The McKinnon (12 page)

“Morgan, I know you can speak. You have done so on several occasions. Please, feel free to do so. I usually do not like having my woman seen and not heard. The same goes for my squire.” Nic said catching his mistake. “You may speak your mind when and how you choose. I will not insult, beat, or run you through for having an opinion or wishing to carry on conversation with me. It would make for a very dull or very deadly existence for both of us.”

Before Morgan could answer, a knock came at the door. Nic caught her momentary sharp intake of breath and her look of panic.

"Nic?" she questioned.

“It's all right, Lad. It is the boy coming back after the water. Quickly into bed, turn your back to the door, and cover up as much as possible,” he whispered running his hand down the side of her face in reassurance then turning her to the bed. If she noticed the gesture as odd for a man touching a boy, she kept it to herself. More than likely, it did not register through the spike of adrenalin running through her system at the thought that they had been discovered with him unarmed and nearly naked.

He remedied the unarmed part picking up his sword before answering the door. He knew it paid to be careful.

Morgan giggled at the site of her knight's only armor being an old bed sheet.

She quickly did as she was told just as Nic opened the door to allow the boy to come remove the dirty water.

“He’s better my lord?” the boy asked softly.

“Yes, he is,” Nic said then smiled with good nature. “A warm bath and dry clothes are doing wonders for his disposition. He is sleeping more naturally. All-in-all we were lucky. I think he will be fine to get on the road come morning."

"What are you instructions for me, Sir," the boy asked respectfully.

"We'll break our fast at four and take our leave before the sun is up."

"No problem, Sir. I'll have the horses ready for you."

"Good. I'll have the balance of your money for your services at that point. Now, be a good lad and run along.”

The boy eased out the door taking the dirty water with him along with a story to tell his grandchildren.

Nic closed the door softly behind him. Throwing the bolt, he turned back to Morgan just as she rolled over.

Morgan saw Nic’s guarded expression and could not tell what he was thinking. It was just as well. His thoughts were far from pure. After all, he never claimed sainthood.

Seeing her there on the bed looking clean, warm, and inviting was killing him. The firelight was playing off the crown of her hair, the warm flickers turning her smooth skin to a translucent glow. Wisely, he kept his thoughts and his hands to himself.

“Come, Morgan. Let’s eat while we have the opportunity to eat something warm.”

He did not have to ask twice as she jumped from the bed leaving the quilt falling to the floor behind her.

She was starving. Quickly going to the side facing the fire, she sat at the well-worn, but serviceable table.

“My Lord, you need to sit closer to the fire to keep from getting cold without a shirt.” A fact she was painfully aware and one she really did not have to remind him of either.

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Morgan."

Nic did not argue. He would have sat here anyway. If he were to sit where she was sitting, it would place his back facing the door and that was something that he was not likely to do anytime soon. It was beginners' military tactics.

Nic served their platters as was customary. She looked longingly at the food as he placed the platter in front of her. Nic thought she looked like a well-trained animal as she patiently waited until he took the first bite and then she began to eat with relish. It made him almost angry. Only heavy-handed dominance fostered this behavior.

“Oh, this is wonderful!” Morgan closed her eyes and moaned in delight as she took the first bites of the meal. Her eyes were alive as she spoke. “It has been years since I had anything warm to eat. I had almost forgotten how good it could be to have the warmth slide down my throat.”

Coming from any other woman, Nic would have looked for sexual innuendo in the words. However, he watched her in fascination at her childlike enjoyment of the simple act of eating a warm meal. Furthermore, her statement confused him. They had been on the road only three days, and surely she had not been on the run for more than a day or so before him finding her. So what did she mean? Could her being the duchess be a mistake?

“Morgan, what do you mean you have not had a warm meal in years?” Nic had not intended the words to come out as a command for an answer. He studied her and her reaction was not what Nic had expected.

Gasping, her eyes went wide and then she quickly lowered her head, closed her eyes, and placed her hands into her lap. It was as if she was bracing herself for the blow she was so sure would follow.

He watched her for a moment more, eyes narrowing, reading this body language for what it was.

She was cowering. Or was she just watchful?

Why would she fear him when he had given her no reason to? He wisely held his silence, not wanting to startle her with any sudden movements or words. He wanted her to trust him.

“Please, I beg your forgiveness,” she said weakly. He saw tears slid down her cheeks. The last few days were getting to her. And old habits die hard.

Nic saw that all joy was gone from her as she fell back into the silence Nic was growing to hate.

“I am not angry with you, Morgan. Eat your supper while it is still warm,” he encouraged her gently.

Morgan did not eat another bite nor did she say another word throughout the rest of the meal. Nic could not convince her, either, so he stopped trying.

She would not met his gaze having kept her head lowered and eyes averted.

The tension was thick between them, and he was angry with an enemy he did not know, but was growing in his suspicions.

To break the tension, Nic began to tell her stories of court, of London, and the King.

It did the trick.

As he shared his experiences,  she reappeared, inching past her fear. Her curiosity was stronger than the lingering weariness she may still feel for him.

She sat in awe of the stories, and began slowing eating again, so he continued to fill her mind with information that he felt she might find useful in the future while she filled her belly.

Her mind absorbed every detail, every word. He saw she could not get enough, thinking her like a sponge taking in everything her hungry mind could absorb. Making a note to add that to the list of traits he was discovering about her, he could tell by looking into her eyes that there was a great intelligence there. He would feed that intelligence with each new adventure he passed on to her, especially if it distracted her enough to feed her physical body, as well.

With one last tale, he went on to talk about the swordplay that occurred between knights, explaining it as a way to keep his stamina up, his blade quick, and just to let off steam and energy. He talked about different offensive and defensive moves. He told her how to defend herself from an attacker. He talked of where the killing points were on a body using the uneaten bird as a model.

“Will you teach me? Please?”

She ventured the question biting her bottom lip praying she had not over stepped her boundaries with this knight.

The question surprised him, tempting him to quickly say yes. It was not proper for a woman to cross swords. Yet, Morgan was turning out to be unlike any woman he had ever met.

“We shall see.” He smiled patiently. That was all he would commit to then.

Her face was an open book for him to read. It amazed him the way her eyes sparkled in the firelight as he talked, and then how her disappointment was clear when he stopped and began to ready for bed.

She was so wrapped up in his stores she had forgotten all about his state of undress. Her eyes were having trouble staying focused on his face.

He is beautiful, she thought.

To her mortification, he was speaking to her and she had been staring.

She snapped her eyes back to his face.

Nic smiled secretively to himself. He knew her body and inexperience were playing havoc with her senses. Hell, even he was having a hard time keeping his hands off her. The draw between them was unmistakable and would become more so as time passed. However, she was inexperienced, and he would not take advantage of her until he properly married her before Henry and the priest. It was up to him to keep the lines clearly drawn.

“You may sleep by the fire or in the bed. It is your choice.”

He knew he was sleeping in the bed either way. He was not about to pass up a mattress for a stone floor.

He made the offer instinctively, knowing Morgan had to feel the choice was hers to make. He saw the indecision on her face, but knew the soft mattress would prove too much temptation for her to decline. She walked to the bed and lay down. He walked across the room to join her, his towering form standing by the edge of the narrow frame.

“Morgan, roll over. I need to be between you and the door so that I can protect you from intruders if necessary.”

She almost panicked knowing that would trap her between the wall and the wall of Nic’s body.

No, she thought, she would be strong. She would play the part of his squire.

“No, I will protect you my lord." And she felt she might actually do that very thing and die trying. He was a good man who reminded her of her father not in looks, but in manner. That was what counted. "It would buy you extra time to draw your sword should an intruder enter. They would have to come past me first,” she said as she stood to face him.

Nic might have found this humorous if he had given the comment any thought, or if they had been in any other circumstance. However, since he did not stop to think, and they were not in a different place, his reaction proved swift.

“No.” He said emphatically.

She wondered how one uncomplicated word could carry such weight.

“I repeat, no, you will not.” Nic crossed his arms over his chest. “You do not have a weapon, nor do I know if you could use it even if you did own one. Now, get in bed and let me do what I do best, or go sleep by the fire.”

He knew he had challenged her, but figured the soft bed would likely win in the end, and she would do as he asked by sleeping on the inside.

She looked into his handsome face a few seconds and saw all she needed to see. Morgan had not lived this long and not learned the lesson of when to pick her battles. This one was one she was not likely to win. It was not worth the energy to wage the battle, either. Furthermore, he had another think coming if he thought that he was going to force her into compliance and have her back to a wall.

Fine, she thought, I will sleep by the fire.

Morgan's blanket was in her pack by the plank door to their room. Without a word, she began to make her way toward the door.

Mistaking her intent, Nic was on Morgan before she knew what was happening. Whirling her around, his hands an iron grip on her upper arms, Nic roughly pinned the full-length of her body to the door with his.

“Don’t be foolish,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

He did not hear her words.

“There is at least one search party out there looking for you, maybe more. Who knows? Did you think I am not aware the hunters are after you like some prize game? You are mine, and I intend to keep you from harm. So don't be stupid and think to walk out of here, Morgan. You would be making a most grave mistake were you to leave.”

Nic felt her tighten against his body. Her resolve began to rise within her.

With determination, she met him squarely. Her eyes narrowed and her chin rose. Slowly she shook her head. “No, Knight. The mistake is already yours to own. My intent was not to walk out the door, but to get my blanket from my pack.”

Nic looked down to where she was pointing on the floor by her feet.

Coldly, she continued to deliver her warning. “You will release me and do not ever think to touch me, again, Sir. I may be your squire, but I am your squire by choice and by agreement. You do not own me. I need something from you. You need something from me. It is just that simple. Furthermore, I'll walk out any door I choose and at any time of my choosing. Do not ever forget that, McKinnon.”

Holding his hands up in concession, Nic let her go and backed away a step. He was angry with himself. The silence hung thick between them as he stood watching her pick up her pack. Morgan pushed past him walking to the fire without a backward glance, and Nic knew any forward progress he may have made with his bride had just been undone.

Nic could not sleep. He kept seeing the caged animal peering out of those beautiful green eyes. He had somehow found a raw, open wound in her when he backed her to a wall. She came out fighting. Whatever Morgan was running from, may have put mistrust and fear into her, but it had not broken her spirit.

He smiled. He found the thought pleasing.

It would be a shame to break such a creature. Her mistrust was deep, but her spirit was stronger, and his respect for her deepened as he thought about the fact she had planned and carried out her own escape. Granted, it had been far from perfect, but the fact she had tried and succeeded was commendable.

On the other hand, was it just a last act of desperation?

Was the unknown less frightening than the life she left behind?

Where was she heading when he found her? Nic had not thought about that aspect.

Had Morgan prepared to stay on her own? She had no way of knowing she would find her way to be here with him as her protector. So even as appalling as the thought might be, Nic felt certain that was exactly what she was planning.

The questions swirled through his head as he pushed unwanted images from his mind of the horrors that could have happened had he not found her when he did. She may not be aware of the evils of this world, but he was no stranger to the viler side of life.

He kept looking over at her sleeping on her side by the fire, noting the soft curves of her body outlined by the glow of the dying embers. The fire would be dead soon and she would get cold, but it would serve her right. She could have had the warmth and softness of the bed, but made the choice to sleep on the floor instead. It was her choice.