by Jackie Ivie
“Oh.”
“Doona’ say it like that. I dinna’ know when I received it that it was betrayal and murder of the worst kind. My mother wishes you to know this. She has deserted the FitzHugh Castle as long as Phineas is laird. She will na’ return until he is no longer there. She wishes you to know this.”
“She...will abide Phineas’ death?”
“Phineas is her first-born, true. He is also a murderer and defiler of innocents. She will abide clan law. You heard Ari last night. He will be laird. Phineas will be no more. And you heard me? True?”
“You said so much, Zander. I canna’ recall all of it.”
He tilted his head at her and raised those eyebrows again. “Phineas is mine, Morganna. He isna’ going anywhere, except to Hell, and I will put him there. I vowed to gain KilCreggar justice. I vowed it.”
“But, what of my vow?”
Zander sat, crossed his legs, and held out his hands. Morgan faced him, and put her hands in his. She didn’t move her eyes from his.
“When your vow was made, Morganna KilCreggar, you were but a girl-child. There was na’ a man left in your clan. There was a grave injustice done, and nae one to see it rectified. You vowed to see it done. You vowed to kill the laird. All true?”
She nodded.
“There is a laird of the KilCreggar clan now, Morganna. There is a man to do this justice. There is a man who has taken your vow and will see it done. Your vow has become his. Your hand will be his. Your aim will be his. You understand?”
She squinted her eyes. “I am trying to,” she answered.
“You are a woman, Morganna. A woman. You canna’ change your birth, and I for one, would not see it changed. You are also carrying the future of the KilCreggar-FitzHugh clan. You are bringing life into the world, not death. You carry a bairn in your womb, and this bairn was conceived in love, will be birthed into love, and will know love. All of this he will learn from his mother. His mother, Morganna. There will be time to learn death and hate, but from the moment of his birth, my son will learn love. He will not learn love from a killer. He will learn love from a woman. His mother. You.”
She couldn’t even see him through her tears.
“Phineas FitzHugh is mine. I will see justice done. Your vow will come to pass, and then I will return to the same love as my son receives. From you. Doona’ you understand now?”
She nodded.
“I doona’ vow lightly, either, Morganna, although you have accused me of such. All I vowed to you before, I have delivered, have I not?”
She nodded again.
“Now I have vowed to see the KilCreggars avenged. I will do so. You trust me enough for that?”
She blinked, letting tears slip down her cheeks. She nodded again. She didn’t trust her voice.
“You will not be idle, Morganna. There is so much you need to learn, for I need certain things of you, my love. I need you to learn more about play, and less about death. I need you to help me gain structure in my life. I need you to help Scribe Martin design a dragon emblem for our clan. He canna’ put to parchment what I see in my head. I see two dragons...intertwined, forever an extension of the other. Do you see it, too?”
She nodded, yet again.
“I also need you to assist with this kilt design you announced to all. Is it four broad bands of color, all of an exact width? Is it two broad bands with small lines, followed by the other two colors in broad bands with small lines? Is it one background color, with three other colors all of a like width? You doona’ ken the havoc you continually create for me, do you?”
She giggled, cried and snorted at the same time. It sounded as strange as it felt.
“I need these things from you, Morganna, my love.”
“Oh, Zander,” she whispered.
“I also need some other things, Morganna.”
“More?” she asked.
“I also need you to tell me of your love. You have never said it. I wait, and I hope, and you have never said that you love me. I would like to hear of it. Now.”
“Oh, Zander,” she whispered, and for some reason she blushed. Morgan couldn’t believe it. Sunlight was coming through the window, and she was sitting in a large conjugal bed that had seen immense passion through most of the previous night. She was facing the naked beauty of her husband, while in the same state of undress, and she was blushing? Morgan had to swallow.
“I do love you, Zander,” she whispered. “I have loved you since…I doona’ know for certain. I think I have loved you forever.”
He grinned, and the light in his eyes made them look exactly like the sapphire in the ring Plato had given her.
“When did you love me?” she asked.
“If I’d had my wits about me and guessed your true gender, I’d have to say it was the moment I came from the water and you asked how you had missed my vital part. The look on your face held such awe, Morganna! I nearly strutted about with it. Or perhaps it was when I saw your face when you fell atop me at the MacPhee croft. That could have been it. I doona’ know for certain.”
She rolled her eyes, and wiped at them before looking back at him. “You doona’ ever think of anything else,” she said.
“I do. I think of my bairn. It makes me feel warm, right here.” He pulled one set of their joined hands to his chest. “When I first realized you carried him, I canna’ tell you how it felt. I wanted to dance, sing and shout with it. I’m truly amazed that I did nothing.”
“When did you know?” she asked.
“The moment we reached Castlegate. You had the oddest expression to your face one moment, and the next you reached for your belly. I nearly fell off my horse with the joy.”
“That is the same moment I knew.”
“How did you know? What made you so certain?”
“He moves. Oft.”
“Our bairn? He moves already?”
“Aye, but I doona’ think that rare. ’Tis been almost four months, Zander.”
“The night in the chamber? Sally Bess night?” he asked, and he wasn’t feigning surprise. It was written on every bit of him.
She shrugged. “I doona’ know for certain, Zander, but I think it was that night.”
“’Tis what I asked and prayed for. I should na’ be surprised, but I am.”
“You canna’ be surprised. You planned it. You meant it to happen. You tell me so oft how manly you are, how virile, how strong, how much the ladies seek you over your brothers.”
“You make it sound as if I’ve a swelled head.”
She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. She watched him flush. It was very becoming on every bit of him. He cleared his throat. “Besides, that does na’ mean we can create a bairn every time, Morganna. ’Twas what I’d prayed for, and what I needed, but that does na’ guarantee it.”
“It was what you’d planned for and set about gaining, Zander. You canna’ fash me. You told me such. You even told me how Ari told you it was done. You knew what you were doing, Zander. You were entrapping me.”
His snort carried every bit of his disgust. “I was getting you into my marriage bed the only way I knew how. Doona’ you ken how difficult it was for a FitzHugh to coax a member of the KilCreggar clan to the altar? Do you ken it was easy?”
“You should have told me earlier that you knew who I was.”
He smiled gently. “I knew that back when you told me your story at Argylle. I just dinna’ want to believe it.”
“You did believe it, though?”
“Morganna, you carry a small square of plaid with you. I’ve seen it many times since our first night. I recognized it and then I knew. It started a sickness in my veins and a heat in my heart. I knew you spoke truth, Morganna. I even recalled the scratches and blood Phineas had on him. I also knew my clan would need proof of it. I remembered Ewan. I got proof. I had to have time to get the sett woven. I had to have time to convince Ewan he had to speak. I had to ask Plato to arrange everything, because I had other things occupying me. Thin
gs like loving my woman, and creating my bairn. It has been a very busy time for me, Morganna. I have na’ just been lazing at your side as your consort.”
“I am properly impressed, then,” she answered.
He lowered his head, to look at her through his eyebrows. “And am I forgiven?”
“For what?”
“Entrapping you. Getting you with my bairn. Forcing you to the marriage altar.”
“You wish forgiveness for such?”
“Aye. I do. Now, please.”
“I love you, Zander. I forgave everything the moment I saw KilCreggar plaid. I think I swooned.”
“That you did, which was very womanly of you. Plato caught you. It was very impressive, too. Got my clan’s minds off of killing me long enough for me to speak to them. I am grateful for that. I am also grateful for Plato for his excellent hands. He has paid off his debt. He can go back to the lady Gwynneth now.”
“What debt?”
“You gave him back his love so they could wed. He is eternally grateful. I understand. I would rather die than see you wed to another. He dinna’ hurt you with his catch, did he?”
“Plato kept me from harm, Zander.”
“I would rather it had been me, though.”
“You had speaking to do. You did it well. I only hope our bairn has such a gift.”
“I’d rather he had his mother’s sight and her talent with weapons. Scotland will need such.”
“Scotland will need both, Zander.”
He nodded. “True enough. Come here.” It wasn’t a request, it was a command. Zander made certain of it too, by picking her up and twisting her until she sat atop his legs with her back against his chest.
“Why?” she asked.
“So I can touch this place where my son is.” He had both her hands again, and was cupping the bulge of her belly. Morgan felt the shudders of his breath over her shoulder as he held to her. The baby was reacting, too. She wondered if Zander felt it.
“Have you settled on a name for our bairn, Morganna?” he whispered, finally. She shook her head. “You must spend some time thinking on it. Doona’ let my mother sway you, either. She has strange ideas.”
Morgan giggled. The babe twinged.
“You should hear what she helped Ari’s wife name my nephews,” he said.
“What if ’tis a girl, Zander?”
“FitzHughs doona’ have girl bairns. KilCreggar-FitzHughs might, though. If ’tis a girl child you carry, then I will have done what my sire and brothers are unable to. That has merit, Morganna. Doona’ let my mother name her, either. She has been looking for an Aphro-something for her entire life. I doona’ wish my daughter to have a name none can say.”
Morganna giggled again. “We can name her for her sire. Zandria. We can also name her for an uncle. How about Caesara?”
He groaned, and lay back, pulling her with him, until she was stretched out atop him. “We had best design large dowries, then,” he answered.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Morganna and Zander got two blessed days in the official’s house before it ended. It was a wondrous, learning experience, when everything was said once and then again, when Morganna let Zander know, verbally and physically, of her love, and he left her in no doubt of his.
It had to end, though. Nothing lasts forever, despite Zander’s words. It was Robert the Bruce ending it. He was requesting the laird and lady of KilCreggar-FitzHugh in the great room, and amid a great deal of giggling and play, they went to greet their sovereign.
“I see wedded life agrees with you, KilCreggar-FitzHugh!” He announced, his voice overly loud in the one room.
“Aye,” Zander replied, and bowed.
“And you, my lady. A more lovely and content lady I’ve yet to see. You enjoyed your reprieve?”
“Reprieve?” she echoed.
“Aye. ’Tis all I can do to keep order in the camps, with the FitzHugh tent empty and no sign of the squire. I’m afraid it’s time.”
“I am ready.”
Morgan checked for her dirks, her dragon blade, and touched the silver bands together at her wrists. Zander had helped dress her, so she knew everything was in place.
“You misunderstand, my lady.”
Robert the Bruce, took one of her hands and then he went down on his knee before her. Morgan’s eyes widened and she looked to Zander for a cue. He lifted his eyebrows and shrugged.
The king stood. “It is time for Morgan, the squire, to return to the mists from whence he came. Squire Morgan is a legend. He is in the heart, sword arm, and aim of every Scotsman in Scotland. He will live on there. He canna’ survive as the twin brother of one of my laird’s wives. Doona’ you understand?”
She shook her head.
“My vassal, Laird KilCreggar-FitzHugh is a wealthy man. He is a stunning man, well attuned to leading a crowd, albeit he says differently. He is noticeable. His wife will be the same. It will na’ escape notice how closely related she is to Squire Morgan, especially if Squire Morgan is rarely seen.”
“I never thought—I wouldn’t have....I’m sorry, my liege.”
“It isna’ anyone’s fault, Morganna. It simply is. Scotland needed unification. We needed a champion who could best the English. We needed a rallying force to get the clans together so I could speak to them. You were all that. I canna’ ever repay what you have given me, although I have high hopes for these.”
He pulled a small leather wallet from his waistband and held it out to her. Morgan’s hands were shaking as she took it and unfolded it to reveal a dozen dirks in separate sewn compartments, all with jewel-encrusted, silver handles. Her eyes went wider.
“I canna’ accept such a gift.” Her voice shook.
“Test the balance.” He smiled. “Laird KilCreggar-FitzHugh tells me of the importance to your aim. I had the best smithy in Scotland design and smelt these for you. Test them.”
Morgan slid one from its embroidered sheath. She closed her eyes and held it, tipping her hand this way and that. It was amazing. The handle was the same weight as the blade. She opened her eyes.
“’Tis perfect,” she whispered.
“Very good. I’ll tell him of your pleasure. Creating blades for the legendary Squire Morgan has increased his value a hundred-fold.”
Morgan smiled. “My thanks,” she answered.
“Good. Now, as to your plan, FitzHugh?”
“KilCreggar-FitzHugh,” Zander corrected.
Robert smiled and shook his head. “That is a mouthful, Lord Zander.”
“I...truly have to disappear?” Morgan asked.
“’Tis the best for Scotland,” the king replied.
“But, will the crowds still come?”
“What you have put into motion has nae chance of stopping, my lady. I will forever be in your debt. And rest assured, if there is need of Squire Morgan, I will send for him. I will get a message through to my loyal subject and nobleman, the Earl of KilCreggar-FitzHugh, and his lovely wife. My subjects will know this. Squire Morgan comes when he is needed.”
“Squire Morgan will be disappearing, Morganna,” Zander said. “Not the Lady KilCreggar-FitzHugh. You will be reappearing as my wife at our home. My only regret is that we will be separated for the small span of time it takes to finish with Aberdeen.”
She must have looked as confused as she felt.
“If Squire Morgan’s master disappears, too, then you will be besieged at your own castle gates. They will know where to find you. Zander must stay at my side. I told him of it, already.”
“For how long?” Morgan asked, swallowing before anyone guessed that she was on the brink of tears. For a woman of few emotions and used to having only herself for company, she was learning the feeling of loneliness again. She didn’t realize how bereft she already felt, and she and Zander weren’t even apart, yet.
“Now, here is my plan....”
Morgan listened to Zander, but didn’t pay attention. She couldn’t. Her entire being felt like it was aching wi
th grief, and she didn’t know why.
~ ~ ~
Zander’s plan worked perfectly, which wasn’t surprising. He seemed to have a knack for creating and executing plans. Morgan stood atop her conical stage, shrouded by torchlight through the mist, and put dirk after dirk at Zander’s and King Robert’s feet. They depleted her entire stock, all her old ones, and the new jeweled ones. She felt rather naked, with just the dragon blade left, but Zander had promised her the blades would be returned, and he always kept his promises. That much, she knew.
Then, she was sliding over the cross-pieces and crawling out the bottom, fading into the forest to the sound of Zander’s voice. She heard all about how the Squire Morgan had come upon him. How he had been mortally wounded, with an English sword through his belly, and had nothing left to do in this world than watch his lifeblood spill, while all about him, Scotsmen were perishing at the hands of the Sassenach. Then, she heard how, through the mist, a youth had come to rescue him. Squire Morgan had pulled the sword from his belly, sealing the wound, and then he had turned on the enemy, and routed all.
Morgan’s ears were burning from the story. Her entire body felt aflame with the blush, and then the four FitzHugh brothers; Ari, Caesar, William, and Plato, stepped from the trees.
“Our bairn brother would na’ trust you to anyone less,” Plato whispered as he approached and her eyes widened as she saw what he was giving her. He was holding up a fur-trimmed, black wool cloak. Morgan couldn’t say a word. Her throat felt choked with them.
She didn’t know who assisted her atop a horse, smaller than Morgan, the horse, but just as sturdy, nor did she know who lifted the reins to lead her. She knew it was Ari at the rear, however. Plato spoke of it after they left the last of The Bruce’s camp well behind them.
“Ari rides behind. As guard. We dinna’ want our worse sword arm at your back, my lady,” he whispered.
“Sword arm?” Morganna asked.
He flashed her a quick grin from the length of tartan he had wrapped about his head and shoulders. “Ari is well-known for his skills. Phineas won’t even challenge him at it.”