Page 29 of Forgotten Secrets (Secrets of the Heart 4)

“It’s a place I come to think and to be . . . alone,” she told him, hoping he couldn’t read minds like Mazelina or he would know her secret.

“Well, I don’t like it. It’s not safe for you to be unescorted and out in the woods in the dark.”

“Ye sound as if ye care.” She walked back to the gate with him as she spoke.

“I do care, Morag. I care for you very much.”

“Do ye really?”

“Of course. And I want you to know that I would never purposely ever hurt you.” He took her hands in his and stared into her eyes. Then he leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth.

Morag tried to listen to her heart, the way Mazelina told her to do. She didn’t feel anything bad about him. Mayhap Bedivere was a little mysterious, but she believed him when he said he cared for her and also when he said he would protect her and never hurt her. Still, mayhap, she needed to test him. Perhaps then she would see if he meant what he said or if he was playing her for a fool.

“If ye mean what ye say . . . then marry me.”

“What?” He dropped her hands and stepped back. “Why would you say that, Morag? You don’t mean it.”

“I told ye I wanted to marry someone like ye, and I do mean it. I want ye. Now, what do ye say?”

“This is all so sudden,” he replied, nervously dragging a hand through his hair. “And your father is sure not to agree to the marriage.”

“I dinna need him to agree. It doesna matter.”

“Oh, I see. You have been granted the right to marry the man of your choice, just like your sister and cousins.”

She could have corrected him right there, but something made her keep her mouth shut. Longing in her heart for Bedivere made her want him more than she’d ever wanted any man before. True, her father wouldn’t like the idea, but he’d get used to it over time. Besides, what did it matter? Marrying an Englishman would be a great alliance. Anyone could see that.

“Will ye marry me?” she asked again.

“I don’t know. Mayhap,” he said.

“I dinna like that answer. It makes me think everythin’ between us has been a lie. Have ye been lyin’ to me, Bedivere?”

Bedivere swallowed forcefully, feeling tongue-tied and choked. He never expected Morag to be so bold as to come out and ask him to marry her. She was quite the girl. Most men would be put off by an action so brash by a woman. Then again, most women wanted naught to do with him and it was touching that she liked him enough to want to be his wife.

Would she feel the same way if she knew he was an assassin? Or would he even have to tell her? Something like this would surely be a wedge between them. If her father ever found out, he would probably kill him. His heart ached because he wished things were different. If he wasn’t an assassin and, instead, a respectable knight, he’d jump at the chance to marry Morag. But sadly, he realized she deserved someone so much better than him.

“Bedivere?” Her soft, lithe voice floated on the breeze like a chirp of a fragile meadow pipit. “I think I am fallin’ in love with ye.”

“Y-you are?” This was something else he never expected to hear. Had he played his hand too hard? In purposely trying to get close to Morag to find out information about the bastard triplets, mayhap he’d overdone it a bit. Then again, he felt the same way about her, so perhaps the feelings between them were real. “I don’t know what to say.” He pulled her close to him and held her protectively against his chest. Ironic, that the man who was ordered to kill her father was also the one she trusted with her life.

“Say we’ll be married, Bedivere. At least, let’s get betrothed. I am sure I can change my faither’s mind. As soon as he meets ye, he’ll see what an honorable man ye are.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he said, kissing the top of her head and staring out into the secret garden.

“If ye’re worried because of yer reputation with my cousin, Willow, dinna be. I will talk to her about ye and she will clear yer name.”

“Nay!” he said, releasing her quickly and stepping away. “Don’t talk to Willow. There’s no need.”

“There isna? Why no’?” she asked, looking at him suspiciously. “Bedivere, is there somethin’ ye are keepin’ from me? Did somethin’ happen between ye and Willow? I ken what a flirt she is and it is her reputation around the men that she should be worried about.”

“Nay, nothing happened between us, I swear. I mean, beside a small, meaningless kiss. I just meant there is no need to talk to her because . . . because I think we should get betrothed.”

“Ye do?” Morag’s eyes opened wide and her face lit up in joy. “I accept, Bedivere. I canna wait to be yer wife.” She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.

Bedivere froze. What the hell just happened? Why did he tell her he would marry her when he knew he could not? He was an assassin, and she was the granddaughter of the late king, not to mention the daughter of a man who was a legend in his own time. He’d had a weak moment, liking the thought of someone loving him. But now, he realized he was going to have to break Morag’s heart. He didn’t deserve her, and he hadn’t been honest with her. Nay, he couldn’t marry her, but neither could he tell her that now. She was much too excited.

“Perhaps, we should keep our betrothal to ourselves for now.”

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