Free The Pledge by Helen Mittermeyer Page B

blood, Morrigan could only stare.
    “And are you ailing, wife?”
    “No.”
    “Then what of this?” He lifted her hand, his fingers still at the pulse. “Your drumbeat is too fast.”
    “I was hurrying.”
    “Why is that?”
    “Rhys was tired. When that happens he can become recalcitrant. I didn’t want him to mar the celebration,” she said truthfully.
     Did she imagine that his features lightened, that his eyes melted away from their slate hardness of moments past?
    He studied her for long moments. Then before she could do more than gasp, he’d lifted her into his arms and strode from the
     room. “You’ve nothing to fear,” he told her as he marched down the dank corridor.
    “So you say,” she muttered in Welsh.
    “So I do,” he answered in the same tongue, chuckling when she stiffened. “I’ve battled in Wales. One learns to speak the language,
     milady.”
    “Of course.” Her tone was sharper than she’d wanted and it didn’t quite cover the quaking in her frame. “I’ll have to remember
     to pick up the language if I ever venture to foreign lands to conquer,” she said in rapid Celtic, trusting he wouldn’t pick
     up all of it.
    “I’ll keep you at my right hand, then, and you can help me lead. We’ll battle together, milady.”
    Morrigan’s mouth dropped open.
    MacKay kicked open a door to a much more splendid suite. Setting her on her feet, he slammed the door shut again. When he
     saw her looking about, he inclined his head. “You were expecting your Celtic assassins, mayhap?”
    Stung, she lifted her chin and glared. “No! I was expecting your infamous voyeurs. Is this moment not for their delectation?”
    He shook his head. “If you’re expecting the charivari, do not. I’d not allow it.” He turned and lifted the heavy wooden bar
     across the door. “There. ’Twould take an army to get through and I’d not countenance it.”
    Morrigan swallowed, looking at him fully for the first time. Her secret wouldn’t become tattle for the word mongers. If her
     husband put her aside it wouldn’t be in front of a contingent of drunken men spitting ribald remarks. If he didn’t kill her
     on the spot, she could live with the infamy of being returned to Wales. She and Rhys would be under the protection of the
     Llywelyn name until such time as he could attain his inheritance. The law would protect her when her deceit was unmasked since
     she was regent of the Trevelyan estate.
    Hugh frowned at her. “I have to wonder what takes your concentration, why you wander in thought.”
    “I’ve… I’ve not been here before, there is much to see.”
    “Join me in wine, or an ale.” He looked around him, smiling when he saw the tray with cups and skins upon it.
    She nodded, needing soothing. So did he.
    “I went wild when I couldn’t find you below stairs, wife.”
    “Why? Surely you knew I’d see to my son.”
    Hugh shrugged. “I didn’t. I missed you,” he said through his teeth.
    “And that is why you came through the child’s door like one of the bulls of Afrique?”
    His smile twisted. “ ’Twould seem so.” He looked toward the drink table, then back at her. “I was crazed when I couldn’t find
     you.”
    Morrigan smiled, feeling a glow spread through her. Even as she looked, his eyes seemed to deepen in color, his face hardening,
     but not in a fearsome way. There was a hotness there, almost a wanting. It shook her that she wouldn’t have minded had he
     pulled her into an embrace. What would it be like to feel his strong mouth on hers?
    He went to the wine table. “We’ll toast our nuptials, wife.”
    “I would have fruited water, milord, since I cannot stand spirits when I’ve had little sustenance since rising from my pallet.”
    “You should have supped.”
    She tried to smile. “The day was too exciting.” She didn’t lie about that.
    “I found it so.”
    His lazy hot gaze went over like silky flame. Her head snapped back. She studied his bland