She thought sadly of her home, where she was not wanted, but she doubted that Maginnis would direct his wrath at her father once she had accomplished her mission. She was determined not to marry Sir Strahan, even if she had to hide in the forests and villages for the rest of her life.
What kind of life would she have? A lady thrown out of her own father’s castle? A sorceress whose powers some believed bordered on the dark arts? A woman who had defied the baron of Abergwynn, a handpicked vassal of the king? If and when Lord Garrick ever caught up with her, he would have no choice but to try her and see that she was hanged as a witch. If she got caught. That, she swore, would never happen. Should she have to leave Wales, she might as well leave all of that which was called England. By the eye of the raven, there seemed no way out of this mess.
Again Phantom lunged, and Morgana pulled back hard on the reins.
“It seems your horse is spirited, m’lady,” said a knight riding on a huge white destrier with several battle scars showing upon its flanks. That soldier was a cruel one, Morgana guessed, the one whose eyes always seemed to flame when he looked at her, the one whose mouth twisted like an evil serpent when his gaze traveled lower than her chin.
“Spirited?” Another knight, the heavy one known as Fulton, asked in a loud hiss. “Or besieged by spirits?”
A ripple of laughter waved through those riding closest to her, and Lord Garrick sent a chilling glance in her direction. “Enough,” he commanded and the laughter died, but not
before Morgana caught the twitch of his own thin lips, as if he’d been amused by the joke at her expense.
Bastard.
“We will bide our time,” she whispered to Phantom. But she could not fail. Her family’s very lives depended upon her and her stupid powers. Oh, that they would work quickly, that she would find Logan and restore whatever peace the baron had once felt. Then mayhap he would set her free.
If not, she would escape him and the doom of the marriage he had arranged for her. Her grandmother’s prediction, that she was destined to marry Strahan, echoed through her head. Never! Never! Never!
They rode without break until evenfall, when they reached a clearing in the trees. There the soldiers quickly dismounted, leaving their horses in the care of the youngest rider, a boy known as George, who also looked after Phantom. “Keep your eyes on this one,” Garrick commanded the boy in Morgana’s presence. “’Twould be a shame if Lady Morgana’s horse escaped.”
“I will guard it with my very life,” the boy replied earnestly.
With a few quick commands to his men, Garrick approached Morgana and relieved the sentry whose job it was to watch her. “I’ll see to the lady,” he told the man. “You make sure her servant girl is taken care of.” Noticing the smile tugging at the corners of the big knight’s mouth, he added, “And no harm is to be done to her. The men are to keep their distance. She is Lady Morgana’s maid, and she’s to be treated well.” Garrick’s eyes narrowed on the man, who was but an inch shorter than he. “Do you understand, Sir Marsh?”
“I will see to her personally.”
“She’s to sleep in my tent. With the lady.”
Morgana made a sound of protest. Sleep in the same tent with Garrick? Did he not remember the last time, when she had slipped from his shelter and —
“This time you will stay where you are put, m’lady,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.
“I’ll not be ordered about and—”
“See to the servant girl,” Garrick ordered Sir Marsh. Turning swiftly, he grabbed Morgana’s arm and guided her away from the clearing where his men had quickly set to work, staking tents, building a fire, posting guards, and unloading the wagon of supplies needed for the evening meal.
She tried to wrench away, but her attempt to escape was futile, for his fingers were as strong as the steel in his sword. His strides were long and swift, his mouth set, and she had to run to keep up with him. “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?” she demanded, keeping her voice low as twigs snapped beneath her feet. The path was crooked and not well traveled, and puddles had collected where the carpet of moss and leaves had been scraped to bare mud.
“Let go of me!” Again she yanked, but his expression only turned harsher. His grip was punishing as the trail widened and the trees gave way to the banks of a shallow creek. Clear water splashed over time-smoothed stones, and ferns grew along the earthy shore.
“It’s been a long ride. I thought you might want to wash,” Garrick said, “or relieve yourself.”
“You’re too kind,” she mocked, rubbing her arm as he released her. Though she was grateful that he was concerned for her needs, she didn’t like the way he bullied her.
“You try a man’s patience,” he said as she watched the silver flash of a fish as it swam beneath the surface.
“As you try that of a woman!”
Garrick leaned against the rough bark of an oak tree and crossed his arms over his chest. “Would you prefer to have Sir Randolph guard you? He has offered his services.”
Morgana swallowed hard. Randolph’s lechery was evident in his evil glances, but she had kept him away by chanting words that meant nothing and by threatening to curse him. But how long, without proof, would he believe in her powers?
Garrick propped one boot against the flat top of a large boulder near the creek. “Randolph is not the only knight who has shown interest in you, but as you are promised to Sir Strahan, and as you have a duty to fulfill to me, I see no reason to let anyone but myself be your guard.”
“I’m flattered, m’lord,” she said, unable to hide the trace of sarcasm in her words and wishing she could control her tongue.
“Aye. Well you should be.” His eyes glinted a little, as if he were joking with her. “Now get on with it.” He motioned toward the stream. “We have not much time.”