"Did… did ye hear everything?"
A smile played on the corner of her lips. "I think so. I remember ye begging me to wake up. I tried but I couldn't. Ye sounded worried. Ye said," her smile expanded, "ye didnae want to let me go."
Morgann groaned and rubbed a thumb over her cheek. "I didnae think ye could hear me. But I dinnae understand. Ye died, lass."
Alana raised a brow at him. "I think ye've been indulging too much, Morgann. Yer wits are addled."
"The healer confirmed it. Finn saw ye. Ye were dead!"
Her smile slipped at his tone and her gaze locked onto his, searching his eyes. "Yer serious aren't ye?"
"Aye, I lost ye, Alana. I thought I'd never have ye back in my arms again."
She softened into him. “Morgann, we need to talk.”
“Aye, we do.”
“Margot—”
“That witch willnae be able to hurt ye. I’ll protect ye, I swear it. We need to leave Glencolum for a bit. 'Tis no' safe here."
She forced herself back in his hold. “Ye believe Margot poisoned me? Morgann, this is just silly. Ye cannae be accusing—”
“Ye dinnae believe me?” He dropped his hands from around her and stepped back. Of all people, he was sure Alana would believe him. After all, she’d been the only one to defend him when he was accused of theft.
“I’m no’ saying that, it’s just… ye must see ‘tis a tall tale indeed. Poisoned, dead, brought back to life. I think I’d know if I’d been poisoned!”
Despair drenched him. Even the person who knew him the best didn’t believe him. Teeth gritted, he widened his stance in an attempt to wrestle back some control. He’d already proved himself weak around Alana. He dare not allow his need for her to cloud his judgement and put her at risk again. In his gut, he knew Margot wasn’t finished with them. Desperation clearly drove her now, or else she would never have stooped so low. Mayhap she’d hoped to pass it off as an illness and indeed, they’d found no proof of poisoning. But Margot’s disappearance only served to prove her guilt.
“Ye could just return me to my da. I’ll be in no danger there,” she tried tentatively.
He took a step back and raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll no’ return ye. Yer staying where I can be sure yer safe. And I cannae step foot on yer father’s lands.”
Alana crossed both arms over her chest as her eyes flared. “Yer overreacting, Morgann. Even if ‘twas poison, I’m in no danger now. Give me a mount and let me go and I’ll tell my da ‘twas all a mistake.”
Morgann gritted his teeth and stepped forward again, snatching an arm. “What part of ‘I’ll no’ let ye go’, do ye not understand? If yer on yer father’s lands, I cannae protect ye.”
She wiggled in his hold. “Morgann, yer as pig-headed as ever. When will ye learn ye cannae command me?”
He released her slowly. How had they gone from kissing to arguing again? Things were meant to be different now. The relief he’d felt as seeing her once more, at the miracle of having her back in his arms, had been replaced with pure frustration.
Aware his anger may get the better of him, he turned and stalked away, stepping into the stairwell. He paused briefly to view her through the arch. “I’m taking ye to the Old Castle. Ye have no choice in this, Alana. Ye may have little care for yer safety but I’ll no’ go through losing ye again.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he stormed down the steps in search of Finn. Now he needed to make preparations. And have yet another messenger sent out. Morgann paused briefly on the stairs and cursed aloud, the harsh words echoing off the stone. Hadn’t he sworn to do things differently? To be honest and open with her? And all he’d succeeded in doing was angering her and frustrating himself.
He needed to get her to safety. That had to be his priority. Once he did that, then he would concentrate on being a better man. Mayhap if he proved himself to be honourable, she would trust his word. It was not as if he’d given her much reason to hold any trust in him. Kidnapping her, near ravishing her, tying her up. Aye, he’d done little to prove himself. From now on he would be the perfect gentleman. Morgann released a snort. Well, he would try his best at least.
***
Chin thrust out, Alana huffed as Morgann directed the mount through the valley. She struggled to cling on to her annoyance as Morgann's chest rubbed against her back, his hold strong around her as if she were a precious cargo. Yet again she was being treated as if she were some prize. Nay, not a prize, a tool. Something with which to win wars. She tried to summon more anger but it fizzled inside her. The way he looked at her after she fell ill... and held her so tightly. As if she truly were something precious. For a brief moment, everything changed. They were a man and a woman again and there was no war or plotting or secrets. But he closed over once more. She was beginning to doubt Morgann could ever let go of the past and be the lad she used to know.