The McKinnon (18 page)

It was a tender kiss, almost reverent, worshipful.

That one small kiss touched him more deeply than any passionate kiss had ever done. It thrilled him to the core and Nic was reluctant to release her. Slowly, he drew his mouth from hers, his hands still framing her face.

“Yes, Morgan you may have your walk. I'll send Thomas to you.”

He kissed her on the forehead and left the room before she could recover. 

Nic left Morgan in Thomas’ care and went straight to the training fields where his men awaited him. He always trained several hours a day, and this day he worked straight through lunch, having gotten a later start than usual.

As the day wore on, he became more and more distracted. Consequently, his sparring partner kept landing blows that, under normal circumstances, he would have had no trouble deflecting.

Cullen stopped and studied the man who was as much his mentor as he was his brother. Something was bothering Nic, and Cullen had a few pieces of advice for him.

“Nic, if you are going to train then train. If you are going to daydream then get to the gardens,” Cullen said with no malice intended.

His friend's words drew Nic’s attention, and he silently admitted, although younger, his brother had a point.

“I’m sorry, Cullen. I guess I’m just a little off my game today.”

“Look Nic, you always told me 
'never to let personal issues get in the way'
 because it will cost me. Great advice then, and still is good advice. Do not let her get to you. Your distractions will kill you at the wrong time."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Let's just say that I understand your position. But your situation will work out, I’m sure."

"I'm glad one of us is so cock sure," Nic said under his breath then looked back at the castle, specifically Morgan's window.

"She just needs time to adjust," Cullen offered. "Let her become accustom to the idea of being the wife of one of the most feared men in the King’s realm. She’ll figure out soon enough how to wrap you around her little finger.” Cullen laughed, poking fun at his older brother.

“She cannot adjust to what she does not know,” Nic said taking his sword and stabbing the blade into the earth between them. Then he ran his hands through his hair.

Cullen stood with jaw open.

“You haven’t told her, and you turned her loose with Thomas? Have you lost your mind? You know Thomas can't keep a secret, Nic. He's not malicious, just a by-product of his never-ending prattle.”

Nic began to feel the pangs of panic. What if Thomas slipped and told her he married her? It should come from him. He had to tell her soon, but he'd been stalling because he was completely unsure of what her reaction would be regardless of the source. And he didn't want her to bolt!

“I have to go, Cullen. I will see you at dinner. If I am not there then come looking for me. I will most likely be locked in my bedroom suite with my wife, fighting the battle of my life. She is very independent.”

Cullen laughed, shaking his blonde head. “Women.” He sobered. “I pray I’m wrong, Nic, but you may not come out the victor on this one, my brother.”

“Somehow, I feel you’re right.” Nic turned and headed back to the castle and wondered exactly how he was going to break the news to her that he was the Seventh Duke of Seabridge.

In her room, Morgan was studying the training field. She had a good view from her window, and from her vantage point never found it difficult to spot Nic.

He was head and shoulders above the rest and always aggressive in his training. Yet while she had watched him, she could see something was not right with him. He faltered. She had seen Cullen get in a couple of good blows. Were he really engaged in battle, those blows would have cost him his life.

She saw him stop, run his hand through his hair as he talked with the tall blonde young man who had arrived at the castle a few days ago. She'd discovered he was Nic's younger, half brother. Having watched Nic over the last week, she had figured out that when Nic ran his hand through his hair, he was frustrated and a bit edgy.

“At least I’m not the reason for it,” she said as she watched him turn to leave the field.

Morgan shivered. He made her insides tighten in a way she had started to recognize as sensual.

“He is magnificent,” she said as he made his way back to the house. She continued to watch, following his movements until he was out of view.

She moved away from the window and began to ready herself, wondering if perhaps he would take supper with her. She was dying to show off one of the three new gowns that had arrived this morning. She did not know why, but somehow it felt important for her to dress with care this evening.

Nic had trained through the mid-day meal, and she found she missed him. He was intelligent and had a sense of humor to mirror her own. They usually found each other’s company light and enjoyable. His friendship was easy to accept and hers easy to give.

Apparently he had put her illness behind him. His behavior towards her was relaxed, comfortable, and anything but sexual. The exception was the kiss he had given her that morning.

It pricked her pride he did not think of her in terms of a woman. She guessed it might be different between them if she were tiny, blonde, and curvy. She was just skin stretched on bone as he had pointed out. She had gained some weight from the food Mary brought to her, and he had insisted she eat, but Morgan knew she was still rail thin. Consequently, he did not look at her as if she were a woman at all.

The realization hurt.

Morgan wished it were not true. However, she was a realist and the reality was this: Nic McKinnon was in love with a woman and that woman was not her.

On their walk earlier in the day, Thomas had told her King Henry decreed Nic must wed and that he did seem resigned to it.

Morgan had to agree. She had not heard him complain about the royal decree a single time. And if she had learned anything about The McKinnon in the time they had spent together, it was that he was loyal to Henry and would follow the King's decree to wed. However that loyalty would not ensure he would do so meekly or quietly if it did not suit his plan or desires.

That brought her to one conclusion: Nic wanted his bride. That left her out of the running, but she could be his friend. Beyond that, she would never have him. She steeled herself against the sudden pain the realization brought that once he wed, he would be gone from her life no matter how much she deluded herself into thinking that they could remain friends.

Morgan trembled and remembered she'd realized something that morning just before he kissed her. Nic could be the one man to steal her heart, and he was the one man she could never have. Deep inside, Morgan already knew she would suffer his loss in her life.

“No,” she said firmly to the stillness of the chamber. She would not allow any man to have that much control over her. Tomorrow was her birthday, she would be twenty-one and free.

Morgan dressed with the greatest of care. Selecting and discarding several gowns, she finally chose the emerald green silk, shot through with gold thread. The scooping, scandalous bodice showed off her creamy skin, the perfect backdrop for the beautiful cross now hanging from her slender neck.

It was the first time she had dared to wear it.

The rosewood cross and heavy gold chain somehow felt comforting to her as if connecting her to something greater than just herself.

Mary brushed her hair then weaved flowers into a laurel with colorful silk ribbons, that when placed on her head, hung down her back. Arriving just that morning along with the dress, Nic was thoughtful enough to have a pair of soft kid slippers made for her. 

Mary stepped back to survey her handiwork. “Oh, Child, let me look at you. You are simply a vision. Your skin is back to a beautiful cream and your eyes are sparkling like emeralds.”

Morgan was stunned. No one except her Father had called her beautiful and that was because she looked so much like her mother.

“Thank you, Mary. The dress and headpiece are gorgeous.” She smiled nervously at the older woman’s appraisal.

“Have you never been told you are a vision, Child?” Mary saw Morgan’s embarrassment and felt she knew the cause.

“No. I’ve always been too dark, too tall, and too flat to be considered beautiful. One suitor called me a giraffe,” Morgan said as she ran her hands down her breasts and stomach, feeling very conscious of her height. At six feet, she towered over most men and all the women who she knew.

“Oh, that is such nonsense, just look at me. I’m round and short and Thomas thinks I am beautiful. There will be others who will think you beautiful.”

Mary thought there was one knight in particular who would find her irresistible tonight.

Mary left. Morgan peered at her reflection in the mirror wondering if Nic would notice her and question why his attention would even mattered to her.

Mary let Nic know her Grace was ready. He was sitting in front of the great fireplace discussing with Cullen the probability Henry would soon be summonsing them to London.

“My Lord, she is ready and looks beautiful tonight. I think you will approve.” Mary beamed like an artist unveiling a masterpiece.

Nic was nervous as he tapped lightly on the door before opening it to her soft invitation to enter. He saw her there by the window looking out into the early twilight. The candle was behind her silhouetting her slender form. Slowly, she turned to face him. Nic thought Mary had underestimated the effect. Morgan was beautiful, and she took his breath. He had no idea a woman could make him feel so calm, so strong, and so alive.

Nic crossed the room to stand beside her and gallantly bowed. Taking her hand, he slowly brought her palm to his lips, kissing the sensitive spot on her wrist just below the pad of her thumb. It was such an intimate gesture that it sent a tingling sensation through her.

“You look beautiful this evening, Morgan. I would be honored, Duchess, if you would be my companion for tonight’s May Day festivities in the Great Hall.”

Morgan was surprised. She had not dressed for public dining.

“Nic, I am overdressed for the occasion. I don't want to seem pretentious to our hosts.” She felt shy, suddenly aware of how revealing her dress was and realized with a start she had dressed for Nic’s eyes alone.

“No, Morgan, you’re perfect. Come with me. Let me show you off.” He crooked his right arm in silent invitation. Smiling up at him and tentatively slipping her hand into the bend of Nic’s elbow, she had to confess he was not the only one having problems breathing.

He placed his hand over hers, and they descended the staircase to the Great Hall. Cullen was standing at the base of the staircase and swore he was viewing a small slice of heaven.

The feast was wonderful. In celebration of May Day, wine flowed freely and several kinds of meat, bread, cheese covered the table. Dancing, music, and song brought happiness to the area, and Morgan enjoyed herself immensely.

Nic watched her closely for any signs of fatigue. All he saw was a beautiful woman glowing with excitement. Feeling satisfied with her reactions to the evening’s festivities, he sat through the courses and the early evening with little interest in anything except this vision seated beside him. He could not keep his eyes or hands off her, and he felt as if he were a lovesick teenager.

Much to his dismay, she was having the same effect on all the men in the hall. She had danced with several of the men, and he was having trouble keeping unfounded jealously from dampening his spirits. She was his and all knew it as a fact, but they also knew he had not fully laid claimed to her, but that was about to change.

As the evening wore on, Nic excused himself when a messenger arrived requiring his immediate attention.

“Morgan, there is an urgent message from Henry demanding my attention. Please, continue to enjoy yourself.  Cullen will be here in a few minutes should you need anything. I won't be long,” he said then kissed her hand before he left to find Cullen.

Nic pulled Cullen aside and asked him to attend Morgan until he returned.

“I'll attend her with pleasure, Brother. She is much easier on the eyes than Barron Whitten’s daughter.” Cullen shuttered at the thought of Lady Carlotta Whitten. He was grateful to have an excuse to escape the clutches of his dinner companion.

Cullen had seen the looks of pity from the men at his rotten luck, and the looks of jealousy from the woman at Carlotta Whitten’s good luck. Too bad her looks did not match her wit. She was actually quite humorous and was not a bad companion as long as one did not have to look at the poor girl.

“Nic, Morgan looks beautiful,” Cullen said then he looked back at Morgan and let his eyes travel over her. “There is no mistaking her for a boy tonight.”

“Careful, Cullen, you tread in dangerous waters.” Nic realized almost too late that Cullen was just paying him and Morgan a compliment. “If I see you have designs on my woman, I'll have you married off to Barron Whitten’s daughter before sunrise,” Nic teased and shuttered at the thought of the poor man unlucky enough to wake beside her. It was common knowledge the Barron’s dowry for her was astronomical, yet there had been no takers.

“Nic, do you hate me?” Cullen asked, wide-eyed in overstated shock. “I always had my suspicions and now I know," Cullen said with exaggerated dismay etched into his attractive face with his hand clutched over his heart. "You should have drowned me at birth, Brother. Drowned me as a babe to save me from the pain that I feel as a man knowing you so despises me,” Cullen finished his monologue with a dramatic flair.

“The evening is still young,” Nic said dryly, raising one dark brow. “I may yet have time to grant your soulful wish.”

Cullen burst into laughter and patted Nic on the shoulder.

“Go on, Nic, the messenger is waiting. I'll be happy to guard your woman as if she were my own.”

Nic stood for a moment studying his younger sibling. For a split second, Nic did not see a brother. He saw him as one male would another. Nic was allowing Cullen into his territory. He prayed his brother’s motives were pure, for all their sake.