Return of the Rose (36 page)

~~~~

Hugo nodded for Emmon to be silent as they came upon Derek’s war-horse. They could hear the shouts of men in the distance and paid little attention to the dismembered bodies strewn about the ground as they urged their mounts onward. They easily discerned that a small war had already taken place, but to come forward and see their lord staggering toward six men with raised sword, gave both Hugo and Emmon cause to wince.

Emmon moved first. With a quick jerk of his wrist he sent a sharp javelin through the air, impaling a man’s throat. A heroic gesture, Hugo thought, worthy of only the most adroit of knights and one that would surely launch Emmon to his glory.

Hugo’s mount was fast and agile, and he urged the steed close enough so that when he flung his ax it hit its mark square on. His victim went mute as he stumbled and fell before Lord Vanguard’s feet. By the time Hugo took out his target, Emmon was charging forward again, piercing another man with his lance, pinning the bulky frame to a seasoned alder.

Derek lunged, bringing his sword swiftly earthward, dealing a swift blow to another man’s gut. Otgar had run off the moment he spotted Hugo. There was only one man left.

The last of the enemy peered about wild-eyed as if he were trying to decide which way to run. Instead, he stood rigid with terror, knowing it was too late as he watched Hugo retrieve an ax and Emmon pluck a small dagger from his sheath.

Derek raised his broadsword and the man jerked about, tripping on his own feet. Derek motioned for Emmon to let the man be and Hugo chuckled as the gutless coward scrambled to his feet and ran into the denser part of the woods.

“It seems you needed no help from us, my lord,” Hugo mocked, bearing little sympathy for his lordship’s weary state.

“Indeed,” Derek said to his men, “for as you could surely see I had the situation well under control.”

Derek walked toward Hugo as the big man came down from his horse. Derek squeezed his friend’s broad shoulder, knowing full well he should even now be breathing his last breath.

“What made you think to come?” Derek asked as he bound his side with strips of cloth torn from his mantle.

“Your wife told her maid and most of the people at Braddock of an ambush near Swan Lake. An ambush that was to be the cause of the Earl of Kensington’s death whilst he searched in desperation for his true love.”

“Aye,” Derek said, “it seems my wife related the story to me also, but I am afraid it was not the first time I failed to take heed of what she said. Verily, in all honesty, ‘tis a good thing you came when you did, else I would not be around to listen to your insulting barbs.” They shared an amiable look between long-time comrades before turning to Emmon.

“You have done well,” Derek said, clapping Emmon’s horse on the rump, wincing from the pain it caused him.

“You are badly hurt?”

“Naught to fret about,” Derek said as he gathered his things and whistled for his horse.

Emmon tossed back his long hair. “Any more brave, chivalrous deeds and I am certain the king himself would seek to reward me.”

“My young knight,” Hugo supplied, “I am afraid the king would not take kindly to the fact that you nearly killed his best knight only this morn. Aye, ‘tis the king’s own dungeons that you almost found to be your just reward.”

They all chuckled at that, recalling the damage they had caused within the keep, eager to find humor where they could, relieved to see all before them alive and well.

“It may not surprise you to know that one of the two men running off was Otgar,” Emmon ground out.

“Leave him be for now,” Derek said as he mounted his steed, ignoring the pain in his side. “I believe Leonie is also behind this bloody mayhem.”

The corners of Emmon’s lips curved upward. “Apparently, my lord, the ladies are not as enchanted with you as I originally envisioned.”

Derek grunted as he urged his horse onward, leaving Hugo to scramble for his mount.

~~~~

With her eyes clamped shut, Morgan concentrated on all the new friends she’d made, hoping they would all find happiness after she left. She wondered if Robert had found Amanda. She felt saddened to think she and Amanda would never meet. Inhaling deeply, she listened to the shattering claps of distant thunder together with the strange garbled chants of the old woman.

Her feet and hands tingled as she felt her body lifting, floating upward. A wispy beam of light filled her head with visions of the same man she’d seen so many times in her dreams. He was carrying wild flowers and praying for her return.

CHAPTER 20

The air appeared suddenly thick and Derek prayed he was not too late as he charged toward the witch’s cottage.

Leaving Emmon and Hugo in a wave of dust, he heard chanting and saw an eerie light flicker through a small window. Before his horse slowed, he jumped, launching himself against the door. The ancient planks ruptured into a splintering rain as he rolled across the dirt floor inside the small hut.

A cacophony of jarring thunder and high-pitched chants rang in his ears. His eyes widened in horror as he glanced across the room. His wife, his angel from another world, floated upward out of arm’s reach. Scrambling quickly to his feet, he leapt through the air, grabbing Morgan about the waist before falling to the ground. For a moment he lay still and held her tight against his chest as he watched the blanket she’d been holding hover above them as a hawk would hover above its prey. And then the coverlet disappeared before his eyes.

Just inside the door, Emmon and Hugo, having seen the blanket vanish into thin air, stood speechless. The witch failed to acknowledge the men at all as she paced the darkest corner of the cottage and mumbled to herself of moons and faraway places.

With Morgan draped in his arms, Derek came to his feet. She did not stir but she was alive. He could hardly believe his good fortune at finding her in time. “We will take her to Silverwood,” he said to Hugo. “Hopefully her father can shed some light on the matter of his second daughter.”

~~~~

Impatiently, Leonie waited for Otgar, knowing full well he had failed once again to do her bidding. When he finally did arrive, his repulsive countenance made her inwardly cringe. She did not like the bitter taste of defeat. More than anything she had wanted to see Lord Vanguard on bended knee, begging forgiveness. She had planned to take him in her arms and pardon him his fleeting lapse in judgment, assure him of her undying love. But it was not to be. She had no one. Her heart shriveled, and a dull, empty ache gnawed inside of her.

She glanced within the cup she held and watched the wine swirl about. After Otgar tasted the sweet brew, she would never again be forced to lie beneath such a disgusting denizen of the forest.

Otgar’s tread fell noiselessly against the floor as he came to her. He did not question her unusual readiness for him, and she was glad for it. But his swiftness in discarding his garments, then and there, startled her. Within minutes he was standing over her.

He pushed aside the cup of wine she held out to him.

“Drink with me first,” she pleaded.

Otgar took the cup and put it to the table by the bed. “‘Tis not wine I yearn for.”

“Surely there is no hurry when we could talk awhile first.”

His chest heaved with ragged breaths of desire as his eyes roamed hungrily over her.

Before Leonie could reach for the cup, he forced himself full upon her, casting his body this way and that like a newly caught salmon. His callused palm cupped her breast as his rotted breath covered her mouth. Desperately, she reached to the bed table, grabbed a vase and slammed it atop his ugly head.

Otgar growled like the demon he was and in a new fit of rage he stumbled from the bed. Staggering to his heap of clothes, he grabbed for his dagger. When he swiveled back around, he came at her so quickly she had no time to flee. He plunged the knife deep.

He appeared to shudder in pleasure as he watched her fall back, struggling for breath. Bored with watching her die, he rolled his shoulders to stretch the tenseness there before reaching for the goblet of wine. Sitting upon the edge of the bed, Otgar held the cup above her, giving cheers before downing the dark brew in its entirety, unaware of the smile that played upon her lips as he drank.

~~~~

By the time Derek arrived at Silverwood it was morning and the air was brisk, stinging his face with its coldness. Derek grew haggard with worry as he climbed the wide stairs, carrying his wife in his arms.
Why had she not yet awoken
? Her breathing was steady and her color had returned. It made no sense.

The sentries recognized the woman in his arms as their lord’s daughter and hastily opened the round-headed doorway of the castle. Servants scurried through the hall to inform the Earl of Silverwood of his daughter’s arrival and to prepare a place for her. A pallet was provided near the hearth. Carefully, Derek placed her there and knelt beside her.

Hugo and Emmon followed him inside and stood close by.

Richard Forrester swept into the room and to his daughter’s side. Pale sunlight streamed in through the mauve drapes and hit her face just so.

“It cannot be,” the earl said as he looked upon her pale face. “Morgeanna, is it you?” The Earl of Silverwood looked to Lord Vanguard for answers. “Where did you ever find her? And where is her sister?”

“Amanda is well. I will explain later. Right now we need to warm her. She is chilled to the bone.” Derek took an offered blanket from a maid and wrapped it snug about her.

The Earl of Forrester knelt down beside him and took his daughter’s hand in his. “Surely I am dreaming,” he said as the ball of his thumb rubbed against her soft skin. “Seems only like yesterday that I held the wee infant in my arms. My beautiful Morgeanna has come home at last.”

“Mother…is that you?” Morgan’s eyes fluttered half open before closing again.

Eleanor Forrester came into the room next. She had heard the calling and her eyes darted about the room as she moved closer, slowly at first. Her skirts rustled as she went to the side opposite of where her husband knelt. Her hand trembled as she swept back her daughter’s hair from her brow.

“‘Tis not Amanda I fear,” Richard told his wife. “Her name is—”

“Do you think I know not when I see my own flesh and blood?”

“Of course you do, my dear, ‘tis only that…” Richard paused, looking heavenward as if for guidance.

Eleanor’s voice was soft and sure as she stroked her daughter’s cheek. “Your mother is right here child, where she has been all along.” She looked to her husband, and then back to Morgan. “After all these years of longing to touch my baby, my beautiful baby.”

The earl’s eyes glazed with bewilderment. “You have known all this time…all these years? Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Eleanor stood, tears wetting her cheek. “There is naught to forgive, my dear. Our beloved child is home…my sweet daughter has come back.”

~~~~

Derek kept a steady gaze on Morgan as she slept in Amanda’s bed. Her parents were in the other room, but every few minutes one of them would peek through the chamber door. “Wake up,” he whispered hoarsely. “I demand that you do.”

Heavy eyelids slid open and Morgan’s eyes narrowed as she tried to focus. She lifted her hand as she gazed into his eyes, reaching upward to touch his cheek, his jaw, his hair. “You came for me?”

He took her hand and nodded. He was about to kiss her palm when suddenly her eyes became focused and she snatched her hand back and sat up as if she only just now realized who she was talking to. “Where am I? Where is the Witch of Devonshire? What have you done with her?”

Relief swept over Derek at seeing her awake and talking, and he smiled at her. “I finally came to my senses,” he said. “I should never have let you leave Braddock. Everything you ever told me was naught but the truth and I was but a fool all along.”

“Why?” she asked skeptically. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“The king sent a messenger to Braddock. You were right. I am the Earl of Kensington.”

“And that’s why you came? To tell me what I already knew?”

His eyes said it all. “I wish to apologize. I should have listened to you; I should have known.”

She rubbed her forehead. She loved him so much it hurt, but she couldn’t live with a man who could never love her back. “Nobody could have known,” she said softly. “I hardly believed it myself. But you had no right to stop me from returning to my true home.”

“Amanda Forrester came to Braddock looking for you,” he explained further.

“You’re not listening to me, Derek. I don’t care about all of that anymore. I’m tired. I want to go home…I belong in the future.”

He lifted her chin, forced her to look into his eyes. “Amanda came to Braddock to meet her twin sister.”

“You can’t stop me, Derek. And if you think you can—” She stopped mid-sentence. “Did you say twin sister?”

He nodded.

Edging off of the bed, Morgan came slowly to her feet and tested her legs as she gazed curiously about the room. She went to a high table and touched the small hand mirror and dainty combs and brushes. She picked up a silk glove and breathed in the sweet familiar smell of lavender. She was in Amanda’s room.

The witch, too, she recalled, had said she was Amanda’s sister, which would mean… Slowly, she turned about, sensing someone other than Derek in the room. Her heart nearly stopped.

Beneath the rounded doorframe stood an elderly man. The same man she’d seen so many times in her dreams. She moved toward him, wondering if all her dreams and prayers were being answered in this one glorious moment. The gray at his temples and his sparkling blue eyes were the same.

It was him. Chills coursed over her. It was her father.

He held out a hand to her and she was sure she’d never make it that far. Her knees wobbled and her hands shook. A tear fell, sliding across his softly bearded cheek.