The McKinnon (36 page)

“Morgan, are you asleep, Sweetie?” Reagan asked.

“No, please come and sit with me.” She waved Reagan into the room and motioned to the chair sitting next to the bed.

Reagan crossed the space between them. It was the first time she had any time to survey her surroundings. This was Nic’s room. She could feel his presence.

“How are we feeling? Better I hope. This must be Nic’s room?”

“Yes, it is Nic’s when he stays here. And apparently that is a lot.” Morgan looked around the room. She had wonderful memories of this room, conceiving her child here the first time she and Nic were together.

“I should have not brought Nic into the conversation, Morgan. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

“No, it is all right.” Morgan sighed, placing her hand over her stomach. “I conceived this baby here. Somehow it makes me feel more secure. I do feel much better. Just getting warm from the bath has made a difference."

"Good. I'm glad. And the wee little one?"

"The baby has begun to settle. He has been still these last few minutes. Is that a good sign?”

Reagan smiled. “Yes, it is a very good sign. It means you have begun to relax, and the baby sleeps."

"Connor came by." Morgan offered. He was looking for Reagan. 

"Hum, I'm surprised. I ran into him down in the kitchen."

"I told him where to find you. He asked specifically. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, no of course not. Actually, I'm glad you did. He is having Cook bring up the necessary items I need to finish treating you this evening. Then I promise, I’ll leave you to get some rest.”

“I do not wish to pry, but what caused you to slap Connor? He must have provoked you. You don’t seem the type prone to quick violence,” Morgan asked having already made her decision about Reagan. Nic could do far worse in a woman than Reagan O’Riley.

Reagan paused, not knowing exactly how to answer her. She opted for the truth.

“You know, I do not like that man much. He is overbearing, abrasive and rude, handsome, but still rude. He told me that he would save Nic the trouble of killing me if I had anything other than good intentions toward you. I took offense,” Reagan said as she covered Morgan more fully with the furs. “I can do nothing else except take the best care I know with you. I have taken an oath, Morgan. Every life is valuable to me.”

Before Morgan could comment, a light knock sounded at the door. Reagan moved to answer it, feeling certain it was the cook bringing her the supplies she had asked Connor to secure for her.

When she opened the door she was surprised to find Connor standing there. Her response must have registered and she hoped he had not overheard the conversation. She was sure he would not approve of her telling Morgan anything occurring between them.

“You have the look of a guilty woman, Reagan. Pray I find it is not true. Shall I come in and question Morgan of her treatment?”

“Will you just give me the supplies and kindly leave? I must finish seeing to Morgan, and the longer you stand there with the items I need, the longer it will be before I am able to help her. So which will it be, English? Are you coming in or going away?”

“I will go, for now,” he said then handed her the small crate of items.

"Thank you."

Was she thanking him for the supplies or thanking him for leaving, Connor wondered, as he turned and left feeling as if he were the villain. How could she continually make him feel like he was doing something wrong? All he was doing was looking out for Morgan and his whole house as well. She was a stranger. What did they know about her? He had every right to question her. Yet, he felt he was wrong to do so any time he did. He would continue to watch her, feeling there was more to her than she was letting on.

She had secrets. He was certain.

She had not even bothered to deny the accusation, and one way or another he had designs on getting those secrets from her.

Reagan closed the door and came back to the bed where Morgan was still resting. She was not certain why, but Connor’s opinion and trust were important to her. If he did not trust her motives, then her stay here would be unbearable. She had already made up her mind to stay until Morgan delivered. That would be months from now.

It was going to be a long winter, Reagan thought as she made Morgan the tea designed to make her more comfortable and to help her sleep. She tidied up the room and waited for her charge to finish the drink.

“I will leave you unless you want me to stay with you,” Reagan gave her the choice.

“Please, stay. I would like you to stay close in case the baby and I need help.”

“I am happy to stay with you. I will sleep by the fire and keep it stoked. I do not need much sleep, anyway. However, you need to rest. If you do not mind, I’ll take advantage of your host’s offer of a bath and then I will return as quickly as I can.”

With shaking hands, Reagan lightly knocked on Connor’s study door.

“Enter,” came the muffled reply.

She lifted the latch and poked her head inside, but did not cross the threshold, noting Connor was seated in front of the fire with a drink in hand and long legs stretched out in front of him. He cut a handsome silhouette.

“You may enter, Reagan. I usually do not bite too hard.” He waved her in. It dawned on him that sometimes it was good to keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. With her it could go either way. “Would you care to join me in a drink?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. I would like to take you up on the offer of a bath. I did not know who else to ask.”

“It's already drawn up for you. I'll send Mary to you.”

“Thank you, English.” She began to pull the door closed.

“Reagan?” Connor's question stopped her.

“Yes?” Reagan wondered what was going on behind those eyes. He was not a man one would really care to have as an adversary in a serious confrontation.

“What is Nic to you?” Connor doubted she would be honest.

“The same as I am to him.”

There, she thought. It was an honest answer, yet vague. She pulled the door closed. It was none of his business.

Sometime later and feeling much cleaner and refreshed, Reagan came into the chamber where Morgan was waiting for her. While Reagan was taking her bath, Morgan had lingered on the single question haunting her since discovering Reagan was the one who had come back from Ireland with Nic. She had to know what was between Reagan and her husband.

"Is there something on your mind, Lady Morgan?" Reagan came to sit beside her on the bed.

“I know you came back from Ireland with Nic. The man at the inn said he had convinced you to run away with him. I need to know the truth. Does he love you?”

Reagan, seeing the pain reflecting from Morgan’s eyes, took her hand. “Morgan, listen to me. This you must believe. There is no other for Nic. No other woman could he ever love as he loves you. Does he love me as a woman? No. As a friend, yes, I believe he does and I count myself fortunate.”

Morgan was burning to ask the question and almost could not bring herself to put the fear into words.

“Then are you in love with him?”

Reagan could see where Morgan might feel unsure. If she were in Morgan’s shoes, she would wonder the same.

“Morgan, I do care for Nic, but not the love you are talking about. Not the love you feel for each other." She paused. It had been a very long time since she had a female to confide in. "That kind of love, I pray, is for me somewhere out there, but not here. Morgan, I saw and felt how much he loves you when I was tending the wounds he now carries. I heard the pain in his voice when he talked of his hurting you. He loves you. All he wants is for you to give him the chance to make this right between you. Please, give him that chance. If not for his sake then for the child you carry.”

“Then why did you help him? You left your home, your life, and everything you knew to help him. Why do something so dangerous?” Morgan could not figure out why she would do such a thing for a man she just met.

“I helped him escape because it was the right thing to do. If I could help get him back to you then that was what I had to do.” Reagan paused collecting her thoughts and really digging into her feelings. “I don’t know, Morgan. I can’t explain it. I just knew it was what fate wanted out of me.” Reagan shrugged.

Morgan understood.

“The universe is a strange and wonderful place. I hope you have no regrets, Reagan. You have given up so much to help bring him home to us.” Morgan had laid her hands on her swollen belly. “I am so grateful. And I hope you will accept my friendship and my apology. I owe you a debt I shall never be able to fulfill.”

“Hum, that is exactly what Nic said. You know...should I ever decide to call in that debt I will be an extremely rich woman.”

Both laughed, feeling a bond grow. Morgan trusted her and she thanked the gods for placing her in their lives.

“You and he will share many years together. Have faith and believe.” In a maternal gesture, Reagan brushed the hair away from her forehead. “So, sleep tonight, and tomorrow we'll see what comes.”

“I feel hope for the first time in months. Thank you, Reagan. Thank you for everything.”

Reagan gently smiled. “You are very welcome. Now, sleep. I’ll be here if you need me.”

Reagan left one candle burning by the bed. Seeking her own blankets by the warm fire, she settled in for a long night.

Cullen met Nic along the road to Featherstone and was able to share the good news of Morgan’s escape and safe return.

Nic was relieved.

“Nic, in case you had other plans, we need to delay this battle with Brentwood. Morgan is anxious and is fairing as well as can be expected, but she needs to see you to confirm you are alive and well.”

“I wish for nothing more than to go to her. I feel like this is another of my dreams. I have this fear I will wake up only to find I am still in Ireland.

“This is not dream, Nic. Please, forgive her for asking for her freedom. She did not receive your letter until months after you had written it."

Cullen explained how Lady Elizabeth had intercepted his message to his wife when the messenger came to deliver the letters. He explained how she gave the one sent to him and kept Morgan’s hidden. Morgan was hurt, feeling Nic had cast her off.

"Once Lady Elizabeth confessed the deed, Morgan realized potentially what she had done. Nic, it destroyed her emotionally.”

Nic was relieved to hear his wife had not simply closed her heart to him. “Well, that sheds light on a dark subject.”

“Nic, believe me, she was devastated. After seeing you with Elizabeth, she thought you did not want her, and that is why she asked you to move on. I see you have brought a woman back from Ireland. Have you?”

“Have I what?” Nic asked confused, his tired brain barely functioning now that the danger to Morgan was past.

Nic faced his brother and watched as the torchlight danced across his face. Nic saw the difference in Cullen and wondered when Cullen had grown to be a man and how had he missed it happening?

“Have you moved on? It might appear so. We heard the story at the pub where you and Reagan slipped away in the middle of the night. Hence, my question: Have you moved on?”

“No, it never occurred to me. I have missed all of you, but none have I missed more than my wife. Now, I’m to be a father. Can you believe it?” Nic said then grinned.

“I am happy for you.” Cullen was solemn, but sincere. “Morgan will make a wonderful mother. She wants this baby desperately, Nic. And she wants you, but she still does not know your feelings.”

“Well, I hope to change that tonight. Look up ahead,” Nic said with longing in his voice. It was Featherstone and Morgan was behind those walls.

“Aye, Featherstone. Nic, don’t give up on her,” Cullen encouraged.

Nic could not agree more. He was not about to lay down this time. “Not this time. She will see me. I’m going nowhere until she does.”

Connor was still in his study reading by the fire when road-weary guests walked through the door.

“Connor, my God, man, it is good to see you!” Nic and Connor clasped hands and embraced in a one-armed hug.

“It is good to see you, too, my friend. After Cullen and Morgan found nothing in Ireland, we feared the worst.” Connor had indeed feared his friend was lost to them. “Morgan was the one who kept saying you were still alive. Who were we to disagree, right? Come, let me get you and your riders food and something to drink. Morgan is upstairs already sleeping. Do you want to go straight up to her?”

“If she is asleep then I won’t disturb her until I have had a chance to eat and clean up. I do not want to greet my wife after six months, smelling like my horse. I’m sure she would accuse me of some unholy love for the animal.”

Cullen got the joke and nearly spewed his drink that Connor had handed him.

“Well, at least you have not been called the ass end of your horse,” Connor said lightheartedly.

Nic had to agree, but with stipulation. “Well, no. At least not yet, but there is still time, I suppose. Who has been calling you a horse’s ass besides Cullen?” Nic asked.

“Reagan.” 

“Ah, I see you two have met.” Nic had begun to laugh and slapped Connor on the back. “I knew sparks would fly. Tell me while I eat how that first encounter went. Then I want a bath and to see my woman.”

A tray with meat, bread, goat cheese, and mead sat on the table. Nic took his fill.

“So, tell me what is between you and my guardian Irish angel? Called you a horse’s ass did she,” Nic asked, again not allowing Connor to wiggle off the hook.

“I’m sure it has something to do with the slap she gave him earlier today. Am I wrong Connor?” Cullen had joined the good-natured ribbing. The men were in high spirits filled with the feeling only longtime friendship could deliver.

Nic winced. “Oh, Connor, please tell me you didn’t get that Irish wench’s back up to the point of physical retaliation? She is feisty to be sure, but not violent to my knowledge. What did you say to her?” Nic asked, stabbing his meat with fervor.