The McKinnon (37 page)

Conner was shuffling his feet. “Well, all I told her was that I was watching her, and if she had anything but good intentions toward Morgan then I would save you the trouble and kill her myself.”

“Oh, no.” Both Cullen and Nic said at the same time. “Tell me you didn’t.” Nic and Cullen did not know whether to laugh or not.

Connor saw the look on Nic’s face and tried to save himself.

“Well, what did you expect, Nic? She helped you escape. I’m thinking she wants you and how better to clear the way than to dispose of your wife and child. You may know her, but I don’t know her.” Connor was feeling like a real heel, again just as he had several time already today.

Nic came to Reagan’s defense. “Connor, she is a good woman. And a good woman is a rare thing in today’s world. So she slapped you and then called you a horse’s ass or called you an ass and then slapped you? Which was it?” Nic asked, enjoying the obvious discomfort Connor was feeling and milking it for all he could.

“It was later she call me the horse's ass.”

“Well, personally, I say she is a good judge of character,” Cullen interjected.

That set Nic into peels of laughter “And….” Nic was not about to let it die.

“Ok, fine. I’ll let you have your fun at my expense. I found her in the kitchen and questioned her about what she was doing. Seems that she was looking for herbs or some such. I had asked her what she was looking for. She said, and I quote, ‘
newt, rat’s ears, and one large horse’s ass
’ and then she said she had only found one article on her list. You put it together.”

By now, all three were laughing deep belly laughs. Connor was beginning to see he had wronged Reagan. If Nic trusted her then that was good enough for him. He would seek her out in the morning and apologize for his behavior.

“I guess I owe her an apology,” Connor admitted.

“I would say so, yes, at the very least. Connor, I owe that woman my life and if she is tending my wife and child then I probably owe her their lives, too. She is the real thing. There is nothing to fear from her. At least there was not before today.” Nic was laughing again. “I would suggest you make up with her before you find yourself sitting on the privy all-day from one of her brews. Promise me, Connor you will at least give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“I will, I promise. Now, go to your bath and then you go to your woman. And I promise to make nice with the Irish wench first thing in the morning.”

“Good night, my brothers. Man, it is good to be home.” With that, Nic left to find his future.

Nic quietly entered the chamber and saw Reagan sitting by the fire. She was immediately aware Nic had entered the room. Rising, she went to him and gave him a hug of welcome and whispered in his ear. “The baby is not out of total danger, but he is better and Morgan is sleeping.”

She placed her finger on her lips then pointed to the bed where Morgan lay.

Nic walked toward his wife like a man in a trance thinking he had to be dreaming. He feared he had lost his sanity and that he would wake at any minute. She was a vision. No flesh could have looked as wonderful and radiant. Slowly, he bent down on one knee beside the bed where they had shared their first hours together. Morgan lay on her side facing him, her arm and hand stretched out as if to greet him. Taking her hand in his, he gently lifted her palm to the side of his face and kissed the tender inside flesh. Reagan had come to stand beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Nic looked up into the eye of the only other woman he had ever really cared about and saw tears matching his own.

“Thank you for this gift,” Nic whispered to her. Reagan nodded squeezing his shoulder and backed out of the room.

She knew she was intruding on something too personal to witness. This moment was not for sharing with the outside world.

Nor did she think she could take the deep, emotional wave of loneliness coming out of nowhere and engulfing her. Quietly, she pulled the door closed. Turning, she ran into the solid wall of Connor Holden’s chest.

Grabbing her arms to help support her, Connor held her there for longer than he really needed to or should have. Looking at her through new eyes, he saw a beautiful woman whose eyes were bright with tears.

“What are these?” He cupped her face with his hands and wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumbs. “Tears? Tell me why you cry, Reagan?”

For one moment, Reagan thought she heard genuine concern in his deep voice, but she knew it had to be a mistake. After all, this same man threatened to kill her a few hours earlier. She placed her hands over his to remove them from her face. She did not need his censure or his criticism. She was doing the best she could with Morgan, and he could just go to the devil if he did not believe her concern genuine.

“My tears are my own as are my reasons for them. Neither is your concern. Furthermore, English, I have neither the desire nor energy to deal with your
tender
concern for my emotional well-being. So, if you will please release me and step aside, I want to find a quite place to sleep and go to bed.”

Dropping his hands to his side, he stepped away.

“Very well, Irish. As you wish. I will come for you in the morning.”

“Must you? I would have thought a big important man like you would have much more important tasks to do than continue to spy on a house guest,” she said, throwing up her hands in a sign of pure frustration.

“Reagan, you misjudge me,” Connor offered her softly.

She looked at him for a moment. He somehow looked different to her, less suspicious. Perhaps Nic had set the big man straight. She sighed, life was too short. “Maybe the misjudgment is mutual, English.”

She left him without a backward look, and had walked a few paces then realized she had gone in the wrong direction. Turning back, she passed him where he was causally leaning up against the wall.

“Back so soon? Perhaps you want to share that drink with me this evening after all?” Connor laughed subtly sending waves of unwanted desire shooting through her.

“Not tonight, English… not ever.” Reagan shot back with as much conviction as she could muster as she passed him by. Connor watched her as she continued down the hall dressed only in her dressing gown.

Hmm, not
bad, he thought as he, too, went in search of his bed.

Connor was about to undress when he realized he had failed to secure Reagan a room. That got him to thinking, wondering exactly where she was bedding down for the night.

What kind of host was he, he wondered as he put his boots back on.

Feeling badly for his lack of providing for her comfort, he went in search of her.

He really felt terrible once he found her. She was bedding down in the stables.

Connor watched her sleep. She was curled up in a clean stall.

“What the bloody hell are you doing out here?” he asked, concerned for her physical safety.

She pushed up in her elbow. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m stealing your horse, English,” she shot back more teasing then angry. She was too tired to muster up much fire at this point. It had been a very long day as she dropped back down on the soft clean hay.

“Reagan, come into the Keep. It is not safe out here.”

“I’ll be fine for now. I’m used to taking care of myself,” she said, defiantly standing her ground. Well, standing her ground figuratively speaking. She was still lying down, too tired to move.

“Perhaps you took care of yourself in the past, but now it is my duty. You are my guest.”

“No longer contemplating tossing me under the castle?”

“Steal my horse, Princess, and we will just have to see where I toss you,” Connor needled her in jest with her knowing he could never lock her away.

Reagan wondered at his change of attitude. Perhaps Nic had spoken to him, relieving Connor’s mind of lingering doubts about her being a danger.

Even if she had slept in worse places than Connor’s clean stalls a warm, a soft bed was much more inviting. She gave in, taking the offer of assistance to help her to her feet. She wondered what his help was going to cost her.

“English, I’m sorry that I lashed out at you earlier.”

“Not as sorry as I am for having driven you to it.” He unconsciously rubbed his jaw. “Reagan, Nic is my brother and even if a guest, you are a stranger in my house. However, he assures me you are safe to run the castle without a guard, and I trust you not to make him a liar.”

“And I hear a ‘but’ coming,” she said looking up at him with her arms crossed.

“Yes, I’m sure you do. Mark my words, Reagan O’Riley, if you so much as sneeze wrong, I will have no hesitation in doing what I feel I must to protect me and mine.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “And believe it or not, English, I appreciate the candor, and I can understand that stance fully. I’m not the enemy and that is something you will just have to figure out for yourself. I just hope for all our sakes you’re a quick study.”

Connor softly laughed. “I’m quick when I need to be, but take my time when it counts,” Connor teased letting the innuendo hang between them.

Connor took her by the hand and led her out of the stables.

It had begun to rain leaving the bailey wet and muddy. Without permission, Connor picked her up and carried her to the Keep, shielding her with his outer cloak. He felt her stiff and unyielding in his arms as he made his way through the Great Room and to the base of the stairs of the sleeping quarters.

Gently, he let her down.

“Take the far room on the left,” he offered, handing her the room key. “It is yours for as long as you care to stay.”

Inside Nic and Morgan’s chamber, a different scene unfolded. After Reagan closed the door, Nic followed her to the door, closed it and slid the bolt. He wanted to be alone with his wife with no danger of interruption. He had lost so much time with her and needed to make up for the hurt he'd caused. He desperately wanted to replace that hurt with the feelings he felt for her, and the love he now felt for his unborn child. He crossed the space between them and sat on the edge of the bed, next to Morgan who slept peacefully.

Nic pulled her covers back. Gently, he placed his hand on the swell of her stomach, and felt the baby stir under his touch. The graceful flutterings moved him beyond words. Tears of joy, pain, regret, relief, and love all spilled from him as he felt this miracle. No greater gift had he ever received. No jewels, no gold, and no king’s treasure could compare to the value of this moment for him.

He covered his wife and took a moment to look at her. Brushing back the hair from her cheeks, he noticed the subtle changes in her. Her hair was longer, her body rounder, fuller. He eased down to kiss her on the top of her head. Torn between letting her sleep and waking her, he decided to sit by the bed and look at her. He had no idea of the reception he would get once she was awake, and he wanted to savor this moment of total peace, the likes he had never felt before. He wanted to hold this moment and burn it into his memory.

He eased into the chair by the fire where he could have a good view of her and  stay warm. Morgan turned in her sleep with a heavy sigh.

Nic smiled.

Even heavy with the child, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He was a very lucky man.

He thought about Cullen and how he had cared for Morgan all these months. He could not help wondering if she had fallen in love with his brother, possibly returning the tender feelings Cullen obviously felt for her. He knew he should steel himself to the fact she may not love him as her husband. She never told him she loved him even before they parted in London. She could well be in love with Cullen. After all, he was handsome, bright, and had been good to her. Cullen had been there through all the terrible months at court and the search for him in Ireland. He had been her friend, companion, and champion.

However, Nic would not let her leave, even if it meant her unhappiness. He knew he was being selfish. He had no right to keep her against her will, having vowed to let her go, but keep her he would. She was his wife, and the sooner she accepted it the better.

Nic had months to think through this while in Ireland, and as he looked at her, his doubts dispelled in the new dawn light. He knew for him no other woman would do. He loved her, and as long as she was civil to him, he would see to it she had a good life with him. If no other children came from this marriage, at least he would share the rearing of the one on the way. In time, perhaps she could grow to love him. Maybe in time, she would forgive him.

It was close to dawn. Nic was sprawled in the chair by the fire. His large frame relaxed for the first time in months. He had dozed, but was now fully awake. He sat there comfortably stretching his long legs then he crossed his feet at the ankles, his arms resting naturally on his chest, fingers laced together. He was home, yet this good news was still sinking in.

He saw Morgan stirring under the covers, and knew the moment she was aware he was there.

Through sleep-filled eyes, Morgan was seeing the one man she had been dreaming of and praying for for months. Nic got up and knelt by the bedside, holding his breath.

“Are you a dream?" Morgan placed her palm to the side of Nic’s face.

Nic sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her to him and holding her close. He was moved beyond words as  he felt the baby move between them. Brushing his hand down her hair, he pulled away enough to cup her face with his hands.

“No, my wife,” he chocked out. “I am here. I am home. Oh, Morgan, I love you, I love you,” he said then kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids. He finished pulling her up out of the bed and crushed her body to his. “I have missed you. All these long, dreadful months I have spent thinking of you, of us, and the children I want to have with you. I want so much to make it right between us. I want to build a life with you and only you. Please, say you will still have me, if not for me, then for our little one.”

Morgan placed a loving hand to Nic’s mouth. “Nic, hush now and take your ease. I am yours. I belong only to you and always have. I am your wife. You are my husband and I have prayed for your safety. I have wished with all my heart these long months to have the chance to raise this child together. I am sorry, Nic. I was wrong and I should have trusted you. I should have supported your decision. I was in shock and....”