Midnight for Morgana (12 page)

She moaned. “Please, Keir–“

”Please–what?”

“Take me now, sweetheart. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Neither can I.” He lifted her buttocks while she helped him by raising her body. He drew her down onto his hard member, closing his eyes in delight as her soft, warm folds wrapped around him. She worked her magic then, moving up and down, at first slowly, then faster, faster, a frantic dance of passion. Her full breasts brushed back and forth across his chest, a sweet torment. They moved with a rhythm of their own, as if they had been lovers since the beginning of time. Passion deepened inside him, a raging need, a desperate cry for fulfillment.

“Ahhh!” His satisfaction came all too soon, and as his seed spilled into her, her release joined his, a meeting of body and soul. They moaned, their voices muffled, as their passion flowed on and on, a serenade of sound, color, and senses, everything wonderful in life, a rapture to last them until the end of time.

* * *

The following day dawned overcast with a cool breeze, a gray day to match her mood. After last night’s lovemaking, Morgana’s happiness should have been complete, but she knew they had no choice but to return to Dornach with Nola as their prisoner. Much as she looked forward to seeing her father again, Morgana dreaded telling him of Nola’s wickedness, and she feared Nola would lie, would tell him that Alana’s death was an accident. For too long, Nola and Alana had twisted Papa around their finger, coaxing and wheedling, playing on his goodness, on his love for them.

But it must end now, she vowed as Irvyn bridled and saddled the horses, and Keir dragged Nola from her bedchamber and on outside, the sister’s mouth bound, her hands tied in front. That hers and Nola’s relationship should come to this! After her sister’s treachery, Morgana could not admit any love for her, but still, they were flesh and blood, born of the same mother. She ached inside, realizing how much Nola’s evil would hurt their father. Yet she must accept that Nola’s wickedness deserved the most severe punishment.

Keir grimaced as he placed Nola on the horse, while she kicked and thrashed, her imprecations muffled by the cloth across her mouth. The others turned away from her, their faces set in anger and disgust.

Morgana wanted to weep for the love she and her sisters could have shared had they not been so selfish and self-centered. And yes, if Papa hadn’t given into them so many times. Swallowing her tears, she set out with her captive sister, Keir and Ferris, headed for home.

Chapter Eight

“All my fault.” Lord Muir turned a sorrowful face toward Nola, who glowered from a chair, her eyes flashing defiance. Her hair hung in strands across her face, her dress spotted with food stains. Upon reaching the house, Keir had untied her hands and unbound her mouth, warning her she had better keep quiet. The rest of the company stood, at a loss to know what to do about Nola.

The party had reached Dornach a short while ago, where Morgana found her father in perfect health, as she had expected and much to her joy.  Now, lines of grief etched her father’s face after learning of Nola’s treachery. How it hurt Morgana to see her father’s misery when confronted with her sister’s evil deeds.

Lord Muir signed. “Had I not spoiled Nola and Alana, had I not given in to them so many times–“

”Papa, don’t blame yourself,” Morgana interjected.  “Circumstances forced you to raise three daughters on your own.”

Kelwyn nodded. “True, but just the same, I must accept responsibility for Nola’s and Alana’s waywardness. And now Alana is gone from me. After my wife died . . .” He brushed a tear from his eye, his voice choking. “When Blair died, I . . . I almost lost my mind, and here I was with three daughters to raise.” He shook his head. “No, I’m making excuses for myself. I should have put my foot down, should not have given in to their every whim.”

“But sir,” Keir said from his position near the sofa, “you have one daughter you can be proud of. Morgana is all that a man could ask for, sweet and gentle, a true lady, and a conscientious worker, besides.”

“Why, yes,” Nola spat from her chair across the room, “little Miss Perfect, who can do no wrong.  I only regret that I didn’t succeed in killing her.”

“You!” Lord Muir pointed a finger at her. “We have had enough of your perfidy.  I lost one daughter because of you. It is only by the grace of the gods–and Keir’s efforts–that I didn’t lose another.”

“And a sitheach,” Morgana added, then told the story of the good witch from the very beginning, when Gwenith had enabled her to attend the fair. Despite the tragic aspect of the present situation, she felt it necessary to give credit to Gwenith.  “So you see,” she concluded, “this dweller of the Otherworld first brought Keir to me, then later helped save my life. We owe her so much, more than we can every repay.”

“Ah, I never knew.” Kelwyn slumped onto the sofa, indicating for the others to join him. In truth, Morgana welcomed the respite; her muscles ached, her stomach grumbling. Thirst tormented her parched throat. She glanced at Keir next to her and noted the lines of weariness etched on his face. The party had ridden hard from the lodge, stopping only occasionally to rest the horses. Now those sturdy animals reposed in the stable under Ferris’s ministrations, the servant having been given instructions to groom and feed the beasts.

Mindful that it would be for the best, Morgana suggested a suspension of the discussion. “Papa, perhaps we could all think better after we’ve had a bite to eat and something to drink. We had a long journey from the lodge, without stopping for food or drink.”

“Ah, yes, I fear I’m not thinking well today.” Kelwyn shook his head. “Too much has happened this day. Too much! I find one daughter is dead, another a murderess.” His voice broke and he sobbed, his hands pressed to his eyes.

“Please, dear Papa.” Morgana eased him into her arms and held him close. She drew a handkerchief from her pocket and tenderly dabbed it across his face. A movement from the corner of her eye seized her attention. Nola raced to the front door and reached it, her hand on the knob.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Keir sprang to his feet, and in two steps, crossed the parlor. He grabbed Nola and pulled her arms behind her back, his strong hand enclosing both wrists.  He turned toward Kelwyn, while Nola struggled in his grasp, screaming and kicking. Kelwyn covered his ears and turned away, his face red with shame.

Keir spoke over Nola’s screams. “Sir, I’ll take her to the stable and have Ferris tie her up.”

Lord Muir nodded, raising his hand in a futile gesture.

Waiting until her husband returned, Morgana gave her father a chance to compose himself, if such composure was possible. Poor man, that he should suffer so. At the point of tears herself, she knew she must be brave for her father’s sake.

Keir returned a few minutes later, his face set in fury. Upon his return, Morgana rose and headed for the kitchen to prepare a light repast. She wondered if anyone would feel like eating, yet she realized she was light-headed from lack of food, her throat crying for a drink. She found a well-stocked larder in the kitchen–bread, cheese, and apples, among many other foods, and surmised she had Lady Ahearn to thank for such an abundance. A crock of clove-scented tea greeted her, too, and embers in the fireplace kept a pot of water hot. She set out mugs and poured water for tea, the best restorative.

When everything was ready, the places all set, she approached her father and Keir, but her father demurred.

“I . . . I fear I can’t eat. My whole world has turned upside down.” A look of desolation claimed his face.

She put her arm around his shoulders. “Please, Papa, you’ll feel better and think better after you’ve had a bite to eat. We are all heartbroken. But depriving yourself of food will not help in the least. Indeed, ‘twill hinder clear thinking. Come, please join us.”

“Very well.” With Keir’s help, he rose to his feet, his body bent over, as if he had aged twenty years. He trudged to the kitchen and flopped down in a chair.

Everyone but Morgana sat, the steaming mugs of tea in front of them, a plate of bread and cheese in the center of the table, along with a basket of apples. Morgana reached for a plate. “I will take food and tea to Ferris. The gods know, he deserves a respite as much as anyone.”

Keir stood. “Sit down, darling. I’ll take Ferris’s plate to him. You stay here with your father.” He grabbed a mug of tea and balanced a plate of cheese, bread, and an apple on top, then opened the kitchen door and stepped outside.

Sitting down, Morgana touched her father’s hand, taking his fingers in hers. He squeezed her hand, but his face remained pinched, his cheeks still red from weeping. He raised his other hand to his forehead, speaking so low she had to lean closer to hear him. “I . . . I can look back now and see how I went wrong–“

”Papa, please don’t talk so!”

“No, let me speak of it. Let me recognize my weakness, for weakness it was. Yes, I see now how spoiled and self-centered your sisters were, but I never dreamed. . . .” He swallowed. “I never dreamed they were capable of such wickedness.”

“We never know, do we?” Morgana spoke with a newfound wisdom, feeling as if she had aged twenty years. “We never know how children will turn out when they reach adulthood. Some parents spoil their children terribly, yet the children grow up to be capable adults. Other parents discipline their children, try to teach them responsibility. And these children may grow up to be thoughtless and undependable. You never know,” she repeated.

The door creaked open and Keir stepped inside, his face cast in weariness but determination. A great swell of love for him rose inside her, that he would stand by her, his love and support steadfast. Many other men would have left their wives at the first sign of family trouble. If Keir had wanted to, he could have stayed at the lodge, leaving her and Ferris to deal with Nola. Or he could have ridden on to Glennamin, instructing her and Ferris to follow later. But that was not his way, this kind and faithful husband of hers, and she loved him all the more for his devotion.

Keir joined them at the table, and silently they all ate in a desultory fashion, as though the meal were a task that must be accomplished. The bread was fresh, the cheese soft and creamy with a hint of bacon in its taste, but Morgana had to force herself to eat. Just the same, she found a bit of her tiredness leaving and felt vastly restored with this simple snack.

Kelwyn Muir finished his tea and set the mug on the table. His face, red and haggard before, now held a look of resolution. “I have decided what we must do with Nola.”

Morgana and Keir both glanced up, but neither spoke.

Kelwyn swallowed and took a deep breath. “We shall take her to the ocean and set her in a boat on an offshore tide. She will fend for herself, and I shall post a guard to see that she does not come back ashore. She will have no oars but enough food and water for one day and night. Let Manannan deal with her then.” His eyes filled with tears, and he bit hard on his lower lip; Morgana recognized the effort his decision took, and what it cost him to speak of it.

Morgana and Keir exchanged a look but both remained silent. She feared that Manannan, the sea god, would deal harshly with her sister, but it was no more than Nola deserved. Once, she had felt bitterness toward her sisters, that they should have so many advantages and she have nothing, treated like a servant in her own house, among her own family. Now, she realized that she was by far the richest, and not in material wealth. She gazed upon Keir and knew she had a love to last for all time. His gaze told her he felt the same, and that he would love her for the rest of their days.

* * *

As to what happened to Nola after she was exiled, no one really knew. But rumor had it that she was captured by a kelpie, a water spirit that lives at the bottom of the ocean, and made his slave. Sometimes, when night has long since settled over the ocean, and visitors stroll along the sandy shore, they will swear they hear screaming from the ocean’s depths.

It took Lord Muir a long time to recover from the tragedy of his daughter’s evil, if, indeed, such regeneration is possible. But marriage to Lady Ahearn helped alleviate the blow. He moved into her fine mansion and donated his own home as a library for the village of Dornach, first removing a few of his favorite volumes. After all, he reasoned to anyone who asked, now that he had found a wonderful woman who loved him and whom he loved, he had no need of so many books, for he had other ways to spend his time.

A few days after Nola’s exile at sea, Morgana, Keir and Ferris rode back to Keir’s country of Glennamin. Hemlocks and pines stretched for miles on either side of the winding road, and the woodsy scent of the forest blew their way, borne by a strong northerly wind that rippled their cloaks behind them. Wooded hills rose in all directions, appearing greenish-gray in the light mist that covered the elevations. They kept the horses at a slow canter, for rocks and thick tree roots hindered their passage.