“No, this is fine, really,” Morgana said, as she finished chewing. “I think we’ve done well today, don’t you?”
“You bought nearly the entire market, Morgana, but I would say you know what you're doing by now. You have enough to keep you going for some time to come.”
“The only drawback is that it's Lent, and Easter is late this year. The people have been starving up until now, but we need to build them up, give them proper nourishment so they will be fit for manual labour again. With two fast days we should lay in plenty of fish. But now that we have access to Donegal bay again, as well as the lough and rivers, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”
“Aye, you should get the men to organise that as soon as the ships are repaired,” Ruairc agreed.
“And we will have to get the smokehouse set up as well. It looks like it hasn’t been used at all in the time since I’ve been away.” She shook her head in disgust.
“You’re doing very well. I’m proud of you, Morgana. Your levelheadedness, your commonsense, your eye for detail and head for money. Aunt Agatha was right, the convent has brought out the best in you,” Ruairc complimented her.
“Did Aunt Agatha really say that?” Morgana asked, surprised.
“She did. She was very proud of you as well, and said you would make a fine nun, or a fine wife and chatelaine of the Maguire castles.”
She gave him a shy smile. “I must admit I didn’t always have to do my lessons with Father Doyle when you wanted to go out hunting and fishing. I really tried to learn cookery and sewing. I did want to be a good wife to you in the ways that it mattered. But you always seemed to like me better strutting around in breeches and waving my sword,” Morgana stated quietly.
“I love you no matter what you do, Morgana. I admit the old days were fun, but we were both very young and naive then. Now you have cares and responsibilities on your shoulders that many men would buckle under. I know Conor would have."
He raised one hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “No, I’m not speaking ill of the dead, just stating a simple fact which everyone is well aware of. You are faithful to the clan heart and soul, Morgana, and I know you won’t let them down. I hope you’ve enjoyed your trip today, and that you have thought over my proposal.”
“Proposal?” Morgana echoed uneasily.
“Spending the whole day with you one day soon, with us getting to know each other better.”
“Yes, of course.” Morgana smiled in relief, and nodded.“One day next week, I promise.”
Ruairc grinned. “I shall look forward to it.”
Morgana finished her cup of wine, and walked out into the fading sunshine.
“Damn, it looks like the weather isn’t going to hold after all,” she observed as she gazed at the darkening sky.
Morgana mounted her horse, and wrapping her cloak tightly around her, she spurred him into a lively gallop.
Ruairc followed suit, and caught up with her at the edge of the town. Just then the sky opened up. They rode on for several more miles, until hail began to hurtle down from the sky, forcing them to take shelter in the trees.
“Come on, we can walk the horses,” Ruairc counselled, as he took her by the waist to help her down from the saddle.
Morgana slid down the full length of Ruairc’s body, and though the air had turned chill she felt as though she was on fire.
“Morgana, my love,” Ruairc murmured, before taking her mouth in a passionate kiss which left her clinging to his shoulders weakly.
“Come, dearest, we’re getting soaked,” he whispered against her lips as he pulled her further into the shelter of the trees. Once inside the small wood, they suddenly spotted an old crofter’s hut.It was decaying and dilapidated, but the roof was still on. Ruairc tied the horses to a tree while Morgana pushed open to door and huddled under her damp cloak for warmth.
“Here, take mine as well,” Ruairc suggested.
Morgana’s teeth were already chattering, so Ruairc wrapped it around both of them and put his arm around her to share his warmth as they sat curled up in the corner and listened to the hailstones thrum on the rooftop.
“Better now?”
“Mmm,” Morgana sighed as she snuggled closer.
Ruairc moved one hand slowly up from her waist to cup one rounded breast.
“Ruairc, we mustn’t,” Morgana denied, pushing at his chest as he tried to kiss her again. “You promised.”
“I know, Morgana, but I’m only human!” Ruairc groaned. “Every time I look at you, it’s like a knife twisting in my guts. I want you so badly I can hardly think of anything else at times. I can remember how things were between us as vividly as if it were yesterday. Don’t pretend you can’t recall that fateful day as well. I had just come back from Dublin, we were in your room, without a stitch of clothing between us, and then my whole world fell apart.”
“I’m sorry if it upsets you to be reminded of all we shared,” he declared as he clung tightly to her struggling form, “but I can’t help wondering what might have happened if that cursed messenger had come just one hour, even one minute later.
“And don’t tell you haven’t wondered about it too, Morgana. I can see it in your eyes as you twist and turn in my arms, trying to run away from this incredible thing between us that you fight so hard to deny.
“Or is it you writhing in ecstasy at the feelings only a lover can bring,” he murmured, as he began to shower Morgana’s face and throat with kisses.
“Ruairc, please, we shouldn’t....” Morgana panted, desperately trying to cling to one last shred of sanity as one hand moved up her thigh.
“I’m a man with certain needs, Morgana and I can’t wait forever and live on only empty promises.”
"I know, I'm sorry, it's just—"
He silenced her with a kiss which they both felt right down to their toes.Her arms went up around his neck and she pressed closer, so close he could feel her high, firm breasts boring into his own chest.
In the end, it was Ruairc rather than Morgana who broke the ardent kiss, for her towering passion had sapped any will in her to deny him.
Morgana nearly cried out with the frustration of having her urgent need for Ruairc denied once again, and clung to him fiercely.
But Ruairc smoothed her auburn hair back from her face lovingly, and looked deeply into her violet eyes.
“No, Morgana, I’ve waited this long, I can wait a little longer. I want our first time together to be romantic, special, not a frenzied satiation of mindless lust inside a hovel. You are my treasure, beyond gold or riches, and I would treat you as such.Come, a stor, the rain has stopped, and our father and friends will be expecting us for supper.”
Morgana managed to rise to her feet with his help, and he adjusted her dishevelled tunic and cloak as though he were dressing a small child.
“Can I see you later tonight?”Ruairc begged, as he nuzzled her cheek.
Morgana nodded numbly, dazed by the force of her own desire, and the fact that Ruairc had called her his beloved.I want him, I need him, I always have, she admitted to herself with an inner sigh.
"Thank you, my love. You won't regret it."
With a last embrace, Ruairc lifted Morgana up onto the back of her mount, and they made their way along the main road to Lisleavan.
The longing looks that they cast in each other’s direction made the trip seem as though it would take forever, but soon Morgana and Ruairc caught up with the lumbering carts, and rode thorough the main gateway to Lisleavan in a triumphant procession.
The animals were put in their new homes, and the carts were unloaded by the entry to the kitchen.
Morgana was overseeing the storage of the household items when Niamh came running out, her gown and hair unkempt.
“Thank God you’re here, Morgana! I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been all alone. Everyone’s been busy with the plowing and my family are still out fishing. Your father, Morgana, he’s dying!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“What on earth happened?” she demanded over her shoulder as she ran.
“I left him with your sister Aofa for a little while.When I came back she was screaming in terror. He had collapsed on the floor,” Niamh panted as she struggled to keep up with her friend.
“Father, Father, my God! Father!” Morgana shrieked desperately, as she touched his forehead and tried to hold him down as he writhed on the bed uncontrollably.
There was vomit all over the once-clean sheets, and his skin was cold and clammy. Morgan’s body was wracked by convulsions, and his breath came in quick short gasps.
“Father, can you hear me? What happened? What have you eaten?” she shouted.
But Morgan began to lose consciousness, his eyes dimming. Morgana looked around desperately.
“Get me some milk and some golden rod and hops from below. Mary will know where they are. And find Ruairc, hurry!” she instructed her friend.
Niamh returned alone several minutes later. Morgana stripped down to her shirt as she put her father’s head firmly into her lap and tried to dose him with some of her home remedies. But the little that did go down his throat came right back up again, and after a few more tries, Morgan ceased to swallow.
“He’s slipping away. There’s nothing I can do,” Morgana murmured dazedly.
As a last resort in her attempt to help her father, she demanded, “Get Aofa now, bring her here!”
The petulant blond was brought, and insisted that she knew nothing of her father’s relapse. “I was sitting here with him quietly, when all of a sudden he became ill. He clutched his stomach, and there was a horrible stench in the room,” she snivelled.
“And you’re sure he didn’t eat anything?” Morgana asked harshly.
“Well, now that you mention it, he did take a drink from one of those little bottles under the bed,” Aofa said slyly, before she escaped from the horrid smells of the sick room.
“Niamh, did you see him eat anything?”
“No, only drink. We all had such a hearty breakfast.But there was a cup by the bed, only now it’s gone,” Niamh remarked in a puzzled tone.
Niamh searched under the bed, and then shrugged. “I’m sorry, there are no cups here. Perhaps I was mistaken.”
A commotion in the corridor caused Morgana to leave her father’s side as Aofa’s hysterical voice went up several octaves. “You did it! Guards, take him!” she screeched.
“What on earth are you talking about, Aofa? Have you run mad?” Ruairc bellowed.
Morgana stepped between the two struggling figures and pushed them apart. Ruairc’s velvet tunic shredded in Aofa’s hands before her older sister finally forced her to let go.
“It’s Father, Ruairc. He’s dying, and Aofa swears that it was one of the bottles from Aunt Agatha that poisoned him,” Morgana said wearily.
“The lying little minx!” Ruairc growled, grabbing Aofa by the shoulders as if trying to shake the truth from her.
Morgana could swear she saw a glint of triumph in the girl’s eyes before Aofa began to scream for help.
Morgana called to the two men on watch as she endeavoured to separate them again.
“Please escort Ruairc MacMahon to the dungeon immediately, and hold him there until I give you further orders,” Morgana declared firmly.
“Morgana, I swear....” Ruairc began to rail, looking as though his whole world was falling apart once more. "Morgan, let me see him! I can help!"
For the benefit of her audience, Morgana held up one hand to demand silence, and turned her back on the sordid little scene.
“I am the Maguire clan chief now. You will follow my orders without question, all of you, is that understood?” Morgana said in her haughtiest manner.
The two guards eventually managed to drag Ruairc away, though his strength was like that of a mad lion.
“At least that one is finally getting what he deserves.” Aofa smirked at both women, before turning to walk back to her room.
Morgana returned to the sick room, grief and pain gnawing at her heart.
Niamh gazed at Morgana’s white face as she stared silently at her father’s prone form, and she protested. “Surely you don’t think Ruairc...”
“If you want the honest truth, dear friend, no, I don’t. But it will silence Aofa’s hysterical outbursts for the time being. I will see Ruairc when I can be spared here.”
Morgana tried to administer further remedies, but finally she released the hand which had turned stone cold, and stood up to peer out the window at the night sky.
“It’s over now. He’s at peace,” Morgana sighed.
“Oh, Morgana, I’m so sorry.I’m to blame for all of this....” Niamh lamented.
“Don’t be absurd, Niamh. He was already suffering from poisoning long before you came. The poor man was simply worn out with suffering. One last large dose was enough to kill him. Trust me, it is not your fault. But I swear to you, Niamh, by all that I hold sacred, I will find out who is responsible, and they will pay the reckoning.”
“Where are you going?” Niamh asked tearfully.
“We need water and cloths and a fresh set of clothes to lay him out, and then I must see Ruairc.”
“I will help,” Niamh offered, rising from her chair.
“No, but thank you for volunteering. It is my office as his daughter, and I shall do it.
“But you can help me in other ways. Please go see if you family have returned from the hunt yet. If they have, can you ask one of them to go over to Killadeas for a priest. We will dress him and lay him in state in the great hall below, and bury him in two days’ time, so that any who are returning home will have the chance to see him one last time,” Morgana said distantly.
Niamh looked carefully at her young friend, and decided it was best to leave her alone with her grief. Niamh went to do as Morgana had bidden, and returned with the warm water.
Morgana, meanwhile, went to the linen cupboards, and then to her father’s room for his best black velvet gown with green silk insets in the sleeves. She searched for the matching boots, and then fetched the linen shirt she had embroidered for him so lovingly only the day before.
Morgana bathed and dressed the body, and a tap at the door heralded the arrival of the O’Donnell men with a bier to carry Morgan’s body down the spiral stairs to the main hall.
They laid him out with candles surrounding the bier, and Declan returned a short time later with Father Doyle.
The whole village assembled in the hall, and and they all said prayers for the dead according to the custom.
When they were finished and the wake had officially begun, Morgana trudged up the stairs to the tiny sickroom, and began to clean up the mess which had been left by Morgan’s last agonising death throes and her feeble attempts to save him.
Morgana searched through the bag under the bed and sniffed each bottle in turn, and then turned to the table. She saw a thin film of white powder around a ring which had obviously been left by a cup. She examined the bottles again, and looked at the bottom of each to see if any powder had settled in of any of them.
Gathering up the bag, she crept belowstairs to the dungeon, where she ordered the guards to leave her alone with Ruairc.
“Have you come to berate me for the murder of your father?” Ruairc accused bitterly when he saw who had come to see him.
“No, Ruairc, I came to do this.”
Morgana uncorked one bottle, and drank it down, then took up a second and a third to imbibe while Ruairc’s eyes widened.
“You see, perfectly safe.”
“You might change your mind in a few more minutes,” Ruairc muttered, knowing himself to be innocent and yet still fearing the worse for Morgana.
“I don’t think so somehow. I found some white powder on the table by Father’s cup, or what was his cup until it disappeared. He poured the cordial in
to the cup, and someone added the poison after.”
“Who on earth could it be?” Ruairc growled in frustration and grief.
“I doubt it was Niamh, since the O’Donnells have only just arrived, and certainly knew nothing about the poisoning. Fergus is still in the lower dungeon, so unless he somehow managed to convince someone to help him....”
“It couldn’t be Aofa, could it?” Ruairc interrupted with a gasp. “It’s unthinkable. Your father idolised her all her life. What could she hope to gain by murdering Morgan?”
The Faithful Heart Page 16