The McKinnon The Beginning (The McKinnon Legends)

by Ranay James

  Father Francis stopped and looked at Nic. The idea was outrageous to the priest. “I will not do this act of abomination. It is not proper for a man to marry a boy. The church will never approve and even if I am quite liberal in my thinking, neither do I.”

  Nic was livid. “I can assure you the church will approve. Now, do it before it is too late!”

  Connor came quickly to the side of the priest.

  “Father, it is all right. Morgan is the Duchess of Seabridge. She is disguising herself as a boy.”

  “Ah, I see,” he said as understanding dawned. “Son, I understand what you are doing here. In light of Brentwood’s untimely visit, I see where you should marry her in all haste. It would be valid in the eyes of the Church. However, it would not be legal without the proper documentation. That could take days. If Brentwood carries legal rights then it would do no good.”

  “Are you referring to this documentation, Father?” Nic pulled the papers from his pack and handed them to him. The papers had none other than the King’s own seal affixed.

  “Are you to marry them or not?” Connor asked flatly.

  “I will marry them,” the Father agreed.

  This couple was ordained to marry by no less than a royal decree. However, he should not have been surprised. Nic and Connor were Henry’s favorites, as were they his. Connor and Nic called him Father. He felt it an honor.

  “Get on with it,” Nic commanded taking Morgan’s right hand in his.

  As Father Francis began the ceremony, Nic stood beside the bed of his bruised and battered bride. If she did not live, he would be able to give Seabridge to his King. Henry could then appoint someone who was worthy because Brentwood would be dead within the week. Nic was going to see to that task personally.

  The priest began.

  “Sometimes the Lord calms the storm and sometimes the Lord lets the storm rage and calms the child. Bidden or unbidden God is always present. A-men.” They all made the sigh of the cross.

  “Do you Sir Nicholas Galen McKinnon take this woman to honor, cherish, and protect with all that is within you. Do you vow to keep her from harm and raise her above all others for she will become one with your flesh, one with your heart, and one with you soul? Do you promise to look to her happiness? Do you vow to show devotion to her in sickness and in health? And do you vow to do so until your life leaves this world for the next?”

  “Yes, I do vow. And should she pass before me in this life, I shall hold these vows sacred and binding until my soul rejoins with her in the next.”

  Nic took his Christian cross from around his neck and took Morgan’s lifeless hand into his. He then placed the only piece of jewelry he owned in her palm, gently closing her hand around it. “All that I am and all that I have, I give to thee.”

  Connor’s surprise was total. He could hardly believe what he had just witnessed. Nic had just bound himself to the Duchess in life and in death.

  “It is done then. Congratulations, Nic. You're now the Seventh Duke of Seabridge.”

  Nic, now had a wife and it felt right that it was Morgan. He would have no regrets of this marriage, not today and never tomorrow.

  “Shall I do her Rites now, my son?” Father Francis stared at the large warrior gently holding the dying woman’s hand and waited for an answer.

  Nic looked at the priest then back into his wife’s face. “No. My wife will live.” It was a declaration. He would fight for her when she could not fight for herself.

  Nic turned to Mary, the housekeeper. “Bring me blankets, clean, cool water, beef broth, candles, a bath and a clean night dress for my lady.”

  Nic turned his full attention on Connor.

  “Now, my friend, take this marriage contract to the King and tell him I have a wife to save if he wishes those future generations of loyal peers to the Tudor Crown.”

  Chapter 35

  “Mary, please summons the healer,” Nic asked the housekeeper after she brought the items he requested.

  Mary turned to do his bidding, leaving him alone in the room with the woman, who moments ago, became his wife.

  “You will live. You are a fighter and you will pull through this, Morgan,” he said holding her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

  Nic believed his words. He had to believe them. The alternative was now, unthinkable.

  Chapter 36

  As the day waned on and the noon meal followed, the healer walked into the room.

  Immediately Nic noted his filthy appearance. He reeked of human and animal excrement. His first thought was that they could all go to hell before this man touched his wife.

  Nic wondered why people could not see the need to keep themselves clean. Even he knew that there was risk of infection in a clean environment much less a dirty one.

  “Sir, you shall not touch my wife until you bathe and place clean clothes on your person,” Nic ordered the man and was not taking no for an answer.

  “I will not!” The healer objected, horrified at the notion. “And, you sir, cannot make me. It is an abomination to wash. Any godly and pious person knows this. Besides, it is obvious to me that she will die. I say we need to call the digger so he can have her place ready.”

  “Do not speak thus around her.” Nic came around the bed to stand his full height in front of the filthy medicine man. “I will not stand for it. She will live and you will not be here to say otherwise. You will get out this instant. OUT! Now! Or I will throw you from the window.” Nic took a step closer to him and the man ran screaming from the room.

  Mary walked into room not a bit afraid of the young man sitting by Morgan’s bed. She came to him, and in an uncustomary gesture of familiarity, placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “I know of another. Shall I have him summonsed?” she asked softly.

  Nic was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his face resting in the palms of his hands. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He was at a loss. He was used to fixing things. He fixed the King’s problems with the unruly. He fixed disputes between his men, but he was unsure how to fix this. He was not in control, and it was unsettling. Moreover, he was feeling his own mortality for the first time in his life.

  “I’m willing to try anything. I would even sell my soul to the Devil if necessary. Mary, I can't lose her. I think every breath she takes for herself she also takes for me.” Nic let out a long and anguished sigh. “Yes, go find your healer.”

  Mary squeezed his shoulder in understanding. “In the meantime, do not sell anything to anybody, in particular the Devil,” Mary said then turned to go find the healer.

  Chapter 37

  Hours passed and Morgan was worsening. Nic had not thought that possible. He was physically restraining her as her fever soared.

  At last, before dawn, the second healer entered the room. He was clean. Nic had Mary to thank for that blessing. The doctor made his way to the bed. He touched her face. He looked at Nic, completely devoid of emotion.

  “I can heal her, but I must have privacy for my administration.”

  “No," Nic said emphatically. "I will not leave her alone with you.” Nic did not like the fact she was to be alone with this man. In fact he did not like the man, either. He left Nic feeling cold and just a little unsettled. There was something dark and evil about him. Perhaps, he was Druid, Nic thought. They still existed in secret.

  “Then we have no more to talk about.” The healer turned to go.

  “Wait, all right, I'll leave, but not for long.”

  Nic did not feel good about leaving but would leave if that was what it would take for the man to help.

  Fifteen minutes later Nic reentered Morgan’s room without a sound to a scene striking horror in him to the very depths of his soul. The man was chanting in some unknown tongue, and he'd opened a wound in her wrist allowing her life’s blood to drip into a bowl held under the gash.

  “Jesus, you're bleeding her? Get out! Out!”

  The man jumped, spilling the precious contents
of the bowl, splashing Morgan with her own blood. Nic grabbed the man by the collar and threw him out with such force the man slammed into the far wall of the corridor. Nic slammed the door, bolted it, and refused let anyone in for hours.

  Over the next few days, Nic allowed no one else to touch her. He cleaned her, bathed her with cool water when her fever soared, prayed, and repeated the cycle. He held her when she was delirious with fever screaming from nightmares. He was not so sure they were not memories that she was reliving in vivid detail.

  He gathered her to him and rocked her. It seemed the only way to calm her when she got like this.

  “Morgan, it is all right. I am here. Stay with me.”

  Morgan was calmer and her breathing steadied. He held her and rocked her more.

  Sometime later as the evening moved into night, Nic fell into an exhausted sleep, cradling her in his arms. Near dawn he woke covered in sweat. It was not his own. Morgan’s fever had broken in the night as he had held her close. Touching her forehead, her skin felt cool and dry to his touch. Her breathing was steady and her sleep was natural and deep. She had survived this round. Nic was overwhelmed with relief.

  “Thank you, for her life. I promise to do right by her,” he said, voicing his prayer and vow out loud.

  Nic eased Morgan out of his arms then covered her with the sheet and quietly left the room.

  It had been eight days.

  Chapter 38

  Nic made his way downstairs to the kitchen after leaving Morgan’s room. The kitchen was warm, bright, and smelled of freshly baked bread, a relief from the smell of the sick room.

  The cook was surprised to see him.

  “How is she?” he asked fearing the worst. Everyone in the household knew that Nic had not left his lady-wife for days. That act alone spoke volumes to all of them. Morgan was more than just wife to this young man who they all adored as much as they loved Connor.

  “She will live,” Nic announced, then grinned about the good news.

  “Oh, that is wonderful news. I'll go tell Mary. Should I have her help you with her Grace?”

  “Yes, please. I am starving and need to sleep. Please ask her to come up as soon as she can have a meal and a bath made ready.” Nic grabbed a roll from the counter as he made his way out.

  Not long after he bathed and ate the meal Mary had brought him, Nic crawled into the bed next to Morgan and slept soundly for hours. When he woke, it was dark outside and candlelight softly danced from the single flame. He had no idea how long he had slept, but the rest felt good and revitalizing.

  Morgan was still sleeping. He took the opportunity to look at her through the candlelight. He brought her hand to his lips.

  “You’re going to be fine, Morgan.”

  When she was stronger, he would give her freedom. She had been ready to die for it. He felt his heart hurt, but he had promised, and he was a man of honor.

  Chapter 39

  Mary brought in a tray of liquids for Morgan and a bath. Nic gently woke her.

  “Morgan, you need to eat something.” He shook her gently.

  She opened her eyes and looked at Nic then closed them. He touched her face with his fingertips.

  “Morgan, you need to let me help you sit up and eat. I promise you may sleep, again once you do.”

  Morgan opened her eyes taking in her surroundings. She knew she was at Featherstone.

  “I thought I escaped or was that a dream?”

  Nic shook his head. It had not been a dream but definitely a nightmare.

  “No, not a dream. You tried but only got outside the gate.”

  “I feel like a newborn kitten, and I had the most terrible dreams. I thought I was back at Seabridge,” she confessed.

  “You have been sick nine days, Love. You almost died.” Nic paused. “I couldn’t let that happen. I'll help you sit up.”

  Placing his arm against her back, he helped her to a sitting position. The sheet fell away to reveal her wounded shoulder and left breast. She grabbed for the cover and brought it to her chin, embarrassed he had seen her.

  “Don’t feel embarrassed. Who do you think has been taking care of you? I would not let anyone else touch you.”

  “I owe you a debt of gratitude. I hope you know that it was never my intent to be a burden to you."

  "You're not a burden, Morgan. So, push that thought out of your mind. But one has to ask, what the hell were you thinking?"

  "I guess I wasn't, not really, but all I could think was to run.”

  She could not look at him.

  Taking her chin he lifted her gaze to look at him. “Why, Love? Why run from safety? Why run from me?”

  The question hung heavy in the air, and Nic took her hands in his. Morgan opened her mouth to speak just as a tap came on the door. She pressed her lips together again. Nic waited. Seeing that he would get nothing out of her, he rose to open the door.

  “May I help her Ladyship in any way,” Mary asked cheerfully.

  “Yes, Mary. If her Ladyship wishes to take a bath, please help her. I think I have completed my work here for the moment. My men are waiting." He turned back to Morgan. "It is good to see you improved, Duchess.” Nic bowed at the waist.

  Pulling Mary back out into the hallway, he whispered so that Morgan could not overhear. “Do not say anything about the wedding. I haven't had the opportunity to tell her. So, please pass this directive to the rest of the household as well.”

  “Yes sir.” She curtsied and returned into the room.

  Chapter 40

  Nic returned to their room after his training practice with the intent of sharing with her the news of their legal contract of marriage.

  He found her asleep, looking peaceful and vulnerable. He did not want to wake her from the much needed restorative sleep.

  Instead, he decided to join her.

  He removed his clothes and slipped into bed with his wife opening his arms as she turned to him in sleep. He kissed her on top of her head and breathed in her sweetness. He inhaled again deeply, closed his eyes, and gave over to a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 41

  “Up you come, Miss Sleepyhead.” A moment ago, Mary had burst into the room with her usual merriment and good cheer. “His Lordship wants you to eat, again. Here let me help you sit up, my dear.”

  Mary came over to the bed after setting the loaded tray on the table and helped Morgan to prop herself up in the bed. She was feeling stronger and more herself, and she had Mary and Nic to thank for that improvement.

  Morgan looked at the mound of food. “Well, I hope his Lordship doesn’t need me to eat all that. I'll explode.”

  She and Mary giggled at the same time.

  “Oh, Duchess, it is so good to see you feeling better.” Mary clasped her hands over her ample bosom then beamed brightly. “The McKinnon will be pleased to see you today. Your color is improving even from last evening. Now, let me bring you some food.”

  “I think I would like to try to sit at the table. Can you help me get there? I’m feeling stronger, but I'm still weak as a kitten.”

  “Oh, of course. It would be my pleasure.”

  “No, the pleasure is all mine this morning, Mary.” Nic had entered the room unannounced. Morgan jumped at the sound of his voice. She wondered how he was able to be so silent when he completely filled the room.

  He is beautiful and larger than life, she thought as his dark hair hung loose and flowed down his back like a glorious cascade of dark silk. His tunic was open at the front in casual contempt for property, and the tightly fitted leggings hugged his powerful legs. There was something to be said for the male form, she thought. Especially, when beautifully put together like he was. He looked as sexy and as unobtainable as she knew him to be.

  Seeing him so darkly handsome did not dampen her mood. She would enjoy him to the very end. She was not as uncomfortable in his company as she thought she should be knowing he had nursed her in her illness. That had to have been very unpleasant, she thought realizin
g that throwing up on his boots the first day was nothing compared to what he must have seen after her failed attempted at freedom.

  Nic sensed the change in her. He was not going to let her mood deter him though. He leaned down and scooped her up, blankets and all.

  “Nic, no. Please, put me down.”

  “Very well, M’Lady. I will do as you command just as soon as I get you to this chair.” She had lost weight. At this point his bedroll weighted more than she did, Nic mused as he deposited her in the smaller chair at the table.

  Nic was glad she was feeling better, and knowing her as he did, he felt he needed to place some stipulation on her getting up and around.

  “I really don't mind seeing you up and out of bed as long as you behave."

  "Behave?" Morgan held in a laugh. The idea of her causing trouble was preposterous. She was so weak there was not much trouble she could cause. However his expression told her he fully believed she was trouble incarnate. "I'm a perfect little angel."

  "Pffft! A little devil is more like it," Nic came back at her all in good fun. "Seriously, though, you are not to overdo at least for a day or two longer. That is an order.” Nic saw the telling sign he had made her angry. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Morgan, sheath your claws. You are very weak and are nothing except skin draped on bones. You were deathly ill not three days ago and are still subject to a relapse. If that happens because of your own stubbornness then I'll just let you die, thinking you must surely have a death wish.”

  He should have stopped there, but good sense had fled and was now overrun by frustration and exhaustion.

  “And after all, you are The Duchess and therefore, your every wish is most certainly my command!” He did a mocking, yet graceful bow from the waist, sweeping his left arm wide in exaggerated gallantry.