Page 82 of Bride of Fire
“Lucifer’s ballocks!” Feiyan quickly lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “Did you slay him, Jen?”
“What?” She blinked. “Nay.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“He’s a good man, Feiy. Decent and kind and noble. He deserves better than to be forced to wed a maid against his will.”
“Surely you jest,” Feiyan scoffed. “After all, nobody was forcing him to swi-…” She reconsidered. “You didn’t swive him at the point of a dagger, did you?”
“Nay.” The word soured on Jenefer’s lips. Was it so hard for Feiyan to imagine a man actually desiring her?
“If he’s so decent,” Feiyan decided, “then he should be glad to marry you.”
“I don’t want him on those terms.”
“How can you say that? Wasn’t that your plan all along? What about all those sketches you made earlier? All the changes to the castle? Now you don’t want him to wed you?”
“Not by force, nay.”
“Yet you’re willing to take thecastleby force.”
“Aye.” Jenefer didn’t have the words to explain to her cousin how that was different. But it was.
Feiyan threw up her hands in exasperation and flopped back into bed.
It was still dark, but nearing dawn when Morgan heard a rapid knocking on the nursery door, bringing him instantly awake. Assuming it was Cicilia coming to feed the bairn, he rose on his elbows and called out, “Come.”
But it was Bethac who stuck her head in with a candle. She looked as pale as linen. Her brow was creased with worry.
“Where is she?” she whispered.
“Who?”
“Jenefer.”
His heart dropped. Had the lass gone missing? Now that he’d decided to bare his heart and tie his fortunes to a woman, had she fled?
Bethac didn’t wait for an answer. “Perhaps she returned to your bedchamber?” she suggested.
His shoulders dropped in relief. Of course that was where she’d gone.
But how the devil did Bethac know the lass had been here with him? Sometimes it seemed like the old maid was a touch fey, the way she could winnow out the truth. And now that she’d hinted at his indiscretion, it seemed pointless to deny it.
“I suppose so, aye,” he said.
She nodded, then waved Cicilia into the nursery and shut the door behind them. The young maid rushed to the hearth to wake the bairn for his feeding.
Bethac set a bundle of Morgan’s clothes atop the bed. Her expression was impossible to read. She looked simultaneously fretful and sorrowful, aghast and confused.
“What’s amiss, Bethac?”
“Ye’re needed below,” she said urgently. “Please, m’laird, dress and come quickly.”
He lowered his brows. Bethac never made idle demands.
“Is it Rivenloch?” he guessed. Perhaps her uncle’s army had come to claim Jenefer after all.
“Nay.”
