Authors: Ranay James
The McKinnon (47 page)
“No, that is not all I want.” Connor grabbed her and crushed her to him, kissing her with everything in him and pouring into that single kiss all the emotions too strong to convey with words. Emotions even he had no idea existed until she had said she would never return. He pulled back from her lips reluctant to let her go, but did not release her completely.
“Time is short. Now go. Save him. Don’t make this parting be for nothing and know I will await your return. One year and a day, Reagan. That it is my price.”
Stepping away from him she said, “Then it looks like you also have five hundred years to find the way back for me. If I choose to come back,” she said throwing her long auburn hair away from her face in mute defiance.
“Oh, you will come back, Reagan. Remember, M'Lady, we have unfinished business.”
He kissed her once more on the forehead, and he closed his eyes against the urge to beg her to stay. Releasing her, he stepped away and with a shimmer of the veil she and Cullen were gone.
“….So, Sir Nic had slain the old dragon Brentwood, and after Sir Conner kissed the fair Lady Reagan, she took the valiant Sir Cullen over to the other side.
Lady Morgan and Nic returned triumphant to reclaim all that was rightfully theirs.
They had three more beautiful children and lived happily ever after.”
Slowly the dark haired, green-eyed beauty closed the book she had been reading to her daughter. Her mother read the same book to her when she was a child. It was the same story that had been passed from one generation of McKinnon children to the next for the past three hundred years.
She had loved the story then and she loved it still.
Each time The Duchess read it, she kept hoping it would have a different ending each time she did.
One day the Duchess knew it would.
“But Mamma, what happened to Lady Reagan and Sir Cullen? Did he make it? Did she come back?”
The fourteenth Duchess of Seabridge and heir to the considerable Pembridge fortune leaned over and kissed her beautiful daughter on the forehead. Lovingly, she brushed the hair away from her only daughter’s face.
“Well, heart-of-my-heart, we won’t know the answer to that question for another two hundred years.”
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