The McKinnon (31 page)

Quick as lightning, Nic reached out and grabbed Reagan’s wrist twisting her arm back, placing it into a vice-like hold, acting as if he didn't care if he hurt her. He had grown dark and suspicious.

“How would you know such things?” he demanded through teeth clenched in anger.

“Know what, Nic? That Morgan will give birth. Oh, please,” Reagan said as she rolled her eyes unaffected by his quick anger and demand for an explanation. “It doesn’t take a seer or a spy to know once you two get back together and work this out, that babies will be a natural byproduct.”

“Oh,” he said as he released her.

“‘
Oh
’. Is that all you have to say? How about: ‘
Oh, I’m sorry I almost took your arm out of the socket.
’ Look Nic, I’m sorry if I said something to upset you. It just seems right you two will share a life together. And children will be part of that life.
”

Nic was contrite. “I apologize for almost taking your arm out of the socket.”

He found it embarrassing that he had jumped to conclusions. It had been on his mind over the months that Morgan might be pregnant. Reagan asked if they used protection and of course, they had not. There was no reason to. He and Morgan were legally married and children were a given. Perhaps she was pregnant before he left England. Cullen had alluded to it in his first letter, but never brought the subject up after that. However, the seed of hope planted itself, and it had fed him all these months. If she was pregnant, a child would bind her to him. A child would give them an anchor to build a life together.

No mother could possible leave a child behind, and he did not intend to let her leave with his baby. Nic closed his eyes as a horrid thought crossed his mind. Panic rose in him. He hoped to God that she was not carrying his child. She would not be able to hide it much longer if she were.

How would Brentwood deal with her if he knew the heir was on the way? Nic felt certain Brentwood would kill both her and the unborn baby and never bat an eye.

Reagan noticed the look on Nic’s face. “Nic, is there something wrong?”

“I have felt deep down she was pregnant before I left. If that is the case then she will not be able to keep it secret much longer.” She would be closing in on six months.

Nic stood and paced the tiny room, finally placing both of his hands along the cabin wall and hanging his head between his outstretched arms. He was helpless to do anything and it was eating him up inside.

Reagan understood his frustration and his concern. She had experienced it with the death of her husband. Knowing the ones you love are in danger and there is not a thing you can do for them is a feeling one usually never, ever forgets.

“And if she is carrying your child that places her in more danger, doesn’t it? If she has the child then no matter what Brentwood does to you or to her the heir will be there.”

The silence was heavy between them as Nic began to absorb her words.

“Nic, I don't want to place more problems on your shoulders than you already have, but he cannot and will not allow any child of yours to live. You know this don’t you?”

“Yes.” That was all Nic could manage to choke out. He pushed himself off the wall and stood his full height filling the room as murderous intent etched his face. Brentwood’s days were numbered. Nobody would ever live who was a threat to his family.

Reagan continued her predictions coolly, calculating Brentwood’s next moves. “Let’s assume for argument's sake, he will try to make everyone think you died on Irish soil. If your child were to survive the birth, but were to die soon after, your brother would be in line for a much stronger claim to Seabridge than Brentwood will ever have. Correct?”

“Yes,” Nic agreed.

“So, to keep his claim strong, he must eliminate Cullen first and your child before he or she draws breath. What he will do next is kill you so Morgan inherits. After that, Morgan is no longer any use to him. As her only living relative, Seabridge and all the other titles and land will come directly to him, and he is sneaky enough to keep all the blood from touching him. This is not good.”

Her assessment of Brentwood’s tactics was deadly accurate. Nic had already come to the same conclusions, with one exception. Connor was also in danger. If Brentwood were greedy enough, killing Connor first would be an extra boon as Featherstone would come to him as Connor's heir. However, if it came down to saving Morgan or saving Connor, Connor was on his own.

“No, it is not good and all the more reason to get to her, Rea.”

“I agree. Once we hit land, I will be out of my element. I have not been to England since I was a child. My life is over if either O’Brian or Brentwood manages to get their hands on me. And I have the feeling, their reach is even greater than either one of us suspected. Both men will know you are heading straight to your wife.”

“I know. I would like to stop at my estate to get supplies, reinforcement and to see my father, but we cannot stay. Neither one of us is safe there. I must get you safely to Connor and tucked behind Featherstone's walls. Holden will be able to protect you until Morgan and I can settle. Once that happens, I want you with us, Reagan. I was being truthful when I told your uncle you will never lack for anything money can buy. I owe you my life.”

She waved his words away. Nic owed her nothing in her mind.

“I did it because I felt it was the right thing to do, not for gain.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Besides, I have felt for sometime that my life was just on hold. I was looking for change."

"But maybe not this big?" Nic asked knowing what any prudent person would say.

"My mother used to say that big life changes are scary. She was right. But, Nic, regret is even more frightening."

"Do you feel regret?"

"No, actually I feel release. Granted, I don’t think I would have made this big of a change all on my own, but here we are, nevertheless. I have relatives in England. The only one I’m looking forward to seeing is my Uncle Evan. He was always good to me. All my other relatives, at least those on my father’s side, probably haven’t given me a thought in years.”

“Reagan, are you saying your father was an Englishman?”

“Yes, my father was English. He was in line for one of those worthless titles you English seem so fond of, an Earl, I think. No offense meant to present company.”

“None taken,” Nic said then smiled.

More and more he liked this straight-talking firebrand. Giving him a run for his money, Connor was going to have his hands full protecting her. Nic would love to be a fly on the wall the first time those two went head-to-head.

“My father gave up a lot for my mother and never looked back as far as I know. They were together for nearly twenty years before my father died, and they seemed truly happy for the most part. We never had much in the way of material things, but that did not matter in the end. They raised me in a home full of love and respect. I could not ask for more.”

Her words made Nic think. If her family were influential then Brentwood would have to fight this battle on three fronts. “Who is your family on your father’s side, Rea? Maybe, I should take you there. It may be the safest place for you until we can eliminate any threat to you.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said as she planted her hands on her hips. “You are not about to pawn me off on my unsuspecting relatives. I am not hiding out, either. And, trust me, having to deal with them would be worse than taking a dose of my own medicine.”

Nic watched her carefully and weighed his chances of winning this argument. He felt those chances were slim or none.

“Very well, but you can bet Connor will agree with me on this one.”

“Well, now, as far as I can see, he doesn’t have much say in this now does he?”

“Maybe not, but don’t forget this one small fact, Reagan. You will be in our ‘backyard’ as you put it. And once you are, you will do yourself a favor to follow our guidance without question.”

“No wonder she wanted to throw daggers at you. And if Connor is anything like you then you both had better watch your backs.”

Nic’s answer was a chuckle.

Yes, indeed, Connor was in for a ride.

“Morgan, we have to return to England. We're out of options.” Cullen was beside himself. “Why did you not tell me you're pregnant?” He looked at her swollen belly that she had reveled to him a moment ago by opening her cloak. At six months along, she knew soon she would no longer able to disguise her condition.

“Nic will kill me for this,” Cullen said, shaking his head.

“Cullen, it is not your fault.”

She purposely withheld the truth from him, and she hated the deception, but Morgan needed answers about Nic. She had no delusions about what would have taken place had she told him before this point. Neither one of them would be here. Besides, Morgan felt she was safer with Cullen in Ireland than in England where her uncle could get to her. Cullen had confided that there had been three attempts to snatch her, the last occurring just hours before they left the court.

She sighed inwardly, wishing the trip had been productive. Once she had the baby and winter passed, Morgan would return for another round.

“We will return in the spring?” she asked, gently pushing.

Morgan would be coming back with him or without.

Cullen would not commit. “We will worry about spring when it comes. Right now, I am just worried about getting you home and to safety before you deliver prematurely. We can continue to ask as we travel back to the coast.”

For weeks, Cullen and Morgan had traveled through Ireland looking for the trail of Nic and his troops. They had discovered the evidence for themselves of the ambush and massacre, but there was nothing to say Nic had or had not died. It had been months and nothing other than bone fragments remained. Finally, they were able to discover information of a man fitting Nic’s description, being brought to the inn by an Englishman fitting Brentwood’s description. That bit of news made Morgan cringe.

Rumor had it, that the man fitting Nic’s description must have convinced the healer, a woman named Reagan O’Riley, to run off in the night with him, and they both had disappeared.

Morgan and Cullen could only assume it was Nic. It had to be Nic. Given there were few men of his size, it was looking positive that he was still alive. Morgan grabbed onto that shred of circumstantial evidence with both hands, and held onto that small glimmer of hope it gave her. 

Nic running off with another woman did not seem plausible as far as Cullen was concerned. It did not fit Nic's personality. However, Morgan did not need to hear this insinuation.

No one had anything further to share, and it had become far too dangerous for Morgan to stay. So encouraged that Nic was alive, but defeated in the goal to find him, they left Ireland returning to England before Morgan was too far along in her pregnancy to travel. To Cullen's way of thinking, bringing Morgan back to his and Nic’s ancestral home seemed a logical move. Heather Park was far to the north, less than a mile from the southern border of Scotland. He felt it was the best place to spend the winter and for Morgan to have her baby. And from Ireland to England, it was the shortest point to cross the sea which cut off days of the trip.

The trip was quick and smooth and they had made excellent time getting back to the estate. They had been back a full week. Morgan was settling in and Cullen was doing some digging on his own, continuing to search for Nic by other means.

He was meeting a fellow claiming he was there the day of the ambush took place and lived to escape.

Stewart waited patiently until Cullen left Heather Park by way of the main gate. He knew where Cullen was going. He knew because he'd set up the meeting to take place a two-day ride, in the opposite direction of the way he planned to take Morgan.

All he had to do was get past the guards. And much to his surprise, a boy of about ten summers was standing guard at the main gate.

“What business do you have here, Sir?” The boy asked so sternly that it was almost comical. Stewart held in his laughter.

“I have come with news of Sir Nic that I feel her Grace would wish to hear.”

“I guess it is all right to let you pass. Come in and wait while I go find her Ladyship.”

It was too easy, Stewart thought, as he impatiently waited. He was glad he had set spies at all of the holdings associated with this family. Bringing Morgan this far north was very smart. Cullen was just not smart enough.

Stewart heard the swish of her skirts from behind him. Turning, he hid his shock. He had not thought to find her pregnant since she and Cullen had been chasing ghosts all over Ireland.

“May I help you, Sir?” Morgan looked at the stranger standing in front of her, and something inside clicked as familiar. Yet, she could not place him.

“I believe you will recognize this?” He held out Nic's cross, but Morgan did not respond. He had hoped for a gasp or a worried look because he wanted to see her suffer.

Morgan continued to stare at the cross innocently lying in his hand. Her mind could not wrap around the implication of it being in the stranger's hand and not around Nic’s neck. He could have gotten it in any number of ways. It did not necessarily mean Nic was dead.

“Yes, it belongs to me. It was a gift from my husband. How have you come to possess it?” Morgan asked coolly as she reached out again and casually plucked the cross from his hand.

“Your uncle has your husband.” Stewart delivered this news with morbid relish. That should do it, he thought.

“And that means what to me?” Morgan said trying to keep the fear out of her voice. God help Nic if he is injured and in the clutches of her uncle.

“Well, I do believe your uncle has plans of killing him if you do not answer his summons.”

“What makes you think I will go with you? I have asked him to give me my freedom. That being the case, then why would I care if he lives or dies?” Morgan said trying to keep her tone indifferent.

Stewart walked over to her and as she looked down, he placed a knife to her belly.