CHAPTER 13
Derek rarely used the carriage, preferring to ride his horse alongside. But not tonight. He lifted himself up and sat beside his wife, taking in the fragrant smell of wildflowers and herbs. He stole a glance and feasted on her oval face and emerald green eyes rimmed with thick, sooty lashes. Golden streaks, newly bleached by the sun, swirled within her neatly pinned coif and her skin appeared flawless, softly hued with coral. God’s teeth she was beautiful. He wondered if she was aware of how she tortured him with not only her beauty but her quick smile and laughing eyes. The back of her gown dipped low, revealing soft, alluring curves. Even the knot on his head failed to stop him from wanting her. He shook his head before leaning forward to give instructions to the driver.
Hugo helped Odelia and Matti to their seats on the bench behind them. Then he moved to the front to sit alongside the driver in order to help him avoid the larger ruts in the well-used roads.
The castle folk, with Emmon and Shayna in the foreground, waved and said their good-byes, bidding them a safe trip as the horses snorted and stamped their hooves in readiness. The driver jostled the reins and the carriage lurched forward.
Morgan waved goodbye. She waved to the cooks, the maids, the children, and to the two sentries at the gate.
Derek shook his head, staring straight ahead, but soon the corners of his mouth angled upward for her endless exuberance was contagious. She pointed and gasped at every windmill and manor, grabbing his hand or his arm at every turn, causing him to forget that he was angry with her.
Even a team of oxen pulling a man and his wagon caught her attention. Her excitement seemed sincere and he began to wonder if her parents ever let her out of Silverwood in her four and twenty years. He nodded when she pointed out yet another amazement in her eyes—a flock of sheep and endless rolling hills that to everyone else in the carriage was neither here nor there.
‘Twas hours later when they approached the outskirts of Windsor, twenty miles west of London. The tillage lands appeared prosperous and the traffic increased tenfold. Although the sun was setting, there were people traveling the roads, selling their wares and working within the fields.
The horses possessed a gentle gait as they brought the carriage over smoother and wider roads until they reached the long path that led to the castle. The outer gates to Windsor were fitted with double swinging-doors of heavy oak, reinforced with iron.
Amanda held tight to his arm when she caught a glimpse of the huge towers. “What is it?” Derek asked.
“I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong. And, I never should have worn this dress,” she said firmly, gazing downward.
“You belong to me and thus have naught to worry about tonight. As for the dress, ‘twill be the latest in fashion after the king’s court gets an eyeful.”
“I really am sorry about your head.”
“‘Tis what I get for trying to please a woman,” he interrupted before leaning forward to speak to Hugo as they entered the gates. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her wrinkle her nose at him, and he turned full around and pointed at her. “Do you think I do not see that?”
“See what?”
“Those ludicrous faces you make every time I turn around.”
She sighed. “Only a child would do such a thing.”
“Exactly the point I was getting to.”
He stared at her a moment longer, waiting for her nose to wrinkle or her brow to crease. Then he gave up, returning his attentions back to Hugo and the driver.
After the carriage came to a halt, Odelia and the driver stayed behind to take care of their belongings.
Derek detested being late, so he hurried them along, leading them through throngs of well-dressed people and past impeccable gardens and great stone statues.
He knew Amanda was nervous and thus gave her hand a knowing squeeze. Briskly, they made their way past elaborately costumed guards who stood as straight as iron poles with jutting swords at their sides. As they stepped into the main entrance, her eyes widened at the sight of the red carpet sweeping before them in a long, narrow line. At the end of it sat the King of England on his throne.
Morgan tugged frantically at the hem of Derek’s cloak. “Are we supposed to meet the king right now, this very moment?”
“It appears so. Take heed, for he is a kind and gentle man. He will not bite.”
She gave him a lighthearted smile. “I just thought I’d have a chance to look around, warm up to the place. You know, get to know a few dukes and lords first. Maybe fix my hair,” she added.
Derek continued to bring her forward, not bothering to glance back at her. “Your hair needs no adjusting; ‘tis fine as it is.”
All around them, heads turned and conversations dropped off as Derek Vanguard, Lord of Braddock Hall, passed by. Like the parting of the Red Sea, people divided, providing Lord Vanguard and his betrothed a path to the king. These people had no idea that they were already married.
As they came to the end of the crimson path, Morgan gave a semi-practiced curtsy and Derek went into a deep bow.
The king nodded Derek’s way before letting his gaze fall upon her. “You are as beautiful as your father declared,” King Henry said, his voice soft and sweet like that of a young boy’s. He waved a fragile white hand toward Derek. “Did I not tell you she would be a beauty? A treasure fit for a gallant knight such as yourself?” A mischievous grin crossed the king’s face as he extended a pale hand Morgan’s way.
“Aye, that you did,” Derek said, nodding his agreement.
“So, my brave warrior, you hath no reason then to be disagreeable with me in the future, for your eyes fairly betray your fondness for the lady. I do believe she is not the shrew I believe you half expected.” The king squeezed her hand in a playful manner before releasing her fingers altogether.
“My Lord and King,” Derek said, “you have done well by me in this matter as you have in all matters concerning my welfare.”
The king’s lips curved upward before a frown suddenly creased his brow. He leaned forward to inspect Derek’s injury. “I fair say that is a good size knot on your head.”
Morgan directed her gaze to her feet when Derek glanced her way. “It seems my castle has been overrun with children and their slingshots of late,” Derek said.
Thankfully, the king left the matter alone. While the two men chatted, Morgan couldn’t help but stare at King Henry. He had the face of an adolescent and he looked much younger than his twenty-four years. His hair was cut short and his face appeared long and egg shaped. He had eyebrows as pale as his skin and lips that were small and pursed. Granted, he did look like a teenager, but he certainly didn’t seem to be as crazy as the history books stated.
“Let us eat and make merry,” the king said at last. “Our feast is spread before us. We will speak privately of other matters before the morrow,” he said to Derek.
Derek nodded in the affirmative and Morgan curtsied again before they headed back across the velvet-lined floor. “I just met the King of England,” she murmured in disbelief as she walked briskly at Derek’s side.
He glanced down at her with a lazy grin. Then in full view of hundreds of onlookers he leaned low so that his lips could fully meld with hers.
The kiss was fleeting, but long enough to garner a faint chorus of oohs and aahs. Contentment filled her as he straightened and led her through the hall, replete with barons, dukes, lords and ladies. Ardent torches spread a beacon of light throughout the castle and to the outdoors.
The sky was already black, the air warm, and a full moon shone with a marvelous luster. A pleasant scent of pine and lavender drifted from the nearby forest. Scores of bright waxen tapers stood upon the tables, illuminating the savory meats and excellent wines spread out for sampling. They ate, drank, and danced beneath the moonlight.
Morgan’s head reeled giddily from the effects of the wine. An orchestra of lutes together with the sweet smell of flowers and savory foods filled the air, adding to the excit
ement. She easily followed Derek’s steps in a slow medieval waltz as she looked lovingly into his eyes, glimmering dark eyes that burned amber. Her heart pounded wildly, intoxicated by his nearness as she danced with him. Here, in the midst of royalty, she was alone with Lord Vanguard, her husband, and nothing else mattered.
After the dance was over, Derek filled their goblets with a sweet wine. Between sips, Morgan wondered again about the maid he’d rolled with in the gardens. She couldn’t let it go without asking, “Is it true that you had no idea the child you tackled this morning was a grown woman?”
Derek’s mood had softened. “I plead innocence with regard to the incident. She looked like a small child from behind; surely you could see that for yourself. Only when she turned around did I notice she had breasts the size of large melons.”
Morgan poked him in the shoulder at his bluntness.
“Did you not see them for yourself?” he asked incredulously, unaware that he was digging himself deeper into a grave.
She raised a brow. The man was clueless after all. “According to Shayna, that child is almost seventeen, the perfect marrying age,” Morgan informed him.
Derek brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Let us not speak of this now. Besides, it was only because of you that I ended up in the gardens and played with the unruly children to begin with.”
“You make playing with the children sound like some sort of punishment.”
He cocked his head. “‘Tis not?”
She chuckled at his obvious teasing.
“King Henry seemed smitten by you,” Derek said, changing the subject. “I would not be surprised if the king himself will be asking for your hand in marriage ere this night is over.”
“Nice of you to say, but the king has someone else in mind altogether.”
“And who might that be?” he asked. “Although I only ask out of morbid curiosity,” he added, “for I know personally that King Henry has no interest in marriage.”
“Well, if I remember correctly,” she said, “King Henry will try to provide England with an ally against France by marrying one of two daughters of an important count. After that deal falls through, he will form an alliance by marrying Margaret of Anjou instead.” She stroked her chin. “At least I think that’s how it goes.”
“You weave incredible stories, my lady. Will Henry and Margaret have heirs?”
“Well,” she said, glad to have his attention. “They have trouble at first, but finally they do manage to produce a son who they name Edward.” Morgan knew that Derek was fond of King Henry so she wasn’t going to tell him the part about King Henry losing his wits at about the same time his son is born.
“Interesting,” Derek acceded, “but I do believe it would be in your best interest to keep this information to yourself.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I will. I just want to get through this night without much ado.”
Derek set down their cups and guided her back to the makeshift dance floor. He swung her around and let out a short husky laugh as he looked into her eyes.
“What’s so amusing, my lord?”
“It seems, my sweet, that since meeting you, you have made all the jesters in England appear to be dull and tedious in comparison. Thus I was wondering what made you think this night would be any different?”
“Go ahead, laugh at me. See who will be begging for forgiveness later tonight.”
“Unfortunately, it will not be me. The king is unaware of our marriage and I am afraid he would be put off if he knew. During our stay at Windsor we will be forced to endure separate quarters.”
Morgan felt deflated by the news, since they’d already wasted the last few nights arguing about nothing. “Who will I sleep with then?” she teased.
“Not a bloody soul. In fact, you will most likely be busily employed with the interrogations of the king’s ladies, who will be desirous of any news on the distinguished and gallant champion who is your betrothed. You could enlighten the ladies; describe to them how your eyes stick out from thy head whenever your lord is about. Or tell them how thy very breath is seized when he makes love to you.”
The dance came to an end and Morgan nudged him playfully with an elbow. “Enough already. Maybe I will tell them that my betrothed is just another arrogant swine who thinks too highly of himself and they’re the lucky ones to have avoided being trapped with such an arrogant lord.”
Derek shrugged. “Tell the ladies what you like for ‘tis only the truth that matters. And the truth shines almost as brightly as does your smile this night.” He chuckled at the way her brows slanted in mock anger. He plucked her under the chin with a gloved finger.
Morgan sighed and leaned into him. He was right. The arrogant, pompous man was right. To think she even enjoyed his vainglorious, self-worshipping talk. He covered her with part of his mantle to shield her from a sudden breeze. Her insides swirled as he fastened his arm about her shoulder, filling her with a tingly warmth that she wished would last forever.
~~~~
Some things never change, Morgan realized as she stood in a long line for a turn in the garderobe. She and Derek had danced for most of the night before he left her with a duke’s wife and her daughter so that he could go in search of King Henry. It was late and her eyelids were growing heavy. Despite her exhausted state, she cocked her head when she overheard a group of ladies gossiping behind her.
“‘Tis too much to fathom that poor man having to feign happiness when everyone knows he has no wish to marry.”
“Aye,” another lady agreed. “If you look into the depths of Lord Vanguard’s eyes you will see naught but darkness, like endless black caves.”
“‘Tis his own mother’s fault he has no soul,” added another feminine voice. “Abandoning her child and leaving the poor lad in the hands of such an evil man as Simon Vanguard. Horribly unfair.”
“Surely Lady Vanguard would have returned for the boy, though, had she not perished soon after leaving Braddock,” another said.
“‘Twas infection to the lungs that caused her death, was it not?”
Morgan stood still, tried to make sense of it all.
“The disease was Lady Vanguard’s punishment,” an elderly woman added spitefully.
“I disagree,” the other woman said, “for I, too, would have run away if I had been beaten and abused so severely at every turn. Besides, I heard she came back for the boy, but Simon refused her even a glimpse of her own son.”
Morgan heard murmurs of agreement at that last statement. Her breath caught in her throat. Wishing to hear more about Derek’s mother, she was disappointed when her turn came to use the facilities she’d been waiting for. If the women’s words held any truth, then maybe Derek’s mother didn’t abandon him after all; maybe she’d had no choice in the matter like the woman had said.
Within the privacy of the garderobe, Morgan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Not a good idea considering her location. She had to choose between cornhusks or stiff parchment to use as toilet paper, just one more household item she’d come to take for granted. Apparently she’d taken too long since the wooden door nearly came unhinged from all the pushing outside of it.
She opened the door, squeezed past the gossiping ladies with her head down, and hurried back to the main hall. She spotted Derek immediately, involved in a group discussion between various men and ladies. One particular lady at his side caught her full attention. Even through the maze of tall hats and lacy attire, she recognized Leonie. Her shimmering ebony hair beneath an elaborate headpiece and her voluptuous curves gave her away. What was she doing here?
The light from the many candles adorning the wall reflected off Leonie’s face, hinting at a porcelain complexion. The woman was perfection. Morgan’s stomach gurgled as though she’d swallowed a pint of oil. Then a firm hand slid about her bare shoulder and a gentle kiss was placed on her cheek.
“Amanda, my sweet angel,” a masculine voice crooned. “I have missed you so.”
Morgan
recognized Robert’s voice at once. She turned swiftly about. “Robin Hood! What are you doing here?”
He grinned from ear to ear. “You look enchanting this evening. Certainly none-the-worse for having been lodged with that swarthy Vanguard.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” Concerned for Robert’s safety, she glanced about, remembering suddenly the question she’d meant to ask him the last time they’d met. “I do have one question though. Where were you supposed to meet Amanda after she ran from Vanguard’s men in the forest?”
His brows furrowed in consideration as he brought her fingers to his lips. “Wilmead Farm is where we were to meet. I remember it was your idea to go there, in fact.”
Morgan gently pulled her hand from his grasp. “Go to Wilmead Farm, then. If I’m wrong, you can continue to harass me.”
His expression showed puzzlement.
“If you go to Wilmead Farm,” she said, “and find that Amanda isn’t there, you can keep trying to convince me that I am her. I might even believe you. But not until you go there and see for yourself that I’ve been telling you the truth all along.”
She glanced across the crowded room. With his broad shoulders and ebony hair, Derek easily stood out among the multitude of guests. Having him nearby made her feel safe…and happy. Her initial surprise at seeing Leonie dimmed, for she refused to make the same mistake twice. She would talk to Derek and see what was going on.
Robert followed her gaze. Turning back to her, he tried to see her face clearly in the softly lighted room. “Since when have your beautiful ocean-blue eyes turned to emeralds?”
“What?” she asked.
“Your eyes. The scoundrel has dared to change the color of your beautiful blue eyes!”
Morgan shook her head at the absurdity of his statement. “If you would just do as I ask,” she said, “you’ll see that Amanda’s eyes are still as blue as they ever were.” That gave her an idea and she asked excitedly, “Does Amanda have any moles or beauty marks to distinguish her?”
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