by James, Ranay
Nic could feel his anger bubbling to the surface. “I have had to piece together the events because Morgan has not opened up to me. However, what I do know is Brentwood was beating her.”
“Oh, my God, Nic, that is terrible.” Reagan was shocked, but not surprised. Life was often violent to the weak and lowly, and women were almost the lowest. Men held their horses and cattle in higher regard.
Nic told her of the attack on the road to London. He stopped for a moment, thinking about that afternoon. "The blood loss came very close to killing her."
"They attacked a woman?" Reagan was more shocked than she should have been. It was not unheard of, but still very rare.
"No, they thought she was my squire. I fully believe had Connor’s estate been much farther Morgan would not have made it through the first night.”
"Alright, I follow so far. So, who is Connor?” Reagan asked fascinated with this tale of love and treachery.
“He is my friend."
Calling Connor just a friend was an understatement and somehow Reagan could sense that connection between the two men.
“So, you made it to Connor’s. What then?” Reagan asked pushing him forward in the story.
He lightly skipped over the details of her wounds. That was a detail even he did not want to dwell. "I told her I knew she was the Duchess."
"How did she react to that bit of news?" Reagan had some suspicions.
"As expected." He glossed over this point, hoping Rea would not push.
"I bet so. You gave her some assurances?"
"Yes and then I went downstairs to seek Connor. I needed to tell him the concerns that I had about Morgan’s life and the fact her uncle was involved."
That made sense to Reagan. The more allies he had the better.
"While we were talking, Morgan somehow managed to get out of bed and come downstairs.”
He paused leaving Reagan with the impression that he was silently kicking himself.
“And?”
“Lets just say she overheard a conversation and misunderstood my intentions."
“Oh, not good. What then?”
“She took off.”
"On her own, injured?" Reagan was sitting on the edge of her seat.
"Yep, even injured, she managed to saddle her horse." Nic had not given that action much thought. Her drive to escape must have been great to manage that task as damaged as she was at the time.
“So she took off because she thought you were getting married or because she thought you were going to send her back?”
Reagan was intrigued. This was just the kind of melodrama she liked to hear from time to time. It made her feel thankful for her routine, mundane life here in her little Irish village where the most excitement was Mallory getting drunk and passing out in her horse's stall.
Reagan wondered what demons were driving Morgan to venture out beyond castle walls, hurt and alone at night. That was fear-driven action without a single shred of logic.
“I'm not really sure,” he answered honestly. Could it be because of his marriage that she thought was to another? If so, she had loved him even then.
“How did she get outside the gates that late at night? Surely, the night watch was not that lax. If so then you really need to have a talk with this Connor fellow for failing to secure and protect his charges properly.”
Nic came to Connor’s defense. “Connor is a good man, Rea. He is usually very aware of the safety measures necessary to safeguard his people behind strong walls.” He explained about the King's messengers.
“It makes sense, but is still no excuse. Did she get far? Did she get to London?”
“She was close. When we found her no one expected her to live.”
“Poor thing, she must have been desperate or not quite as aware of her surroundings as you think, Nic." Rea suspected both. "Sometimes fever and blood loss will make a person do things they do not even realize they are doing until much later, if even then.”
“She was lucid when I left her.”
“Oh, so she knew exactly what she was doing then.”
“Yeah, she knew."
Then Nic told her about requesting the Priest. "I just could not allow him to go through with it," he said.
"It felt like giving up hope, didn't it?" Reagan fully understood. Sometimes we have to fight for others, Rea thought to herself.
Nic saw that she understood perfectly where his actions were coming from. "Yes. I had him marry us instead.”
This was interesting, she thought. Nic was definitely not a quitter. Not that she felt he was. His surviving the brutal treatment in O'Brian's prison was testament to that character trait.
Nic was smiling as he recalled for her the way Father Francis had acted when he asked him to marry Morgan to him. Nic's guess was Father Frances, even if very liberal minded, had finally found his threshold of tolerance. He vaguely remembered the good Father even saying as much.
Reagan laughed softly at the mental picture. “I do not mean to make light of a bad situation, but I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall."
"I'm thinking not. I'm going to hell for what I said to him."
"I doubt that very seriously. I bet you were destined for that ending long before your encounter with the Good Father," she teased. "So, don't blame your demise on that one action."
"Humm, probably so," Nic said, not one ounce offended. He understood she was just poking fun at him and knew it was in good fun, finding no offense to her amusement at his dilemma of the afterlife. "Well, if I do end up in hell for it, that will actually be the least of my sins."
"I am sorry. I should not have interrupted you. Please, go on.”
“I think I would have cold-cocked him there on the spot if Connor had not interceded.”
"Well, when you put it like that then maybe you are going to hell for that one." She was teasing again. “Somewhere along the way you fell in love with her, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and it happened in the blink of an eye. One minute I was prepared to marry her and leave her behind at Seabridge, and the next I’m feeling as if my world would never be right without her there. I just could not allow her to die, and vowed to God to set her free if she lived.”
“Another promise made in the heat of the moment." Reagan sighed. Part of her job as a doctor was also to help heal the soul as well as the body. "Look Nic, you did what your King commanded you to do. You really did not need her approval, so why hesitate at all?" She was playing the devil's advocate. "Most men would not care what the woman wanted,” Reagan said understanding that female dilemma all too well.
Nic saw her point. “I wasn't foolish enough to think that she would be overjoyed, but I hoped that she would at least be accepting of the marriage. After all, she would have her freedom, her lands, and never worry about her husband acting like her uncle. She would be able to live her life as she chose.”
“Apparently she was not even accepting. Right?” Reagan asked astutely.
“Not, too much,” Nic replied sheepishly. “How did you guess?”
“I’m a woman who also does not want to be ruled by the laws of men. When did you tell her?”
“Long after I should have... that’s for sure.”
“And how long was too long?” Reagan pulled it out of him, knowing he really hated to confess this part of the tale.
Nic told her it was while they were in London.
“Oh, dear, and you are still breathing to tell the story? Good thing she only had your cross to throw at you.” Reagan was smiling, again. Nic was in a tight spot and she felt he deserved it. “Serves you right, Nic. Eventually you men will learn that we are stronger than you think and can take bad news and tough situations better than you realize.”
“I'm learning,” he offered dryly. “And the story only gets worse from there."
He shared the events from the point he confessed he had married her until he rode out of the castle bound for Ireland.
“So? What is the issue?”
Reagan asked feeling strongly suspicious something happened.
He shared the news of The Kiss by Lady Elizabeth.
"Ouch," Reagan said, cringing. “Did you try to explain?”
“Of course. Her reply was a sharp knife in my gut." He shared with Reagan what Morgan's demands were in her reply. "If I do not honor the vow then my honor is at stake.”
“Oh, you men and your stupid honor!” Reagan was exasperated tossing her hands up in a gesture of frustration. Would they never learn that being honest was always the best approach? What she really wanted to say was that he was being a dumb ass.
“So, you broke Morgan’s trust. You broke Morgan’s heart and worst of all, you made her look like a fool by not telling her you knew all along she was a woman. I assume you had sex with her before she knew you were married?”
Nic nodded in response.
“God, I hope you used protection,” Reagan added as an afterthought.
Nic shook his head. They had not because there was no need. She was his wife.
“Look, Nic, I can see where she would be hurt. I would be, too, but I know once you have the chance to make it right with her this woman will forgive you. You said yourself that Morgan came to see you off. Looking at it from a woman’s prospective, I think that is a very good sign. We just have to get you home. However, I cannot let this slide. How stupid was that, Nic?”
“I know,” he said. He assured her he had already sufficiently beaten himself up over it.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Then opening them she spoke her mind, something she was generally known to do.
“Lord, have mercy. You men can be so hardheaded at times when you think you are doing the right and honorable thing. If I knew I could get away with it, I would bop you one myself!”
“No need. I have been beating myself up for months,” Nic admitted dryly.
“So you think her uncle is behind the attacks? Who is watching her now?” Reagan asked as she handed him more food and drink. This time it was drug free.
“I left her in the care of my brother, Cullen. I trust only two men with her safety and Connor is the other. Both are warriors and honorable men.”
“Nic, being a warrior and honorable is all well and good, but sometime you have to think devious to beat devious. Her uncle is devious and a devil in man form. I can safely bet my life savings on it. Could he be behind the betrayal of your men? I know it is a stretch, but what better way to get to Morgan than through you. If you are dead then he has clear path to gain his ends, right?”
“I’ve thought of that except Morgan has a contract with the King that gives her autonomous rule of her lands if she is unmarried. The lands are still hers even as a woman. Cullen and then Connor is the heir if something happens to us. It doesn’t make sense for him to kill me.”
“Have you ever seen Lord Brentwood?” Reagan asked, having that feeling she knew never to ignore.
Nic nodded wondering why she would ask, but feeling there was a distinct reason. She did not strike him as the kind for idle chit-chat. “Yes, I had the distinctive displeasure to have a run-in with him at Featherstone. He is medium build, brown eyes.…” Nic began.
“Sandy blond hair and has a nasty burn scare above his right eye?” Reagan finished.
“Yes, he does.”
“Nic, he is the Englishman who paid me to nurse you until he returns. I have seen him before with O’Brian and I bet they are up to no-good.”
Reagan voiced her inner thoughts that Brentwood must be planning to take him somewhere to kill him or worse. If he draws Morgan back using Nic as bait, he could kill both and have the whole pie for himself, that she also voiced.
Nic sat there in stunned silence. What she said made sense.
She made a split second decision.
“Nic, we have to get you out of here tonight. There is no time to waste.” She began to get ready for travel.
“How can you even think about helping me? It will place you square into the path of a very dangerous man. I cannot let you think about doing this, much less follow through.”
He appreciated her offer, but it would be too dangerous for her even to think of helping him. He was hurt and would not be able to execute an escape without placing her life in danger in the process.
She sighed heavily seeing his point, appreciating his point, but still was not willing to budge.
“Nic, you are in my backyard as I call it and I’m asking you to trust me. Please, let me help you. You cannot do this alone, and I am your only means of escape.”
Reaching under her bed, she pulled up a floorboard exposing her stash of savings. “It’s not much, but should be enough to get us to the coast and a little beyond once we reach England.”
She began to pack a few of her belongings; coins, a dagger, her medicine bag, a single change of clothes, and one small etching of her parents. The rest was replaceable.
It went against Nic's sense of honor and duty to allow her to place her life in danger on his account.
“You cannot simply walk away, Reagan. This is your home. I will not allow you to do this. It comes at too great a price.”
“And you think that I could live with myself knowing I could have helped you and did not even try? Nic, not to do this will come at an even higher price. We are wasting precious time. The guards have passed out downstairs. It is now or never.”
She looked at him. He opened his mouth to speak. She cut him off.
“Are you willing to chance Brentwood won’t use you to get to Morgan?”
She had won the argument and knew it. Smiling at her, Nic was not sure whether to admire her or be afraid of her. This woman had the heart of a warrior, but the code of honor of a woman. It was a deadly combination.
“But what if you’re wrong, Reagan?” Nic had to try one more time.
“If I’m wrong, Nic, then you’re getting to go home with a damn good doctor as an escort. Once you’re well, I’ll be able to come back to Ireland, no harm done,” Reagan said shrugging as if it was a non-issue and the offer she was making was no more taxing than walking him down the street, not helping him escape to a whole different country.
“And if you’re right?”
“If I’m right then you can thank me later and you better have a guest room ready because I certainly won’t be welcome here.” She softly laughed knowing that would be an understatement. O’Brian and Brentwood would kill her for what she was about to do because there was a lot more about those two men she wasn’t telling Nic.
“Rea, did anyone ever tell you you don’t play fair?”
“All the time, Nic, all the time. Now, let’s get your sorry English backside out of here.”
Chapter 69
Darkness covered their movements as they quietly made their way down the same set of stairs he went up not six hour earlier. Nic was in a lot of pain, but he forced himself not to think about it. Adrenaline, residual effects of the drugs, and sheer willpower were winning over the physical limits the injuries placed on his body.
“Wait here,” Reagan whispered. “I will go saddle the horse.”
He stayed in the alcove, under the stairway hidden in the shadows and unseen just in case anyone ventured out. Chances were if someone did come outside, they would be too drunk to notice, but he could not be too careful. Reagan's life was at risk as much as his.
Reagan slipped off into the darkness, blending into the shadows. True to her word, she returned moments later to get him. Mounting the horse was not as easy as Reagan had hoped it would be. She felt it would be tough. Nic was a big man and in a sad state. In his extremely weakened condition, he was almost more than she could manage.
“Put some muscle into it, will you? I said I would help you get back to England. I didn’t say I would carry you back,” she hissed, hoping to spur him into action.
Nic heaved himself up. He felt faint and the nausea was powerful from the effort. Nic reached down for Reagan to utilize his arm for leverage and suddenly they we
re off.
Reagan prayed there was enough night left to cover their escape.
Crossing the Irish countryside during the day was dangerous enough, but doing it at night was nearly suicide. Yet Reagan seemed to be right at home.
"Babies don't just come at morning and noon, Nic." Reagan offered when he questioned her ability.
Nic no longer doubted her claim this was her backyard. She knew every valley and roadway courtesy of the sick, dying, dead, and newly born .
It took all night of hard riding, and by the time they made the coast, Nic was in severe pain. Now however was not the time to have his body fail him. Years of discipline were paying off as she drove them at a relentless pace.
It was necessary.
"If you were a man, I would say you are enjoying this," Nic said after a particularly sharp set of instruction from her about hell freezing over before she would let him fall off their horse.
"But, I'm not a man, am I? And, I never derive joy from another's pain."
Chapter 70
Just before dawn, Reagan halted, left Nic on the heaving horse and secured it in front of a rundown shop at the dock fronts. Nic wondered exactly where they were. Moments later, she came back out with a burly gentleman who was everything Irish. He had fair skin and freckles so thick they covered his weather-worn face from the coppery hairline to the tip of his chin.
Cocking a bushy eyebrow at Nic, he eyed him with caution. “So this be the man then? You finally have gone and done it now, Reagan. Your wee Mother would be spinning in her grave, Lass. Nevertheless, if you say he’s a bloody Duke and has offered to take you away from the Emerald Isle and dress ye in finery to live like a queen then who am I to say nay. All right, Lassie. I shall carry you to the other shore. Tide is turning, so we are in good shape. Come on lad, off the horse you come.”