Page 136 of Bride of Fire
But she had to stop this before it led them both to ruin.
“Nay,” she rasped out, breaking free of their kiss.
Morgan’s beautiful eyes were glazed with yearning. She had to look away, lest she be drawn back into his whirlpool of lust.
“Nay,” she repeated, lowering her head and closing her eyes against temptation. “We mustn’t.”
“Why?” he murmured, stepping toward her again.
She placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “You know why.”
After an interminable moment, his heaving chest sank. She glanced up then and saw his expression change from desire to disappointment. Her heart broke as she experienced the same emotions.
When his face fell and he withdrew, nodding at her with a clenched jaw and somber acceptance, she wanted to weep.
They watched in silent separation as the downpour diminished to a drizzle.
Meanwhile, Jenefer’s eyes welled with their own warm rain as she thought about the future. She knew she couldn’t remain at Creagor. It was sheer torture to be so close to Morgan and not to be able to touch him, to kiss him, to make love to him.
As for Miles, if she spent one more day with the babe—smelling his soft scent, snuggling his warm neck, peering down at his precious smiling face—she would die of heartbreak when she left.
First thing on the morrow, she decided, she’d steal away. She’d be violating her oath not to flee. But sometimes honor demanded difficult decisions. Better she should leave and break her knight’s vows than stay and make Morgan break his marriage vows.
Chapter 59
Alicia shuddered from the cold and turned her face up to the roiling clouds, letting the rain pelt her bruised face. Fate must be smiling on her indeed, to create a foul storm just as she emerged from the trees that bordered Edward’s castle.
When the people of Firthgate saw her stagger into the keep—as wet as a drowned rat and shivering, her face still marred by injuries—her pathetic appearance would doubtless move them to mercy.
The English would never suspect she’d been the one to slay their lord.
And when she told them her story—that she’d been snatched from the keep by savage Highlanders who’d crossed the border, that they’d murdered Edward and her midwife Godit, that they’d taken her prisoner—they would readily believe it.
She’d name her abductor.
She’d disclose his location.
And she’d tell the English that the keep where the Highlanders were staying was ill-prepared for war.
No English soldier worth his spurs could resist such a prize. She’d bring them a perfectly good excuse to attack a poorly defended Scottish holding.
In exchange, her rewards would be threefold.
She’d absolve herself of Edward’s murder.
She’d punish Morgan for choosing that bloody wench over her.
And she’d earn admiration and respect from the English for her part in delivering to them a Border castle claimed by the Scots.
Once she was rid of Morgan, she’d find out who stood to inherit Edward’s holding. It would be a simple matter to court a new lover, to seduce her way into the bedchamber of the new lord.
As it turned out, her plan worked even better than she expected.
The new lord was Edward’s hotheaded brother, Roger. Not only was Roger enraged by Edward’s death, but he was eager to avenge it. When Alicia presented him vengeance on a silver platter, he gathered his army at once to launch an assault on Creagor.
By the time they crossed the border into the Scottish woods, the rain had stopped. By the time they reached Creagor, it was dark. They made a hasty camp in the haven of the forest, planning to attack in the morning.
Alicia had insisted Roger take her along, ostensibly to be his guide and to gain him easy entrance to the castle. But as she peered through the trees at the stately keep that would soon fall to ruin, she thought about Morgan and his cold countenance when he’d refused her in favor of that conniving wench.
