Midnight for Morgana (9 page)

“Ferris has ridden for the woman and her husband. I’ve noticed several things around the lodge that need to be repaired, and the hinge is loose on the stable door. So the husband can do those chores and care for the horses while his wife cooks and cleans. I shall pay them an adequate amount for their labors. Ferris and I will spend much of our time hunting, so I can’t expect him to perform these tasks. The man and his wife can use the horses from the stable to ride back and forth every day, since we lack bedchambers for them.”

Morgana nodded. “That makes sense.”

Nola entered the room again, sporting a green silk dress and dangling gold ear rings. Gold bracelets jingled at her wrist. The heavy scent of musk wafted around her, a constant irritation to Morgana. She gave silent thanks that the sisters all dressed differently, else she doubted Keir could tell them apart.

The sister sank into an easy chair and glanced at the hourglass that rested on the parlor table. “My goodness!  It’s getting late, nearly time for supper. Morgana, what do you intend to prepare for the evening meal?”

Morgana opened her mouth to reply, but Keir forestalled her. “It is not my wife’s task to cook and clean for you. If anything, it should be the other way around. But just so you know, I’ve sent Ferris to the lodge’s caretakers. He should return shortly with the woman and her husband. The woman will cook and clean, and her husband will care for the lodge and the horses.”

Despite worry over her father, a glow of love for her new husband suffused Morgana, a grateful satisfaction that she had a man to share her burdens in dealing with her sisters, a man who saw through their stratagems. For too long, their father had let Nola and Alana take advantage of him, and it had been left to Morgana to counter their machinations. Soon, too, she would be free of her sisters and would not have to counteract their wheedling of their father. She hoped Papa would develop the necessary backbone to deal with the spoiled brats, but she feared her wish was in vain.

Her musings segued to their father’s health and Alana’s return to Dornach. For now, she would take Nola’s word that her father’s illness was nothing serious. Still, the entire episode of Alana’s return prompted more questions than answers. She could only assume that the matter would become plainer in the coming days, yet worries about her father persisted. 

* * *

After a night of intermittent rain, the following day dawned bright and clear, a definite promise of summer in the air. From the wide parlor window, Morgana looked out to a gorgeous blue sky, where sea gulls soared and dived, and a light breeze fluttered the leaves of the old oak tree in the front yard. Robins chirped and hopped from limb to limb, and blue jays scolded from the hemlock.

Happy she now had a woman to do household chores, she recalled yesterday’s evening meal of soup with carrots, potatoes, and other vegetables, accompanied by freshly-baked oat bread, with apple pudding for dessert. The woman–Brigid–had assured her that she would prepare a turkey dinner for this evening.  Normally, the mid-day meal was the main repast of the day, and Keir had told her his family followed the same custom. But since Keir and Ferris spent most of the day hunting, the meal sequence was reversed. Shortly after breakfast, Keir and Ferris had left for the forest, and Morgana counted the hours until her husband’s return. Yawning, she recalled last night’s lovemaking, a night filled with never-ending pleasures and fresh surprises, when Keir’s passion had left her exhausted but deeply satisfied.  Even now, a warm glow kindled within her, and she wondered how she had ever lived before meeting him.

With time on her hands, Morgana stood to draw a book from the bookcase, one of her favorites, Morfran’s Journey, and sank onto the sofa. Finding a comfortable position, she opened the worn volume, a story of a soldier who went away to war and his adventures in trying to reach his home again after the final battle. As much as she enjoyed the book, it occurred to her that she should have brought needlework with her, crocheting and embroidery, occupations she sorely missed. Although she tried to focus on the soldier’s story, she found concentration difficult, the remembrance of Keir’s kisses and caresses still teasing her mind.

Nola entered the parlor, the smell of her musk aroma stronger than ever, or was it only her imagination? Morgana wondered.  “What! Reading on such a beautiful day? Does the prince know what a bookworm he married?”

A flash of irritation warmed Morgana’s face, but she set the book down and forced a smile. “Not a bookworm, just a wife who misses her husband and filling the time until his return.”

Nola gestured toward the outside. “Come, forget about the stupid book and let’s go for a walk. It’s too nice a day to waste in reading.”

Surprised that Nola desired her company, Morgana stood and returned the book to its shelf.  “Sounds like a good idea. It does look lovely outside. I don’t believe we need cloaks.”

The sisters stepped outside to a warm breeze that rippled their cotton dresses and brought the fragrance of spring flowers. Morgana delighted in the breeze that bathed her face, and she breathed in deeply, happy to be alive, to have the time to spend here at the lodge. She wished Keir could spend more time with her, but of course she understood that he must go hunting to catch game. She and Nola took the brick walk that connected to the path leading to the ocean, a walk of about a half-mile. The rocky path was worn from constant footsteps, with stubby grass and flowers stirring in the breeze. As they neared the water, the wind picked up, bringing the scent of salty air. She watched the seagulls whirling and diving overhead, and she knew she would remember these days at the lodge for the rest of her life.  If only Keir were with her now, the day would be perfect, for she’d love to explore the countryside, her last visit here being years ago, as a child while her mother was still alive. She spotted a whale out in the ocean, its massive body gliding closer to the rocky cliffs below. She wondered if it was the same whale or a different one she’d seen before.

At the edge of the cliff, flowers dotted the ground, violets and daisies among others, blooms of so many colors and aromas, a tapestry of fragrance and hue. “Such pretty flowers,” she remarked to Nola as she bent to pluck a few blossoms to place in a vase upon their return to the lodge.

Too late, she saw Nola rush from behind. Too late!

* * *

Now’s your chance! Fierce hatred pulsed through Nola, a burning desire to get rid of her sister.  Her stomach knotted with fury, and red spots flashed before her eyes. How she loathed the bitch, this woman who had snared one of the richest men in all the kingdoms on the island. With all her might, she pushed her sister, sending her screaming and falling, falling, falling to a watery grave below.  A flush of satisfaction cheered her as she turned around and headed back to the lodge. Placing her hands on her breasts, she stopped and closed her eyes for a moment, imagining Keir caressing her. Ah, just wait ‘til she had him in bed; she’d wear him out with her lovemaking. And she had no doubt she could fool him, make him think she was Morgana.

Soon, she reached the lodge and turned the iron handle of the heavy oaken door. She heard the sound of dishes being stacked, so while what’s-her-name worked in the kitchen, Nola slipped down the hallway and sneaked into the bedchamber that Morgana shared with Keir. Correction! That Morgana had shared with Keir. A glance at the freshly-made bed prompted a passionate desire to have Keir in bed with her now. What would stop her from fooling him when he returned? Only the clothes each sister wore differentiated one from the other. And now only one sister is left, she exulted as she opened the clothes press and surveyed Morgana’s meager selection of a few serviceable cottons and woolens, besides her splendid wedding gown. Nola fingered the luxurious silk, tempted to try it on now, but she must hurry. She vowed that when Keir returned with her to his country, she would have the royal seamstress make as many clothes for her as she wanted. Why, I’ll be the best-dressed woman in the kingdom.

Making a face, she plucked a dark brown cotton from the hanger. She caught Morgana’s camomile scent, a further aid in her trickery, since she herself would never wear such a mild fragrance; musk was more to her liking. What an ugly dress, she fretted, but it wouldn’t do for her to don one of her own silk or satin gowns, for Keir would surely see through her deception. Dress in hand, she tiptoed down the hallway to ensure that the stupid maid still labored in the kitchen, then slipped back to her own bedchamber and changed. She preened and smiled in front of the wall mirror that hung above the chest of drawers as she waited for the prince’s return, all the while planning what she would say to him then.

She heard the front door open and close and rushed down the hallway, glimpsing Keir with another turkey dangling from his hand, game that he deposited in the kitchen. Clad in a black tunic and trousers, he was as handsome as ever, a man any woman would want for her own. He left the kitchen and approached her then, a warm smile on his face, his arms open for her embrace.

“Miss me?” He drew her close and kissed her deeply.

“As always.” She returned his kiss, reveling in his nearness, his very masculinity.

He looked around, a questioning frown on his face. “Where’s Nola?”

She waved her fingers. “Oh, another message came with word that our father’s condition had worsened, so Nola left to tend to him, getting a ride in a farmer’s cart.”

He pursed his lips. “That sounds bad. Perhaps we should return to Dornach and see for ourselves.”

Nola shook her head. “Oh, no, my prince. Here is our chance to be alone. My sister is perfectly capable of taking care of Papa, especially since Alana is with him also.” She embraced him again, brushing her hips against his muscular body, surprised he didn’t respond to her advances.

* * *

Something is wrong here, Keir agonized, for it wasn’t like Morgana to dismiss her father’s illness so carelessly. Although he’d known her only a short while, in that little time he’d gained a good measure of his wife, of her true self, especially her generous and loving spirit. Other things about this woman–Nola?--didn’t seem right. He couldn’t quite put his finger on the discrepancies, but this woman did not seem the same, caring wife he’d married. She had addressed him as “my prince,” yet Morgana had learned from the first to simply call him by his name. All these disparities gave him pause, much to think about in the coming hours.

Long after the evening meal, when the sky had turned from light blue to gray to sapphire, Keir led the way to their bedchamber and held the door open for his “wife,” then closed it behind them. Having already been lit, the oil lamp cast a pale glow on the room, and shadows flickered across the walls.

This sister who posed as his wife sidled up to him, and even in the dull light, he saw the look of beguilement on her face. “After I undress,” she murmured, “I’ll wager you’d like to see me play with myself.”

He drew back, shocked beyond words. It might give him immense pleasure to see a prostitute perform this service for him–indeed, he had gained such satisfaction more than once–but this offer definitely didn’t sound like his sweet wife. He remembered Morgana’s innocence on their wedding night, when he had taught her the ways of love, and she had responded with shy but warm delight.

“Not now,” he muttered. “Some other time.”

A surprised look captured her face, quickly changing to one of bold allurement. “Whatever you desire, my prince. I’m here to please you.”  She gave him a crafty smile. “And I know many ways to pleasure you.”

Facing him, she slowly unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to the floor, revealing a linen shift. The dim light made it difficult for Keir to see her body, but her breasts through the thin material of her shift appeared different, not as full as his wife’s, and her hips looked wider.

Quickly, he disrobed and placed his sword on a chair beside the bed, then donned his nightshirt. He doused the lamp and crawled into bed, planning all the while how he could foil the sister. The woman who claimed to be his wife slipped naked into bed beside him and brushed her toes against his foot. 

He reached for his sword and set it between them, tapping the steel weapon. “I’m setting this sword between us–“

 “Why do you do that, my prince?” she asked, easing closer to him.

He spoke with resolution. “If you are truly my wife, this sword will become warm. But if not, it will remain cold.”

She giggled. “Never heard of anything so silly in all my life.” She paused. “What makes you think I’m not your wife?”

“My intuition. Just wait ‘til morning,” he threatened.

“You wait,” she challenged. “You’ll see I’m the same woman you married. And it hurts me more than I can say that you would ever doubt me.”