Morgan the Rogue (17 page)

             
The feasting was well under way now, the room filled with laughter as their guests watched the tumblers going through their antics.  A travelling minstrel played for them, and then the dancing began.

             
Morgan stood up and offered his hand to his bride, noticing that it trembled a little as she allowed him to lead her into the middle of the floor.

             
'There is no need to be frightened of me,' he whispered.  'I shall be kind to you.  You shall not find me a demanding husband, Morwenna.  Nor need you fear that I shall force you to yield up my rights before you are accustomed to me.  There is time enough for that in the future.  We shall both want children but there is no hurry.'

             
The look she gave him made Morgan frown.  She seemed startled, rather than relieved that he had made it clear he would not take the privilege of a husband as yet.

             
'You are considerate, my husband,' she said as they began the stately dance that was decreed for them.  'But I would always wish to do my duty.'

             
'Certainly you owe me a duty,' he said and for a moment the old humour was in his eyes.  'But I would rather it was a pleasure – for both of us.  We shall wait until the time is right.'

             
He smiled at her, thinking her blushes those of a trembling virgin, and knew that he had been right to stay his hand in this matter.  A marriage was binding for life and he saw no reason to destroy her life as his mother's had been by a careless brute of a husband.  Morgan was not his father, and he was determined that his young wife should be content – even if he could not give her the love that should rightfully be hers.

             
Yet perhaps if they were both patient in time they might reach an understanding.  There were many forms of love and he believed that he might eventually come to find a different kind of love with Morwenna.  It would not be the raging passion he felt for Rosamund…her image was in his mind again but he banished it ruthlessly.  He must not think of her on this day.

*

The bridal chamber was in a separate part of the house.  It had been prepared earlier in the day by giggling serving women, decked with garlands of greenery and the bed strewn with rose petals. 

             
Morwenna was led there by the ladies of the household, who helped her to disrobe.  They stayed with her for a while, teasing her gently about the handsome man who was so soon to become her husband in truth and giggling at her blushes.  Then, as they heard the raucous shouting and male laughter from outside, they were quiet as the door opened and Morgan entered, accompanied by several of his friends.  Owain was with them and Morwenna's father.  They had come for the ceremony of the bedding, and as many as could manage it crowded inside the chamber, waiting expectantly.  They were to be disappointed for though Morwenna was in bed as custom decreed, Morgan shook his head and began to shoo them from the room.

             
'I believe my bride would prefer privacy on her wedding night,' he told them.  'Away with you and drink to the health of my first child.'

             
Laughter greeted this, though Morwenna saw Rhys Llewelyn glance at her, a secret smile in his eyes.

             
'Shame on you, Morgan,' one man, more intoxicated than the rest, cried out.  'We must see you bedded.'

             
'Nay, we have seen Morgan to his chamber and the bride is young,' Owain decreed.  'He will do his duty and in the morning you shall all see the evidence of it.'  He ushered them from the room as they protested and threw ribald jests over their shoulder at Morgan.

             
He shut the door and barred it after them, turning to Morwenna with a smile.  Her serving women had slipped away through a door at the side of the room, which was covered by a curtain.  Morgan thrust the curtain aside, opened it to shoo away the giggling wenches, then locked it after him.

             
'I think we may be alone now, Morwenna,' he said.  'You must forgive them for their ribaldry.  It is the custom, though hard for a young and innocent girl to bear.'

             
'I-I did not mind it,' Morwenna replied.  She was terrified and she dare not look at him.  He had said that he was in no hurry to claim his rights – but what did that mean?  If not tonight, then when?  If he did not come to her bed for a long time and she was already carrying the child of another man…

             
'I told you not to be frightened of me,' Morgan said and came to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, taking her hand.  He raised it to his lips and kissed it.  'I shall not force you to yield to me tonight, Morwenna.  Perhaps in a few days – or a few weeks, when you are accustomed to seeing me in your chamber.'

             
'But…'  Morwenna's hand trembled in his.  'What of the proof that we must show my father in the morning?'

             
'Ah…'  Morgan laughed and produced a small vial.  'This is pigs' blood.  Sprinkle it liberally on your sheets and in the morning everyone will smile and believe the deed is done.'

             
Morwenna swallowed hard.  It was so strange that he should have suggested using the very artifice that she had prepared to deceive him.  He was no fool, this man she had married – and she realised now that he was both kind and generous.

             
'You are thoughtful, my husband.'

             
'I do not believe that a young girl should be used by the man she marries as if she were nothing but a possession,' Morgan said.  'You are a woman with feelings and dreams of your own, sweet Morwenna, and I would not hurt you.  For this reason I shall tell you the truth.  I am not in love with you, but I admire and honour you.  In time I believe that we may come to care deeply for one another.  It is perhaps unfair that you should have been given to me in marriage, for I know well that you had no choice in the matter.  I could have refused, but it was Owain's wish – and you are beautiful and good.  There is no other I would take to wife…'

No other that he could marry, his mind echoed.  'Therefore, I would deal fairly with you.  One day, when we are both in the mind for it, we shall become husband and wife in every way.'

             
He bent his head and kissed her briefly on the lips.  It was a kiss of such sweetness that Morwenna's breath left her and she stared up at him, wishing that he would take her now – that she had come to him virgin pure as she ought.

             
'Do you not want me?'

             
'You stir my blood,' Morgan said.  'I could lie with you now and it would pleasure me, Morwenna – but I think it best we wait.  Perhaps when we are in our own home…'

             
'I do not please you.'  Her eyes filled with tears and he smiled and shook his head.

             
'You please me as much as any woman could,' he said and knew that he lied.  'Sleep well, Morwenna.  I shall be here when you wake.'

             
He removed some of the cushions and took them to a mat beside the fireplace, lying down with nothing to cover him, his back towards her.

             
Morwenna stared at him, torn between anger and a strange pleasure at his tenderness towards her.  He had not left her as he might, staying with her so that all would think she had kept him in her bed the whole night.  It was done for her pride's sake, she knew and that touched her, as did his kindness.  If she had been a frightened virgin she might have loved him for his forbearance – but now she was frightened for an entirely different reason.

             
If Morgan continued to exercise self-restraint towards her, she could have no hope of convincing him that any child she might bear was his.  She must pray that he would relent and take her to his bed soon, for otherwise she might find that his kindness had turned to anger.

*

They were to return to Sycharth the next day and Morgan still had not claimed his rights as her husband, despite all the smiles and inviting looks she had sent his way.  Morwenna was afraid that once he was back with Owain his time would be taken up by duties and her chance would be lost.  It might be that her monthly flow would come and she would have no need to worry, yet she would have felt safer if she was indeed his wife.  The fear that he would know she had lain with another was ever present in her mind, and she could not rest until their first coupling was over.

             
Morgan had been a pleasant companion for these past few days, walking with her about the estate Owain had provided for them, discussing the management of their household and asking her how she liked to spend her time.  She had shown him her tapestry and the embroidery she was presently working on, and in her turn she asked him what kinds of foods would please him at their table.

             
As yet he had not sung for her but on their last evening  she asked him if he would sing the haunting ballard he had sung for her once before.  She had noticed that he had eaten and drunk sparingly that evening, and when he offered her his hand after his song was done her heart leaped wildly.  She knew instinctively that the moment had come when he looked down into her eyes.

             
'Tell your women to help you prepare and then I shall come to your chamber, Morwenna.'  His smile sent shivers down her spine.  'You are not afraid?'

             
'You are my husband, Morgan.  You have been patient.  I could ask no more.'  She felt her cheeks grow warm but then she raised her head and smiled at him.  'I shall await your coming with pleasure.'

             
Her pulses were racing as she left him and went to her own chamber.  They had slept in separate but adjoining rooms for the house Owain had given them was a large modern manor with many of the comforts that older houses lacked.  Although the walls were made of solid stone, they had thick tapestries to bring colour and warmth and were less draughty than the house at Oswestry that was her marriage portion from her father.

             
Morwenna dismissed her maids once she was undressed, then she placed the vial of blood she had secreted amongst her things beneath her bed cushions.  Somehow  she would sprinkle it on the sheets once Morgan had claimed her as his own.  Perhaps he would sleep afterwards…

             
She turned guiltily as he entered as she was smoothing the cushions into place, smiling at him nervously.

             
'You are welcome, my husband.

             
'I thought you would be in bed?'

             
'I was merely finishing my devotions.'

             
Morgan nodded but made no reply.  He came to her as she pulled back the covers, gazing down into her eyes for a few moments before taking her into his arms.  Her heart jerked as his mouth sought hers, tentatively at first and then with sudden passion.

             
Something within her seemed to leap in answer to his passion and she pressed herself against him, eager for what was to come between them.  Morgan made a little moaning sound in his throat and bent to sweep her off her feet and into his arms.  Laying her on the bed, he hastily divested himself of his tunic, then helped her to throw off her nightgown.  He bent to kiss her breasts, teasing them with his tongue, flicking at the rosy nipples and then sucking at them, grazing them with his teeth until she whimpered with pleasure.  Oh, how sweet it was to feel his mouth upon her and hear the rasp of his breath against her breast.  Morwenna had never felt such ecstasy as his kisses and caresses brought her now.  He seemed to play upon her body as he would a harp, coaxing her to a response that had her body singing with pleasure.

             
She was swept along by a rushing tide of heat that spread through her limbs, arching towards him, mewing like a kitten.  When he opened her legs and began to thrust at her, gently seeking entry to that inner citadel of her warm secret self, she made little cries of entreaty, forgetting in her eagerness to feel him inside her to cry out as if in pain when he thrust himself deep into her.  She had been terribly sore after Rhys' possession, which had been rougher and much swifter than this slow, sensual loving.  It was good, so very good, and she clung to him, arching into his body, matching his rhythm, moaning with pleasure as he spilled himself inside her, bringing her to a shuddering climax at that same moment.

             
'Ohhh…' she cried and pressed her face into the dampness of his shoulder.  'Morgan my love…my husband…'

             
He lay still for a moment, then rolled away from her, leaving the bed immediately.  Morwenna lay with her eyes closed for a moment as her senses slowly gathered and she became aware that he was pulling on his clothes.  She opened her eyes and saw that he was staring down at her – and he was angry.  A trickle of fear went through her as she remembered.  She had neglected to cry out in pain and she had forgotten the blood.  Her hand crept beneath the cushions but he was before her.  She gave a little cry of alarm as he pulled out the tiny vial of blood.