Highland Heather - Highland Heather Part 35
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Highland Heather Part 35

"So be it."

As she began to wash her hands and face, Morgan leaned a hip against the door and watched. He had never seen a woman move with such grace.

She lifted a linen square to her face to blot the water, and he had a sudden desire to lick each tiny droplet from her cheeks and lips. The mere thought left him reeling.

The first rays of sunlight streamed through the balcony window, bathing her in liquid gold. She picked up a gilt- handled brush and brought her hair forward over one breast. As she ran the brush through the tangles, Morgan had an almost overpowering urge to take the brush from her hand and complete the task himself.

He curled his hand into a fist and held it firmly by his side.

There was a knock on the door and a serving girl entered. Over her arm was a morning gown of soft ivory wool and several petticoats. She looked from Brenna, still clad in her night shift, to the man who stood, half-naked, watching her. It was a most intimate scene.

"Forgive me, my lord," she sputtered, as she began to back from the room.

"I shall return when the lady summons me."

"Nay." Morgan saw the look on Brenna's face and nearly laughed aloud.

She well knew that before the end of the day, everyone in the palace would hear of this.

"Stay and assist the lady. It is time I dressed."

He had a sudden devilish thought. Under the serving girl's watchful eye, he crossed the room and caught Brenna's chin in his hand. Lifting it, he brushed his lips lightly over hers.

He had not expected the rush of feelings that could be caused by such a simple touch. He felt the jolt, sudden, shocking, and forced himself not to react as he turned away with a negligent shrug.

"Do not dally. We leave for Greystone Abbey within the hour."

Brenna was too stunned to respond. That was the first time he had ever kissed her with any tenderness. And though she knew it meant nothing to him, her body was still tingling.

She knew why he had played that little charade. He enjoyed humiliating her in front of others. He wanted her, and all the others, to know that she was powerless.

As he strolled across the room her hand tightened on the handle of the brush. How she itched to toss it at his imperious head.

"Come. The horses are ready."

Morgan wore his familiar black. Breeches, doublet, tunic, all were black. But the effect was softened by a crimson cape thrown rakishly over one shoulder.

Brenna tossed a heavy wool traveling cloak over her shoulders and lifted the hood. Morgan offered his arm and Brenna touched her hand lightly to his sleeve. She felt the ripple of muscle beneath her touch and saw in her mind the way he'd looked earlier, without his shirt. It was an image she could not easily dispel. She felt her cheeks redden slightly.

When they left the room the guards fell into step behind them.

In the courtyard were a dozen horses being held by grooms.

"Greystone Abbey is more than an hour's ride, my lady." Morgan motioned to a gleaming carriage and six white horses.

"The queen has offered her carriage. Or, if you prefer, you may ride one of her spirited mounts."

"I would ride, my lord. The carriage is too confining."

He was oddly pleased by her choice.

"I, too, much prefer the freedom of a mount to the confinement of a carriage. But do not think," he added crisply, "that you will ride to your freedom.

My men and I will be vigilant. "

Morgan helped her into the saddle, then mounted his own steed. To the doorman he called, "My Lord Clive. Convey to the queen our gratitude at her hospitality. And tell her that I shall return on the morrow."

"You may tell her yourself."

Morgan chuckled at the sight of the queen surrounded by her ladies and a dozen or more nobles from the court.

"I had thought you to be preparing to break your fast, Majesty. I did not wish to disturb you."

"What disturbs me more is seeing you go, Morgan. I had hoped to persuade you to stay on at Richmond."

"I have been away from home too long, Majesty. There is much to see to."

"When you have your affairs in order, I hope you and the Scotswoman will return to the palace."

"Perhaps I can persuade Your Majesty to come to Grey- stone Abbey for a day of hunting," he called.

The queen's eyes lit with fire.

"Ah. You know my weakness, you rogue.

I would like nothing better than the thrill of the hunt. You will arrange it? "

"Consider it done."

The queen gazed at the woman whose horse was flanked by two mounted guards.

"Godspeed, Brenna MacAlpin. May your fate soon be decided."

Brenna bowed her head.

"Thank you, Majesty."

Lord Windham pushed his way through the crowd and paused beside Brenna's horse, catching the reins.

"A pity that you must leave just when we were becoming acquainted. Of course," he added loudly enough for Morgan to hear, "I could always arrange to attend the hunt with the queen. That way" -- a mocking smile touched his lips "--we could continue what was so rudely interrupted on the balcony last night."

Snatching the reins from his hand Brenna nudged her horse into a trot.

As she did, she saw the black look on Morgan's face.

The queen and her followers called and waved as Morgan and his company moved out smartly.

Before Brenna's departure Madeline d'Arbeville had stopped by her chambers to relay what little she knew about Morgan Grey's home.