hot coals. Within minutes a crackling fire blazed on the hearth.
He held a taper to the candle beside the bed, then bent to examine her
wound.
"Though the blood still oozes, it should not cause you any great
pain."
"I have the satisfaction that my attacker also suffers pain," she
hissed.
"You wounded him? But how, love?"
Her eyes blazed.
"Aye. With my teeth, which I sank into his arm. With my fingernails,
that raked his chest until he bled. With a candlestick against the
side of his head. I have left my mark upon him. He will not escape
detection."
Morgan lifted his head and studied her for a moment, then threw back
his head and roared.
"Forgive me, my regal ice maiden. I believe you.
We shall find him. Even if we have to examine the arms, chest and head
of every man in England. "
"If I had been allowed to have a weapon," she said through gritted
teeth, "he would now be lying in a pool of his own blood."
He regarded her a moment.
"From this night on you shall have your weapon."
Her eyes widened.
"Do you mean it?"
"Aye." He lifted her hand to his lips. In his eyes was a look she had
never seen before.
"I will never again leave you helpless, Brenna."
He left the room for a moment and Brenna felt the tremors begin
again.
When he stepped through the doorway he saw the fear in her eyes.
"Forgive me. I should not have left you alone." He rushed to her and
drew her into his arms, holding her until the tremors subsided.
"But I wanted you to have this."
He handed her a knife. The hilt was dull gold, set with precious
rubies and diamonds that winked in the firelight.
Brenna ran her hand along the blade. It had been honed to a razor's
edge.
"It was my father's. I have carried it since I was a lad."
"How do you know I will not use it on you, my lord?"
"There may be times when I deserve it. But I pray that you will give
me another chance to earn your respect." He pressed the knife into her
hands.
"Keep it on your person always."
At the solemn look in his eyes she nodded. "Aye, my lord. Always.
You can be assured of that. "
He dipped a linen square in the basin of water and began to wash away
the blood. As he did he found himself marveling at the perfection of
her body. Though Brenna had recoiled from her attacker, she lay very
still, secure in the knowledge that Morgan would never take advantage
of her vulnerability.
The gentle touch of his hand upon her was nearly her undoing. She lay
very still, her eyes closed, allowing his tender ministrations to
soothe away her pain and fear.
When the blood was removed, he tied a clean linen strip around the cut
on her arm. Then he drew the coverings over her and started to
stand.
Instantly she reached out and caught his hands.
"Do not leave me."
He saw the way she struggled with her fears.
"Do not worry, Brenna. I will not leave you. I will be in the sitting
chamber."
"No. Please. Stay here beside me."
God in heaven. He wondered if she knew what she was asking of him. To
be so close to her and not touch her would be the most terrible of
torments for him.
Still, he could see the need in her eyes, in the way her fingers
clutched at him.
"Aye. If that is what you need."
"I could not bear to be alone tonight. As long as you are with me, I
will be safe."
A few short hours ago she would not have said as much.
He pried off his boots and stretched out on the bed beside her. Being
careful to keep the coverings between them, he took her hand in his.
"Hold me, Morgan."
He groaned inwardly. With all the tenderness he could manage he drew
her into the circle of his arms. This was the sweetest of tortures. It
would take all the willpower he possessed to lie beside her until
morning and merely hold her.
She sighed softly. Despite the bed linens he could feel the way her
breasts pressed against his chest. He was achingly aware of her
thighs, just beneath the thin covering, pressed firmly to his.
"Sleep, little one," he murmured against her temple.
"You will not leave me?"
"I give you my word."
She closed her eyes. He felt the wild fluttering of her heart and drew
her closer, as if to share his strength.
After what seemed hours her breathing became soft and easy. Her
fingers loosened their death grip on his arms. She escaped into
blessed sleep.
Morgan shifted and drew the covers over Brenna as gently as possible so
as not to disturb her rest. He watched her as she fought the demons
that pursued her even in sleep.
He had demons of his own to fight.
The woman who lay nestled against his chest was so soft, so inviting.
A shaft of moonlight poured through the balcony window, bathing her in
a soft golden glow. Her dark hair spilled across his arm, a stark
contrast to the snowy bed linens. He bent his face to her and breathed
in the fragrance of roses. The perfume of roses was everywhere--on the
fresh breeze that wafted from the rose garden; in the water that he'd
used to bathe her wounds; even mingled with the linens on which they
lay.
He felt her suddenly stiffen in his arms and knew that the bad dream
was upon her again. He watched as her fingers tightened on his arm.
Her eyelids fluttered. Her lips moved in a soundless protest.
He pressed his lips to her temple and felt himself over 7
flowing with love for her. If only he could, he would absorb all her
pain, all her fears. How bravely she had fought her attacker. He
thought of the first time he had seen her, facing down hundreds of
English swordsmen with that cool, haughty demeanor. By the gods, she
was magnificent. She could wilt her enemy with a single look. Yet she
was the most-tenderhearted woman he had ever met.
He watched as her breathing grew softer once more. Her fingers
entwined with his. She slept as peacefully as a baby. But even then
he did not relax his silent, watchful vigil.
Brenna lay very still, feeling disoriented. A man's arm was around
her, pinning her to him. For a fraction of a second she was gripped by
fear. The attacker. Had he come back to finish what he had started?
Then she remembered Morgan's promise. He would stay with her and keep
her safe.
Her lids flickered, then opened quickly. Morgan's dark eyes stared
into hers. She wondered how long he had been watching her. It was a
strange sensation to be lying so close to him.
She let out a long, deep sigh.
"I knew you would be here."
He loved the way her voice sounded, breathless and still touched with
sleep.
"Did you?"
"Aye."
She smiled at him and he felt his heart leap to his throat.
She moved slightly until she lay facing him.
The bed linens shifted,
revealing the shadowed cleft between her breasts. It was impossible
for Morgan to forget that she was naked beneath the covers.
He was wearing neither shirt nor tunic. She had probably noticed that
after the attack of the intruder, but in the panic of the moment it had
not registered. Now she could not take her gaze from him. How wide
his shoulders. How massive his hair-roughened chest.
"Have you slept at all?"
He shook his head.
"But I did not mean to rob you of your sleep, my lord."
"I would rather watch you. Besides, it is enough to know that you are
resting."
"How long have I slept?"
"An hour or more."
"I feel as rested as though I have slept the night away."
"There are many hours until dawn, my lady. You need have no fear. I
will not leave you while you sleep."
Her voice lowered seductively.
"I have no need of sleep now."
He heard the new inflection in her voice and felt himself tense.
"Would you have me leave?"
Her hand closed over his.
"Nay, my lord."
Morgan's eyes narrowed. Never before had the lady behaved in such a
teasing manner. Could it be that he misread her meaning?
"If you do not plan to sleep, I must not stay."
"I want you to stay with me." Her hand slid along his arm. How
different was a man's arm, with silken hair and corded muscles that
rippled beneath her touch.
His tone roughened.
"You ask too much of me, Brenna. I am a man, not a saint. How long do
you think I can lie here beside you and not touch you?"
Her throat went dry. She touched her tongue to her lips. He watched
the movement and had to fight the desire to bend his lips to hers.
"Then touch me, my lord."
For a moment he could not believe what he'd heard. His eyes flashed.
"I do not jest, my lady."
"Nor do I."
He caught her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his direct
gaze.
"You have only just awakened. Perhaps you are confused."
"I am not confused."
"Then you are grateful that I saved you from your attacker. Do not
mistake gratitude for some other, deeper emotion, Brenna."
"It is not gratitude I feel." She held herself very still, as if
terrified of her sudden boldness.
He kept his tone deliberately stern, in order to ruffle her
composure.
"If I touch you, it will not end as it did before. I have not the
strength to walk away again. I intend to make love with you, Brenna,
the way a man loves a woman. And I will want you to make love with me,
as well."
"That--is what I want, my lord."
Her gaze never left his. He expected to see fear, or at least
hesitation. But what he saw was a look of cool determination. And the
first soft stirrings of desire.
Chapter Eighteen
The fire had burned to embers, leaving the room bathed in a rosy glow.
Pale moonlight filtered through the balcony window, touching the
figures in the bed with a luminous light.
The silence of the room surrounded them. It was as if the night
creatures had conspired to still their voices. There was no sound
except the soft whisper of their breathing. And the wild thundering of
their heartbeats.
"Are you afraid, love?" With his finger Morgan traced the curve of her
brow, the slope of her cheek, the outline of her lips.
Love. His endearment filled her with sudden yearning.
"Aye. I am terrified."
He touched his lips to hers and murmured, "There is no reason to be. I
promise I will not hurt you. I will never hurt you, Brenna." . ";;
"That is not what I fear." She drew back.
"I am afraid I> will not please you." % With his hand at her back he
drew her firmly against thU length of him.
"You already please me, Brenna." Brennat|| Brenna. Her name sang like
a litany in his mind. Neya|j would he grow weary of saying her name.
"You are the loveliest creature I have ever known. All the beauty, all
the goodness of this world, are in your eyes."
" She gave him a timid smile.
He sensed her uneasiness. With a gentle smile he said, "Trust me. It
is true we are about to go to a new place. And the unknown is always
frightening. But we go there together, love."
He buried his lips in the hair at her temple and felt the wild beating
of her pulse. Forcing himself to go slowly, he moved his lips along
her cheek to the tip of her nose.
"Such a haughty little turned-up nose," he murmured.
She chuckled and he felt her relax in his arms.
"You do not like my nose?"
"It is a fine nose. And your lips." He nuzzled the corner of her
mouth until she sighed with impatience and turned her head until his
lips were covering hers.
"Such perfect lips." His words mingled with her breath and were
swallowed up in the kiss. He lingered over her lips, loving the way
they felt beneath his. Soft. Seductive. Inviting.
His hands moved along the warm, naked flesh of her back, igniting
little fires wherever they touched.
"You are so small, Brenna. So delicate." He lifted himself on one
elbow to allow his gaze to study her. Her skin was washed by
moonlight. With a kind of reverence he trailed his hand along the soft
curve of her hip to her narrow waist, then upward to the swell of her
breast.
"So beautiful."
She closed her eyes and he pressed his lips to her closed lids. As he
explored her face with his lips, she relaxed, allowing herself to drift
on a hazy cloud of contentment.
His lips traced her eyebrow, her cheek, her ear. With his tongue he
traced the outline of her lips, then lingered, savoring all her
sweetness.
The kiss was a promise of more. So much more.
He lifted her hand to his lips, then pressed a kiss to her palm and
closed her hand around it. She trembled as he kissed her wrist, her
elbow, her shoulder. She laughed softly as he nuzzled her neck.
Before she realized what he was doing, he bent his head. With the
merest brush of his lips he pressed a kiss to her hipbone. She
flinched and tried to draw away, but he held her firmly while his lips
trailed the flare of her hips to her
Chapter Eighteen
Q^As^Q
The fire had burned to embers, leaving the room bathed in a rosy glow.
Pale moonlight filtered through the balcony window, touching the
figures in the bed with a luminous light.
The silence of the room surrounded them. It was as if the night
creatures had conspired to still their voices. There was no sound
except the soft whisper of their breathing. And the wild thundering of
their heartbeats.
"Are you afraid, love?" With his finger Morgan traced the curve of her
brow, the slope of her cheek, the outline of her lips.
Love. His endearment filled her with sudden yearning.
"Aye. I am terrified."
He touched his lips to hers and murmured, "There is no
reason to be. I
promise I will not hurt you. I will never hurt you, Brenna."
"That is not what I fear." She drew back.
"I am afraid I will not please you."
With his hand at her back he drew her firmly against the length of
him.
"You already please me, Brenna." Brenna. Brenna. Her name sang like
a litany in his mind. Never would he grow weary of saying her name.
"You are the loveliest creature I have ever known. All the beauty, all
the goodness of this world, are in your eyes."
She gave him a timid smile.
He sensed her uneasiness. With a gentle smile he said, "Trust me. It
is true we are about to go to a new place. And the unknown is always
frightening. But we go there together, love."
He buried his lips in the hair at her temple and felt the wild beating
of her pulse. Forcing himself to go slowly, he moved his lips along
her cheek to the tip of her nose.
"Such a haughty little turned-up nose," he murmured.
She chuckled and he felt her relax in his arms.
"You do not like my nose?"
"It is a fine nose. And your lips." He nuzzled the corner of her
mouth until she sighed with impatience and turned her head until his
lips were covering hers.
"Such perfect lips." His words mingled with her breath and were
swallowed up in the kiss. He lingered over her lips, loving the way
they felt beneath his. Soft. Seductive. Inviting.
His hands moved along the warm, naked flesh of her back, igniting
little fires wherever they touched.
"You are so small, Brenna. So delicate." He lifted himself on one
elbow to allow his gaze to study her. Her skin was washed by
moonlight. With a kind of reverence he trailed his hand along the soft
curve of her hip to her narrow waist, then upward to the swell of her
breast.
"So beautiful."
She closed her eyes and he pressed his lips to her closed lids. As he
explored her face with his lips, she relaxed, allowing herself to drift
on a hazy cloud of contentment.
His lips traced her eyebrow, her cheek, her ear. With his tongue he
traced the outline of her lips, then lingered, savoring all her
sweetness.
The kiss was a promise of more. So much more.
He lifted her hand to his lips, then pressed a kiss to her palm and
closed her hand around it. She trembled as he kissed her wrist, her
elbow, her shoulder. She laughed softly as he nuzzled her neck.
Before she realized what he was doing, he bent his head. With the
merest brush of his lips he pressed a kiss to her hipbone. She
flinched and tried to draw away, but he held her firmly while his lips
trailed the flare of her hips to her waist. She lay steeped in
pleasure as he ran kisses across the soft flesh of her stomach, then
upward across her rib cage.
Never had she dreamed that a man's lips could bring such pleasure.
He heard her quick intake of breath as his lips encountered the swell
of her breast. As his mouth found her erect nipple, he heard her
moan.
She felt the jolt, then the slow flame begin to build deep within her
until she felt herself burning with need. Wild, pulsing need that
drove her to clutch at the bed linens and arch herself tensely.
As he brought his lips from one breast to the other she sobbed and
clutched his head, dragging his lips to hers. With a moan he dragged
her against him and covered her lips in a hot, hungry kiss. She clung
to him, loving the strength she could feel in him. Yet, despite his
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