.

  She clutched the flowers as she hurried, wishing they were a thoughtful gift but knowing they represented a flimsy excuse as to why she was up and about so early if she ran into a servant before reaching her room.

  Her heart ached. The only man she’d ever loved refused to make her part of his future. She’d given him everything she had to give, loved him as best she knew how, but it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough.

  Because she was mortal. A bitter laugh escaped her.

  She plopped onto her bed and lay there almost in a stupor until Emma arrived to help her dress for this painful day.

  “You have rowan leaves in your hair,” Emma noted. She pursed her lips.

  Annora wouldn’t blush as her maid plucked them out one by one. She had a pathetic impulse to press each vibrant leaf between the pages of a book as a reminder of their night together.

  That night was all they’d ever have, for later this morning she’d have to bid him farewell.

  * * *

  In a life full of trials, this had to be the most difficult, most heartrending Morgan had faced. Fasting for days to strengthen his spirit, endless hours of combat training to learn to prevail against enemies, years of complex work in the magical arts combined with exercises to manipulate his powers, all paled compared to this.

  But he couldn’t abandon his father or his race, even for the woman he loved. Whether she believed him or not. He wished he could make her understand.

  As he broke his fast in the hall, he thought he’d drown in the grateful thanks Annora’s staff poured upon him for saving their lady. He wasn’t accustomed to such compliments, such approval. To feeling like anyone’s lord. If they knew who he really was, they’d shun him. Yet he was weak enough to welcome and enjoy their praise, to warm inside as if he ate soup on a winter’s day.

  Now he and Annora stood in the bailey surrounded by many others who’d come to see him off.

  Clear skies promised a pleasant day. To keep the weather from changing, he tamped down deep regret. Annora didn’t know the real man. Now she never would. How foolish and vain he’d been to want the woman he loved to love him and his powers. How foolish to yearn to be accepted for his true self.