Greystone Abbey, it would seem, was an isolated manor house where Morgan went to be alone. No one-had ever been invited there. He did all his entertaining in his London house. But rumors persisted that the queen was often entertained at Greystone Abbey. Entertained alone, without servants or the others who always accompanied her on her brief sojourns in the country.
What shocking secrets did he hide in that remote place?
Though Brenna inwardly trembled at the thought of being alone with Morgan Grey, she was relieved to be doing more than sitting in a room awaiting her fate. Perhaps there was something to occupy her time at Greystone Abbey. Or perhaps, she thought with a sudden lifting of her spirits, there would be a chance for escape.
Seeing her thoughtful expression, Morgan brought his horse close to hers.
"If you are plotting your escape from my manor house, my lady, I would suggest that you reconsider. I have no intention of allowing you the freedom to move about as you please."
Brenna shot him a look full of hate.
"Perhaps you can chain me to my bed. Would that please you, my lord?"
The thought was not an altogether unpleasant one. Especially if he shared the bed with her.
His eyes crinkled with laughter.
"Perhaps. Though if I were going to chain you, 'twould more likely be in my scullery, where you could at least earn your keep."
"Some day, when I am free of your tyranny, I will show you how I would deal with a scoundrel like you in Scotland. I will find a special way to thank you for every injustice."
He glanced down at her, enjoying the way her eyes darkened with anger.
It was most interesting to see how the cool, haughty woman from Scotland could lose her composure.
"You are most welcome, my lady."
She looked up to see the laughter touching the corner of his mouth, lurking in his eyes. Her temper grew.
"You are enjoying my helplessness."
"You, my lady?" He threw back his head and laughed aloud, then touched a hand to the wound that, though healing nicely, still caused him enough pain to curse her name at times.
"I do not believe, in your whole life, that you have ever been helpless. And I bear the scars to prove it."
She felt the flush creep along her throat and color her cheeks. There were many men who would have relished holding captive one who had so viciously attacked them. To his credit, Morgan Grey had shown restraint toward her. She had to admit that he had treated her far better than she would treat him under similar circumstances.
Brenna bit back the retort that sprang to her lips. He was trying to goad her into a fight. She would not give him the satisfaction.
Instead she let down her hood and savored the breeze in her hair. It was a perfect summer day. The sky was a clear, cloudless blue. She lifted her face to the sun.
Morgan turned to study her. Under the dazzling sunlight she was as breathtaking as she had been by candlelight.
"Tell me about your home, my lord."
"It has been in my family for generations. Elizabeth's father, King Henry, built his palace nearby so that the two could meet whenever Henry desired my father's council."
Morgan was unaware of the sparkle that came into his eyes while he spoke of his home.
"And now Elizabeth has you nearby, in the event she desires your council or--comfort."
"Aye." His voice held a note of amusement.
"Does that bother you, my lady?"
Brenna's brows arched in question.
"Bother me? Why should I care whom the Queen of-England chooses as her council? Or her lover?"
Oh, he enjoyed sparring with her.
"Why indeed, my lady?"
They crested a hill and Morgan reined in his horse and pointed.
"There, my lady. On that distant rise is my home. Greystone Abbey."
Brenna stared at the green rolling hills and heavily wooded forests that surrounded a graceful castle built of smoky gray stone.
As they drew closer, they approached a sleepy village. The word was quickly passed that the lord of the manor was returning home. By the time their horses entered the main road of the village, most of the residents had nocked for a glimpse of Morgan Grey.
The women smiled shyly. Many of them held their children aloft for his admiration. A woodsman stepped into the path of the lead horses and removed his hat.
"So, William," Morgan called.
"Has the game been plentiful?"
"Aye, my lord. Thanks to you, we have all had our fill."
"The queen desires a hunt. Come to Greystone Abbey on the morrow. We will make arrangements."
"Aye, my lord." The man's face was wreathed in smiles.
"I would be honored."
Brenna studied the faces in the crowd and felt more than a little surprised. She had heard that the English queen wasted food while her people went hungry. Yet these people looked happy and well fed.
In no time they had traversed the lane and were headed along a wide road that led to the manor house.
As they entered the courtyard, several servants spilled from the door and hurried forward to assist Morgan and his men from their mounts.
Morgan reached up and lifted Brenna from the saddle. She steeled herself against his touch.
"Welcome, my lord.
"Tis good to have you home again."
"Thank you. Mistress Leems." He turned to a plump woman who stood in the doorway wiping her hands on her apron.