Druid's Daughter (19 page)

“Are you Morgan? No, Morgan can’t be here. I don’t want her
here. She would hate me if she knew how wicked I am.”

“I’m just your friend.” She smoothed the dark hair from his
forehead. “Relax, my lord. No one will ever know your secrets.”

He smiled at her, a beautiful smile that tore at her heart.
“Good,” he said. “I could not stand it if Morgan thought me dishonorable.”

His restlessness continued as she sat beside him, trying to
make sense of his mysterious ramblings. She longed to absorb his pain and make
it her own so he could have some rest. Suddenly he clutched her again. His
glazed eyes looking at her but not seeming to see her.

“If you’re not Morgan, then I can ask you to lie beside me
and help me forget.”

She didn’t know what to do, so she stayed silent and let him
pull her down beside him on the bed.

He looked at her carefully, although his eyes were glassy
with fever.

“No,” he said, “You’re not Morgan. My very proper Morgan
would never lie beside me like this in a bed. She’d need to know my intentions
were honorable. But how can they be when I’m not?”

He moved suddenly and groaned, wrapping her in his arms,
holding her so tightly she couldn’t move even if she wanted to. Which she
didn’t. Lying in Lance’s arms felt as if it were the natural place to be. She
held very still so she would not alert him to the fact she was Morgan.

His fingers moved to her blouse, unbuttoning it with a
rapidity that astonished her. Evidently Lord Lance was quite experienced with
women’s clothing. Although she’d always known that. Right now her whole body
felt alive in a way she’d never known. She hoped, fervently hoped, he didn’t
come to his senses for a long while. She literally held her breath as his
clever fingers moved to caress her breasts.

“You are so sweet and soft,” he said. Then his fingers moved
to her nipples and began to caress them with the same expertise he’d already
demonstrated.

Morgan knew she should stop him. Partly for his sake, since
he could not know what he was doing. And partly for her own, for the very same
reason. If Lance Dellafield ever took her to bed she wanted him to know exactly
whose body he was thrilling with his knowledgeable caresses.

But she didn’t try to make him pause. His hands on her bare
breasts were unbelievably enchanting. Her minor ability to work spells was
nothing to his! She lay still, memorizing every delicious sensation, as he
raised himself a little and put his lips where his fingers lingered a second
ago, kissing her everyplace his hands wandered. She gasped as he finally placed
one kiss on each nipple.

Her whole body throbbed to life with fervid sensation. She
couldn’t summon the willpower to stop him, no matter where these delights led.
Please let him show her more of the enchantments she found only in his arms.

Then suddenly he fell back flat on the bed.

“Forgive me, lovely one. I can’t pleasure you as you
deserve. Forgive me.”

He flopped back and threw one arm over his face. Morgan lay
still, mortification flooding her as she cautiously sat up. She did not want
him ever to know how she ached for more.

Lance was muttering again, but all she could catch this time
were the words “Justin” and “sorry”. She moved his arm from her body, noting
its limpness as it fell to his side. His skin felt much too hot. He was burning
up again.

Going to the door she called for Jackson and more ice and
water.

“I think we’d better sponge his whole body, Jackson. He’s
getting hotter by the minute and just doing his forehead doesn’t last long
enough. I’ll need your help.”

Between them they readied fresh clothes and sponged his
chest. A broad chest covered with dark hairs that tapered to his waistline and
seemed to keep on going. Morgan longed to know where they stopped, but turned
away and resumed changing the cloths for colder ones. Were Jackson not there
would she have given in to temptation to peek a little lower? She flushed at
the thought and decided to go herself for the next bowl of iced water.

“No, let me,” she insisted when Jackson protested. “I need
to stretch different muscles.”

She’d have herself under control when she came back.

Light was sending searching fingers into the sky when they
agreed they could quit. As she sank into a chair, Morgan felt she’d never been
so tired. Lance now slept normally. She didn’t have to feel his forehead to
know. His aura was a steady blue-gray, far different from that of the nighttime
when it had been streaked with jagged orange lines. He was on the way to
recovery, barring an onset of infection. But her mother could deal with that.

For the first time, she resolved to study under her mother
and learn as much as she could of her incredible knowledge. Viviane had offered
to teach her many times, but Morgan’s lack of confidence had held her back. Now
that she knew she was a true daughter to her Druid mother, she wanted to learn
everything available. If she could cast spells she could do anything.

His caretakers disturbed Lance as little as possible as they
sponged him with one last round of cooling cloths. Morgan pulled the covers
over him and turned to Jackson with a sigh.

“Jackson, could you rest in the chair while I get an hour or
so of sleep? Then I’ll send you to bed for the rest of the day. Right now I’m
no good to anybody for anything.”

“Of course, Miss Morgan, you should have let me do more.
Don’t hurry back. I promise to call you if there is any change.”

She dragged herself off to bed, but sleep didn’t come as
easily as she expected. Why was Lance so ashamed? And why was she not even more
ashamed of allowing him such liberties?

Remembering those few moments as he’d caressed her with his
lips and clever hands brought a smile to her relaxing face. She finally drifted
off. No, she felt only glory, no shame. How could she be ashamed of something
as wonderful as Lance’s fervent mouth on her breast?

Chapter Thirteen

A glowing Viviane came to the townhouse the next day. Morgan
gave one look at her mother and knew something wonderful had happened. She
waited with a smile for her mother to confide in her. She would no more invade
her mother’s privacy than her mother would hers.

Viviane kissed her daughter, an even more loving kiss than
usual. Morgan now was sure what happened was momentous, but still she waited,
crossing her fingers as they both ascended the stairs. She wanted nothing but
happiness for her wonderful mother.

Viviane found Lance conscious and in pain.

He grinned at Viviane, however weakly. “No more mandrake,
madam. I dreamed the most amazing dreams all night. They quite unsettled me.”

Viviane’s eyebrows raised. “I must say I’m surprised, Lord
Lance. That’s not a general effect of mandrake. Your fever was probably more
responsible. However, let’s see your wound.”

She took off the bandages and poked all around the gash.
Lance was obviously trying not to wince and Viviane smiled.

“I won’t torture you anymore, my lord. There is no
suspicious puffiness. Morgan, have Jackson bring ice. Keeping it directly on
his wound will greatly cut the pain. The wound doesn’t seem infected but you’re
too hot, Lord Lance. I’m going to ask you to swallow a little potion of a few
harmless herbs. I brew it to keep fever away, although I hope it will also dim
the pain just a little. I certainly don’t want you thrashing around the bed.”

Lance sat straight up. “Bed? I don’t intend to stay in bed,
madam. I’m quite well enough to be up and about.”

“You certainly are not.” Viviane pushed him flat with one
hand and he lay glaring at her until his glance turned into a reluctant laugh.

“You win for now, Madam Viviane.”

“I also have a bribe to hold out to you.” She turned and
gathered her daughter into her arms. “Devon and I are being married tomorrow.
He wants you there and if you rest quietly today you can do it. Actually he
wanted to marry today, but I told him you needed another day. As I do. I need
something special for my bride’s clothes and as my attendant Morgan does too.”

She hugged Morgan with a loving grip as she talked. Morgan
stared at her mother, surprise her most prominent emotion.

“I can scarcely believe it. Tomorrow! And you swore never to
marry.”

“I did indeed,” her mother said lightly, kissing her
daughter’s forehead.

“I think it’s wonderful. Mama, simply wonderful! Just think,
I’ll be Jamie’s sister!”

Everyone beamed, even Jackson who’d just come to the doorway
with more cold water.

Morgan looked doubtfully at Lance, wondering if she could
safely leave him.

Viviane smiled and patted his hand.

“He’ll behave. He wants to be present as much as Devon and I
want him to be there. Bring him something to read, Jackson and some ice. Come,
my daughter. Let’s go shopping.”

* * * * *

Viviane was a spectacularly beautiful bride, dressed in
cream-colored silk and matching gloves and shoes. The delicate shade emphasized
her glorious hair and Devon beamed foolishly at everyone in his joy and pride.
Morgan did not realize it but she was just as lovely. Her pale green dress
floated around her and brought out the sparkling depths of her eyes. Jamie, his
golden curls carefully brushed and a big smile on his face, stood between
Viviane and Devon as they were married. Each of them held one small hand.

Devon brought tears to his bride’s eyes when he presented
her with a bridal bouquet of white asters and red carnations, with ivy spilling
down the sides.

“True love, fidelity and wedded love,” she whispered. “Thank
you, my heart.”

Lance looked surprised, but Morgan knew that to provide this
particular bouquet Devon must have not only researched the language of flowers
but found the perfect ones he wanted for his bride. What a truly wonderful
gift.

Her own heart was torn between a mixture of joy and sorrow.
Her mother deserved perfect happiness, or as near as anyone could get to that
elusive state. The newlyweds were going on a month’s honeymoon to France and
Morgan would care for Jamie. The bride and groom planned to spend their first
night at the Oaks, with Morgan and Jamie coming down the next day.

Morgan didn’t know quite what to do with the rest of her
life. By the time the bridal pair returned from their honeymoon she needed to
have a definite plan in mind. She would be welcome for as long as she wanted to
stay, she well knew that. But they deserved some privacy for at least the first
few months.

She thought probably she would return to London. She’d
concentrate on studying her mother’s notes on medicine. She intended to develop
her own skills with herbs and perhaps with magic spells. Maybe she could learn
enough to do as much good with her life as her mother.

She’d smiled at Lance when he came into Devon’s parlor for
the wedding ceremony. The radiance of her smile glowed with delight in his
recovery. He held himself stiffly and with care, but he looked devastatingly
handsome in the black trousers, a wing-collared white shirt with a black silk
cravat and black velvet smoking jacket. He’d been advised by Viviane to not
struggle into anything tight for about a week or she’d not be responsible for
his stitches. Morgan thought the jacket suited him perfectly. Casual, yet sleek
and elegant.

He nodded to her curtly, without a smile.

She turned away, tears springing to her eyes, devastated by
his cold formality. What was he thinking to treat her so? Her initial distress
gave way to anger and incomprehension. Was he resentful for her taking care of
him? Or did he fear what he might have said and think she’d take advantage of
information he possibly let slip? No matter, his iciness was inexcusable.

Fortunately her mother was admiring her wedding bouquet at
the moment. Morgan lowered her head for a few minutes to regain control before
facing her mother’s sharp eyes.

She pasted a smile on her face and never let it slip.
Indeed, she became engrossed in the wedding ceremony. Once she thought she felt
Lance’s eyes on her, but when she glanced up he looked away. What under heaven
was the matter with him? Perhaps she’d get a chance to talk to him after the
ceremony. Jackson had prepared a light lunch for them all.

She got no chance. As soon as the ceremony was over Lance
excused himself with his usual impeccable manners, saying he needed to return
to his own apartments and rest a little more. He kissed the bride and shook
hands with Devon, all the while mouthing the correct congratulations to them
both. He also shook hands with Jamie and hugged him. Then he came to Morgan.

“I owe you my deepest thanks for your care of me, Miss
Morgan. If you need anything, anything at all, ever, please call on me. I will
never refuse you.” He kissed the air over her glove and left.

Morgan still kept her smile. Miss Morgan! The blasted man
wasn’t going to make her cry in front of her mother. She wanted Viviane to go
off without a care. Unfortunately, that didn’t quite work. Viviane took her
aside for a moment.

“What’s wrong with Lance, love?”

“I simply don’t have an idea, Mama. Don’t worry. Have a
wonderful time. Nobody deserves it as much as you two. I’m so very happy for
you both.”

“I know you too well to be fooled, love, but this time I
can’t help you. You are so special in your own right. Remember that, no matter
what.”

Her mother kissed her, as did a euphoric Devon.

And then they were gone.

Morgan went slowly up the stairs. She and Jamie were leaving
in the morning for the Oaks. She would occupy herself with packing and not
think at all about the regrettable Chief Inspector Lord Laniston Dellafield.

How could he be so cold and distant? After holding her so
hotly in his arms, how could he?

* * * * *

Morgan cherished the fresh air, loving the country home
where she’d spent the last few happy years. The rolling countryside stretched
in every direction from the knoll where the manor sat. She found a measure of
peace here at the Oaks, walking the beloved lanes and fields, taking Jamie by
the hand and teaching him about herbs and flowers.