Morgan the Rogue (19 page)

             
He meant to walk away but something alerted him and he turned just as Rhys struck at his back with the dagger he had retrieved from the ground.  Morgan put out his hand to defend himself, but he had been off guard and it was too late.  He cried out as he felt the blade bite deep into his side and then he sank to his knees, keeling over as the blood gushed out in a crimson tide.

             
'You shouldn't have turned your back – that's the first rule of warfare,' Rhys said but his voice came dimly as from a distance.  'Know that I hate you, Morgan Gruffudd.  I hope you die for then I shall have all that was yours…'

             
Morgan made no answer.  He was slipping into unconsciousness, aware only of the pain…

*

There was no Kestrel this time to tend his wound, binding him by charms to a dreaming sleep that brought him ease and rest.  This time there was only the fever and the pain, raging in him as he fought his way through endless days and nights of sweating, his body racked by the ill humours that possessed it.  And in his fever there was one name often on his lips.

             
'Rosamund…Rosamund…'

             
In his helpless state Morgan gave way to the desires and feelings he had ruthlessly kept in check while in control of his mind.  Tending him, bathing his heated body with cool water and giving him the mixtures prescribed by Owain's own physicians, Morwenna learned to hate the woman she had never seen.

             
Almost three weeks had passed before Morgan was able to focus clearly on the face of the woman who tended him, and even then he was still too weak to do more than whisper her name.

             
'Morwenna?  What are you doing here?'

             
'I was sent for, my husband,' she replied glancing at the man who stood at the foot of the bed and waited.  Owain had been in the room constantly since Morgan was brought home close to death. 'I am your wife.  Where else should I be but by your side?'

             
Morgan could not answer for he had not the strength to remember or name the reasons why she should not be here, though he was aware of them, aware of her betrayal and that of the man he had loved as dearly as a brother.

             
Another ten days passed before Morgan could leave his couch, another week before he began to recover his strength.  And it was then that he asked her the same question, but in a way that told Morwenna she must answer him with more than sweet words.

             
'Rhys Llewelyn left you bleeding to death,' she said.  'One of Owain's men was suspicious when he came back alone.  He told Owain that Rhys had a flesh wound in his arm, but when he asked him how he had come by it he would not answer, and a few minutes later he rode out and they discovered that he had taken most of his possessions with him.'

             
Morgan nodded, his eyes narrowed.  'Owain has told me how I was found and brought back to his house nearer to death than life – but that does not explain your presence here.  Do not pretend to misunderstand, Morwenna.  I have lost much blood but not my memory.'

             
She hung her head but did not answer.

             
'I ordered you to stay where you were until I decided what to do – why did you come here?'

             
'Owain sent for me to nurse you.  He was afraid you might die and he thought that I should be here.  It is my right as your wife – and I have nursed you better than any other might.'

             
'I know that you have done much for me while I was ill,' Morgan acknowledged.  'I asked you why you came.'

             
'Because I did not want you to die – and because I knew that it was my fault you fought with Rhys.  If you had died your death would have been on my conscience.'

             
His eyes were intent on her face.  'Did you hope for reconciliation – that I might forgive you?'

             
Morwenna fell on to her knees beside the bed, her head bent, tears trickling down her cheeks.  'I do most humbly beg you to forgive me, sir.  If you would let it be as it was before that night…I would never betray you again…'

             
'Get up,' Morgan bade her, frowning.  'You need not abase yourself before me, Morwenna.  For what you did with Rhys I have no forgiveness, but for your care of me in my fever I am prepared to accept you before the eyes of the world.  I shall not reject you publicly, nor shame you before your family.  You may live where you please – at the house Owain built for us or at your own estate at Oswestry.  It matters not to me.  I shall never be more than your husband in name…'

             
A sob left Morwenna's lips and she looked at him imploringly.

             
'I beg you to take me back.  I love you, Morgan.  You are my husband.'

             
'But I shall not live with you as man and wife,' Morgan said.  'I know that my decision is hard for you to accept, Morwenna.  If you decide to go away with your lover I shall not force you to return to me.  I accept at least part of the blame for I knew when I married you that I did not love you, but I had intended to try to make it a good life for us both.  What you did killed any feeling I might have had for you.  You are as nothing to me.'

             
Morwenna turned away, her shoulders shaking as she fought to control the storm of weeping that had overtaken her.  If he had raged at her and beaten her she could have borne it – but she could not fight this coldness.  Something had changed in him, and she knew that she would never reach him.

             
'I shall go to Oswestry,' she said at last and turned back to face him.  'You blame me for what I did, Morgan – but when you were ill you called ceaselessly for the woman you love.  I have sinned no more than you.'

             
'That is not true for I have never lain with the woman I love,' Morgan said.  'If she had given me a sign…I should never have married you.'

             
Morwenna caught her breath as his final arrow struck home, and she felt the pain deep within her.  Useless to tell him that she was with child, for he would not relent.  Why should he when neither of them knew who was the father of her child?

             
'Then I have your permission to retire to Oswestry?'

             
'Or anywhere else you please,' Morgan said gently.  'I believed for a short time that I hated you, Morwenna – but now I know that I could never feel such a strong emotion for you.  You do not touch me in any way.'

             
Morwenna turned away as anger surged in her.  She had loved him but she had betrayed him and he had rejected her.  So be it!  She would not offer him her love again.  Indeed, she did not believe that there was any love left inside her to offer anyone.  He had killed it with his cold, cruel words and she was beginning to feel the emotion that would come to fill her in the empty years ahead.

             
What had once been love was fast turning to a bitter hatred.  She looked at him as he sat propped against his pillows, still too weak to do more than get out of bed to relieve himself.

             
'Perhaps the emotion is too strong for you,' she whispered.  'But it is all I have to sustain me, and believe me I shall feed it.  You have made me hate you, Morgan Gruffudd, and one day you will be sorry for it.'

             
If her kinsman's guard had not been standing outside the door, where he had been ever since Morgan was brought back more dead than alive, she might have killed him then.  He was too weak to have stopped her, but she knew that one cry from him would bring a dozen men running to his aid.  Owain was furious at what had been done and he had men out looking for Rhys Llewelyn with orders to bring him back either dead or alive.

             
Owain saw her as she left Morgan's chamber and came up to her.

             
'How is he this morning, Morwenna?'

             
'Still weak but gaining strength every day,' she replied and gave him a small sad smile.  'My husband has bid me go home for he says the household must not be neglected and there are others here to help him.'

             
'You will not wish to leave him?'

             
A hint of tears was in her eyes as she raised her head proudly.

             
'Morgan is my husband.  I must obey him.'

             
'Yes, that is true,' Owain said and frowned.  He had heard Morgan speak another woman's name in his fever and he had guessed that the marriage was no love match.  It saddened him if they were not happy together, for it had seemed to be a good match.  The girl was beautiful and good, and Morgan was a fool to pine after a woman he could not have.  'I shall speak to Morgan and ask him to let you stay.'

             
'No, please do not,' Morwenna begged.  'In truth I am very tired and would like to rest quietly at home, my lord.  I am…with child.'

             
'That is a different matter,' Owain said and smiled at her.  He had misjudged the way things stood between them.  Clearly Morgan was sending her home because she had been doing too much. 'I shall send an escort with you, Morwenna.  You must take care of yourself.'

             
'Thank you, my lord.  You are very kind.'

             
He inclined his head, going into Morgan's chamber as she passed by and made her way to her own.  Outwardly she was calm, but inside she was raging.

             
The hatred was forming a hard knot inside her.  Morgan thought he could dismiss her and be free to go to his woman, but one day she would have her revenge – on him or both of them!  She did not believe for a moment that they had never lain together, and picturing them together fanned the flames of her anger.

             
Inside the chamber, Owain waved Morgan back to bed as he would have made the effort to get out.

             
'No, no, my friend, not yet.  You must rest a little longer – get your strength back.'

             
'I shall soon be well again.'

             
'We must pray for that,' Owain said.  'I have work for you, Morgan.  The time is not yet here but it is coming soon – the time when we shall make our strike.  I need my friends to be strong enough to fight when the time comes.'

             
'I shall be strong again,' Morgan said.  'But I am going away for a while, Owain.  I shall return when you need me but I need a little time for myself.'

             
'You are not fit to travel nor will be for some months,' Owain said.  'This is foolish talk, Morgan.  Why should you go anywhere until we are ready to move against the English?  Besides, we have not yet found Rhys Llewelyn and while he lives you are not safe.'

             
'Rhys could have killed me while I lay there helpless had he wanted,' Morgan said.  'I could not kill him, though I meant to do it – and I think he could not finish the task.'

             
'He tried hard enough,' Owain retorted.  'He might have finished the task if Alain had not come in search of you.'

             
'I do not believe he will try again.  I am willing to take the risk.'

             
'But why – and why did you fight with him?  I thought Rhys was your friend?'

             
'It is between us,' Morgan replied.  'I cannot tell you more, Owain – except that it is a private matter.'

             
'Yet still you must give me your word that you will not go yet.'

             
'I give you my word that I shall return when you need me,' Morgan said.  'When I am ready I shall go.'

             
'As you wish,' Owain replied, eyes narrowed.  'I would be happier if you could trust me, Morgan – but I shall not ask again.'

             
'It is a matter of honour,' Morgan replied.  'Believe me that it makes no difference between us.  I am still loyal to you, Owain.'

             
'Then we shall forget this conversation,' Owain said.  'Go with God and return safely, my friend.'

             
Morgan lay back as the other man went out, closing his eyes.  He was no longer in terrible pain but the weakness still came over him in waves.

             
'Where are you, Kestrel?' he asked with a wry grimace.  'I need your magic now.'

             
Morgan knew that he must leave Sycharth for a while.  His restless spirit would not bide here until he could forget Rhys' betrayal – but where could he go?

             
The answer came winging its way into his mind.  He would go to Rosamund.  Perhaps she would know where Kestrel might be found.  He had sworn to Owain that he would be strong enough to fight for him, but unless something changed he believed that he might never fight again.