Page 12 of The Enchanted Land

She stretched and smiled up at him. God! he thought. She looked like a cat, all grace in the early-morning light. As he looked at her, he began to feel his desire for her growing. “Either you get out of that bed, or I’m getting in with you.”

She was startled by his tone and her eyes flew open. She rolled across the bed and climbed out the side farthest from him. As she ran toward the dressing room, she heard him mumble something about being a bull in the mornings. She couldn’t stifle a giggle as she slipped into the same gown she had worn the day before.

She saw Seth’s frown as she stepped back into the bedroom. “If you will remember, it was you who told me to leave my clothes behind. This and my nightgown are my only articles of clothing.”

He left the room and returned in a few minutes with a riding habit. “This is Jennifer’s. Try it on.”

She returned in moments in the light-green whipcord habit. Jennifer was taller than Morgan, and weighed a great deal more. The outfit fit as poorly as the one her uncle had bought for her.

Seth grimaced. “I guess it will have to do.”

No one was up yet, even in the stables. Seth handed her a thick slice of bread covered with butter, and saddled the two horses for them. Morgan’s mare was gentle, and she was glad, because she did not feel up to fighting a horse.

They rode in silence, both of them enjoying the cool March morning. After they had ridden for an hour, Seth slowed his horse. “This stream is the boundary of the Colter plantation. Let’s get down and I’ll show you a place where I used to play as a child.” He helped Morgan down, seemingly unaware of his hands on her waist.

“Give me your hand and we’ll cross over these rocks.” His hand was large, warm, and dry. After they had crossed the stream, he continued to hold her hand as they walked across the meadow. “I used to come here a lot. It seemed exciting, because it wasn’t on Colter land.”

“Didn’t your sisters come?”

“They were afraid to get dirty.”

“At Trahern House there was a special place for me. It was a big, old, sycamore tree, set in a large open meadow. I trampled all the grasses down and made a large area under the tree, but no one could see me from a distance, because the grasses were above my head.” Her eyes shone.

“I think I would have liked your place.”

She laughed. “I never had brothers or sisters, so I never had anyone to show it to. Maybe I would have shown it to you.” She stopped, putting her hand over her mouth.

“What is it?” He seemed alarmed.

“Well, I just realized that when I was a child, you were a great, grown man already.”

He laughed with her. “Yes, I guess I was. I’m fourteen years older than you, after all. I think I forget that you are the same age as my baby sister.”

Morgan looked up at him, smiling, and squeezed his hand tighter. “I take that as a compliment.”

Seth was overcome with an urge to kiss her, but the moment was lost as she saw a great black and orange butterfly and skipped ahead, pulling Seth with her.

Damn it! Women were for kissing and dressing up like dolls, he thought, not for running around the wood together and talking about your childhood.

He forgot his moment’s doubt as he saw the tree. It had at one time stood well away from the creek, but the water had washed the soil away, so that it now stood at the creek’s edge. The branches hanging over the stream made a roof above the clear water.

“There it is.”

Morgan saw the tree, and before he could say any more, she had dropped his hand and was scrambling down the bank to sit beneath the tree. She looked up at him cheerfully.

He stood looking at her. There was dirt on the enormous skirt, and a smudge on her cheek.

She realized what he was looking at. “I thought you already knew. I’m not a lady, and I never plan to be one. I am much happier here than at Cynthia Ferguson’s ball.”

He laughed. “I like it better here, too.” He climbed down the bank to sit beside her.

She seized the opportunity to clear things up. “Seth, I want to talk to you. Yesterday morning we quarreled about the way I wear my hair, and last night I was angry when I was taking a bath.” She paused, but he said nothing. She could feel him looking at her.

“I want to keep our relationship on a friendship level. I don’t want us to quarrel. What I mean to say is that I want it clear between us that this is a marriage for convenience, a business arrangement.”

“I understand. You do not want to share a bed with me.” His eyes were cold. “All right.” He looked at the tight hair, the baggy dress. “I believe I can refrain from molesting you. Is that what you are worried about?”

She was hurt by his anger. “Yes, I guess it is.”

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