Page 92 of Bride of Fire
In all honesty, she didn’t expect Edward’s people to expend much effort to find her. After all, they’d known her only a few months. She’d been his lover, not yet his wife. Surely the carrion crows in his household would be too busy deciding who was to inherit Firthgate to concern themselves with a missing mistress.
The trek to Creagor had been several miles long. But the journey had been worthwhile. She’d managed to throw herself upon Morgan’s mercy and into his grateful arms.
Now, however, she was exhausted from murder, sore from her injuries, and drained from having to play the meek, remorseful wife. All she wanted to do was lick her wounds and fall into a deep sleep.
The altercation in the next room was robbing her of that well-deserved rest.
The infant was screaming relentlessly. That was bad enough. But now she could hear the muffled voice of Morgan upbraiding the servants. Worse, one impertinent maid who didn’t know her place was squawking back at him.
If Morgan were wise, he’d knock the maid across the room. Maintaining one’s rank in the world required ruling with a fist of steel.
But beneath all that warrior muscle and bone, Morgan was cursed with a soft heart. It was why she’d always been able to manipulate him so easily.
That bloody infant, however, was going to be difficult.
Infants were selfish and needy. She despised the mewling creatures with their screaming demands and their sopping trews. If she had her way, she wouldn’t lay eyes on her offspring until they were full-grown, useful, and capable of complete sentences.
A particularly piercing cry seeped through the wall, and Alicia cringed. Her head ached from her self-inflicted crack, and that cry was like a spike driven into her brain.
At least she didn’t have to feed the shrieking beast. He’d probably love to suck the life from her and leave her with withered teats. Thankfully, she’d gone dry and had no milk to give.
Finally, the cries began to subside, though there was still much shouting and carrying on.
If only she weren’t so weary… If only Morgan weren’t there as a witness…
Alicia sighed. She would have enjoyed marching to the nursery, ripping that insolent maid’s tongue out, and feeding it to the hounds.
But she supposed she had to stifle her temper while she was with Morgan.
At last the cacophony diminished, and Alicia was able to drift into a semblance of sleep. She wouldn’t truly rest easy, however, until Morgan was by her side.
She’d been careful not to leave any evidence of her crime behind. But there was always the danger of a stray witness. Until she was in the clear, she’d have to be cautious.
With loyal Morgan Mor mac Giric beside her, she’d be safe. The gullible, able-bodied Highlander would march into the fires of Hell to protect her.
She only hoped that when he came to bed, he wouldn’t bring that miserable infant back with him. On the morrow, she’d have to look in on the child for appearance’s sake. But tonight she wasn’t up to the farce of feigning affection for her squalling spawn.
Chapter 43
Morgan’s revelation—that his wife was in his bed—made Feiyan and Cicilia gasp in unison. Jenefer, stunned, was struck silent. Even Miles quieted in his father’s arms.
His wife? Lady Alicia? How could that possibly be? Wasn’t Miles’ mother dead?
Morgan explained as Jenefer listened with a tightly clenched jaw. Her knuckles were white where she clutched her skirts. She hoped no one could tell that beneath her stoic demeanor, her heart was breaking.
It seemed she was destiny’s foe. By some cruel miracle, the one person in the world who could prevent Morgan from falling in love with Jenefer and making her his bride had managed to come back to life.
“Lady Alicia was…” Morgan hesitated, grinding his teeth in vengeful anger. “Imprisoned and viciously mistreated at the lord’s hands.”
Jenefer uttered not a word, for fear her voice would betray her selfish heartache.
Itwasselfish. She knew that. After all, the Highlander’s true love, the mother of his son, had returned to him. She should be glad for Morgan.
And the poor woman in the room next door had suffered great harm. Torn from her infant and her husband. Forced into an Englishman’s bed. Abused by her abductor.
But it was too difficult for Jenefer to get past her own misfortune at this fortunate turn of events. And it was pure torment to see Morgan’s grief-haunted eyes shining with hope.
She swallowed the bitter taste of fate and said nothing.
