Around the World in 80 Men Series Boxed Set 1-10

by Brandi Ratliff

  “No, I won't cry! I won't!” she stood up and without even wrapping a towel around herself, she dripped all the way to the bedroom, grabbed her purse and plopped herself onto the bed. She got into her familiar, cross-legged position, something she had done since a child, and pulled out a pen and paper from within her hand bag.

  This always made Aunt Ashley feel better, maybe it'll work for me. Morgan began her letter to Finlay. Although, she never had intentions of giving it to him, but everyone always told her 'it helps to get your feelings out, honey,' so that's exactly what she planned to do.

  She put her pen to the paper and began:

  Dear Fin,

  Yes, I will continue calling you that, because I love the look you give me when I pick on you. It's the cutest fuckin' thing I've ever seen, so for my own benefit, I will continue. I just want to say that I'm sorry. You'll never even read this, but I hope with all of my heart that I can make things right when you come back. You see, I'm new at this. You're actually the first man I chose. I was drawn to those eyes, the most beautiful, sexy, eyes, I have ever seen. And that smile, I knew I wouldn't have a problem “pretending” with you. But that's the problem, Fin. I never had to pretend anything with you. You're unlike any man I've ever met, and maybe I'm stupid, but I like you. I really like you. I like the way you look at me, the way you make me feel, not just in bed, but as a person. I feel like I can be me and not be judged. I spend my whole life being judged, Morgan, you didn't go to school? Morgan, why are you still a waitress? Morgan, you live in a one-bedroom apartment, when are you going to be someone?

  Fin, you make me feel like someone. You've never made me feel like I'm just your entertainment and that was so special to me. But yesterday, in the castle, I got to see who you really are. You're someone important in the world, who uses big words and talks to other important people. I'm just here to accompany the important people. You would never want a girl like me. Uneducated, immature, and not enough world experience.

  Again, I'm sorry for falling for you and putting you in this position, and I'm sorry for treating you coldly. I just thought that's what you wanted....

  Hope we can still be friends.

  -Morgan

  “There, I think that's all of it,” she pecked her pen hard against the paper to close the cap. She felt better getting the feelings off her chest and she planned on spending the rest of the day deciding how she was going to make it right. The paper got folded, then folded again before it found its place in her purse. The idea, as what she had watched her aunt do on three occasions, was to burn the paper and let your feelings go. She would do that, right after she found herself in front of fire. For then, she needed to find herself in front of food.

  Chapter Nine

  It was nearly midnight when Morgan made herself a late night breakfast of eggs and toast. It wasn't as good as Finlay's muffins, but it hit the spot nonetheless. As she walked through the house with her last piece of bread, she found the study. She had been in the room briefly the day before, but this time, she would take her time and choose something to read while she kept her mind from the image of the Scot that refused to stay away.

  She found quite a bit of poetry, something that she had never had much interest in, and chose two books to take back to the bedroom with her. Once settled in the middle of the large bed, she opened the first book. It read like something from Medieval times, and she flipped through to find something more suitable for her understanding. She failed to find anything that made sense. When she opened the second book, she saw that it had been written in chaotic style of French and English, and she closed it faster than she did the first one.

  Morgan lowered her forehead, and looked at her pink fingernails. “I guess there's a reason people shouldn't try to be someone else.” Poetry, what was she thinking? She huffed outwardly at herself for thinking that she should have looked for a good horror or romance book. “Because a guy like Finlay Campbell would totally read that stuff.”

  She put the books on the nightstand, and wiggled her way to a comfortable spot on the oversized bed. Three hours, several tears, and a short stare-down with the cursed books later, and she was asleep for the night.

  *****

  “William Wallace! Get off me!” Morgan had to welcome the new day with two very large heads against her arm.

  “God! Quit looking at me!” The two massive fuzzballs ran in circles around the room, waiting for her to get out of bed. “Alright, you win. You're lucky you two are so adorable.” She got of bed, and was nearly knocked down the stairs as she tried to navigate the task with the two dogs remaining at her side. “I guess you guys need to pee, huh? Who's gotta pee? Whooozzz gotta pee?” She laughed at their reaction, then was stopped at the foot of the stairs by a very serious face.

  “Pardon, ma'am. I didn't mean to frighten ye'.” The stranger opened the door, and motioned for the dogs to go outside. When he closed the door, he continued, “name's Burke, I tend to the place when the Campbell is out.”

  THE Campbell. What the hell?

  Morgan pulled her robe tightly around her waist, and smiled weakly at the man. He didn't smile back, he simply turned, and left through the front door as well.

  Weird! Morgan went right back up the stairs and got dressed for the day. She would prefer to be wearing more than a robe should anyone else show up to help The Campbell.

  After a quick shower, Morgan chose a tight black sweater, and a pair of distressed jeans. She had no idea if they were the style in Scotland, but she would wear them anyway since she clearly was confined to The Campbell's Keep for the rest of the day.

  She straightened her hair, and took her time with her face. Typically, she didn't wear a lot of make up during the day, but she had plenty of time to kill, so she thought, why not? After a full hour of primping, she was ready to go downstairs...and sit.

  Morgan walked slowly through the house, not offering Burke the chance to scare the hell out of her again. But when she got to the kitchen, she could see the man with the stern face tending to Finlay's garden through the back door. She noticed that she would have more gusto in changing oil in a car than what she saw in Burke. “I guess we all have to do things we don't want to do.”

  When she sat at the island in the kitchen, her eyes landed on a large basket filled with blueberry muffins. “These weren't here...” She got up and opened the door, “Mr. Burke?” When she had his attention, “where did the muffins come from?”

  “The Campbell, lass. He told me to bring them for ye.” Then he went back to slowly pulling the weeds around the stone steps.

  Her heart raced, and she closed her eyes to control the impending emotion. No! He's just making sure that I have food, it's no big deal. Stop it! As she sat crossed legged on the tall white chair, she picked a total of thirty berries from the sweet muffin. She knew the total was thirty, because counting was the only thing she think to do to keep her mind busy.

  When she had her fill, Morgan went out the front door, mostly to avoid Burke, and found her two friendly companions. “I'm not sitting in there all day, no I'm not. Who wants to go for a walk me? Who? Tell me?!” When the two dogs spun in circles in front of her, she laughed and started her journey around Finlay's home. Of course, she may have journeyed onto someone else's property, but she didn't care.

  Morgan and William-Wallace explored everything they could find that afternoon. Mostly trees and large rocks, but they were beautiful trees and rocks according to Morgan. She ran through the trees with the dogs, laughing at their excitement at everything they came across. “Is that a rock? Is it? I know, it's a nice rock!” She and the dogs talked and walked until nearly four in the afternoon.

  Her body was tired, but it felt good to get some exercise. Exercise that didn't involve being naked. She and her fellow explorers walked back into the house together. “Are you boys hungry? Yes? Let's see what we can find.” She went to the back of the house, and to the laundry room where the dog bowls were kept. They were alrea
dy full.

  “Well, I guess Burke thought of everything.” She moved out of the way when the two dogs saw their food. “Alright, see ya after dinner, guys.” She went back to the kitchen, and sat once again at the island.

  “You'll excuse me, lass.” Burke's voice sounded over the scraping sounds of metal food bowls across tile in the nearby room. Morgan put her hand to chest, and let out a deep breath.

  “Mr. Burke. What can I do for you?” She really needed to put a bell on that guy if she would spend the rest of the evening with him.

  “The Campbell, he said to feed ye. What can I make for ye then?” His face never changed, he just waited for her to tell him what to do.

  “Oh, no...no. I can find my own dinner, thank you.” She smiled sweetly at the older man, but he wasn't easily convinced. He told her again that he had direct orders to take care of her. He also said that he would go and get her anything she wanted, if it wasn't in the house already.

  But she continued to protest, and he eventually relented. “Awrite, lass. I'll be just outside if ye need me.” Old Burke left, and Morgan's mind should have left as well.

  Take care of me? Does Finlay care? Is he just being polite? He's driving me crazy! I'm driving me crazy!” Instead of thinking, she got up and went straight to the Finlay's liquor cabinet under the island. A few drinks, and I won't over think it. That's what went through her mind when she found a bottle of Ballantine's whiskey. “Hmmm, never heard of it. But whiskey is whiskey.”

  She found a small glass in the same cabinet, and poured herself a hefty amount. Just as she was about to take her first sip, William came around and put his head on her lap. “Hi cutie. Here's to not being such a bitch,” she started to take her drink, but remembered, “oh, and to learning how to be the best at what I do.” With that, she took a large drink of the fiery liquid.

  “Shit!” She coughed and sputtered as the Ballantine's made its way through her throat. “You could have warned me, young man!” She stared at the dog, but he just kept his head on her lap as his eyes started to close.

  Morgan took a second gulp, this time considerably smaller, then refilled her glass, grabbed the bottle and made her way back to the master bedroom, dropping onto the bed in her usual fashion.

  'The Campbell said to take care of ye,' Morgan mocked Burke in her mind. “Take care of me? Does that mean he cares? No, he doesn't care, but...” the girl took a larger gulp than the first of the strong whiskey in an attempt to numb her mind.

  “But why would he care if I had muffins? Why not eggs? Or pancakes? He knows I like muffins. No, stop it, just stop it!” She waved her arms in a umpire fashion in front of her, like a player had just been called out. Another drink.

  The girl's body wasn't ready for something as strong as what she had put in it, and the feeling of relaxation went beyond comforting. She knew that if she continued, she would end up face down on the large bed until morning. That's when everything inside of the near-drunk girl changed. In her best Finlay accent, she said, “ye cannae hold yer drink, lass. Best ye doona drink alone again, aye?” Morgan dropped her head forward all the way to the bed, and laughed. “I'm not alone, Fin.” Her voice was muffled with her face pressed against the comforter, “I have Burke! Besides,” she sat up and moved her bangs from her eyes, “you don't care one bit about me, because you. Left. Me. Here!” Morgan sat back up, and looked around the room.

  She decided to paint her nails to keep herself busy until the alcohol brought her what she needed. By the time she got to her left hand, she was having trouble keeping the little brush still, and by the time she was ready to apply the second coat, she couldn't make contact at all between color and nail. Although, her knuckles looked fantastic covered in a lovely shade of red.

  “Dammit, stop moving,” she told her swaying fingers. She stabbed her nail with the soft brush trying to hold it steady. Her fingers weren't moving, but to Morgan, everything had begun to spin.

  “Ahhh, screw you, fingers. I don't need ya anyway,” she held her fingers up in front of her and laughed at the good job she had done. “I have to go show Burke!”

  With that, she grabbed her recently filled glass and went to the top of the stairs, “Burrrrrrrrrke! Oh, Burkey Burke!” She leaned up against the wall, waiting for a reply. When he didn't answer her, she sat down on her butt and went down the stairs one at a time, scooting with her legs and plopping down with a thud onto each step below. “Burke!” step. “Burrrrrke!” step.

  When she reached the bottom, she used the banister to guide herself up, and staggered to the back door. She slowly slid the door to the side....“BURKE!”

  The old man had been pulling hard on a dastardly weed, and at the sound of his name, he let go of the weed and fell to his back, landing in the grass behind him.

  He looked over to the girl, ah, bloody hell, the lass is piss drunk. The last thing Burke wanted to do was tend to a drunken youngster, but The Campbell would have his head if he didn't keep an eye on the girl. Finlay had only told him to take care of her, and Burke decided this was probably in that window.

  Morgan staggered outside, and reached her hand out for the old man, “hey Burke, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to make you fall like that.” By that point, Morgan had completely forgotten why she came downstairs in the first place.

  Burke politely declined the offer of her outstretched hand, feeling like it would have been the blind leading the blind.

  “You know what you remind me of Mr. Burke?” Morgan had climbed to the back of the couch and sat there, staring at Burke as he moved about the house.

  He didn't want to know her answer. “What's that?” he asked anyway.

  “You know the guy who sits on the top of the theater on the Muppets? That guy! You look like that guy!” Morgan drunkenly blurted out.

  Burke had a hanging face, the kind that one could only accomplish from decades of a permanent grimace plastered to their face. He did not find the young girl amusing.

  “My mom always said, don't do that, Morgan, if you keep it up” she put her fingers on the sides of her lips and stretched them as far as they would go, “thin yer fffache will stay like that.” She spoke through her bared teeth, her tongue sticking out far between the top and bottom row as she tried to speak. “I guesh she wash right, huh, Mishter Rurke?”

  She released her lips with a bout of laughter, falling onto the cushions below her. Even less amused than he had been before all that, he made his way to the kitchen hoping to find anything to busy himself.

  “Hmph,” Morgan crossed her arms in front of her. Why won't he talk to her?

  She was going to fix that little red wagon. She plopped herself down on the couch and waited for Burke to turn around. “Hey, Burke! Does Finlay like me? Does he?” She waited for his reply, but all she got was a simple look, caught somewhere between pain, constipation and...well, that was about it.

  Not patient enough for an answer, she jumped from the couch and stagger-ran to the kitchen, catching herself from a fall at the island counter top. Morgan grabbed her glass, drinking the three-quarters in one gulp. She doubled over coughing and held her throat until the burning subsided. “Wooooo! That shit's strong!”

  “I don't think he likes me,” Morgan backed herself against the counter and tried to push herself up. After five attempts and floundering each time, she finally made it on the sixth. “He said for you,” she pointed to the man who was scrubbing something in the corner with a wire brush, “to take care of me, and I want you to get him for me!”

  “Ms. Morgan, I can't do that. He'll be back tomorrow, lass,”Burke still wouldn't look at her.

  “Well, why not!? Because he doesn't like me! I knew it! I'm so stupid! I'm just young and stupid! That's why he doesn't like me! And you know how I know the Muppets? Because I'm young and all of you are old!” Her drunk rambling caught his attention, not because of of her words, he really couldn't make out much of what she had even said, but because she finished speaking and foll
owed it up with a loud, unladylike, sniffle.

  Chapter Ten

  “Doona cry, hen, please doona cry,” Burke tried to hush the girl who had retreated to the floor in a fetal position. She would yell about how stupid she felt, or how she will never have a guy to like her, or how she was going to lose her job in between sobs, but she was inconsolable.

  “I have to get out of here, Burke! Don't you understand? I like him, I really do, and I can't stay here, I can't be here when he gets back, I have to walk away now!” Suddenly, Morgan threw her arms open and sat up on the white furry rug on the floor where she had laid down. She tried to stand, but fell immediately to her knees. “Burke, I need to leave. Take me to the hotel! Please, please, please....”

  He cut her off, “Nae lass, I cannae see to that, The Campbell has been clear. Yer tae stay here.”

  His mind was changed moments later though, when her wailing drowned out his own thoughts. He had agreed to take her and pay the price from Finlay, he just couldn't hear the drunk girl go on any longer. Morgan managed to mutter something about a purse and Burke did whatever it was going to take to get her out of the estate. He went upstairs, and after a few moments, he finally found her bag sticking out from underneath the bed. He pulled it by its long strap, and held it like a dirty diaper all the wall down the stairs. Little did Morgan know, Burke had left something in the room that would change everything.

  *****

  Upon Morgan's suggestion, Burke had taken the drunk girl to the Saint something hotel where her journey had began. The old man checked her in, then helped her to her room as quickly as he could. He knew there would be hell to pay for what he was he doing, so it was best that he just get it over with quickly, and get back to the house to wait for his boss. He was also relieved that some of the alcohol was losing its effect, because the girl had finally grown quiet.