The McKinnon (29 page)

“There was no cross on you. I am sure. And, I don't believe it was stolen, either.  O’Brian has a very strict code. Neither he nor his men touch personal items, believing it brings bad luck and death to those who take them. Consequently, they are off-limits. It may be out in the transport. If it is there, I will find it for you,” she promised as she fluffed his pillow.

Nic felt that was the best he could do for the evening. "Thank you."

Nic watched her hands as she continued to inspect his wounded body. “I see you wear a ring. Tell me of the man who is lucky enough to have you,” Nic asked with a smile.

“I am widowed. The ring just helps to keep the unwanted at bay. It helps to have them think I still mourn for Dolan to the point I cannot soil his memory with the kiss of another. I just do not let them think otherwise. It serves my purpose. Truth is, I did love Dolan. He was a very good man. With our family farms next to each other as they were, I had known him all my life. Growing up, I do not ever remember a time when he was not there for me, and it was just natural we married.”

“It sounds like you two were comfortable together.”

“We were. He took good care of me while he was alive. He never beat me or forced me to do things I didn’t want to do. He understood my driving need to heal. Not many men in this time frame understand that in a woman. He accepted me for what I am.” She sighed and took a deep breath. “He died two years ago. I could not save him, Nic. Even with all my advanced training and all my knowledge in modern medicine, I just couldn’t save him.”

Since his death, Reagan was on her own. So far, she did not see any need to have another man in her life. She missed her husband because he was her friend. He was a man she was always happy to see come through the door and he had an easy smile and a big, big heart. Those things spoil a girl.

Nic took her hand and held it in sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss, Reagan. I did not mean to bring up sad memories. Please, forgive me for prying.”

Reagan withdrew her hand from his, then waved hers in the air nonchalantly.

“Oh, nonsense, I’m fine. It is good to talk of our dead. It helps to keep them alive in our hearts. As long as we remember them, they are not gone. It is only when the last one who remembers us fades that we are gone." Deciding her late husband's death was beyond her control, she busied herself, looking intently at a wound by his ear. It was weeping more than she was comfortable with so she decided it probably needed another stitch or two.

"So, why do you feel Morgan is in danger?” Reagan asked, changing the subject and quickly placing another two stitches in the wound to satisfy herself as a physician. 

“It is a long story, Rea. Are you sure you really want to hear it?” Nic watched as she took a few moments, straightening the tiny room. She stopped as she was placing the clean linen rags back into the drawer where she had pulled them from earlier.

“Nic,” she said as she closed the drawer then came back over by the cot to sit down. “It may not be that I want to hear it as much as you need to tell it. So I am here to listen. Where else would I go? You're in my room.” Obviously, it was her attempt at lightening the subject, and her humor worked.

Nic laughed, shaking his head. She was unusual. She had the ability to place a person at ease, fostering trust, and the ability to get people to share confidences.

“You are an amazing woman, Reagan O’Riley. There is someone out there worthy of you, and when the time is right, the universe will pull you together. That, I promise you.”

“Well, we shall see, but for now we are trying to pull you and your lady back together. Your Duchess, tell me why you think she is in danger. Is she really a Duchess?”

"Yes," Nic began.

Nic went on to tell her that it was the first year of Henry’s reign and how Morgan’s father had been a huge supporter of Henry. By all accounts, Brentwood, was not a supporter. Yet, by Christmas, it was obvious the way the wind blew. Henry was here to stay. So, in an attempt to patch things up between him and his stepbrother, Brentwood invited the Sixth Duke and his family up to celebrate the season.

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.”