Midnight for Morgana (6 page)

Keir gave him a warm embrace. “Sorry to see you go, dear friend, but I understand.” He looked Morgana’s way. “We both realize you must return.”

“But we will meet again soon, Malcolm,” Morgana said, “an encounter I look forward to.”

With a kiss on Morgana’s cheek and another embrace for the prince, Malcolm left them then, a warm breeze drifting through the room as he opened the door.

After the druid gathered the sacred wedding book and his cloak, he left with final good

wishes for the couple, and soon the sound of retreating hoofbeats were heard in the room. Kelwyn Muir clapped his hands for attention. “You are all invited to feast in the dining

 room, where we can toast the bride and groom.”

Morgana suppressed a smile as the prince escorted her to the dining room. Her father had borrowed the table and chairs from one of the kind neighbors, and she had prepared the feast herself.  Her sisters had done nothing but primp before the wedding, trying on one gown after another, leaving the discarded dresses on the floor. Who was going to pick up after them now? Morgana knew the sisters both hoped to meet eligible men among the local population, and she wished them well in their endeavors, if only for her father’s sake, so that he would have them off his hands.

A lace tablecloth topped the oaken table that seated twenty, a table decorated with burning candles in iron holders and more silk bows. Dressed in their finest silks and velvets, their jewels glittering, the guests filed into the dining room, chatting and laughing, enjoying this special day, for weddings among the titled population were rare occurrences in Dornach.

The prince–she must remember to think of him as Keir–held a chair for her, then sat down at the place next to hers, while her father seated himself at the head of the table. After toasts were said, local girls brought in plates from the kitchen, the dishes piled high with ham and baked trout, candied sweet potatoes and steamed broccoli. Other girls poured wine for the guests into sparkling crystal glasses, and Morgana experienced a wave of gratefulness that Papa had kept Mama’s fine dishes and glassware, for so much else had been sold.

Morgana tried to eat but picked at her food; too many anxieties taunted her. What would happen tonight? Would Keir be kind and patient with her, or would he have his way with her, whatever that meant, for she had only a vague idea of what happened in the marriage bed. What kind of husband would he be, and what would his parents–the king and queen!–think of her? They would not approve of her, of that she felt sure, she who came from a poor family, doing all the cooking and housework. At least her hands didn’t betray the rough work she’d always performed, for she applied perfumed sheep’s grease to them every night.

Smiling, Keir turned her way and nodded toward her dress. “That color becomes you, Morgana. You look lovely.”

Her face warmed at his compliment. “Why, thank you, Keir. You look quite handsome yourself.” Such mundane conversation, she mused, yet it occurred to her that today was the first time they had addressed each other by name, a good beginning, at least. She strove to show enjoyment in the feast and this special day, her wedding day. But uncertainties bombarded her, doubts of what the king and queen would think of her, of how she would adjust to life at the castle, but more than anything, the prospect of spending this night with her husband. That thought alone pushed everything to the back of her mind. With only her imagination to guide her, she assured herself that Keir would be gentle and considerate, and would not purposely hurt her. Sneaking a glance at him, she saw he was deep in conversation with her sister Nola. Jealousy stabbed her, a painful shaft from her heart to her stomach, but she quickly berated herself for her possessiveness. He was merely showing courtesy to a family member, and it would appear odd if he ignored her sister.

She caught her father’s gaze on her and gave him an encouraging smile, guiltily aware she’d thought only of herself since the prince–Keir–had proposed. Poor Papa, now he was stuck with her self-centered sisters, who had never dusted, swept, or cooked. If she’d had the time, she would have prepared them for their duties, show them how to wash dishes and cook the meals. But everything had happened so fast after the prince’s proposal, leaving her with only time to give the house a good cleaning before this day and her departure for the lodge, and later, the prince’s country.

Afraid all the company could see her trepidation, she cut off a bite of succulent ham with raisin sauce, and chewed. Another glance at her father caught him in earnest discussion with the Widow Ahearn, whose husband had died several years ago. Why, it almost looked as if the widow was flirting with him, and he was basking in her attention. Hmm. Something might come of this meeting, and nothing would make her happier than to see her father wed again.

Her glance strayed along the table to all the friends and neighbors she’d known throughout the years, and she wondered how often she would see them again–or if she ever would. She was going to a new country, where she would be obliged to make new friends, if the people there would accept her. And if they didn’t? Ah, but they would, she vowed. She would do everything possible to win their friendship, if not their affection. What about Keir’s parents? Would they accept her? She feared unhappiness would be her fate if they didn’t.

The food grew cold on her plate while she pondered all the obstacles she must surmount, beginning with the approaching night. Not an obstacle, she quickly corrected herself, but a new experience. Yes, that’s how she would think of her wedding night, as an unfamiliar aspect of her new life.

“–eating, Morgana.”

The prince’s words snatched her back to the moment. “I beg your pardon, Prince Keir. I fear my mind was wandering.”

His mouth tightened. “Please remember to call me by my first name, without the title.”

Her face warmed. “Sorry, I forgot, K-Keir.”

He gestured toward her plate. “You don’t appear to be eating much. Is the food not to your liking?”

“Yes, of course, but I have much on my mind–the excitement of the day and . . . and everything.” Gods! Couldn’t she even form a coherent sentence?

He squeezed her hand under the table, his skin warm, his touch comforting. “It’s not every day one gets married, is it? And to a prince,” he added with a self-deprecating grin.

* * *

Throughout the meal, Keir had kept an eye on his new wife, even while he engaged in conversation with her spoiled sister, Nola or Alana, whichever one she was. Pleased with what he had observed about Morgana so far, he adjusted his thinking about her adjustment to her new life in his country, to living with his mother and father. Perhaps his mother wouldn’t have to teach her much etiquette, after all. Why, yes, she did know what a napkin was for, and indeed, showed impeccable table manners. But the question remained: how would she take to life at his castle? Was he taking a country bumpkin home with him, one who knew nothing about royal protocol? Just look at her house! Not a hovel, exactly, but not a castle, either. Malcolm’s admonition came back to haunt him, that he should learn humility. But he was a prince of the realm, after all, and Morgana the daughter of a penniless lord.

At the same time, his heart went out to her. How lovely she looked in her wedding gown, a faint scent wafting from her, a fragrance vaguely familiar, camomile, perhaps. Surely, his wife was beset by uncertainties, this lady who was leaving her family and all that she knew to reside in an alien land with its different customs, among strangers who he feared might not accept her. It was obvious, too, that she was anxious about the coming night and equally apparent that she was a virgin. A sudden wave of protectiveness seized him, and he vowed he’d be gentle and patient with her this night.

He’d be glad when this interminable feast ended, he thought as he took the last bite of his sweet potato. They needed to start early on the morrow to reach the lodge before nightfall. Since Malcolm had already left, there would be only Morgana, Ferris, and he.

The feast ended with the wedding cake, and chairs scraped back on the flagstone floor, everyone talking in small groups. Lacking a ballroom at the mansion, there could be no dancing, so the guests returned to the parlor, chatting and gossiping as the sky turned a fiery crimson, then the sky gradually darkened. Morgana lit the two oil lamps, which gave the room a pale cast and at the same time, brought the jewels into brighter focus. With knowing looks and winks and suggestive comments, the guests eventually said their farewells, leaving Keir with his new wife, his father-in-law, and of course, the two sisters he was only too glad to leave behind.

Time now to return to the inn, Keir mused with mixed feelings. He could scarcely wait to have his new bride in his bed but feared hurting her while initiating her into the joys of marriage.

While Kelwyn Muir saw the last of his guests out the door, Keir stood with his arm lightly draped around his wife’s waist, making chit-chat with her sisters. Within a few minutes, Lord Muir joined the group, a smile of pride and happiness on his face.

Nola and Alana exchanged a look, then Nola addressed her father, her gaze skimming the others. “Papa, Alana and I have been concerned about our dear sister Morgana, since she has no maid and no one to attend to her needs at the lodge. Morgana has done so much for us. ‘Tis only right and proper that we repay her many kindnesses. If it’s acceptable to everyone, we thought we would accompany Prince Keir and Morgana to the lodge and stay there to help her.”

Glancing at Morgana, Keir saw a surprised look cross her face, an expression that surely mirrored his own.

“Why, now nice of you to think of me,” Morgana said with a grateful smile. “I think that is a splendid plan.” She looked to her father, who also appeared surprised. “What do you say, Papa? After all, you will be alone for several days. Can you manage by yourself?”

Lord Muir made a negligent gesture. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I can manage quite well by myself. Lady Ahearn–she’s a widow, you know–has kindly offered to assist me here and has even invited me to have dinner at her residence.” He grinned. “So yes, I’m sure I’ll do just fine.”

“Good,” Alana replied. A look of smug satisfaction captured her face. “Then Nola and I will meet the prince and our dear sister at the inn tomorrow morning. And we can all ride to the lodge together.”

With no choice but to agree, Keir injected a note of enthusiasm into his comments, for he was far from feeling any gratitude toward them. A hint of uneasiness crept over him, a suspicion of the sisters’ motives. Self-centered brats that they were, why had they undergone this transformation of helpful generosity? He struggled to shake off his qualms, to give the sisters the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he had misjudged them, for his acquaintance with them was of short duration.

While Morgana went to her room to fetch her satchel, he added his thanks to hers, telling the sisters he truly appreciated their thoughtfulness. But doubts persisted.

Wearing a fur-lined cloak, Morgana returned with her satchel and threw him a look of expectation. Since he had already hired an extra horse, they left the house with arrangements for the sisters to meet them at the inn the next morning.

He and Morgana walked out into the night, where a multitude of stars glittered overhead, and lightning bugs flitted about. The air was chillier now with the onset of night, and a welcome breeze cooled their faces and fluttered their cloaks about them.

Whatever the future held for them, he vowed he would protect his wife from all adversity and harm. And maybe he would even learn to love her.

* * *

Embers glowed in the stone fireplace in their room at the inn, a large canopied bed dominating the chamber. Morgana cast a wary eye on the bed, excited but afraid of what was to come this night. She didn’t want to disappoint her new husband, but really, they’d hardly had a chance to become acquainted within the last few days. No doubt the prince was experienced, with many lovers in his background.

He came to stand behind her, his hands lightly resting on her shoulders, his mouth close to her ear. “Your cloak, Morgana. I don’t believe you need it now. The chamber is quite warm, don’t you think?”

“Yes, of course.” She shed her cloak into his waiting hands, letting him set the wrap on a chair. If only she could shed her misgivings as easily. Buffeted by countless anxieties, she turned to face him and forced a smile. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Her knees shook, and she hoped her long dress hid her tremors.

He held a chair for her and gestured toward a wine bottle and glasses on the table. “I asked the innkeeper to leave a bottle of wine for us. Let us sit and have our own private toast to our happiness.”