Enchantress (Medieval Trilogy 1)

He would find out that Morgana wasn’t a virgin that she’d been sleeping with Garrick, that even now she could be pregnant with Garrick’s child. Strahan would be furious.

And, with his black temper, there was little doubt that Strahan would demand a fight to the death.

Chapter Twenty One

Garrick’s camp is within a day’s ride from here,” the scout, Sir Quinn, reported, finding Strahan in the forest. Rain fell from the sky and dripped from the trees.

Strahan stared at the shallow, muddy grave that no doubt held the body of the maid, Jocelyn. As he kicked at the fresh earth with the toe of his boot, he remembered the girl. It was too bad about Logan’s nursemaid. Her death had been a waste. She was a beautiful creature, and had she not learned that Strahan was plotting against Garrick, she could have lived. Aye, he was as sorry to see her die as his men were sorry to see their source of entertainment gone. She’d serviced the entire band who had abducted her, trading sex for her life. Aye, ’twas a shame. Strahan did not like to see blood spilled without a cause. Only when it was necessary. His cruel nature was not turned against the world as a whole, just against Garrick and Osric McBrayne.

“Garrick has but twenty men riding with him, and some of them are loyal to you. But his army has turned ’round. They are now headed back to Abergwynn.”

Strahan’s brow furrowed. “Why? They could not know that Logan—”

“Nay.” Quinn shook his head. “But they will come across Ware and Cadell and the wolf soon.”

Strahan’s mind moved quickly, turning the situation to his advantage. “We take Ware now,” he said, his fingers stroking the hilt of his sword. “Then we return to Abergwynn and wait for Garrick.”

“Why not just battle with him here?”

Strahan motioned impatiently. “Here the battle is even. At Abergwynn we have more me

n.”

“As does Maginnis. In fact, it looks as if our rebellion failed, elsewise why would Ware be free?”

“That can be easily changed.” Strahan hesitated. He would have preferred to attack Garrick this very day, but he’d learned from past mistakes that patience would serve him well. Already he could see how to use this change of plan to his advantage. “We return to Abergwynn with Ware.”

“What about the boy from Tower Wenlock?”

Cadell. Aye, he posed a problem. For Strahan had not planned to kill him but realized that if Cadell died, Tower Wenlock would fall to Morgana or Glyn. It was only a matter of getting the witch with a boy child and that would be no problem. He had sired four bastards that he knew of, three of which were male. So, once Cadell was gone and Strahan married to Morgana, Strahan’s son would inherit Wenlock from old man Daffyd.

“We’ll take the boy prisoner, then return to the castle,” he said. “Garrick’s looking for battle. I was anxious before and could not wait for him to return to Abergwynn, as I thought he might be gone for several fortnights. But now that I know he’s returning, what better place to have the battle than in the very halls that he considers home?”

“Unless Ware has taken it from our soldiers.”

Strahan stared at the scout through narrowed eyes. “No one will ever take anything from me again!” he decreed, thinking of Hazelwood.

There was a spark of mirth, an evil satisfaction, in Quinn’s expression and it goaded him. “Of course not, m’lord,” Quinn replied, then added. “Morgana is with Garrick.” Again the flame of humor at Strahan’s expense flickered in Quinn’s mean eyes. Strahan knew the hateful truth: Garrick had bedded Morgana. His blood boiled and any kind thoughts that had lingered for his cousin quickly dissolved.

“Leave me be,” he ordered gruffly. “Tell the men to be at the ready. I’ll make our battle plans.”

Quinn bowed, then turned and strode back to camp. Strahan stood alone in the woods, his anger causing his skin to flush, his teeth grinding in silent humiliation. So Garrick, in his arrogance, had lain with Strahan’s bride, robbing her of her virginity, possibly implanting his child within her womb. At Strahan’s expense. The child, if it existed, would be a problem, for Strahan needed his own issue in Morgana’s body. He would have to wait, for nearly a month if need be, until her cycle was complete and the bleeding began. If it didn’t, if she was already carrying Garrick’s child, then the wait would be much longer — until after the birth.

Fury raged through his veins. Quick as a cat pouncing, he yanked his sword from its sheath. With a powerful thrust, he lunged at an oak tree, burying the blade deep in the trunk. His arm was jarred by the impact, but he barely noticed, so hot ran his hate. Would that this yielding bark were Garrick’s black heart! Where once he had hoped not to kill his cousin, his thoughts had taken a murderous turn.

All of Strahan’s men knew that he intended to marry Morgana of Wenlock. Soon they would realize that the wench had lain with Garrick. Well, both she and Garrick would pay. She would be forced to watch as Garrick slowly died, but before his death, while he was helpless, Garrick would be given no choice but to watch as Strahan bedded the woman Garrick loved. A cruel smile curved his lips. At the beginning of this quest, he had wanted only to best his cousin, to steal Garrick’s wealth. There had been fondness for Garrick in Strahan’s heart and he hadn’t seriously thought of doing his cousin physical harm. He wanted only for Garrick to kneel before him. But time passed and he slowly wanted more. Garrick’s humiliation had become important, and Strahan had boldly stolen the boy from him, then suggested they locate the child through Morgana. He knew that if he kept changing Logan’s hiding place the witch would have trouble finding the boy, but Strahan had wanted to see for himself how strong were her powers, though that was yet to be determined.

He smiled as he imagined Garrick’s roar of rage as he watched Strahan mount the woman he loved. He could envision Morgana’s sea green eyes widening in horror. Oh, she would fight like a hellcat, but would eventually submit, for he would lead her to believe that by lying with him, she could save Garrick’s miserable life.

Now, hHe yanked hard on the sword and slowly the blade, wedged deep in the meat of the tree, began to wiggle free. Throwing his shoulder into his task, he withdrew the sword, made a mental note to have it sharpened, and sheathed the long blade that would bring Garrick’s death — his slow death after Morgana had warmed Strahan’s bed, pleasing him with her hands and tongue.

Absently Strahan rubbed his loins, feeling the swelling and imagining the sweet wet touch of Morgana’s mouth. Mayhap he would let Garrick watch as he gave the wench her first beating — nothing serious, just a few quick slaps on her rump and the light touch of a whip against the white flesh of her back.

At that thought he turned as hard as a yew branch and wished he’d had the foresight to bring along a servant girl — even Springan — so that he could relieve himself. Then again, maybe this pain was worthwhile. ’Twould make the taking of Morgana all the more pleasurable.

He hurried back to camp, gave the orders, and soon his men were riding. There was excitement in the air, and the storm rolling over the hills only added to the adventure of it all. Soon, Morgana, you will be mine, and Garrick will die.

“I tell you he’s gone,” Cadell said, whistling yet again and listening for the wolf’s answering call.