Wild Irish Rebel (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

And she wasn’t
far wrong, Morgan thought an hour later as they sat squished together at a long dining room table. Patrick's father, a striking image of what Patrick would look like when he was older, entertained with stories from his job in sales. Morgan hadn't even bothered trying to remember all of the siblings and their spouses who peered curiously at her over Agatha's Sunday ham.

Morgan sighed quietly and took another sip of her wine. His family had been nothing but inviting, but it was just so much to take in at once. The questions, the names, the way they interrupted each other and talked over each other. She did her best to keep quiet and follow the conversation and prayed for dinner to end early.

"So, tell us about your family, Morgan," a sister, Aileen, Morgan thought, said from across the table, her eyebrow raised in question. She was one of the younger ones, and a bit edgier. Morgan had kept her eye on her through dinner, expecting the worst.

"I don't have a family," Morgan said softly and then cringed as the entire dinner table went quiet. Patrick immediately wrapped his arm around Morgan's waist for support.

"What's that, dear?" said Patrick's dad, peering at her over his glasses.

"I, um, I don't have a family. I'm an orphan." Morgan shrugged and took a sip of her wine, praying the cool liquid would soothe her hot throat.

"How…interesting. I've heard you moved around a lot. What are you – a tinker or something?" Aileen smirked at her and Morgan felt the red sweep of anger rush over her. Calling someone a gypsy was no small insult, and the rest of the table gasped at Aileen.

"I'm not, thanks, excuse me, I must be going." Morgan shoved away from the table, hating that she was giving Aileen the show that she wanted, but she felt suffocated, unable to get her thoughts straight, and she needed air. She turned to Agatha.

"Thank you kindly for a nice dinner. I'm sorry that I won't be finishing it with you." With her back stiff, she turned and marched through the house, focused only on the freedom that the front yard offered her. A trill of laughter followed her and she caught Aileen's words…"Was it something I said?" just before she pushed outside, gasping for air, and desperately trying to control her impulse to dump Aileen's plate of food over her head.

Morgan paced the yard, rubbing her hands over her arms, and forced herself to calm down. It wasn't the first time she'd been made a fool of, she thought. She could handle this. So why did it hurt so much, Morgan thought as she sighed and began the walk back into the village, wishing that she had chosen flats instead of pumps.

"Morgan, wait, please." A voice sounded behind her.

Morgan turned, surprised to see that Agatha had followed her outside and not Patrick. Patrick was probably too embarrassed of her, she thought with a sniff and forced herself to tamp the anger down.

"I'm sorry. I know that it was rude of me to leave like that," Morgan said stiffly, looking over Agatha's shoulder.

Agatha came to a stop in front of her and reached up to pat Morgan's arm softly. Morgan turned and looked down at the round woman, desperately wishing to be anywhere else but there.

"You've nothing to apologize for. It's Aileen who needs to apologize. I'll say that I'm right sorry on her behalf. I've raised my children to be kinder than that. Patrick's always been her favorite brother and she's a might bit protective of him is all. But she overstepped her boundaries today and insulted a guest in our home and for that I'm sorry."

Morgan gaped down at this sweet woman, surprised that she was siding with Morgan.

"I…it's fine. Really, I'll live," Morgan said quickly.

"You're welcome in my home, anytime, with or without Patrick. I suspect that you could use some mothering in your life, and it comes naturally to me. I hope you'll stop by for a cup of tea sometime."

Morgan's heart warmed at her words and impulsively she bent down and hugged Agatha.

"I sure do appreciate that. I really would like to talk about getting your lace into the store."

"Come by this week. We'll talk. I'll make sure it's just you and me. No bother. Or perhaps I can come to the gallery? I haven't been there since you've taken over management."

"I'd like that," Morgan said with a smile and then looked up at the sound of the door closing behind her.

"Patrick, you need to take Morgan home. Or for a nice walk as the sun sets," Agatha called behind her, knowing who stood at the door without looking.

"I'm going to, Mum. I just had to give Aileen a stern talking to is all."

Patrick stomped towards them, anger radiating from his every movement. Morgan felt her back go up and wasn't sure what to do.

"She's not allowed at any more Sunday dinners," Patrick said furiously down to his mother.

"I'll talk to her, Patrick. I've already told Morgan how sorry I am."

Patrick finally turned and saw the sheen of tears in Morgan's eyes. He cursed and shook his head, before bending to kiss his mother's cheek.

"We'll talk this week," he said and reached around his mother to grab Morgan's arm and drag her towards the car. Morgan went, mainly because she didn't relish walking back into town in her heels. She wasn't sure if she would be able to handle the messy emotional scene that was about to come and she put her walls up to protect herself in advance.

Patrick didn't say a word as he started the car and pulled away from the house, while Morgan stared out of the window, her body turned away from him.

"You don't have to act like I've beat you," Patrick shouted after a few moments of silence and Morgan jumped, her hand trembling in surprise.

"I'm not," Morgan said, glaring at him.

"Sure and you are! You're all but curled up in a ball, turned away from me. What gives?"

Morgan felt her eyes growing wider as she stared him down. He pulled the car into a spot in front of her apartment.

"Thanks for a great dinner. Let's never do it again," Morgan seethed at him and slammed the car door, all but running to her door.

"Oh no you don't," Patrick shouted and followed her through the door, pounding up the steps to her apartment after her.

"I didn't invite you up," Morgan said, standing at her door with the key in the lock, her chest heaving, anger pounding through her.

"You're not pushing me away again, not this time," Patrick swore and grabbed her hand, turning the key and shoving her inside. Morgan almost tripped over her feet as she was pushed through the door and then turned, her mouth gaping open at him, as Patrick slammed the door and locked it, blocking her way out.

"Excuse me, but who do you think you are? This is my space. Mine! You don't get to say who comes in here. I do. My space. Just leave me alone!" Morgan shrieked, surprising even herself with the ferocity of her words.

"So it's like that then? Every time you get upset, you'll just shut me out? Run away and hide in your space?" Patrick shouted back at her, equally as angry.

"You don't get it! You don't get what it's like for me, Patrick!" Morgan screamed at him and then turned, hating that this was happening, hating that they were going down the road that she had imagined they would.

"Then tell me, damn it. Make me understand!" Patrick shouted, desperation in his voice. Morgan closed her eyes, hearing under the anger and hurt his kindness and love. He really wanted to know.

And it was her fault that she hadn't let him in.

Morgan took a few deep breaths, trying to force her anger down so she could speak. Walking further into her apartment, she reached her bed and sat down, finally raising her eyes to look at Patrick.

He stood by the door, his arms crossed, his skin flushed, his eyes never leaving her. And in that moment, Morgan felt her heart crack open completely. She knew that she loved him then. It washed over her in a way that nothing had before, leaving her warm, scared, and for the first time, seeing Patrick with new eyes. This was a man she could be with. Not just date or have fun with, but really be with, she thought.

"So, I know you thought you were doing well tonight…because hey, what girl doesn't want to be taken home to the family? But it was too much for me. All of them, all at once like that…it was, God, it kind of felt like back when I walked into a foster home for the first time. The family would stare me down, ask questions, judge me. It was never a good experience for me. I guess that I've just built up a lot of anxiety around that type of experience." Morgan shrugged, pleading with her eyes for Patrick to understand her.

"Aww, shit," Patrick cursed and moved forward to come sit next to her on the bed. "I didn't even think of that. You never talk about it. I didn't think it would be a big deal."

Morgan turned and looked at him, a small smile on her face.

"And it wouldn't be a big deal. For most people. But it was for me. It…it was hard for me growing up. Up until I was sixteen, it was a blur of homes, and being back with the nuns. I never stayed longer than nine months with a family. Once they found out about…well, you know," Morgan pointed at her head, "they would send me packing. I got used to putting my walls up, never forming attachments, and expecting that I would be rejected. Never being good enough was pretty much the norm for me. I was never good enough, funny enough, smart enough…for any family. Nobody wanted me."

Morgan blinked back the tears that came to her eyes and tried to tamp down on the emotions of shame and anxiety that surfaced in her at the thoughts. She rubbed her finger over the scar on her palm for strength.

"Well…" Patrick began and Morgan raised her hand to cut him off.

"And I was abused."

"What?" Patrick said, a dark cloud of fury moving across his handsome features.

"Not like you are thinking. But it was abuse in its own way. Something that Baird is helping me to see," Morgan said with a rueful smile. "The nuns and the priest, well they liked to perform an exorcism on me fairly regularly. They'd tie me to the bed and you know…" Morgan trailed off at the scary expression on Patrick's face.

"They exorcised you? You were just a little girl!" Patrick said, biting the words out between tight lips.

"It's okay, really. They thought they were doing best," Morgan said automatically and then stopped, again raising her hand to silence Patrick. "Actually, it's not okay. I get that now. They were wrong. There's nothing evil or wrong about me. I'm working on accepting that," she said softly.

Patrick turned and ran his hand down her cheek, his touch as gentle as the brush of a butterfly's wing.

"Thank you for telling me. I understand more now. I hope you can see that you have a home with me, in my heart. That I think you are beautiful, and brilliant, and I want to see you fly. I will protect you, so long as you trust me and are faithful to me, I'll be by your side," Patrick said fiercely, love and light shining in his eyes.

Morgan's heart did a little spin in her chest and then she fell into his arms, tears running down her neck as she nuzzled her face into his neck.

"Nobody's been there for me," Morgan said, pressing her face into his shoulder, loving when his strong arms came around her, lifting her until she pressed tightly against his hard body.

"I am. I promise," Patrick said and then his lips found hers, kissing away the tears that seeped over them, his love pouring into her.

Morgan pulled back and grabbed his hand, bringing it to her chest. She searched his eyes with hers.

"I want you to love me. Please, Patrick. Show me what love is," she whispered.

Patrick swallowed.

"You're sure? I can take it slow, we don't have to do this now," he said softly, his light eyes awash with concern.

"I know," Morgan said simply and smiled gently at him. She'd never been more certain of a decision in her life.

"It would be my honor," Patrick said and Morgan grinned at the formality of his words.

"Then I'd like to belong to you," Morgan said and Patrick groaned, leaning forward to nip at her lip.

She gasped as he lifted her and turned, laying her down on the bed. The warm light of the setting sun shone through her window, casting the bed in a golden glow that seemed to highlight the moment. Morgan watched as Patrick stood and quickly stripped, gaping at the ridge of muscles that ran down his stomach before disappearing into his boxer briefs. She gulped at the hard length contained therein, wondering how it would feel. Would he hurt her?

"It'll be okay," Patrick said, following her eyes and then flashing her a wicked smile full of promise that had her insides heating.

"I…I got something for you," Morgan said shyly as he moved back to the bed. Patrick put his hands at his waist and tilted his head at her.

"Oh?"

Morgan smiled up at him and then sat up, pulling her loose blouse easily over her head and quickly divesting herself of her skinny jeans. She knelt on the bed, looking up at him hopefully.

"Dear lord," Patrick said, his eyes taking in her matching red silk bra and underwear.

"You like?"

"Yes. Oh you meant the underwear? Yeah, that's nice too." Morgan chuckled and mock smacked him on the shoulder as he rolled onto the bed, snagging her with his arm to roll her under him.