"I must see to the guest rooms before Madeline arrives."
There was a note of amusement in his voice.
"That is why we have servants, my lady."
"But I want everything to be perfect for our guests."
Our guests. Though Brenna seemed unaware of what she had said, Morgan felt oddly pleased by the term.
"Do you have time to break your fast, my lady? Or must you begin your work immediately?"
She flushed, realizing that she was the object of his teasing laughter.
"I suppose I can spare a few minutes to eat, my lord."
"Mistress Leems promised me a fine meal." He offered his arm and felt the slight pressure of her hand. It was a most pleasant feeling that radiated from her touch. Pleasant but dangerous. Her skirts whispered as she moved along beside him. Soft. Seductive. He must remember that beneath the softness was a woman who would stop at nothing to return to her home.
"Is this to be another of your recipes?"
Brenna glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes.
"Would that please you?"
He shrugged, unwilling to admit his feelings.
"A soldier learns to eat anything, so long as it fills his stomach."
She couldn't hold back the laughter that bubbled up within her.
"Then I will ask Mistress Leems to cook you some of her gruel, my lord.
That should fill your stomach and remind you of the battles you are missing."
A hint of laughter warmed his voice.
"Bite your tongue before she hears you."
"Hears what?" Richard looked up from his place at the table as they entered.
"Your brother cares not for my fancy food. He cares only to satisfy his hunger."
"Then it is as I thought," Richard said with a frown.
"Too many battles have left you daft." He watched as Morgan sat down beside Brenna. It was obvious that his brother was taking great pains not to touch her as he took his seat. But why? Could it be that Morgan was afraid to touch this little creature? Afraid of the feelings she stirred in him? The very thought made Richard stifle a laugh.
"A good meal is like a beautiful woman," he said with a satisfied smile.
"Both are meant to be savored, to satisfy not only the hunger of the body, but of the soul as well."
Morgan felt a tremor as Richard's words touched a chord deep inside him. There had been many women in his life. And yet none had ever satisfied the hunger in his soul.
Choosing to ignore the knowing look on Richard's face, Morgan bellowed, "You may begin serving, Mistress Leems."
"Aye, my lord." The housekeeper directed the servants, who carried in trays of warm biscuits and steaming meats, as well as breads dripping with honey and fruit conserves.
The men at the tables fell silent as they relished their meal. When the others had finished, Morgan and Richard continued to eat until at last, replete, they sat back.
"My compliments, Mistress Leems." Richard lifted a bite of roll, dripping with fruit conserve, to his lips.
The housekeeper flushed with pleasure.
Morgan took a taste of the conserve. "Another of the Lady Brenna' s suggestions?"
"Aye, my lord."
Richard studied the woman who sat quietly beside his brother.
"I, for one, am grateful, my lady. I look forward to your next surprise."
Morgan glanced at her in time to see the smile that touched her lips.
And though he said nothing, he could not deny the fact that he, too, was enjoying the subtle changes Brenna's presence had wrought at Greystone Abbey. Each day she seemed to reveal another surprise.
As they left the refectory Brenna said, "If you will excuse me, my lord, there is much to see to before Madeline arrives."
As she scurried off, with Mistress Leems and several servants in tow, Morgan stared after her until he became aware of Richard's scrutiny beside him.
"The lady seems in high spirits."
"Aye." Morgan frowned.
"It is good that Madeline is coming for a visit. Brenna has been isolated for too long."
"Is that not precisely what the queen intended for your prisoner?"
Prisoner. Morgan was taken aback. He had begun to think of Brenna not as a prisoner but a guest. A most delightful guest, if the truth be told.
He warned himself not to be lulled into a false sense of security. The guards must continue to maintain their vigil. Else the lady would snatch the first opportunity to escape.
Morgan stood by his desk and watched as Brenna moved slowly through the rose garden, snipping a bouquet of flowers. Two guards, their swords at the ready, trailed discreetly behind her.
The ledgers he had been working on were forgotten as he leaned a hip against the sill and studied her. Sunlight filtered through the branches of the trees, dappling her with light and shadow. The breeze caught her hair, and it streamed out behind her like a silken veil.
She lifted her head to watch the path of a hawk and he studied her in profile. Her brow was smooth, unwrinkled. Her nose was small and upturned. Her mouth was curved into a smile of pure delight.
Without a thought to what he was doing he tossed the papers on the desk and strode from the room. Moments later he was on the path leading to the garden.
She rounded a bend, her arms filled with colorful blossoms. He felt his throat go dry at the sight of her. God in heaven, she was so lovely, she took his breath away.
She hesitated in midstride.