The McKinnon (17 page)

“I can heal her, but I must have privacy for my administration.”

“No," Nic said emphatically. "I will not leave her alone with you.” Nic did not like the fact she was to be alone with this man. In fact he did not like the man, either. He left Nic feeling cold and just a little unsettled. There was something dark and evil about him. Perhaps, he was Druid, Nic thought. They still existed in secret.

“Then we have no more to talk about.” The healer turned to go.

“Wait, all right, I'll leave, but not for long.”

Nic did not feel good about leaving but would leave if that was what it would take for the man to help.

Fifteen minutes later Nic reentered Morgan’s room without a sound to a scene striking horror in him to the very depths of his soul. The man was chanting in some unknown tongue, and he'd opened a wound in her wrist allowing her life’s blood to drip into a bowl held under the gash.

“Jesus, you're bleeding her? Get out! Out!”

The man jumped, spilling the precious contents of the bowl, splashing Morgan with her own blood. Nic grabbed the man by the collar and threw him out with such force the man slammed into the far wall of the corridor. Nic slammed the door, bolted it, and refused let anyone in for hours.

Over the next few days, Nic allowed no one else to touch her. He cleaned her, bathed her with cool water when her fever soared, prayed, and repeated the cycle. He held her when she was delirious with fever screaming from nightmares. He was not so sure they were not memories that she was reliving in vivid detail.

He gathered her to him and rocked her. It seemed the only way to calm her when she got like this.

“Morgan, it is all right. I am here. Stay with me.”

Morgan was calmer and her breathing steadied. He held her and rocked her more.

Sometime later as the evening moved into night, Nic fell into an exhausted sleep, cradling her in his arms. Near dawn he woke covered in sweat. It was not his own. Morgan’s fever had broken in the night as he had held her close. Touching her forehead, her skin felt cool and dry to his touch. Her breathing was steady and her sleep was natural and deep. She had survived this round. Nic was overwhelmed with relief.

“Thank you, for her life. I promise to do right by her,” he said, voicing his prayer and vow out loud.

Nic eased Morgan out of his arms then covered her with the sheet and quietly left the room.

It had been eight days.

Nic made his way downstairs to the kitchen after leaving Morgan’s room. The kitchen was warm, bright, and smelled of freshly baked bread, a relief from the smell of the sick room.

The cook was surprised to see him.

“How is she?” he asked fearing the worst. Everyone in the household knew that Nic had not left his lady-wife for days. That act alone spoke volumes to all of them. Morgan was more than just wife to this young man who they all adored as much as they loved Connor.

“She will live,” Nic announced, then grinned about the good news.

“Oh, that is wonderful news. I'll go tell Mary. Should I have her help you with her Grace?”

“Yes, please. I am starving and need to sleep. Please ask her to come up as soon as she can have a meal and a bath made ready.” Nic grabbed a roll from the counter as he made his way out.

Not long after he bathed and ate the meal Mary had brought him, Nic crawled into the bed next to Morgan and slept soundly for hours. When he woke, it was dark outside and candlelight softly danced from the single flame. He had no idea how long he had slept, but the rest felt good and revitalizing.

Morgan was still sleeping. He took the opportunity to look at her through the candlelight. He brought her hand to his lips.

“You’re going to be fine, Morgan.”

When she was stronger, he would give her freedom. She had been ready to die for it. He felt his heart hurt, but he had promised, and he was a man of honor.

Mary brought in a tray of liquids for Morgan and a bath. Nic gently woke her.

“Morgan, you need to eat something.” He shook her gently.

She opened her eyes and looked at Nic then closed them. He touched her face with his fingertips.

“Morgan, you need to let me help you sit up and eat. I promise you may sleep, again once you do.”

Morgan opened her eyes taking in her surroundings. She knew she was at Featherstone.

“I thought I escaped or was that a dream?”

Nic shook his head. It had not been a dream but definitely a nightmare.

“No, not a dream. You tried but only got outside the gate.”

“I feel like a newborn kitten, and I had the most terrible dreams. I thought I was back at Seabridge,” she confessed.

“You have been sick nine days, Love. You almost died.” Nic paused. “I couldn’t let that happen. I'll help you sit up.”  

Placing his arm against her back, he helped her to a sitting position. The sheet fell away to reveal her wounded shoulder and left breast. She grabbed for the cover and brought it to her chin, embarrassed he had seen her.

“Don’t feel embarrassed. Who do you think has been taking care of you? I would not let anyone else touch you.”

“I owe you a debt of gratitude. I hope you know that it was never my intent to be a burden to you."

"You're not a burden, Morgan. So, push that thought out of your mind. But one has to ask, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I guess I wasn't, not really, but all I could think was to run.”

She could not look at him.

Taking her chin he lifted her gaze to look at him. “Why, Love? Why run from safety? Why run from me?”

The question hung heavy in the air, and Nic took her hands in his. Morgan opened her mouth to speak just as a tap came on the door. She pressed her lips together again. Nic waited. Seeing that he would get nothing out of her, he rose to open the door.

“May I help her Ladyship in any way,” Mary asked cheerfully.

“Yes, Mary. If her Ladyship wishes to take a bath, please help her. I think I have completed my work here for the moment. My men are waiting." He turned back to Morgan. "It is good to see you improved, Duchess.” Nic bowed at the waist.

Pulling Mary back out into the hallway, he whispered so that Morgan could not overhear. “Do not say anything about the wedding. I haven't had the opportunity to tell her. So, please pass this directive to the rest of the household as well.”

“Yes sir.” She curtsied and returned into the room.

Nic returned to their room after his training practice with the intent of sharing with her the news of their legal contract of marriage.

He found her asleep, looking peaceful and vulnerable. He did not want to wake her from the much needed restorative sleep.

Instead, he decided to join her.

He removed his clothes and slipped into bed with his wife opening his arms as she turned to him in sleep. He kissed her on top of her head and breathed in her sweetness. He inhaled again deeply, closed his eyes, and gave over to a dreamless sleep.

“Up you come, Miss Sleepyhead.” A moment ago, Mary had burst into the room with her usual merriment and good cheer. “His Lordship wants you to eat, again. Here let me help you sit up, my dear.”

Mary came over to the bed after setting the loaded tray on the table and helped Morgan to prop herself up in the bed. She was feeling stronger and more herself, and she had Mary and Nic to thank for that improvement.

Morgan looked at the mound of food. “Well, I hope his Lordship doesn’t need me to eat all that. I'll explode.”

She and Mary giggled at the same time.

“Oh, Duchess, it is so good to see you feeling better.” Mary clasped her hands over her ample bosom then beamed brightly. “The McKinnon will be pleased to see you today. Your color is improving even from last evening. Now, let me bring you some food.”

“I think I would like to try to sit at the table. Can you help me get there? I’m feeling stronger, but I'm still weak as a kitten.”

“Oh, of course. It would be my pleasure.”

“No, the pleasure is all mine this morning, Mary.” Nic had entered the room unannounced. Morgan jumped at the sound of his voice. She wondered how he was able to be so silent when he completely filled the room.

He is beautiful and larger than life, she thought as his dark hair hung loose and flowed down his back like a glorious cascade of dark silk. His tunic was open at the front in casual contempt for property, and the tightly fitted leggings hugged his powerful legs. There was something to be said for the male form, she thought. Especially, when beautifully put together like he was. He looked as sexy and as unobtainable as she knew him to be.

Seeing him so darkly handsome did not dampen her mood. She would enjoy him to the very end. She was not as uncomfortable in his company as she thought she should be knowing he had nursed her in her illness. That had to have been very unpleasant, she thought realizing that throwing up on his boots the first day was nothing compared to what he must have seen after her failed attempted at freedom.

Nic sensed the change in her. He was not going to let her mood deter him though. He leaned down and scooped her up, blankets and all.

“Nic, no. Please, put me down.”

“Very well, M’Lady. I will do as you command just as soon as I get you to this chair.” She had lost weight. At this point his bedroll weighted more than she did, Nic mused as he deposited her in the smaller chair at the table.

Nic was glad she was feeling better, and knowing her as he did, he felt he needed to place some stipulation on her getting up and around.

“I really don't mind seeing you up and out of bed as long as you behave."

"Behave?" Morgan held in a laugh. The idea of her causing trouble was preposterous. She was so weak there was not much trouble she could cause. However his expression told her he fully believed she was trouble incarnate. "I'm a perfect little angel."

"Pffft! A little devil is more like it," Nic came back at her all in good fun. "Seriously, though, you are not to overdo at least for a day or two longer. That is an order.” Nic saw the telling sign he had made her angry. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Morgan, sheath your claws. You are very weak and are nothing except skin draped on bones. You were deathly ill not three days ago and are still subject to a relapse. If that happens because of your own stubbornness then I'll just let you die, thinking you must surely have a death wish.”

He should have stopped there, but good sense had fled and was now overrun by frustration and exhaustion.

“And after all, you are
The Duchess
and therefore, your every wish is most certainly my command!” He did a mocking, yet graceful bow from the waist, sweeping his left arm wide in exaggerated gallantry.

"You're being a gallant ass, Nic. Do you think me being
'skin draped on bones' 
is something that I intentionally did to myself? You think I want to look like a skinny boy? Well, you can blame my uncle for my skeletal state."

He was instantly contrite for his words.

“I am sorry, Love. I shouldn't have been so hard on you, and yes I can be an ass, but you need to understand that you must take care of yourself. And that begins by eating a good meal.”

And screw your uncle, he thought. The man was a sword tip away from being a skeleton himself.

Nic served their plates. He had not planned to eat with her, but he was going to stay. His men would just have to wait. Morgan looked over at her breakfast companion. Nic had begun to eat and her stomach growled in a most undignified fashion.

He chuckled.

“T’is a good sign, I think. Now go on and eat. I have not saved your life just to have you starve.” He was teasing her and she smiled making him wonder how he was ever going to let her go.

Nic had found other sleeping arrangements after the morning he had taken breakfast with Morgan. However he had continued to have meals with her. They had finished breaking their fast, and Nic sensed Morgan wanted to ask him for something.

For her, the days passed with monotony and routine. She was going crazy. She was feeling much better and needed more activity.

Funny how quickly attitudes change, she thought.

Not so long ago, she had spent years confined by her Uncle Lester, yet she never felt as caged as she did, a pampered guest, safely tucked behind the walls of Featherstone. Having tasted freedom, she found she craved it even more.

Morgan cautiously approached him. She was feeling much stronger and wanted to escape her rooms where she had spent the last ten days.

“Nic, do you think it would be possible for you to take me for a short walk outside the castle today? The weather looks to be mild and I'm feeling much stronger.”

Nic hesitated, but how could he resist the pleading look that was in her eyes. Lord help him should she ever discover the effects she had on him. He always lost all sense of good judgment around her.

She could probably ask me to jump from the parapets and I would, he wagered with himself.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head at his internal musings.

Morgan thought he was declining her request.

“Very well, I shall not ask you again.”

She turned away from him, back to the window looking out over the countryside.

Nic moved behind her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he felt her stiffen. Tenderly, he turned her around to face him lifting her chin with his hand. Looking into her eyes, he saw her eyes moist with tears, and the idea she was sad was almost more than he could bear.

“Morgan, you mistake my intent,” he spoke tenderly. “I was just thinking how I lose all the good sense God has given me when I’m around you.”

As if to prove his point, he stepped closer, taking her face lovingly into his hands, rubbing his thumb across the pink and tender scar on her cheek. Gently, he placed a kiss upon it. He stepped back and let his gaze travel down to her mouth. Her lips looked moist, slightly parted in mute invitation. Cautiously, he lowered his mouth to hers.