The McKinnon

by James, Ranay

  "Yes, Sir." Cullen was in military mode. "When do we leave?"

  "We will leave at dawn.”

  Morgan watched as the two men talked. These two were so alike, yet so different. Cullen’s light hair and eyes contrasted Nic’s dark olive complexion. In profile they looked strikingly similar, and when they faced forward the family resemblance was even stronger.

  She knew they had the same father, but different mothers. Yet Nic treated him as total blood. They had a close and genuine relationship.

  “Is it known,” Cullen asked cryptically.

  Nic knew exactly what Cullen was talking about, Morgan was sure.

  “No, but soon. If you will please excuse us? I need to speak privately with my…with Morgan.” Nic turned to Morgan. “Duchess, I will walk you back to your chamber where we can talk in private.”

  Nic excused them from the guests and guided her silently upstairs to their chambers. Morgan watched his body language. She was becoming a master of reading his ways. He has something on his mind, she thought.

  Nic had to tell her he had married her. He would tell her that he would personally see to Brentwood's elimination before he left for Ireland. He would tell her she would be free to live her life, however she wanted to live it.

  He would have his own life back, too, but was that what he really wanted now? He thought probably not. When he looked at Morgan, he saw his future. He could picture his children and a good life with a good woman. Henry had been wise in his choice of a wife for him.

  He had to tell her, tonight. They were leaving tomorrow.

  He held the door for her and after she passed through, he softly closed and bolted it behind them. For the first time in many days there hung an uncomfortable silence between them.

  Morgan lost in her own thoughts knew after tonight he would be forever beyond her reach. He was leaving tomorrow. This would be the last opportunity for her to be with this man as friend or lover. She wanted to take a piece of him with her to face her unknown future. This one piece would have to last her a lifetime.

  He was on his way to London, to his King and his bride. He would take her to London until he married and then deposit her back at Seabridge on his way to his ancestral home. Or perhaps if she asked, he would leave her here at Featherstone to her own designs. She was not sure what would be the worst form of torture; never seeing him again or going to London with him and seeing him married.

  Tonight was all that mattered. All she wanted was to kiss him again, to touch him, to feel him.

  He was not totally indifferent to her. He had touched her hand, stroked her thigh under the table, and whispered closely into her ear all evening.

  She, somehow, felt she should feel shame at her thoughts, but she did not and what was more, she would not. She had long ago learned to take life’s pleasures when and where she found them. Tonight was all she would have, and she would take what fate would allow her.

  She walked to the table and poured a single goblet of wine. She turned and closed the space between her and Nic.

  He stood by the fireplace wrestling with his own demons of how to tell her.

  “Morgan, I need-” Nic lost all coherent thought when he turned. She had loosened the lace openings down the front of her gown which gave him a tantalizing glimpse of flesh.

  “You have need of what, my Lord?” The undercurrent of her words was thick with sensuality. With both hands around the goblet, she lifted it to her lips and drank. Turning the goblet around so his lips would touch where hers had been, she demanded. “Drink.”

  Any thought of talking about the marriage ended as he took the goblet to his lips and drank from the communal cup.

  Morgan took the goblet back and sensually licked a tiny droplet clinging precariously to the rim. She had no idea what that did for him. She nearly drove him over the edge with the tiny flick of her tongue.

  Taking the goblet from her hands, he set it down and knew their talk would have to wait.

  He had only one thing on his mind: laying siege.

  Just before dawn in the bed where he had made good his threat of siege, Morgan watched Nic sleep. She had never dreamed of pleasure with such heights or pain of such depths.

  He was leaving her today.

  Tenderly brushing a lock of hair from his handsome face, she looked down at her lover and spoke softly to the coming dawn.

  “You are a thief, Nic, and it is my heart you have stolen. Now I know what might have been but can never be.”

  If she had doubts about loving him, she doubted no more. She loved this man with everything in her soul.

  For her there could never be another.

  Chapter 48

  May 2, 1493

  “Happy Birthday, Morgan. Follow your heart.”

  Morgan hovered in the clouds of light sleep before her eyes popped open. Her mother’s voice came in the times of her greatest need. She had stopped trying to figure out the phenomenon and just accepted it.

  The first time she heard her mother’s voice was the morning of the fire. The Duchess’ voice had awakened her. Maybe true love was stronger than life or the grave.

  The house had not arisen as yet, but she got up and calmly packed, being careful not to wake Nic. She had come to a decision, and her mind was set. She would beg him to take her to London. It would grieve her to see him pulled from her by the King’s demand he marry, but she had to talk to the King Henry.

  Maybe, she could get her audience and be gone before Nic ever exchanged his vows. She felt her heart begin to die at the thought of him being forever out of her reach.

  “You're up early,” Nic purred from the bed where they had spent last night locked in passion’s embrace. “Come back and let me welcome the morning properly with you.”

  “Nic, please allow me to continue on to London with you.” Morgan tried her best to sound calm, but her voice was strained. The thought of going back to Seabridge was unsettling. “Please, I beg you. Do not leave me here. I have to speak with the King.”

  Nic threw the covers back revealing the evidence of their union. The blood smeared crimson on the linens. He padded in all his naked glory over to where she was standing.

  God, he is glorious, she thought. With his hair flowing, his body iron hard and firm as steel, he was completely at ease with his state of undress.

  “What kind of greeting is this? No good morning? No last night was wonderful?” He teased as he reached for her.

  Sidestepping his attempts to touch her, she would not let him distract her from her purpose .

  “Nic, I’m serious. I'm not letting you leave me behind this morning. If you leave without me then I will only find a means to get to London on my own.”

  Nic knew she was serious. He pulled her to him in a reassuring embrace. He placed his chin on top of her head running his hands up and down her back. She was stiff and unyielding.

  Not a good sign, Nic thought.

  “You’re going with me to London. That has never been in question.” He pulled back to look into her worried face. “Morgan, of course, you will come. Why would you think I would do anything except take you with me? I had planned it all along. Besides, do you think for one minute after what we shared last night that I will have you anywhere except close to me? I want you even now, and it has not been an hour since I made love to you.” He kissed her on the top of the head, thinking the subject closed. “However I am late and need to get dressed, but you, my lovely lady, have been the most exquisite reason I have ever had for being late to guard call.” He turned her loose and continued reaching for his clothes.

  “Take me for the right reason, Nic, or I go alone,” she said as Mary knocked on the door bringing in a tray of food.

  Morgan had not given thought to what the house servants might say or think if Nic was still here this morning. However Mary did not seem surprised or shocked he was here. In fact, she seemed pleased to find him naked too.

  Too late now, Morgan supposed. Besides, she had things of a much
greater importance to deal with this morning than what the house staff might or might not think.

  Nic turned back to Morgan as soon as Mary left.

  “All right, Morgan, out with it,” he said as he slipped on his sword. “Why would you think that I was not going to take you to London for the right reasons?"

  "Because you really want to take me back to Seabridge. Isn't that your ultimate plan?"

  "Yes but not today. Did I say I would not send you back to Seabridge? I understand such a move would put you into grave danger. That is something that I swore to avoid at all cost. You're important to me.”

  Nic was now in full warrior dress. Morgan could not help admire the aura of power and strength he exuded. He was magnificent. Her mother would have said he was a gift from the Goddess of War. Yet after last night, she would argue that Nic was a gift from the Goddess of Love.

  She shook herself knowing she needed to get off the treacherous path her heart was taking her and answer his question about the night she ran.

  “After I recovered from the fever you asked me about the night I ran.” Morgan walked to him her arms crossed over her chest. “You asked me why I would run from safety, run from Featherstone….”

  Nic interrupted and finished her sentence. “And why you would run from me? So now am I to get the why of it from you?” Nic asked.

  He was afraid he was not going to like this answer either. Crossing his arms over his chest, he mirrored her stance not realizing how intimidating he appeared.

  Morgan stood her ground.

  She took a deep breath and continued. “That night I fell back to sleep after you left me and when I awoke, I came looking for you. You had said you would be downstairs talking to Connor.”

  “And?”

  “And, I went down the stairs and saw you and Connor by the great fireplace. I swear, I was not purposely eavesdropping, but I heard you talking. You said you were taking me back and that you knew I could not stay with the King indefinitely. You said that once you were married you would see me deposited back at Seabridge on your way home. I assumed you would be taking your tiny, blonde, and beautiful new bride with you and dumping me off on the way past.”

  “Mary, Mother of Jesus, Morgan you heard only part of a conversation. And what do you mean tiny, blonde and beautiful bride? All you got right in that sentence was the beautiful part.”

  He was dismayed to hear her confession of overhearing the conversation. What else had she heard? He was trying to remember. He had said something about the marriage and, oh God, he thought, he could see where she would think he had a bride waiting in London and she would be deposited back at Seabridge. That was why she ran.

  She did not trust him to keep his word. He had said he would not send her back, and she did not believe him. That hurt even if he could see where she might have thought differently.

  “And last night,” he asked. “What was that to you?”

  "The same thing it was for you, memorable."

  "Somehow I doubt we were on the same page."

  She had said she wanted last night to take her through all her tomorrows. Had she thought last night would be the only night they would share together? She had thought him so insensitive and of such a nature to take a highborn virgin when he had a bride waiting? Did she think he would share with her the most devastatingly passionate night of sex he had ever had, only to leave her for another? What else must she think of him?

  “You are way off course on this one. You only heard part of a conversation and have no idea what is in my heart, Morgan.”

  "No, I know exactly what I heard. I have to get to London, Nic." Morgan continued, her voice rising. "I wasn't going to allow you to drag me back to Seabridge then and I certainly won't be forced back now.”

  He grabbed her gently by the shoulders. “Morgan, calm down.” Nic was beginning to find the situation anything except amusing. “You're right. You won't go back, not today. Nevertheless, go back you will when the time is right."

  "No I won't, and you along with the whole of the King's army can't force me either."

  "I'm not arguing with you about this. It's pointless. Seabridge is your home. It belongs to you and you have every right to be there and to live free of fear.”

  “No, McKinnon, I will not. Not until I speak to the King. He has to remember the agreement with my father.”

  “Agreement?" That stopped Nic in his tracks. "What agreement, Duchess?”

  Nic felt his warning bells going off. Agreements between Kings and upper crust noblemen were common enough. What if Henry had agreed to give her to another and had forgotten? The thought was unimaginable to him now.

  “In return for my father’s backing for Henry’s crown, the King agreed that if I reach my twenty-first birthday unwed then Seabridge and my person will be returned to my care alone to manage as I see fit. Today is my birthday, Nic. Don’t you see? As of today, Seabridge is mine and mine alone. My uncle no longer has power over me."

  "Really? No man has any power over you," he repeated, his words dripping with extreme cynicism.

  "I answer to no one except God and King Henry.”

  Nic was taken back at the implication of this agreement and the direction Morgan was heading with it. It was obvious to him. She did not intend to take a husband. He was on very shaky ground where she was concerned and needed to regain his composure.

  “Morgan, think for a moment about what you are saying. Why would the King give up a prime piece of land to be managed by a slip of a girl?"

  "He agreed," she countered.

  Nic shook his head. "Women and land are a means to an end. You know this and know that I’m right. In addition, I know Henry. He would never agree to such a thing. This practice is not done, Duchess. Land and marriages are rewards and used to build and strengthen alliances. And, even if he did sign it, he is King. He can change his mind.”

  “But...” Morgan started to speak, yet Nic held up his hand instantly silencing any argument she might have had.

  “And while we are on the subject, let’s talk, shall we, about your uncle for a minute. What in God’s name makes you think a man like Lester Brentwood would walk away just because his niece has reached her majority and says so? Do you think you will walk into the Great Hall and announce you’re the Duchess of the Castle and he will acquiesce to your wishes and give up all he feels he has rightfully earned?”

  “Well, I think--”

  "Whatever you might be thinking, it's unrealistic," Nic interrupted. He had to drive some sense into her while he still had the time. "Morgan, men like Brentwood do not give up without a fight and that fight is usually dirty. You need a husband. You’re vulnerable without one and wrong to think otherwise.”

  Morgan was livid. “And you think I’m not just as vulnerable with one? You think I need a husband? Why Nic? So he can lock me in the tower for weeks on end with nothing but a moth-eaten blanket to keep me warm and just enough wood for a fire to burn for one hour a day? Or beat me silly because my French is a bit accented. Or wait, what about this one?” She fired sarcastically. “He could lock me in a rat infested, spider ridden cellar for a week with no candles. Why, Nic? You just go on and tell me why I need a husband? Perhaps, so, he can push me aside once I give him his precious heir? His heir to the land and all that goes with it that are rightfully mine? He would be my husband so who would be there to stop him? You? The law? Society? All would say it was his right as my Lord and husband to do with me as he saw fit. And it is you who is wrong to think otherwise. No, McKinnon. No! I do not need a husband and I do not need you. I will get to London on my own.” She wheeled to get her pack to leave.

  He saw where this argument was heading and pushed past her to block the door. Nic thought she would fight to the death if the need had arisen.

  “Out of my way, McKinnon. I am exercising my options. This is the door I choose to walk out of and the time I’m choosing to do it.”

  Nic dared not budge. For a brief moment, he felt fear s
he would do exactly that. She might just walk out and never look back.

  He took several deep breaths before continuing in hopes of defusing the predicament. If he had told her last night that she already had a husband then none of this would be happening. He certainly could not tell her with her in this current emotionally-charged state. She might make herself a widow, he thought somewhat amused.

  “I cannot allow you to leave me, Duchess, and I will not argue with you about this, either. You're not going anywhere without me beside you. I said that I am taking you to London and I will do just that. Let me get our trunks together, and we can take it one issue at a time. Agreed?”

  She did not back down and continued as if he had not said a word to her.

  “I wish to borrow a complement of men from Connor. I will gladly pay for their services. However, as you are fully aware, I currently do not have the means at my disposal, but I am good for it. You can go to London unencumbered and answer your call to arms.” She stopped for a moment in her request to give greater weight to her final words. “And Nic, you can also go to the Devil or your bride. I don’t care which.”

  “At the moment, I believe my bride and the Devil may be one in the same.”

  Morgan did not understand Nic’s retort and that was just as well. Nic was beyond furious, and he was not late, but very late.

  “Fine, Morgan. You'll get your men. They'll take you to London and escort you to the King. I'll ride ahead and give Henry fair warning of your pending arrival.”

  Nic was two steps from losing control. His fear was he would do her harm if he stayed any longer, only giving credence to her argument of an abusive husband. Instead he marched over to where she had rooted herself, crushed her to him, gave her a brutally passionate kiss, turned and left the room and a stunned Morgan in his wake.

  Chapter 49

  “Women,” Nic mumbled as he went down the stairs in search of Aaron, his master guardsman. Cullen was with Aaron, and Nic drew his brother to the side and out of ear shot of the others.