Chapter 44

Morgan rose on one elbow. He stared down at his sleeping wife beside him in their bed.

He still had trouble believing she was alive. Only the gentle rise and fall of the coverlet proved she’d eluded death.

His throat closed with pity as he tried to imagine the horrors she’d been through.

Thank God she’d survived.

Thank God she’d managed to escape.

By the light of day, he could see bruises mottling her skin in ugly shades of purple, green, and yellow. Bloody trenches carved by her abuser’s fingernails marred her pale cheek. There was a grotesque, misshapen lump near her hairline. And blood had collected and dried beneath her nails, proof she’d had to defend herself.

But more powerful than Morgan’s pity for Alicia was his thirst for vengeance upon her abuser. His blood began to simmer. Foul air filled his lungs. And he ground his ire between his teeth.

None of his anger, however, would gain him the justice he sought. Not until he learned the name of Alicia’s abductor.

And for that, he had to tread carefully.

“Alicia,” he breathed.

Her forehead creased.

“Alicia,” he whispered, brushing a stray wisp of ebony hair from her pale brow.

She woke with a start, slapping his hand away. Then she blinked, confused.

“’Tis all right now,” he murmured. “Ye’re safe.”

Her features relaxed when she looked up at him. “Morgan. Oh, Morgan, amor meu.”

“How are ye feelin’?” he asked.

She pulled the bedlinens up to her chin and lowered her eyes. “Safe, thanks to you.”

“And I intend to keep ye safe,” he promised. “There’s just one thing I need to know.”

“I’m so thirsty.”

“Oh,” he said. “O’ course.”

He threw off his covers, eliciting a gasp from her. He’d forgotten how his nudity shocked and bothered her. It was strange how that had slipped his mind.

He swiftly donned his trews. Then he poured a cup of water from the ewer Bethac had left.

Alicia struggled to sit up, wincing in pain. Morgan swept in to lend assistance with an arm around her back and carefully pressed the cup to her swollen lips.

She took a few sips and gave him a meek and grateful smile. He set the cup down on the bedside table.

“Can ye tell me now,” he ventured softly, “who did this to ye?”

“I… I…” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, lass, I know. But if I’m to keep ye safe, I need to know who I’m up against.”

“He won’t know where I’ve gone,” she said, her black eyes wide and naïve. “Can we not just abide here in peace?”

“Not until he’s dead and gone,” Morgan replied, with more than a little menace in his voice.

She shivered as she clutched the coverlet to her bosom. “You don’t mean to challenge him?”

“I cannot suffer the bastard to live, m’lady.” He clenched his fists. “Not after what he’s done to ye.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Nay! Please do not tangle with him,” she cried. “You don’t know how treacherous he is.” Her face was contorted with anxiety. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you to that monster.”

Bothered by the fact she assumed her abductor could best him, he replied, “Ye won’t lose me.”

“You don’t know that,” she said, “and if I lose you, what will become of me?” She ended in stifled weeping, with her fist pressed against her mouth.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I’m a good swordsman. And I know how to watch my back. I need only his name.”

He sulked, mildly insulted that he had to defend his abilities to her. She’d been his wife for two years. She’d seen him take up arms against dozens of formidable warriors. Did she have no faith in his skills?

She answered with a thin wail and more weeping, burrowing her face in her hands.

He flinched. Damn his callousness. What kind of brute was he to make demands of a lass who was clearly still suffering the anguish of abuse?

He wrapped a consoling arm around her quaking shoulders. “I’m sorry, Alicia. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He supposed revenge would have to wait. But for each instant her tormenter breathed, Morgan’s need for revenge wound tighter. Soon it would reach its limit. Then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He’d insist she give him the villain’s name. And blood would be spilled.

He was still fantasizing about the form his retribution would take when someone knocked on the door.

Alicia sighed in irritation.

“Who is it?” Morgan called out.

“Jenefer.”

At the sound of her voice, his mind suddenly roiled with a tempest of images.

The beautiful lass in the throes of passion. Her golden tresses lashing his ribs. Her skin glowing. Her eyes shimmering like sparks.

But then he remembered their last conversation. Her eyes blazing in rage. Her mouth twisting in mockery. Her arms tense with fury. Her voice hoarse with hurt and anger.

Warring emotions bombarded him as well. Love and regret. Lust and shame. Temptation and forbiddance. Desire and duty.

Before he could work out how he felt about her and how he should respond, she let herself into the chamber.

In the flesh, Jenefer was even more compelling and disturbing than he’d remembered. He’d been racked with guilt for comparing the spirited, vibrant lass to his muted, lackluster wife. But seeing them together, he couldn’t deny the contrast.

Jenefer’s demeanor this morn, however, was formal. Stiff. Cool. Polite.

“I thought Lady Alicia might wish to see her son.”

She ducked through the door with Miles in her arms. Morgan imagined it couldn’t have been easy for her.

“Who is this?” Alicia’s voice was terse, guarded. He supposed it was only natural that she would be defensive, considering what she’d endured.

But how should he answer her?

He couldn’t very well say Jenefer was his lover.

Nor could he confess that he’d let a hostage care for their bairn.

To her credit and his relief, Jenefer had a quick answer. “I’m the babe’s nurse, m’lady.”

She swept forward, and Morgan closed the door behind her.

“No doubt you’re eager to see your son,” she said.

But as Jenefer carried him toward her, Alicia appeared to shrink into the mattress. Her eyes grew round, and her fingers tensed in the bedlinens.

“I… I… I don’t think I have the strength to…” She sank onto the pillow, turning her back to them. “Perhaps later.”

Jenefer exchanged a look of bafflement with Morgan.

He didn’t understand Alicia’s reaction either. It seemed like she would want to see their son. He’d hoped that holding the bairn might distract her from her tribulations and make her whole again.

But maybe the shock was too much. Maybe she needed time to adjust to being a mother. Maybe bonding with him would help.

“I’ve named him Allison,” he told her. “After you.”

“I’d like to rest now,” Alicia murmured over her shoulder.

Morgan was crestfallen. He’d expected that Alicia’s return from the dead would change everything. That she would be so grateful to see him, she would embrace him and their child with all the love she’d held close to her chest before.

He was wrong.

He’d forgotten how Alicia could withdraw like a snail into its shell. How, with a word, she could cut off all conversation and retreat into solitude. How she could leave him with his mouth hanging open and no one to hear his thoughts.

In the ensuing awkward pause in the room, the bairn naturally chose to begin whimpering.

Jenefer looked expectantly at Morgan.

He swallowed, unsure of what to do or say.

She raised her brows in silent communication.

He frowned.

She indicated Alicia with a sharp nod of her head. Then she lifted the bairn as if she intended to leave him beside her in the bed.

He shook his head.

She compressed her lips in frustration.

He mouthed the word, “Nay.”

She narrowed her eyes with smoking fury.

Alicia groaned from the bed. “Please take him away.”

Jenefer’s jaw dropped.

“She’s goin’, m’lady,” he whispered, catching Jenefer by the shoulder and wheeling her around toward the door.

He should have known she’d resist. Her brows collided in disapproval, and she wrenched out of his grip. Of course, her violent movements upset the bairn, who began to wail in earnest.

Alicia flounced in the bed, biting out, “What kind of nurse can’t keep a babe quiet?”

“What kind of mother—”

Morgan clapped a hand over Jenefer’s mouth just in time. “Go on, now, please. Lady Alicia needs her rest. There will be time later to—” He sucked a sharp breath between his teeth as she clamped down on the tender flesh of his palm.

Forced to release her, he was grateful at least that she didn’t finish what she’d started to say. Not that she needed to. Her expression said everything.

Jenefer was disgusted with Alicia. Disappointed in him. She might go along with his deception for now. But she wasn’t going to play nursemaid forever.

Sucking at his injured flesh, he gave her a nod of understanding.

Then she exited with a final jab meant to bruise. “Come along, lad. We’re not wanted here.”

Morgan stared at the door long after she was gone. When his gaze returned to his wife, who had now shifted under the coverlet to commandeer the entire bed, he couldn’t help wonder if the same could be said of him.