The McKinnon (35 page)

Connor was not going to get into a battle of words with her. This was his home and no threat to any residing within was going to pass his gates.

"I warn you,”Connor said in all earnestness. He did not make idle threats.

“Do you, now?” Reagan was holding her temper.

“Yes. You are to stay away from Nic. Furthermore, should I find you have anything except good intentions toward Morgan and her baby, I will save Nic the trouble and kill you myself. Do we have an understanding?”

That was the last straw. Reagan struck Connor across his face. A resounding crack resonated throughout the Hall. Heads turned in unison.

“Now, Englishman, we have an understanding.”

To the casual outside observer, Connor’s composure never wavered, but Reagan was close enough to him to know she had enraged him. Regardless of the intensity of his irritation, she was not going to cower, not now, and not ever.

Calmly and collectedly, Connor delivered his warning, but Reagan knew the hot lava of anger seethed below the surface, threatening to erupt at any moment.

He had never struck a woman, yet there was always room for a first.

“Madam, do not ever think to strike me again.  To do so will bring you like kind.”

“Then I suggest you do not ever threaten me again, and we both should be safe. And on one more point, you are correct, English. You don't know me. So, never, ever assume you know what motivates my actions either.”

By that point Reagan was poking him in the chest with her finger as an exclamation point to each word she was saying and completely unaware of her actions. Connor grabbed her wrist and began to squeeze in an effort to stop her from poking him.

Finished with her own declaration, Reagan jerked her hand free, wheeled away from her host and made her way back to an opened-mouthed Morgan and Cullen.

“Cullen, I believe you wanted to have private words with our most
gracious
host. He is all yours and you’re welcome to him.” Turning back to Morgan, she softened her tone. “Come, Morgan, let me help you upstairs. Let’s get you into that warm bath.”

It took effort for Morgan to stand. Connor was silent and obviously suspicious. Reagan gave him a look as they passed. It would have withered any other mortal man. But he was not 
any other mortal man.

Connor took his index finger and middle finger and pointed them to his eyes and then turned them back at her as if to say, 
I'm watching you
.

Reagan just rolled her eyes. "Idiot," she mumbled not caring if he heard her or not.

Connor raised a brow at that unbridled insult. He was called many things by the women in his life. Idiot was never one of them.

He watched the women make their way up the stairs and out of his sight before he and Cullen disappeared behind the study door.

Not as richly appointed as one might expect, Connor’s study was functional and hinted of a man who was tidy and organized. The most lavish furnishing in the room, not withstanding the fine collection of leather bound books with gold leafing, was the desk Connor strategically placed to gain the best light and view from the glass windows.

“Please, sit my friend,” Connor said as he pointed to a set of chairs placed in front of the fire. “They do not look like much, but for some reason, I cannot bring myself to replace them. They are comfortable and feel like old acquaintances. What can I do for you, Cullen? You’re chomping at the bit.”

“Connor, Nic asked me to bring Reagan here safely to you and I have. He asked me to go to the King because he felt I needed to be safe in case he and Morgan did not survive this ordeal. However, Morgan is here and her baby is safe. I need to be the one to go and give him the word our Lady is safely behind your walls.”

“Cullen, you don't have to do this. It serves no purpose to throw yourself into needless danger.”

“I am not an unseasoned youth without battle scares,” he snapped back, tired of being treated like a squire.

“I know you are not unseasoned, but Nic will feel the need to try to protect you. You know how he is, Cullen. He feels the need to keep those he loves as far from harm's way as humanly possible. It would be no different if I were there.”

That was true enough, Cullen acknowledged. Yet it did not alter the situation in the least. “I will not hide here at Featherstone and sleep behind fortified walls while my brother goes into the dragon’s lair. Connor, Nic has no idea the depths this man has sunk in his insanity. The stories Morgan shared have at times put me on the verge of physical illness. We both know that Nic is too honorable a man to be able to take on Brentwood in his own stronghold.”

“And you aren’t?” Connor asked as he poured the young man a drink and handed it to him.

“No, I have not lost my honor if that is what you are asking. You know what I mean. Nic expect the rules to be always in play. His sense of duty and honor, though commendable, will not serve him in this instance, trust me. Moreover, he has so much to lose. I need be there to keep him safe and watch his back for Morgan’s sake.”

Connor looked at Cullen. He had known the young man all his life. He wondered how Cullen managed to grow up and he not notice. Connor had to let this young man go.

“Do you want to say good-bye to Morgan?" Connor asked, feeling certain that there was more to this than Cullen's concern for Nic. "If so, you really should get a move on and hurry. She is upstairs taking a bath and will soon tuck in for the evening.”

Cullen shook his head. “No. I won't disturb her. She has enough to worry over without adding me to the list. Tell her, tell her….” Cullen stammered to find the words. He knew he would never be back if he faced Brentwood and his men. His dreams had told him he would die defending the lives of those he loved most up on those ragged cliffs of Seabridge. He was not a suspicious man. Yet Cullen felt as certainly as he was standing there with Connor, that he would lose his life.

Connor stood alongside Cullen just inside the study door with his hand on his shoulder. “I know, my friend. Go and Godspeed.”

Upstairs Reagan left Morgan in the capable hands of Mary. She needed to find the kitchen to see if there were any herbs to fix Morgan tea to help settle her stomach and help her sleep. The baby was sitting uncomfortably, and the last few days had placed a great deal of stress on the little one. The slight bleeding Morgan was experiencing was evidence of the stress to Morgan’s body. Reagan  told Morgan that she should not worry. It was her attempt to get Morgan to relax and to reassure her the bleeding should stop on its own once she and the child were warm and more relaxed.

In reality, Reagan was very concerned. However, it did no good to the mother or the baby to let Morgan see her fears. Morgan would not be able to change the fates if this baby was not going to term.

Deep in thought, Reagan did not notice Connor following her movements as she went about her search.

“What are you looking for?” Connor had followed Reagan into the kitchen.

“Oh, you scared me out of my skin.” Clutching the front of her gown, Reagan’s heart was beating fast in her chest in equal parts from being startled and from Connor’s nearness.

His eyes were drawn to the pulse beating wildly at her exposed throat.

“Guilty perhaps? I will ask you again. What you are looking for?”

Reagan was annoyed, but only mildly so. The man was exasperating, but at least he was a gorgeous annoyance.

“Well, let me think…a pinch of newt, a dash of toad droppings, essence of rat’s ear, and one large horse’s ass. Seems I have found at least one item on my list,” she teased.

Connor snorted, but smiled. He had to admit she had brass.

“Now, if you will excuse me I have things to do.”

“Such as?” Connor moved to block her retreat.

Reagan let out an audible sigh, closing her eyes and shaking her head. Men, and this one in particular, could be trying to the most patient of women. And she was patient, for the most part. However, she never claimed to be a saint as one of her better virtues.

“If you must know, I am looking for herbs to soothe Morgan’s stomach and aid her to sleep. Satisfied?”

Connor drew his brows together. “Don’t you carry that sort of stuff in that bag of yours? You're never far from it from what I’ve seen.”

“No, English, I prefer to carry poisons in my bag. I never know when I will be called on to exterminate a rodent.” She finished off with a quirky little half smile.

Connor knew she was referring to him again. Not that he cared much for her either, but he was still annoyed she would voice such a thing. No one ever dared to defy him and the women usually did everything in their power to ingratiate themselves to him. This one was different.

Reagan rolled her eyes. The man had no sense of humor.

“Pffftt," she huffed. "Oh, surely you know I’m just joking, so you can wipe that look off your face. Of course, I carry those sorts of things, but many of the herbs I have are not to be ingested by women in Morgan’s current condition. They can cause side effects and can even induce early labor, which is precisely what I am trying to prevent. So it looks like I am forced to forage to see if I can find something to ease her without making it worse.” Reagan was rambling and she knew it, but Connor made her nervous in spite of her resolve to remain impervious to him. “Perhaps ginger root would work. My preference is powdered or crushed. I don’t suppose you have some in your pocket,” she asked, patting his front, breast pocket and leaning in unconsciously.

Connor captured her hand in his and took a step back, but did not release her. “No. I do not. I'll wake Cook. He usually has the necessary things to treat minor conditions. Wait here. I’ll be back with him and then escort you back to your chambers. He can treat Morgan.” Connor dropped her hand and turned to go find Cook.

“So, that is how it is to be then?” Reagan’s tone stopped him, and he turned back around to face her. He saw her eyes go flat and cold. “I'm to be under guard, then? Perhaps you have other accommodations in mind for me. I would have to assume this hunk of rock you call your home has a dungeon, if so let’s just get the formalities out of the way, shall we?”

Reagan was beginning to think Nic must be out of his mind to befriend Connor. He was arrogant, suspicious, and rude. Too bad he was such a tyrant. He was a physically attractive man, but other than that one quality, she had yet to see anything vaguely redeeming about him.

Connor took a few steps toward her, closing the distance between them. He knew his faults and flaws, as well as the next man. He softened.

“Reagan, that is not my intent, at least not yet, to toss you into the dungeon. And if you behave it will never be my course of action. Mary brought it to my attention that you haven’t taken care of your own needs. You should before it gets too, late. Cook can help you once you tell him what Morgan needs.”

His concern surprised her.

Connor saw he had stunned her a little,  and wondered why she felt he would be unaware of her physical needs?

“My needs will wait, English. I need to see to Morgan and get her settled before I feel comfortable enough to leave her.”

“As you wish. Give me the list and I will send cook up with the necessary items you need. However, if he questions anything on your list, it will not be delivered.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she shot back sarcastically.

Reagan was wondering how one man could be so annoying, but having spent a few moments with him, she was beginning to relax and even as abrasive as he was, she now understood what was driving him. He was obviously protective of his own. She would behave as she normally would and let him form his own opinion in time. As to her behavior towards him, the jury was still out.

“Tell me what you need and I will write it down.”

“I can write,” she countered.

Connor raised one dark brow in question.

She laughed softly at his shocked expression. “Do not look so astonished, English. I may be of humble origins, but I am highly educated.” And that education went way beyond anything most would ever understand.

“Surprising.” Connor found this to be highly unusual.

“I’m full of all kinds of little surprises,” Reagan said just a little playfully.

“Hum,” he said and studied her more fully, barely resisting the urge to kiss the quirky smile right off her face. “I just bet you are full of all kinds of little secrets.“ Connor had taken her hand without realizing it. “Then let’s go to my study and you may make your list.”

“No need,” Reagan said slipping her hand out of his. Then she pulled out the parchment tucked into her apron. “I have my own supplies. I had plans on making a cursory inventory while I was here, but it can wait until tomorrow. Do I have permission to do so alone or will it require your presence?”

The look she gave him was one part challenge and one part threat. She was feeling like Connor’s physical presence was overwhelming her. Unconsciously, she began to inch away from him.

"Cook will help you in the morning, but he reports to me.”

How had she just made him feel like he was in the wrong? All she did was look blankly back at him. The silence hung between them and any hint of playfulness vanished.

She was unexpectedly disappointed, but it quickly passed. She had more pressing things besides Connor’s lack of trust to expend her energies.

Making out her list trying hard not to include anything questionable, she handed the list to Connor.

“I’m going back up to see how Morgan is coming with her bath.” Without waiting for the usual courtesies, she fled without a backward glance.

Connor was not sure what to make of his house guest. She would bear watching closely regardless of Cullen’s assurances she was well intentioned.

Upstairs Reagan looked in on Morgan, easing her way into the room. Reagan found her propped up against a mountain of pillows. Her hair was loose and well past her shoulders, gleaming ebony against the white of the linens. Reagan’s sharp eye saw what Nic admired when he looked at his wife. Morgan was beautiful, and motherhood suited her well.