Morgan by Barbara Devlin

Author:Barbara Devlin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2017-07-24T18:00:00+00:00

MORGAN

CHAPTER FIVE

On a clear and sunny morrow, Morgan loaded provisions into a wagon, for Hawisia’s daily trip to the hovels. Resolved to spend time with his bride, to become better acquainted with her, he took an active interest in her schedule, as his permitted. Given Arucard’s reluctance to hear Morgan’s ideas on farming techniques, he preferred his bride’s company to the frustration of Arucard’s.

“Morgan, I have packed a delicious meal for you and Hawisia.” Isolde carried a bundle, which she passed to him. “There is a beauteous view of the ocean from the top of the hill, just south of the main road to Chichester. Do you know it?”

“Aye.” He tied the parcel to the saddle of his destrier. “What of it?”

“It is a perfect place to stop for a respite with Hawisia, whither you can share the food and conversation.” Then she stepped closer. In a low voice, she said, “And it is private, as must needs for connubial games.”

“Really?” He gave vent to a snort of mirth but quickly sobered, given her stern expression. Still, he would have never imagined Arucard engaging in such salacious behavior. “I get your meaning, Isolde, and I am grateful for your counsel.”

“And have Hawisia ride with you, as opposed to aboard the wagon, as it will foster intimacy for your outing.” She glanced at his bride and frowned. “I know not wherefore she resists your overtures, but your lady nurses deep wounds, which she has yet to share with me.”

“I am equally perplexed, as I have tried everything I can think of, yet nothing yields the usual results.” He shook his head. “Although I admire her strength, she wields it against me as a most vicious weapon, but I will not surrender the fight, as I am just as stubborn.”

And he had a new motivation, which he suspected with shock even Isolde, because somewhere in the process of wooing his wife, Morgan developed an attachment to her, and no one was more surprised than him. Yet Hawisia remained indifferent, and her lack of enthusiasm hurt him more than he was willing to admit to himself or anyone else.

In some respects, it was as though his childhood played out, all over again, and he found himself aboard another coach, bound for a place he dreaded. But he was no longer a boy, and the man could wage battle for that which he desired. And he wanted Hawisia to love him.

“My lord, are you sure you wish to accompany me to the hovels?” Ah, his lady appeared in the courtyard. Garbed in a kirtle and cotehardie of deep burgundy, the color emphasized her light amber hair, which was neither blonde nor dark brown, and shimmered in the sun. “Because I am accustomed to making my visits alone or with Isolde, and I have no need of your escort.”

“But I have a need to spend some time with my beauteous bride.” At his compliment, she blushed, and he cherished her characteristic modesty. “Would you deny me?”

“Nay, my lord.

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