Return of the Rose Page 10

  ~~~~

  Morgan closed her eyes at the very first touch. She tried to relax against the mounds of pillows behind her, but it was impossible. There had to be something she could think of other than the thrilling graze of his palms against her skin. Her mouth dried as his thumb trailed over her flesh like a whisper. The masculine scent of him mingled with the roses sent waves of excitement rippling through her body. She leaned her head back, inhaling deeply as his hands worked their magic.

  She felt downright feverish, never having dreamt that a man touching her so intimately would or could feel so good. Even with her eyes closed, she knew he was watching her. She should’ve been blushing with embarrassment. Instead she felt a keen sense of pleasure at the idea of his gaze shadowing the agile movements of his fingers as he massaged and teased. She clutched at the mattress as his other hand caressed her jaw before he brought his lips to hers. She lifted a hand and blindly raked her fingers through his thick hair, urging his mouth impossibly closer. He was right, damn it. She wanted him. And damn it, she was going to have him.

  A knock sounded at the door. Her eyes shot open, meeting Derek’s gaze in shared, frustrated silence. She swallowed dryly.

  “God’s teeth, man,” Derek growled as he swept the covers over her and stood. “Who’s there?”

  “The doctor has arrived,” Hugo answered.

  They heard hushed whisperings outside the door before Matti added, “The good doctor has come to see about Lady Amanda’s injuries. May we enter?”

  “Come in,” Derek bellowed, cursing under his breath.

  Morgan averted her gaze as Matti led a tall, well-groomed stranger into the room. Judging by Derek’s scrutiny of the man, he didn’t recognize the physician with the broad shoulders and pretty-boy looks. The doctor gave Derek a courteous nod as he approached her bedside.

  “State your name,” Derek ordered, blocking the man’s way.

  “Sir Henry Warcliffe, Doctor of Medicine, my lord.”

  Derek eyed him skeptically. “As you can see, my betrothed is doing well. She has naught but a few scratches that have already been well tended.”

  Matti tried to speak. “But—”

  “‘Tis taken care of, Matti. Is that not right, my love?”

  Morgan could hardly believe what she was hearing. Was he talking about her? Nonetheless, she nodded in quick agreement and tried not to laugh when Derek took the stunned man by his shoulders, turned him none to gently about and ushered him out the door.

  Matti shot Morgan a devilish grin before she followed the two men into the hall. When Derek returned, Morgan was disappointed to see that his look of lusty passion had been replaced with that all too familiar scowl. “‘My love?’“ Morgan teased.

  The fine lines etched across his forehead grew deeper. “‘Tis an endearment used by most couples about to be shackled in marriage. I thought it best he knew you were sworn to me.”

  “I know you don’t want to marry, but give me a break. ‘Shackled in marriage’? You talk as if the old ball and chain is already heavy about your neck and ankles.”

  “I do not wish to speak of this.”

  “Why not?”

  “No use whining about life’s cruelties when there is naught that can be done to remedy the situation.”

  “Sometimes talking about life’s cruelties helps ease the pain.”

  “‘Twould seem you believe talking to be a cure for all ailments.”

  “Not for everything,” she said coyly, hoping he’d get the hint and take over where he’d left off before they were interrupted.

  Unfortunately his frown only deepened.

  “I do think it helps people to talk about their problems,” she told him. “Otherwise problems tend to fester and grow.”

  “Hmmm,” is all he said, appearing to be deep in thought.

  “Matti told me about your mother,” she said, hoping to get him to open up.

  “I have no mother.”

  “You did at one time. Tell me about her, Derek. What was she like?”

  He grunted and headed for the door. Disappointment swallowed her whole as she watched him walk away. He obviously harbored a deep resentment toward his mother and wasn’t ready to open up. “Thanks,” she said before he reached the door.

  “For what?” His two words shot through the air like bullets.

  “You don’t have to shout.”

  “I am not shouting!”

  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. “I was going to thank you for the flowers, but never mind.” She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the ceiling, waiting for him to leave.

  Derek grunted as he turned back toward the door to do just that. “I will be in my study should you be in need of me.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  The door opened and closed. He was gone and yet her body still felt weak from the medical attention he’d given her. The man treated her emotions like a yo-yo: falling and rising, unwinding and rewinding. Resignedly, she reached for the flowers and brought them to her nose, inhaling deeply as she pondered Derek Vanguard, Lord of Braddock Hall. For the life of her she couldn’t picture him picking flowers from Emmon’s garden. But the thought of him doing so made her smile. He was an exasperating man, she thought wearily. Also pig-headed and full of himself, the worst kind of man. And yet sadly she couldn’t wait for their next encounter. She was falling for the man, falling hard and fast.

  ~~~~

  Derek leaned back in his chair and glanced from Hugo to Matti. “Suppose the two of you tell me what you are up to.”

  Matti and Hugo looked at each other with feigned innocence and then back at Derek with identical ignorant expressions.

  “Do not play the doltish fools with me,” Derek said. “I have known you both since I was but a child. So tell me what harebrained scheme the two of you are plotting now.”

  “Pray tell, my lord, whatever do you mean?” Matti asked with exaggerated innocence.

  Derek shook his head. “The two of you have plotted and schemed your way through life. Matti,” he added sharply, “I seem to recall a time when you gathered enough spiders to scare away an army, placing them in a certain maid’s bedchamber. And why? Because a beautiful fair maiden had batted her thick lashes at your burly warrior over there.” He gestured with his chin toward Hugo.

  A subtle smile tugged at Matti’s lips, obviously recalling that day with great satisfaction. Derek had been nine and most helpful in gathering the ugly eight-legged creatures. After the deed was done the maid had dared not look at Hugo again, and, in fact, went back to her parents, not bothering to finish with her training at Braddock.

  “And you, Hugo,” Derek barked.

  Hugo was too busy frowning at his wife to take heed. Apparently his friend had not been aware of the spider incident. But Derek knew full well Hugo could still remember the maid he spoke of.

  “‘Twas it not you, Hugo, who plotted to rid Braddock of a certain troubadour?”

  Hugo’s eyes widened.

  “What was his name?” Derek asked with feigned interest before answering his own question. “Ah, yes, Philip. I believe even you enjoyed the minstrel’s entertainment until the princely Philip managed to attract much of Matti’s attentions with his flattering poems and intriguing tales. If I do recall correctly it was you who began the scandalous whispers that the man preferred a masculine touch to that of a soft female.”

  Matti gasped. The women of Braddock had thought the troubadour resembled a Greek god. When Matti and the other maids heard he preferred a gentleman’s attentions, they had all been devastated by the news.

  Matti elbowed her husband in the side, and Hugo provided her with a sheepish, lop-sided grin.

  “The point of my retelling of these stories,” Derek went on, “is that the two of you have been plotting and scheming within these castle walls for many years. Although I had assumed you had absolved yourselves of such childish games, it is clear that is not the case. Those flowers for instance.�
�� He frowned at Hugo. “An ingenious feat waiting for me to walk by Lady Amanda’s bedchamber so that you could trick me into bringing them to her. A well-laid-out plan I must say, telling me that she could not walk. And the doctor. Strange, I have not seen that young physician around Braddock before.”

  Matti looked to her feet.

  Derek’s voice softened a bit. “Anyone can see that the two of you share something most wedded couples do not. I am glad for you. But as I have told you both before…I have no time for such nonsense as love.” He shook his head at the mere thought of such absurdity. “Whether there someday be a lady of the castle or not, I expect the everyday administration of this household to remain the same. Do you both understand me?”

  “Aye,” Hugo said. “We understand, my lord, and I can assure you that we meant no harm.”

  “But can you not see that Lady Amanda cares for you?” Matti questioned. “Mayhap she is a bit unconventional and has a set mind, but naught that cannot be softened with a bit of coaxing.”

  “And what do you have in mind?” Regret filled Derek the moment the question flew from his mouth, for he had no intentions of dawdling further with the wench. It was his body that deceived him over and over again when it came to Lady Amanda.

  “Hugo and I thought it would be appropriate that you should court Lady Amanda,” Matti began. “Bring her flowers and mayhap a small gift every now and then. Possibly bestow her with a compliment here and there.”

  Derek glowered at Hugo, who raised both brows, cocking his head toward his wife to let Derek know this was all her doing.

  “I hate to disappoint you, Matti,” Derek said, “but I have no intentions of courting the wench. If the marriage vows are ever spoken, the alliance between Lady Amanda and myself will remain just that: an alliance…an association to further the common interests of the king’s holdings. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Matti sighed.

  A knock sounded at the door before Emmon hurried into the room.

  Derek crossed his arms and waited to see what was so damned important. The people of Braddock were making it a habit of disturbing him whenever they pleased.

  “I apologize for interrupting, my lord, but I thought I should tell you right away.”

  “What is it now?” Derek growled.

  “Lady Leonie is here to see you. And she has enough trunks with her to last a sennight.”

  Derek cast a weary sigh. He had thought he’d made it clear to Leonie that he wanted no more to do with her. “Show her in, Emmon. I will see to her momentarily.” A thought suddenly struck him. “Before you go, Emmon, you wouldn’t happen to be involved with this matchmaking scheme of theirs would you?”

  A look of horrified dismay covered Emmon’s face. “I am sorely insulted to think you would believe me to have joined in on one of Matti and Hugo’s simple-minded schemes. I am as innocent as a newly born babe.”

  Matti glared at Emmon’s back as he hurried out. As soon as the door shut, Matti shot Derek a look of disbelief. “Surely you do not intend to let Leonie enter Braddock when your betrothed lies dying in her bedchamber?”

  Derek groaned. “Lady Amanda, I can assure you, is very much alive and kicking.”

  ~~~~

  Twenty-four hours had passed since Derek had brought Morgan flowers. And just like her, the roses were beginning to wilt. Morgan was tired of sitting in bed. It bothered her that Derek hadn’t visited, especially after all that had transpired between them. The only thing she knew for certain was that her heart was in trouble. And that realization made her nervous. She’d seen first-hand what her adopted mother had gone through after losing her loved ones. She hated the idea of putting herself through the same life-long torment. Isn’t that what would happen if she allowed her feelings for Derek to grow, only to suddenly disappear through time and never see him again? Until she figured out exactly why she was here, she needed to keep her distance from him.

  Hearing a commotion outside, Morgan jumped from the bed and went to the window. A long-line of squires and pages carried large trunks across the outer bailey and toward the castle’s main entry.

  The prospect of having visitors appealed to her. She dressed quickly in a pale blue gown of silk with gold embroidery and matching slippers. She used a ribbon to pull her hair back. Not only did she and Amanda supposedly look alike, they were very nearly the exact same size. Very strange indeed. Where was this Amanda and when would she make an appearance?

  Downstairs the entire castle bustled with activity. Great puffs of smoke came through the hall as the fires within the kitchen were readied for cooking. Tables once stacked to the side of the hall were being set up front and center and it seemed that all the castle people were chattering at once today.

  Seeing Odelia scamper across the keep, Morgan snuck up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. “Odelia, what is going on?”

  Odelia spun around in alarm. “What are you doing out of bed? Verily, I was about to ready your tray and bring it to you.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m bored stiff. I saw all the excitement outside. I couldn’t just sit in bed and let you have all the fun.” She gave Odelia a teasing jab with her elbow.

  “Ow,” Odelia muttered. “Nobody important visits Braddock this day, my lady. Go back to your bedchamber and I will keep you company there. You could teach me to play chess as you promised.”

  “Don’t be silly. My legs are healed.” She raised her dress to prove it.

  “My lady! Put your skirts down before every knight within view comes begging for your attentions.”

  Morgan dropped the hem of her gown and laughed. “You are wrong, Odelia. Not one knight is coming my way.”

  Odelia glanced about and let out an audible sigh. “‘Tis only because there are no knights within the hall, my lady.”

  “You worry too much. And stop looking so serious,” Morgan said as she hurried off before Odelia could stop her. Outside by the well-tended gardens, Morgan heard a group of people talking. She edged closer to a tall well-manicured hedge and peered through the leaves. Matti, Ciara, and another woman she’d never seen before talked beneath a willow tree. Dressed to the hilt in a gown made of a rich scarlet cloth, the visitor resembled a voluptuous vogue model. Her dark hair was interwoven with sparkling gemstones, wrapped in perfect swirls about her head. She was a breathtaking sight: tall and graceful with a figure to die for. Even her voice had a pleasant ring to it.

  Morgan was about to come out of hiding and introduce herself when the woman pulled out a note and handed it to Matti. “‘Twas kind of Lord Vanguard to send for me,” she said. “I never would have thought he would be so bold…especially with his betrothed right here under his roof and all.”

  Frowning, Matti took the parchment, studying it carefully before handing it back to the woman.

  Derek invited her? The woman tucked the note into a silk sachet tied around her wrist. All gazes turned to Derek as he exited a side door and made his way toward the group. He made an imposing sight with his tight breeches and loose-fitting shirt.

  Morgan felt a tap on her shoulder and jerked about. “Shayna! You scared me.”

  “I apologize, my lady, I did not mean to frighten you whilst you spied on the guest.”

  Morgan gave Shayna a culpable smile. “Who is that woman?”

  “She is a harlot, that one.”

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “Perhaps on the outside, but inside lurks a hundred snakes preparing to strike.”

  Morgan feigned a small shiver. “A hundred snakes? Maybe you exaggerate just a bit?”

  “Believe what you will. But the woman is here for one reason only.”

  After a few minutes passed in silence, Morgan said, “Well? What is the reason?”

  “Him,” Shayna said pointing at Derek. “His lordship is the reason Leonie is here.”

  Morgan turned back in time to see Leonie rush into Derek’s arms and kiss him like a leech sucking blood from its victim. They definitely weren’t
related, Morgan thought. Having seen enough, she turned to leave.

  Shayna followed her. “Don’t let Leonie bother you. You are much prettier…and friendlier.”

  Morgan gave Shayna a well-meaning grunt as she made quick strides toward the kitchen door. “That’s kind of you to say, Shayna, but you don’t have to worry about me. Seeing that woman in his arms doesn’t bother me a bit.”

  Shayna did her best to keep up with her. “Truly?”

  Morgan stopped to look Shayna squarely in the eyes. “Truly. I couldn’t care less who that roguish, dog-hearted man kisses. Our engagement is a farce anyhow.”

  “I do believe she was the one kissing him,” Shayna reminded her.

  “Maybe,” Morgan said with a curt wave. “It just doesn’t matter.”

  The kitchen door opened and both Shayna and Morgan watched Emmon come through the door, stopping short when he spotted them heading his way. Emmon’s powder blue eyes met Shayna’s emerald green ones and they stared at one another as if Cupid had struck them both smack in the forehead.

  Morgan chuckled. “Have you two met before?”

  Neither responded, having suddenly lost all touch with the world around them. “Emmon, why don’t you show Shayna your roses?” Ushering them in the direction of Emmon’s well-tended flowers, Morgan watched them walk away. The smile vanished when she caught a glimpse of Derek talking to the woman beneath the willow tree.

  CHAPTER 8

  Back in her room, Morgan struggled with the removal of the medieval dress, groaning as she yanked it over her head and tossed it on the bed. She was annoyed with Derek, but mostly she was angry with herself. She knew what kind of man he was, and she knew she had no claim on him. He had made no promises to her. Hell, he’d made it perfectly clear that he hardly even liked her. There was probably a perfectly good explanation for that woman to be wrapped in his arms like that. But the reason didn’t matter because she didn’t care. She didn’t want to know anything more about Derek Vanguard.