Morganna (The Brocade Collection, Book 4) (31 page)

She couldn’t even see him through her tears.

“
Phineas FitzHugh is mine. I will see justice done. Your vow will come
to pass, and then I will return to the same love as my son receives. From you.
Doona’ you understand now?”

She nodded.

“I doona’ vow lightly, either, Morganna, although you have accused me of
such. All I vowed to you before, I have delivered, have I not?”

She nodded again.

“
Now I have vowed to see the KilCreggars avenged. I will do so. You
trust me enough for that?”

She blinked, letting tears slip down her cheeks. She nodded again. She
didn’t trust her voice.

“
You will not be idle, Morganna. There is so much you need to learn, for
I need certain things of you, my love. I need you to learn more about play, and
less about death. I need you to help me gain structure in my life. I need you to
help Scribe Martin design a dragon emblem for our clan. He canna’ put to parchment what I see in my head. I see two dragons...intertwined, forever an
extension of the other. Do you see it, too?”

She nodded, yet again.

“I also need you to assist with this kilt design you announced to all. Is it four broad bands of color, all of an exact width? Is it two broad bands with small lines, followed by the other two colors in broad bands with small lines? Is it one
background color, with three other colors all of a like width? You doona’ ken
the havoc you continually create for me, do you?”

She giggled, cried and snorted at the same time. It sounded as strange as
it felt.

“I need these things from you, Morganna, my love.”

“Oh, Zander,” she whispered.

“I also need some other things, Morganna.”

“
More?” she asked.

“I also need you to tell me of your love. You have never said it. I wait, and I hope, and you have never said that you love me. I would like to hear of it.
Now.”

“Oh, Zander,” she whispered, and for some reason she blushed. Morgan
couldn’t believe it. Sunlight was coming through the window, and she was sitting in a large conjugal bed that had seen immense passion through most of the previous night. She was facing the naked beauty of her husband, while in the same
state of undress, and she was blushing? Morgan had to swallow.

“I do love you, Zander,” she whispered. “I have loved you since
…I
doona’ know for certain. I think I have loved you forever.”

He grinned, and the light in his eyes made them look exactly like the
sapphire in the ring Plato had given her.

“
When did you love me?” she asked.

“If I’d had my wits about me and guessed your true gender, I’d have to
say it was the moment I came from the water and you asked how you had missed
my vital part. The look on your face held such awe, Morganna! I nearly strutted
about with it. Or perhaps it was when I saw your face when you fell atop me at
the MacPhee croft. That could have been it. I doona’ know for certain.”

She rolled her eyes, and wiped at them before looking back at him. “You d
oona’ ever think of anything else,” she said.

“I
do. I think of my bairn. It makes me feel warm, right here.” He pulled
one set of their joined hands to his chest. “When I first realized you carried him,
I canna’ tell you how it felt. I wanted to dance, sing and shout with it. I’m truly
amazed that I did nothing.”

“
When did you know?” she asked.

“The moment we reached Castlegate. You had the oddest expression to your face one moment, and the next you reached for your belly. I nearly fell off
my horse with the joy.”

“That is the same moment I knew.”

“How did you know? What made you so certain?”

“He
moves. Oft.”

“Our bairn? He moves already?”

“Aye, but I doona’ think that rare. ’Tis been almost four months, Zander.”

“The night in the chamber? Sally Bess night?” he asked, and he wasn’t
feigning
surprise. It was written on every bit of him.

She shrugged. “I d
oona’ know for certain, Zander, but I think it was that night.”

“’T
is what I asked and prayed for. I should na’ be surprised, but I am.”

“You canna’ be surprised. You planned it. You meant it to happen.
You tell me so oft how manly you are, how virile, how strong, how much the
ladies seek you over your brothers.”

“You make it sound as if I’ve a swelled head.”

She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. She watched him flush. It was very becoming on every bit of him. He cleared his throat. “Besides, that
does na’ mean we can create a bairn every time, Morganna. ’Twas what I’d prayed for, and what I needed, but that does na’ guarantee it.”

“It was what you’d planned for and set about gaining, Zander. You
canna’ fash me. You told me such. You even told me how Ari told you it was
done. You knew what you were doing, Zander. You were entrapping me.”

His snort carried every bit of his disgust. “I was getting you into my marriage bed the only way I knew how. D
oona’ you ken how difficult it was for a
FitzHugh to coax a member of the KilCreggar clan to the altar? Do you ken it
was easy?”

“You should have told me earlier that you knew who I was.”

He smiled gently. “I knew that back when you told me your story at
Argylle. I just dinna’ want to believe it.”

“You did believe it, though?”

“Morganna, you carry a small square of plaid with you. I’ve seen it many times since our first night. I recognized it and then I knew. It started a sickness in my veins and a heat in my heart. I
knew you spoke truth, Morganna. I even recalled the scratches and
blood Phineas had on him. I also knew my clan would need proof of it. I remembered Ewan. I got proof. I had to have time to get the sett woven. I had
to have time to convince Ewan he had to speak. I had to ask Plato to arrange
everything, because I had other things occupying me. Things like loving my
woman, and creating my bairn. It has been a very busy time for me, Morganna. I have na’ just been lazing at your side as your consort.”

“I am properly impressed, then,” she answered.

He lowered his head, to look at her through his eyebrows. “And am I
forgiven?”

“F
or what?”

“
Entrapping you. Getting you with my bairn. Forcing you to the
marriage altar.”

“You wish forgiveness for such?”

“Aye. I do. Now, please.”

“I love you, Zander. I forgave everything the moment I saw KilCreggar
plaid. I think I swooned.”

“That you did, which was very womanly of you. Plato caught you. It
was very impressive, too. Got my clan’s minds off of killing me long enough for
me to speak to them. I am grateful for that. I am also grateful for Plato for his
excellent hands. He has paid off his debt. He can go back to the lady Gwynneth now.”

“What debt?”

“You gave him back his love so they could wed. He is eternally grateful.
I understand. I would rather die than see you wed to another. He dinna’ hurt
you with his catch, did he?”

“P
lato kept me from harm, Zander.”

“I would rather it had been me, though.”

“You had speaking to do. You did it well. I only hope our bairn has
such a gift.”

“I’d rather he had his mother’s sight and her talent with weapons.
Scotland will need such.”

“Scotland will need both, Zander.”

He nodded. “True enough. Come here.” It wasn’t a request, it was a
command. Zander made certain of it too, by picking her up and twisting her until
she sat atop his legs with her back against his chest.

“Why?” she asked.

“So I can touch this place where my son is.” He had both her hands
again, and was cupping the bulge of her belly. Morgan felt the shudders of his
breath over her shoulder as he held to her. The baby was reacting, too. She
wondered if Zander felt it.

“Have you settled on a name for our bairn, Morganna?” he whispered,
finally. She shook her head.
“You must spend some time thinking on it. Doona’ let my mother sway
you, either. She has strange ideas.”

Morgan giggled. The babe twinged.

“You should hear what she helped Ari’s wife name my nephews,” he said.

“What if
’tis a girl, Zander?”

“F
itzHughs doona’ have girl bairns. KilCreggar-FitzHughs might, though. If ’tis a girl child you carry, then I will have done what my sire and brothers are
unable to. That has merit, Morganna. Doona’ let my mother name her, either.
She has been looking for an Aphro-something for her entire life. I doona’ wish
my daughter to have a name none can say.”

Morganna giggled again
. “We can name her for her sire. Zandria. We
can also name her for an uncle. How about Caesara?”

He groaned, and lay back, pulling her with him, until she was stretched
out atop him. “We had best design large dowries, then,” he answered.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Morgan
na and Zander got two blessed days in the official’s house before it ended. It
was a wondrous, learning experience, when everything was said once and then
again, when Morganna let Zander know, verbally and physically, of her love, and he left
her in no doubt of his.

It had to end, though. Nothing lasts forever, despite Zander’s words. It was Robert the Bruce ending it. He was requesting the laird and lady of
KilCreggar-FitzHugh in the great room, and amid a great deal of giggling and play, they went to greet their sovereign.

“I see wedded life agrees with you
, KilCreggar-FitzHugh!” He
announced, his voice overly loud in the one room.

“Aye
,” Zander replied, and bowed.

“And you, my lady. A more lovely and content lady I’ve yet to see. You
enjoyed your reprieve?”

“
Reprieve?” she echoed.

“Aye.
’Tis all I can do to keep order in the camps, with the FitzHugh tent
empty and no sign of the squire. I’m afraid it’s time.”

“I am ready.”

Morgan checked for her dirks, her dragon blade, and touched the silver
bands together at her wrists. Zander had helped dress her, so she knew
everything was in place.

“You misunderstand, my lady.”

Robert the Bruce, took one of her hands and then he went down on his knee before her. Morgan’s eyes widened and she looked to Zander for a cue.
He lifted his eyebrows and shrugged.

The king stood. “It is time for Morgan
, the squire, to return to the mists
from whence he came. Squire Morgan is a legend. He is in the heart, sword arm,
and aim of every Scotsman in Scotland. He will live on there. He canna’ survive
as the twin brother of one of my laird’s wives. Doona’ you understand?”

She shook her head.

“My vassal, Laird KilCreggar-FitzHugh is a wealthy man. He is a stunning man,
well attuned to leading a crowd, albeit he says differently. He is noticeable. His wife will be the same. It will na’ escape notice how closely related she is to Squire
Morgan, especially if Squire Morgan is rarely seen.”

“I never thought—I wouldn’t have....
I’m sorry, my liege.”

“It isna’ anyone’s fault, Morganna. It simply
is
.
Scotland needed
unification. We needed a champion who could best the English. We needed a
rallying force to get the clans together so I could speak to them. You were all that. I
canna’ ever repay what you have given me, although I have high hopes for
these.”

He pulled a small leather wallet from his waistband and held it out to her.
Morgan’s hands were shaking as she took it and unfolded it to reveal a dozen
dirks in separate sewn compartments, all with jewel-encrusted, silver handles. Her eyes went wider.

“I canna’ accept such a gift.” Her voice shook.

“Test the balance.” He smiled. “Laird KilCreggar-FitzHugh tells me of
the importance to your aim. I had the best smithy in Scotland design and smelt
these for you. Test them.”

Morgan slid one from its embroidered sheath. She closed her eyes and
held it, tipping her hand this way and that. It was amazing. The handle was the
same weight as the blade. She opened her eyes.

“’T
is perfect,” she whispered.

“Very
good. I’ll tell him of your pleasure. Creating blades for the
legendary Squire Morgan has increased his value a hundred-fold.”

Morgan smiled.
“My thanks,” she answered.

“Good. Now, as to your plan, FitzHugh?”

“KilCreggar-FitzHugh,” Zander corrected.

Robert smiled and shook his head. “That is a mouthful, Lord Zander.”

“I...truly have to disappear?” Morgan asked.

“’T
is the best for Scotland,” the king replied.

“But, will the crowds still come
?”

“
What you have put into motion has nae chance of stopping, my lady. I will forever be in your debt. And rest assured, if there is need of Squire Morgan, I will send for him. I will get a message through to my loyal subject and
nobleman, the Earl of KilCreggar-FitzHugh, and his lovely wife. My subjects will know this. Squire Morgan comes when he is needed.”

“Squire Morgan will be disappearing, Morganna
,” Zander said. “Not the
Lady KilCreggar-FitzHugh. You will be reappearing as my wife at our home. My only regret is that we will be separated for the small span of time it takes to
finish with Aberdeen.”

She must have looked as confused as she felt.

“If Squire Morgan’s master disappears, too, then you will be besieged at
your own castle gates. They will know where to find you. Zander must stay at
my side. I told him of it, already.”

“For how long
?” Morgan asked, swallowing before anyone guessed that
she was on the brink of tears. For a woman of few emotions and used to having only herself for company, she was learning the feeling of loneliness again. She didn’t realize how bereft she already felt, and she and Zander weren’t even apart,
yet.

“
Now, here is my plan....”

Morgan listened to Zander, but didn’t pay attention. She couldn’t. Her
entire being felt like it was aching with grief, and she didn’t know why.

~ ~ ~

Zander’s plan worked perfectly, which wasn’t surprising. He seemed to
have a knack for creating and executing plans. Morgan stood atop her conical stage, shrouded
by torchlight through the mist, and put dirk after dirk at Zander’s and King Robert’s
feet. They depleted her entire stock, all her old ones, and the new jeweled ones. She
felt rather naked, with just the dragon blade left, but Zander had promised her
the blades would be returned, and he always kept his promises. That much, she
knew.

Then, she was sliding over the cross-pieces and crawling out the bottom,
fading into the forest to the sound of Zander’s voice. She heard all about how
the Squire Morgan had come upon him. How he had been mortally wounded,
with an English sword through his belly, and had nothing left to do in this world
than watch his lifeblood spill, while all about him, Scotsmen were perishing at the
hands of the Sassenach. Then, she heard how, through the mist, a youth had
come to rescue him. Squire Morgan had pulled the sword from his belly, sealing the wound, and then he had turned on the enemy, and routed all.

Morgan’s ears were burning from the story. Her entire body felt aflame with the blush, and then
the four FitzHugh brothers; Ari, Caesar, William, and Plato, stepped from the trees.

“Our bairn brother would na’ trust you to anyone less,” Plato whispered as he approached and her eyes widened as she saw what he was giving her
. He was holding up a fur-trimmed, black wool cloak. Morgan couldn’t say a word. Her throat felt choked with them.

She didn’t know who assisted her atop a horse, smaller than Morgan, the horse, but just as sturdy, nor did she know who lifted the reins to lead her
. She knew it was Ari at the rear, however. Plato spoke of it after they left the last of The Bruce’s camp well behind them.

“Ari rides behind. As guard. We dinna’ want our worse sword arm at your back, my lady,” he whispered.

“Sword arm?” Morganna asked.

He flashed her a quick grin from the length of tartan he had wrapped about his head and shoulders. “Ari is well-known for his skills
. Phineas won’t even challenge him at it.”

“Sword arm?” she asked again.

He sighed loudly. “Verra well. Claymore. Ari is the best at wielding one. Is that what you wish to hear?”

“You know what I wish to know, Plato.”

“Actually, if I said words about swords and skill, it was untrue. We decided at the last moment who would ride beside you, who would lead. Ari wanted the rear. Skill has nothing to do with it. My mistake.”

“Doona’ take me for a fool, Plat
o FitzHugh. Why have we need of such?”

“I was making talk. To ease the ride. Ari is verra skilled at weapons, especially the claymore. He used to be the best. He isna’ anymore, but you know that. Squire Morgan has that title. We were all trained on such skills, though. We learned well. With one exception, of course.”

“Who would that be?” Morganna asked. “You?”

“Me? You flay me with your words, Morganna lass.”

“Then who? Caesar? That would explain his position at my other side, while William has the lead. This is William, is it not?”

“’Tis Caesar at your other side, true. It was an easy choice. He has no sense of direction. Were he leading us, he’d falter.”

“So, which one of you is the exception? Who has the worst sword arm? Well? Speak, Plato. You have my curiosity now.”

“You dinna’ guess?” he snorted. “’Tis your lord, Zander.”

“You tease me. Zander is good. He beat you.”

“Is he as good as you?’ he asked.

“Well…I think he would make up for my speed and accuracy with his strength. If he could keep his sword, he’d probably best me. I doona’ ken for certain. We’ve never fought with such.”

“Only because I stepped in to stop you.”

“Plato!”

“
Doona’ speak too loudly. There’s others about.”

“I know. I can see them.”

“Na’ my brothers. My clan. The FitzHugh clan is large. It’s powerful. It’s steeped in tradition. We number in the thousands. There’s many that have heard the tale and agreed with the justice meted out. There’s probably just as many hearing it and still cleaving unto the laird, because that’s the way it’s always been. There’s many still to be told. Doona’ worry. They’ll all hear and sway, given time.”

“We may be beset by FitzHugh? Is that what you’re saying?” Morganna’s voice easily mirrored her
dismay. She’d just started to feel feminine and soft, and to trust again in the promise of each day. To have it changed back to a state of constant alertness didn’t seem real.

“I dinna’ say anything of the sort. You’ve a quick tongue. I doona’ think I like it. I’m well rid of you to Zander. He’s always in need of a tongue-lashing. You should do it daily, to soften his hard head.”

Morgan couldn’t help it. She giggled.

“Remind me not to argue with you. ’Tis an earful of words one gets for such. That is the mark of a woman, you know.”

“Do tell,” Morganna replied in a sarcastic tone.

“Well…at first when women talk, men listen. Why, at
first, when women talk, even children listen. But something happens after that. Women talk and talk and talk. Soon, nobody listens. Everybody has tired of listening. Women still talk. Find me an
auld
woman, she’ll still be talking. Find me an
auld
man, he’ll be deaf. You see?”

“The lady Gwynneth has my condolences, I think,” Morganna replied.

Another grin. “You may wish to seek some sleep. ’Tis a long ride ahead of us.”

“Zander told me it was five leagues. We’ll be there midmorn.”

“Not with the hiding we have to do. We have to keep to the trees. We’ll be making our own path, too. Can’t risk it.”

Morgan’s eyes went huge. “You weren’t teasing me?” she whispered.

He swore almost too softly to be heard. “It was well-planned, Morganna. Doona’ worry. We have FitzHugh clansmen and the newly named KilCreggar-FitzHugh men about the woods and paths, diverting attention with their presence and their noise. Dinna’ you listen to a word I said?”

“Which ones? You FitzHughs speak more of them than any
auld
woman possibly could.”

“I doona’ ken why I bother. I try to set your fears to rest, and you turn my words on me. I’ll speak them again. Listen this time. It is a long ride to your new home, nothing more. Your seat and legs will pain you with the time spent atop your horse. You’ll need a swift dram of whiskey and a quick s
lap to revive yourself once we arrive. The trees offer more shelter from the sun. That’s why we ride amongst them.”

“What sun?” she asked, interrupting him.

He ignored her question and continued. “We’re also trying to keep your presence a secret. It’s for self-preservation. Once we reveal your beauty, we’ll have even more crowds than your fame created. That’s all I said. That’s all I meant.”

Morganna giggled again. Then, she sobered. “Is it dangerous?”

“No more dangerous than riding my wife. Oh. Forgive me. I forgot you are a woman now.”