Page 34 of True Highland Spirit (The Highlander #3)

Morrigan sat in the window seat of the solar, the cold stones freezing her rear. Outside the rain started to fall lightly; gray on black, a colorless landscape. The smell of warm gingerbread wafted through the room. She was not hungry. She was not anything anymore.

She had changed from the angry lass who first began her journey many months ago. She knew she could no longer work as a raider, but more than that, something deep within her had shifted. She used to be confident in who she was, a damned sinner. Life was hellish, but easy.

Her old self might have never returned to McNab Hall, choosing instead to go fight somewhere else until someone finally put her out of her misery. But her old self was gone. Something in her was lighter and it refused to give up. She had… hope. And hope is the most dangerous of all emotions.

Unsure who she was, Morrigan retreated into herself and grieved for what could never be. Yet somewhere deep within, a spark of hope burned.

“Gingerbread!” Andrew entered the room and pounced on the plate like a hungry puppy. The medicine had revived him, as had the presence of his wife Cait who had arrived most unexpectedly.

“Dinna eat it all, ye mongrel. Leave a little for me!” demanded Archie, grabbing a handful.

“I’m taking some for Cait,” Andrew mumbled, his mouth full.

“Ye best hand it over before ye forget,” said Cait, entering the room. Andrew gave her a piece, if somewhat reluctantly. The men settled comfortably in the chairs by the fire, and Cait sat on Andrew’s lap in a manner that turned Morrigan’s stomach.

“How long is she going to be like that?” hissed Cait in a whisper Morrigan could still hear.

“’Till her heart heals, I suppose. Sir Dragonet was a good man,” said Andrew.

“I dinna ken she had a heart,” whispered Cait.

Morrigan wished Cait was right. Without a heart it could not have been broken.

“Dinna fret. She will be back to her cheerful self soon enough,” said Archie.

“I have ne’er seen her cheerful,” said Cait.

“It’s that slight smile she gets when causing someone pain.”

Cait nodded. “That I’ve seen.”

“I can hear ye!” shouted Morrigan.

“Morrigan!” Alys bustled in the room with a bundle of silk in her arms. “Yer best gown, hurry!”

“I winna put on a gown for naught.” Morrigan turned back to the window. More rain. Gray fog. Heavy sigh. Her life was so full.

“But ye must! Archie?” Alys looked to her husband in vain.

“Leave her be. She’ll do what she wants anyway.”

“Nay. A gown it must be,” insisted Alys. “Dragonet is here.”

Morrigan’s head whipped around so fast she fell off the window seat and stumbled to her feet. “Dragonet? Are ye sure? He is here?”

“Aye he is waiting in the hall.”

Morrigan ran for the door, but Alys blocked it with determination, both hands on her hips.

“Ye will put on this gown, Morrigan McNab, or so help me ye’ll wish ye were ne’er born.”

Archie, Andrew, and Cait all stared with open mouths. Alys had never spoken to anyone in such a manner. Even Morrigan stopped short.

“I am familiar wi’ that wish,” Morrigan said quietly.

Alys turned to Archie. “Go downstairs if ye will. Sir Dragonet has come to speak to ye.”

“To Archie? Why?” demanded Morrigan.

“Ye will put on this gown if I have to wrestle it on ye myself!”

Archie, Andrew, and Cait slipped out the door.

“Ye told me to put on a gown before and it all came to naught,” grumbled Morrigan.

“Please, Morrigan.”

“Be quick about it!”

Alys worked fast and laced her into her blue silk gown with great speed. Morrigan’s hair was let down and covered by a lace veil. All the while anxiety and questions bubbled within Morrigan. Why was Dragonet here? Why did he wish to see Archie? Had the shroud been stolen again? Did he need her help?

By the time she raced down the spiral stairs, she was so tense her stomach hurt. What was she going to say to him? Why did he come here? How could she be expected to say good-bye again?

Dragonet stood by the central hearth in the great hall speaking quietly with Archie. When she approached, Archie gave a signal and everyone left the great hall. Morrigan was immediately suspicious. Dragonet was dressed in a fine tunic, hose, and surcoat, with polished black leather boots. The clothes appeared to be new, and she had never seen him so handsomely attired. Her heart beat faster, as it did every time she saw him. This time, it hurt.

“What is wrong? Why did ye come?” she asked.

“I have something for you,” he spoke in a soft, low voice.

“What?”

He held out a scroll, which she took. Opening it, she found writing in Latin.

“What is it?” she asked. “Explain yerself. Why are ye here and no’ in France?”

“It is a decree from the bishop of Troyes. I have been excommunicated from the brotherhood.”

“Excommunicated! But why? Did ye no’ give him everything he asked?”

“I did not give him the shroud. I gave it to Chaumont to take to France to give it to a noble knight who will allow everyone to look upon it, not keep it as a secret relic or use it to gain power like my father.”

“So he was angry at ye.”

“Quite.”

“But excommunicated! Can he do that?”

“I have been expelled from the brotherhood, not the Church.”

“I dinna ken…”

“I am no longer a monk.” A slow smile crept onto Dragonet’s face.

Morrigan sucked in a great gasp of air. Not a monk? Not

a

monk!

“I took the books and scrolls we found in the cave and sold them to the abbey,” he continued. “I used some of them to purchase back from the Church a certain section of land purchased by the Templars, whose deed was inherited by Barrick and then given to the Church.”

“Our farmland,” Morrigan’s voice wavered as a tremor of raw emotion coursed through her.

“In exchange for the illuminated Bible I was also given this.” He reached down to a bag by the hearth and pulled out the silver box.

Morrigan gasped again. “The box we found?”

Dragonet nodded.

“Is it still full of treasure?”

Dragonet nodded again.

“For me?”

“Given certain conditions.”

“Which are?”

Dragonet set the box down and took her hands in his. “I love you, Morrigan McNab. I have not much, but what I have, I give to you. If you would consent to be my wife, I shall be happy for the rest of my days.”

Morrigan began to shake with emotion. “I thought ye were lost to me. I thought we could ne’er be together. I thought…” Her words were choked silent by a half sob.

He drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. Morrigan held tight as her knees gave way. She was where she belonged. She was finally home.

“Do you… do you mean to say yes or no?” asked Dragonet, his voice constrained.

“Aye! Yes! I will marry ye.”

“Yes!” Dragonet hugged her close and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around once. “I feared you would say no.”

“Why would I do a fool thing like that?”

“The last time you saw me, you said you never wished to see me again.”

“Because I loved ye so terrible bad, it hurt.”

“I love you too, Morrigan. But sometimes… often you do not do as I wish. I wanted to make a proposal you could not resist.”

“Shame on ye for thinking ye could buy my affection. Ye can bring me no better gift than yerself. All I need is ye.”

“So… am I to wish ye felicitations?” Archie’s head peeked into the doorway.

“Yes, thank you,” said Dragonet with a great smile.

“Why did ye wish to speak to my brother?” asked Morrigan.

“To get my blessing on his asking ye to marry him,” announced Archie, clapping Dragonet on the shoulder.

“I would have wed ye even if Archie said no,” murmured Morrigan. “And Archie would have married me off to any man who could draw breath.”

Archie laughed. “Verra true! Come in everyone! ’Tis time to celebrate!”

“I ken how I wish to celebrate,” whispered Morrigan to Dragonet. Her body came alive when touching his. Colors were vibrant, sounds were like music, and his physical closeness sent ripples of excitement coursing through her. “We need to find a priest before the sun sets.”

“Did I mention how much I love you?” Dragonet kissed her sweetly on her smiling mouth, then pulled her close to do more serious work.

“Andrew!” called Archie. “Go find that hermit we got lying around and tell him m’sister needs to get herself wed before she is utterly debauched on the floor o’ the hall.”

“At least the floor is clean, dear,” said Alys, wiping a tear from her eye.

“No’ quite what I was worrit about, but good to know nonetheless,” said Archie.

Morrigan heard very little of the rest, focusing instead on the growing desire Dragonet was building inside her. Unfortunately the hermit, who was sometimes called upon to do the work of a priest, could not be found until after supper. An eternity to wait for the anxious lovers.

Finally, the hermit was able to hear their vows. Admittedly he was not a formal priest, but one was not required by Scottish law to wed. One did not need a hermit either, but it was tradition for the McNabs, and added a nice touch of formality to the proceedings.

“I do,” said Sir Dragonet with great sincerity.

“I do, too! Be quick, man!”

“I now pronounce ye—”

Morrigan grabbed Dragonet and locked her lips to his. Dragonet swept her into his arms and carried her to the stairs without breaking the kiss. By the time they reached the fourth floor, Dragonet was breathing hard but Morrigan was still in his arms. He staggered over the threshold and into Morrigan’s chamber, slamming the door closed behind him with his foot and collapsing onto the bed with Morrigan.

“I hope ye have not worn yerself out,” laughed Morrigan. “I have a busy night planned for ye.”

“I am yours to command!”

Morrigan lay on her side next to Dragonet, who was stretched out on his back. “I canna believe that for once being in bed wi’ ye is where I am supposed to be.”

“I hope that does not lessen the appeal.”

Morrigan looked over his muscular lean body, his full lips, the promising bulge in his breeches. “Not at all.”

“Good. For as a wedded couple we have a certain mandate we must follow.”

“And what is that?”

“We shall become the one flesh, as it says in the Bible, and never deny the other the… er… benefits of the flesh.”

“I defer to yer superior wisdom of the Scriptures, and I am prepared to do my wifely duty.”

Dragonet smiled. “God is good.”

“Indeed! Now let’s get these breeches off ye.” Morrigan jumped up and pulled off Dragonet’s boots. She unbuttoned his surcoat, winning herself a lazy smile from Dragonet.

He slowly sat up, removed his surcoat and tunic and turned her around to undo her laces. After several minutes Morrigan began to curse. “Take a bloody knife to it! Get me out of this thing!”

“And incur the wrath of Alys? I think not. Patience, my love.” He slipped one hand down her bodice, which kept her happy for several more minutes until he could undo her properly. She took out her hair pins, placing her poisoned pin far from reach, and removed the gauzy veil, much to his appreciation. In a few moments they both stood before the other in the same condition in which they entered the world.

“You are beautiful.”

She shook her head. “Nay, no’ me.”

“I say you are, and as you can plainly see, I get two votes.”

Morrigan giggled. He put his hands on her waist and lay her down in the bed. She cuddled up to him, her head on his chest, her thigh over that second vote he claimed for himself.

He made a happy groaning sound and ran his hand down her back and squeezed her backside. He rolled her over and kissed her until she saw stars. She watched them circle about as he worked his way down her neck to her breast. She arched her back to him, giving herself wholly to the experience, saving nothing. She was where she was meant to be. He was her lover, her husband, her home.

“Speak to me in French,” she purred.

“ Je

t’adore .” He shifted attention to her other breast.

“I adore you too.”

“ Qu’est-ce que je ferais sans toi? ”

“Hmmm?”

“What would I do without you?”

“Be miserable I suppose.” Morrigan ran her hands up and down his back. She could feel the rough edges of the scars his father had given him, yet another reason to be pleased he had not given that bastard the relic.

“ Je

ne

peux

pas

vivre

sans

toi . I cannot live without you.”

“Good we are married, then.”

Dragonet lifted his head to look at her. “I cannot believe we are truly the man and wife. I feel as if I should stop now and run for the hills before your brother finds us.”

“I swear if ye stop now…” She wrapped her legs around him and held him tight.

“Not a chance, mon

c?ur , my heart.” He kissed her lips, her neck, her dangerous earlobes, sending tingling sensations swirling through her.

“More,” she breathed.

“ Oui, mon poulet .”

“Did ye just call me a chicken?”

He moved forward and claimed her for his own. Her breath caught with pleasure, and she forgot all about French. He moved slowly, building sweet tension.

“More!” she demanded.

“ Je

vis

d’amour et d’eau douce . I live on love and fresh water.”

“Why are ye speaking nonsense? Move faster. I want more!”

“ Tu

me

rends

fou ,” he growled, but moved faster until their bodies took over all reason. She closed her eyes, lost in the sensation until something exploded within her, and she clutched him, screaming her release. He drove into her with much force, shuddered, and collapsed on top of her, panting hard.

“Canna… breathe…”

“Sorry.” He rolled off her and onto his side, still holding her close. “ Je

t’aime .”

Morrigan breathed deep. She did not need that one translated to know he said he loved her. She was exactly where she was meant to be. She was loved. For the first time she could recall, everything was how it should be. It was good. Except… “What did ye say?”

“I love you,” he murmured sleepily.

“Nay, before that. Ye said ‘too muh ron foo.’”

Dragonet chuckled. “You make me daft.”

“What? And I thought it was a term of endearment.”

“It was. It is.”

“Doesna sound like it.”

He drew her closer. “Get some sleep. In about an hour I may call on you again to perform your wifely duty.”

Morrigan closed her eyes with a smile. After lying awake for a few moments, she nudged her husband.

“Has it been an hour yet?”