Yep…she would miss him all right.
After the king’s cortege escorted him off, she rushed back to Derek’s room and noticed right away that his position on the bed was lopsided. He had moved!
She walked briskly to his bedside, excited by the possibility that he might awake soon. She went to the table to fetch some broth, hoping she could get him to eat.
Derek watched her out of the corner of his eye, surprised to see her here. As she turned back toward him, he closed his eyes and feigned sleep.
Morgan set the cup and spoon at the table by the bed and began adjusting the pillows behind his head, positioning him so that she could feed him. Derek groaned, a long, pitiful sound.
Morgan found a damp cloth and began dabbing at his forehead. “There, there, it’ll be okay.”
He smiled inwardly and yet he did not open his eyes. Instead, he gave an exaggerated moan and twisted his head into her soft breasts that were laid before him as she leaned close.
“Derek,” she said, placing her soft hands on both sides of his whiskered face. “It’s time for you to wake up. Please wake up.”
He groaned louder.
Gently, she laid her head in the crook of his good arm. Derek managed another peek as she whispered soothing words, wincing when a searing pain shot up his side.
She jerked back. “Derek, you’re awake!”
He gave her a pitiful look through one squinted eye and said, “Aye, but I feel as if I am dying.” He shut his eyes.
“Tell me where it hurts.” The desperation in her voice surprised him.
He pointed to his neck. She bent lower to take a look and he opened his eyes and smiled.
“You—you faker.” Her smile broadened as she moved closer and kissed him firmly on the lips.
His fingers brushed the soft curls about her neck. He slid his hand upward and unclasped the pin that held her hair, letting the glistening locks fall past her shoulders and graze at his chest. She kissed his forehead, his nose, and his chin. Her hands trembled. “I love you,” she said into his ear.
Weakly, he maneuvered himself so that he could look into her eyes. “Say it again,” he demanded.
“I love you.”
“What about…”
She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. I love you.”
He groaned with a combination of passion and pain as she brushed her lips against his again and again.
“Oh dear,” Matti said when she shot through the door and caught them together. “Hugo, I thought you said Lord Vanguard was thirsty. Why did you not tell me his lordship was busy?”
“I was not aware,” Hugo said in his defense, grinning at the sight.
Derek tried to wave them away with a feeble gesture of his big toe.
“Verily he does not look so bad,” Matti said as she followed Hugo back out the door, their hands fully occupied with trays.
The door closed and then opened again; both Derek and Morgan looked over at Hugo as he entered and placed the platter of food and the pitcher of water just inside the door before making a hasty exit.
They chuckled in unison as Hugo hurried off.
“You do need to eat,” Morgan said. She left his bedside and retrieved the tray of food. She filled a cup with cold water and brought it to his lips.
He swallowed, drank some more and said softly, “So what have you been doing while I have been out of commission?”
“I’ve been attending great feasts,” she said with exaggerated glee. “Meeting dukes and lords and so many earls that I can’t recall all of their names.” She laughed at his scowl, adding sincerely, “I’ve been worrying about you, that’s what I’ve been doing.”
He looked thoughtful. “So you love me, you say? ‘Tis because you think I am this Earl of Kensington you speak so fondly of?”
Morgan laughed. “You are the Earl of Kensington. Maybe not officially yet, but you are him—positively, absolutely. If it would make you feel better though, I loved you even when I thought you were just a lowly lord.” She smiled at his continued frowning and her voice softened considerably. “Almost losing you made me see the extent of my love for you.” Her eyes glazed. “When I thought you might not live to hear the words, I couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to tell you. I have learned that anything can happen. Anything at all…at any moment, at any time…I wanted you to know how I feel. No matter what happens you must know that I love you.”
Derek felt something strange happening within. Could it be that his wife, his sorceress, had chipped away at the stone walls so strongly built around his heart? Could his desire for her be something else entirely? Could it be love? The pain in his chest was deep, a persistent ache so unlike the wrenching agony of his shoulder. Aye, he thought, the affection he felt for her was based on benevolence and admiration, not just lust and desire. And yet his throat closed seemingly of its own accord for he could not bring himself to say the words in return. Her talk of being someone else, and now of his being the Earl of Kensington, prevented him from trusting her fully.
Morgan lifted her head from his good shoulder and placed a grape in his mouth. He kissed her fingertips. She slid her fingers over his whiskered jaw and made a feathery path over his temple and to his forehead. This was the face she’d longed to see as a child. The invisible face behind the iron mask. These were the hard planes of his jaw and cheeks. She slid her fingertips across his thick brow.
He closed his eyes.
Derek Vanguard was the reason she was here in this century. How odd that he could call her through time. How odd that she had immediately felt as if she belonged in this strange unfamiliar time. Bending forward, she kissed his forehead, and then the bridge of his sturdy nose. She traced a downward path with her mouth until she buried her head within his neck again and savored the moment.
Derek tilted his chin and listened to her sniffles. “Why do you cry?”
“Happiness, lack of sleep, mostly relief that you’re alive,” she said. She lifted her head so she could peer into his eyes. “It’s taken me so long to find you.” She wiped her eyes. “And now that I have…I never want to leave you.”
He placed his good arm halfway about her and said reassuringly, “Then you have naught to cry about, do you?”
CHAPTER 15
“You are doing extremely well, my dear. Don’t bend forward overly much. You must keep a stiff upper back…aye, much better.”
Morgan did as King Henry said, straightening her spine until she thought her backbone would snap from the strain. King Henry was teaching her to ride a horse of all things and she didn’t like it one bit. This was her third day of riding instructions and the insides of her thighs felt like bruised peaches.
But how do you deny the King of England? More than anything she wanted to leave Windsor with her head still firmly attached to her shoulders. If Henry VI was anything like Henry VIII, she was doomed.
After Derek regained consciousness, the king had insisted they stay until he was fully recovered. His Majesty had been just as persistent in his request that she join him and his retinue in a ride about the countryside. Morgan had courteously declined and that seemed well and fine until Henry learned of her fear of horses. After that, His Majesty decided it was his duty to take her under his wing, firmly instructing, thoroughly explaining, and artfully drilling her on the joys of riding horseback.
Morgan disagreed. There wasn’t an ounce of euphoria to be grasped as the king had promised, especially when he clicked his tongue and the beast reared up on his hind legs.
But how do you argue with a king?
So here she sat for the third day in a row, her spine as stiff as a steel rod while she sat upon a fine white palfrey, feeling no cheer, only cowardly angst instead.
The king’s attentiveness seemed a bit much at first. After a few days though, she grew accustomed to the monarch’s mothering. He was a kind and gentle man, much too nice to be king, she thought. She’d tried to hint about nice guys f
inishing last, but he’d launched into a squeal of merriment as if she’d told a great one-liner.
~~~~
“Loosen up on the reins,” Derek overheard the king say as he came toward them, his gait stiff and slow and his arm in a sling. He stood beside King Henry and watched as his wife did exactly as the king bid her.
“Good to see that you are well,” King Henry said merrily to Derek as he watched his student with a stern eye. “How is it that she does not know how to ride? I have never heard of such a thing.”
“So you see it, too?” Derek asked.
“See what?” the king asked, thoroughly baffled by the question.
“Emmon McBray,” Derek said, pausing to watch with strained muscles as his wife made an unsteady circle around the field. Derek let out a relieved breath when the horse slowed its gait with Amanda still atop its back. “Emmon McBray, a young knight who escorted Lady Amanda back from Silverwood, swore she could ride a horse as well as any man. But after seeing her ride my horse I had to question him on it.”
The king laughed heartily. “Tell this Emmon McBray he is surely blind for before I took the matter into my own hands, the woman would not touch a horse unless the devil himself were after her.”
Derek frowned at that.
The king’s countenance grew serious. “I have been meaning to speak to you of my recently made plans.”
Derek nodded, letting His Majesty know that he was listening.
“I am to marry.”
Derek hid his surprise in a cough. He glanced at his wife to see if she was in on the jest. “Not Margaret of Anjou, I suppose?” Derek asked with a bit of humor.
The king paled and his brows slanted with concern. “How did you become enlightened of such news?”
Derek scratched at the back of his neck. “I overheard some people talking. Before I had a chance to see who it was, music filled the hall and the dancing had begun. Only speculation I am certain.” He nearly growled as he looked again toward his wife, wishing he had said naught, never imagining that she spoke the truth about whom King Henry would marry.
The king eyed him closely for a minute. “Good, then I will not fret over it. The news will be made public soon enough. Mayhap after you are wed, we can go over the details and I could receive your advice on the matter.”
Derek nodded. His gaze fell upon Amanda with a peculiar fascination. How had she known?
His wife noticed him watching her, and she flashed a bright smile, straining to remain upright as she veered the horse to the right. Before he could yell out for her to slacken the reins it was too late. She was on the ground, kissing the dirt.
The king’s small goosesteps were no faster than Derek’s sore measured gait as they went to her.
She pushed her face from the ground, felt whiskers on her cheek and screamed when she saw it was the horse who breathed down her neck.
The king nearly jumped out of his fur-lined slippers. The beast whinnied and trotted off. Derek plunked a hand on his hip as the king looked at her with disappointment.
“What?” she asked.
The moment she came to her feet, Derek took her by the elbow and excused them both before leading her a few feet away. Upon seeing Hugo he said, “Keep the king in good company until I return.”
Hugo nodded and continued toward the king.
“It’s good to see you up,” she said sweetly to Derek.
“Why must you unceasingly make an oafish fool of yourself?” He raised her skirts a few inches and looked to her toes. “Could it be that you have two left feet or is it your cumbersome attire that makes you appear a bit graceless?”
“I realize you’re on your way to a full recovery, but this is ridiculous,” she told him. “How dare you call me oafish when you, a hobbling, inconsiderate, mollycoddled overlord just stood there, smirking at me while my face was buried in the dirt. I rode that horse for you and the king! For three days I listened to the big honcho’s orders to sit straight, keep the knees in tight…go to the right, go to the left, check the bit, tighten the reins, and adjust the blinders until I thought I’d go mad!” She plunked hands to hips. “And then I see you, looking pale, but handsome all the same, and I do my best to show you what I’ve learned. Never mind that I’m sitting on one of the largest beasts known to mankind. Never mind that I’m scared out of my wits. The point is that I trot, lope, and canter my heart out to please you in front of the king. And this is what I get in return?”
A raspy chuckle erupted as he shook his head. “You are right. I have been nonfunctioning for too long and have turned into a roguish knave to treat you so.”
Morgan looked back at him skeptically, unsure as to his sincerity.
“Quickly,” he blurted, gently lifting her chin higher so that he could well see her emerald eyes. “Tell me again, while your ire is well heightened, that you love me. ‘Twould be the validation my insecure sensibilities require to settle this once and for all.”
Morgan rolled her eyes and dropped her arms to her sides. “I love you. There,” she said with lingering stubbornness in her tone. “Now apologize for insulting me so that my sensibilities, too, will be mended.”
It took him a while, but he did finally bend low and take her hand in his. “I, Derek Vanguard, wish to express my extreme regret for offending one so graceful and nimble as yourself.”
She playfully tapped him on the head. “I accept your apology, Sir Knight, but I think you should know that you were a roguish knave before you were ever wounded in the jousting fields. And, the fact that you are a roguish knave has not been altered by your apology.”
“Your things are packed, my lord,” Hugo said as he came toward them.
“We’re leaving?” Morgan asked excitedly.
“Aye. Odelia and Matti have collected your belongings and even now they await within the carriage,” Hugo answered. “May I add that you look lovely, my lady.”
“Must every man upon this earth verily foam at the mouth at the sight of her?” Derek asked. “It appears all men have been held in captivity and deprived the sight of a wench for too long.”
Morgan blushed.
“Nay, you are wrong, my most noble of champions,” King Henry said as he came up from behind. “The death wound you received fair voided your memory, for it is not just any fair maiden that stands before us but one worthy of her very own songs and ballads.”
Morgan smiled, leaving Derek to shrug in defeat as he followed her. Although he wasn’t ready to confess his love for her, he wished only to trust her fully. Perhaps then he would gain the courage to tell her what she meant to him. Some day he wished to tell her that whatever he and Leonie had between them was over the moment he laid eyes on her. There was no other and never would be. Verily it made his flesh and body quake to think what Amanda Forrester had done to him. He could not eat, drink, or sleep without visions of her emerald eyes hounding him, as if her very soul seeped slowly through his veins. Damn it, he thought. She had corrupted every fool she had met with her charm. And now he, too, joined the ranks of foolish sops waiting in line for a mere glimpse, mayhap a touch of her soft hand, to make his breathing calm again. He was not angry with her, only with himself for losing all control when it came to his wife.
Derek stopped her on the path and when she looked up at him and smiled, he leaned low and kissed her, gently, ever so softly, knowing that he had lost the war, totally and completely, and now stood before her defeated, a mere shell of the man he once was.
~~~~
By the time the carriage neared Braddock, the sun had set and a full round moon had taken its place, making a white haze of light above the treetops.
Morgan gazed at their surroundings. The night seemed embalmed in twilight and enshrouded in mystery. Between the intermittent creaking of the carriage wheels she could hear the eerie howls of wolves and the croaking mating sounds of numerous frogs.
Derek held her within the crook of his good arm, and she felt a serene sense of peace like never before. His ha
ir appeared as black as the midnight sky around them, and having grown overly long, his thick locks swept down his neck and over his collar.
When he glanced down at her, she noticed that his eyes, too, appeared extraordinarily black tonight. Their fingers entwined and the feel of his strong hand wrapped around hers made her feel content and whole.
“The king is well fond of you,” Derek said, breaking the silence.
She smiled. “He had more than a few kind words to say about you, too.”
Derek expressed mild curiosity, but didn’t ask her to elaborate. “I’ll tell you what King Henry said if you would like to know.”
“Something tells me you will tell me either way.”
She laughed. “You think you know me so well, don’t you?”
He smiled, staring ahead into the night as she took a good look at his well-chiseled profile.
“The king told me,” she began, “how he’d been assured from the first day you lay unconscious that you would live to see another day. He believes you are immortal. You don’t believe that, do you?”
Derek looked at her with exaggerated astonishment. “You dare confess to me that you are from another world, and yet, show skepticism to hear that perhaps I will enjoy eternal life?”
He had a point, she realized.
“Nay, ‘tis not true what King Henry says,” Derek finally let out. “I believe I am wholly mortal as are all men.”
Again he gazed ahead. Then he pointed to the turrets of Braddock edging above the hills, understandable joy crossing his face to be so close to home.
“Did you know that King Henry takes full credit for raising you into manhood?” she asked next.
Derek shook his head, smiling thoughtfully.
“Well, he does. And he’s quite proud of the fact that he knighted you himself. Although you’ve proved your worthiness many times over,” she said with a sigh, “he is upset that you never stop to smell the roses.”
“He said that?” Derek asked with a worried chuckle.
“Well, not the part about stopping to smell the roses. Those were my words.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “But he did say that you seldom take respite as reward for your constant toil. Pretty much the same thing.”
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