Page 170 of Bride of Fire
The nursery filled with happy chatter as everyone began to discuss the future. Details for the wedding feast. Plans for meeting Morgan’s parents. Schedules for upcoming tournaments. Alterations to the castle. Arrangements to take turns caring for Miles, whom they’d all come to adore.
Jenefer couldn’t stay disgruntled for long. Especially when she let her gaze slip over to Morgan.
He was everything she’d ever wanted in a husband. A man of honor and discipline. Kindness and strength. Fierce. Gentle. Handsome. Powerful. Fair.
Like a straight arrow married to a flexible bow, their union would fly true and go far, bringing harmony between their clans.
Peace along the border.
A lifetime of love and loyalty and adventure.
“Amor vincit omnia,”she murmured.
Love conquers all.
Perhaps the Rivenloch motto wasn’t so wrong after all.
By the sparkle in his eyes and his heart-melting grin, it seemed Morgan agreed.
Epilogue
“’Tisn’t right!” Jenefer snapped, dropping the document onto her bedsheet-covered lap.
She was suddenly furious. With the king. And with her kin.
Her rage was palpable enough to wake Morgan, dozing beside her.
“What is it?” he murmured with a yarn, still drowsy from the honey mead they’d imbibed at their wedding feast. That and a night full of lovemaking. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you know about this?” she demanded, shoving the document under his nose and crossing her arms over her naked bosom.
Rising up on his elbows, he squinted at the parchment. But with the candle on her side of the bed, he couldn’t make out the words.
“I can’t… What does it say?” he asked.
She hesitated. Gazing at his adorable mussed hair, his half-lidded eyes, and the concern etched between his brows, she couldn’t help but feel her anger soften. After all, she had no reason to be vexed withhim.
He couldn’t possibly know what the document said. The king’s decree had been sealed for a month, forgotten in the flurry of wedding plans. Since they were wed now, she’d finally opened it, figuring she should know exactly what it said.
But her pardon of Morgan’s complicity didn’t mitigate her anger with everyone else who knew what it contained.
She took the document back.
“According to this,” she said, poring over the words, “The king ‘hereby grants the lairdship of Castle Creagor and all its lands thereto’…” She skipped the boring description of the holding. “‘to Jenefer du Lacupon the condition of her marriage to Morgan Mor mac Giric.’”
“What?” That woke him up.
He seemed just as outraged as she was. He reached across her to grab the candle and took the document to examine the words himself.
She sulked. “My inheritance was apparently secured with the promise of a wedding between us. My kin knew all along. And they didn’t say a word.”
“’Twas to be a political alliance then,” he said in disappointment, lowering the document to rake his hair back from his furrowed brow. “Not a love match.”
“Why?” she asked bitterly. “Why would they do that? Why would they bargain away my…”
She couldn’t finish the thought, because she knew that wasn’t quite accurate. She’d given Morgan her maidenhood freely, of her own accord.
Besides, most marriages between powerful nobles were political alliances. That anyone fell in love after a forced marriage was a rare occurrence.
