Beautiful. Magnificent. Completely naked but for the leather cord he always wore around his neck.
Sadie shook off her lusty thoughts, turned, and slid down the tent zipper just enough to crawl through. She continued to crawl all the way to the now smoldering fire Morgan had rekindled last night. She stood, only to realize that she wore only socks and that her boots were someplace in the woods with the rest of her clothes.
Damn. She walked to her dry packs sitting beside her tent and picked up one of the bags and carried it back to the fire. Then she pulled out her spare sneakers and slipped them on. One minute later she was back on her feet and running through the forest, trying to remember where in these woods she might have left her most intimate clothing.
Morgan took his time dressing.He was pretty sure he knew where Mercedes was going, and he suspected it would take her some time to find her way. She hadn’t been paying much attention last night to where in the woods they had made love.
She’d been too busy being appalled.
He would set Mercedes down today, once he got her back to camp and filled her belly with food, and have a nice little talk with her about this new and hopefully peaceful life they had begun last night.
He would be understanding but firm.
Patient but insistent.
Calm but determined.
She would get over her modesty.
She would respect his authority.
Morgan snorted to himself. Aye. Mercedes would accept his dictates with all the grace of agrâineag.
With that thought lifting the corner of his mouth, Morgan set his sword over his back and headed into the woods at a trot. In less than a minute he picked up her trail and followed its aimless wanderings for nearly a mile.
He heard her sneeze before he actually saw her.
Dammit. She was catching a cold.
He stopped a good twenty paces away and watched as Mercedes scattered leaves with the toe of her shoe. She’d already gathered her boots, their socks, and both of their underwear into a pile. She was now pushing at the leaves and sticks littering the ground but stopped suddenly and reached down to pick up a thin shirt that looked more like a rag than clothes.
She suddenly stiffened and whirled toward him, hiding both her hands behind her back like a guilty child. Morgan pulled away from the tree and walked toward her.
She took a quick step back, realized what she’d done, and stepped forward again, her chin lifted at him. Morgan made sure his smile didn’t show what he thought of her actions.
“What’s so important that you felt the need to sneak off this morning and come here?”
he asked.
Her chin went up another notch, and her beautiful blue eyes narrowed. “Nothing. I didn’
t sneak off, I walked.”
“Then what was that you picked up from the ground just now?”
Her entire face flushed red, and her chin lowered slightly. “That’s my business. I came here alone because I wanted some privacy.”
He slowly shook his head at her. “Privacy no longer exists between us, Mercedes,” he said, stepping closer. “It ended last night.” He reached out a hand. “Show me what you’
re holding.”
She took two steps back. “You don’t understand!”
Ah, but he was quite sure that he did. “My hands covered every inch of you last night, woman. I know exactly what you look like under your clothes. And exactly how you feel.”
Her eyes widened, and her blush paled—and Morgan continued with a determination grounded in truth. “I also know that you have no reason to feel vulnerable with me, Mercedes. Because I don’t see scars when I look at you. I don’t feel them when I touch you. I only experience your beauty.”
He pounced on her then, before she had time to realize his intent. He had to tackle her to the ground to keep his shins from being bruised, and he had to grab her hands before she pummeled him to death. In the end, he was a bit muddy but victorious. He turned them both until he was sitting on the ground, Mercedes was on his lap, and the rag she’d been hiding was in her hands being held by his.
And seeing it close up, he was also quite sure what it was.
Morgan sighed and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. Damn. They were going to have their talk on an empty belly.
“This has to stop, Mercedes. There is no room for modesty or shyness between us.” He pointed at the finely knit shirt she usually wore like a second skin, now clutched in her hand. “And it is a sin for a wife to keep secrets from her husband.”
Her gasp was expected.
Her sharp little elbow driving into his ribs was not.
Before he could catch her, Mercedes was off his lap and standing over him, her hands balled into fists at her sides, her eyes snapping fire, and her complexion so red it was a wonder she didn’t explode.
“That’s a sick joke, MacKeage.”
He slowly stood up and carefully brushed the mud from his pants, not once taking his gaze off her indignant face. “Joke? What are you talking about, a joke?”
“I’m talking about what you just said. A wife not having secrets from her husband, as if that pertained to us. Well, damn you, when I find a husband, I’ll be sure to remember your advice.”
It hit him then, like the blow of a mace, that this spitting-mad woman was actually the confused one here. Morgan rubbed his forehead again and closed his eyes while he prayed for strength—and plenty of patience.
“Mercedes,” he finally said, in as calm a voice as he could manage when he looked at her again. “I wasn’t making a joke to you just now, because you already are my wife.”
“I am not.”
He nodded. Curtly. “Aye, you are. The ceremony took place right here,” he explained, waving his hand at the ground. “I remember asking you, quite clearly, if you took me.
And,” he continued more forcefully when she opened her mouth to protest, “you quite clearly said that you did.”
“I wasn’t marrying you! I was trying to get an affair started between us.”
“It’s done. We’re husband and wife.”
“But there was no minister. No witnesses, for crying out loud! It won’t hold up in a court of law.”
“It will damn well hold up to God’s law. You’re my wife, Mercedes. You are no longer a Quill but a MacKeage. And God save anyone who thinks different.”
He stepped forward and firmly took hold of her chin, getting close enough so she would feel the finality of his words all the way down to her toes. “And that includes you, wife.
Because this will not be one of your modern-day marriages. You will defer to your husband and respect my word. And to that end we will have a peaceful union if I have to take the flat of my sword to your backside.”
That said, Morgan pivoted on his heel and strode away from the scene of his dictate, leaving Mercedes to come to terms with what she had just heard. Because, like it or not, he was holding Mercedes to her words of last night and keeping her as his wife.
And he’d even be generous, dammit, and allow her a few days to get used to the idea.
Holy spit.What had taken place here last night? How had they gone from friendship to marriage in less than a week?
And what had happened to her flaming affair?
Sadie folded her knees and sat down on the ground, clutching her camisole to her chest.
The man couldn’t be serious. Married? As in setting up housekeeping and living together?
Naw. The guy must be touched in the head. He was like his cousin, Callum, a bit old-fashioned was all. Yeah. Morgan was acting like a Neanderthal, being possessive and maybe feeling guilty for last night, and he was trying to make her feel good about the whole fiasco.
Naw. That wasn’t it, either. He was just insane. Because there hadn’t been one ounce of compassion in him just now, only a menacing threat lacing his whisper-soft voice and snapping in his forest-green eyes.