Morgan's Marriage

by Lindsay McKenna

  The rough gentleness of his voice tore at Laura, and she closed her eyes and choked back a sob. “Y-yes…”

  “Then lean on me when you feel like it.”

  She sniffed and opened her eyes. “Morgan, you’re already over the top with your own stuff. I’m not about to add mine to it. You’re strong, I know that. But even you have your limits.”

  His smile was very male and very caring as he studied her in the gray light of dawn filtering through the living room windows. “Let me be the judge of that, Laura.”

  “Our marriage never worked that way,” she argued weakly.

  “Then,” he said, pushing several tendrils of hair away from her temple, “it’s about time for our marriage to change.”

  Chapter 9

  Shortly after he’d finished talking to her about his Peruvian prison memories, Morgan had taken a hot shower and gone back to bed. Laura had remained up, too tense and shaken by their conversation to fall asleep. She tried needlepoint, but her hands trembled too much, and her concentration kept ranging back over Morgan’s three months at Ramirez’s hands.

  When the dawn turned to daylight, she changed from her nightgown and robe into a heavy, rainbow-colored sweater, Levi’s and hiking boots. She found a sheepskin coat in the closet, and though it was too big for her, she shrugged it on and left the cabin.

  The walk along the bank of Oak Creek, its yellowed grass interspersed with fresh shoots of green, all thickly coated with frost, helped clear her mind and emotions—to a degree. Her hands tucked in the fleece-lined pockets, Laura watched a bald eagle wing silently down the creek, looking for a fish for its breakfast. The appearance of the dark brown fishing eagle with its brilliant white head and tail shook her out of her own lingering sadness for a moment.

  Then she looked up and saw a second eagle circling a little higher in the sky. She stood on the bank, her neck craned, realizing vaguely that bald eagles mated for life. In some ways she was like that loyal eagle, she realized—it would take death to separate her from Morgan. Well, that had almost happened, she thought glumly. Her heart had actually stopped beating on the deck of that Coast Guard helicopter, though she didn’t remember much of the actual event, except that she’d been surrounded by brilliant white light. When she’d regained consciousness, Noah, Morgan’s brother, had been leaning over her, gripping her hand, looking at her worriedly.

  Why couldn’t she feel happy about Morgan’s returning memory? Laura kicked herself mentally for being selfish. She should be happy for him, regardless of what piece of memory it was that came to him. Resolving to try to find the strength somewhere within her to remain Morgan’s staunch guiding light, she returned to the cabin.

  “What time is it?” Morgan asked thickly as he moved slowly out of the bedroom, rubbing his face tiredly.

  Laura swallowed hard. “It’s noon.” Morgan wore only blue-and-white-striped pajama bottoms, and they outlined his magnificent lower body to perfection. As he stood in the living room doorway, looking at her where she sat near the warmth of the wood stove, she savored his drowsy state. He had put on at least ten pounds in the week they’d been at the cabin. He was eating like the proverbial workhorse, and his once-pronounced ribs were fleshed out again, his barrel chest covered with black hair—a chest she’d slid her hands provocatively across so many times before. An ache centered deep in her womb, and she knew she wanted to physically love Morgan. Her mind whispered that it was impossible right now, and she felt the bitter blade of truth cutting into her heart again.

  Morgan dropped his hands from his face and hungrily absorbed the vision of Laura’s slight form. He thought she looked beautiful in the colorful sweater, which hung halfway down her long, curved thighs. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she sat a few feet from the stove, warming herself. Sunshine lanced through the southern windows, and Morgan noticed a sheepskin coat on the couch. He moved toward her and instantly saw her face change. Or did he?

  Still groggy from his exhausted sleep, he moved to within inches of her, facing the fire and holding his own hands toward it. Laura got up and moved away from him until a few feet separated them. “Did you crash on the couch here after I went back to bed?” he asked.

  Laura shook her head. “No…I was too upset by what you shared with me. As soon as it got light, I took a long walk down by the creek.”

  “That explains the coat,” he muttered.

  “Oh…yes.” Morgan didn’t miss much, but then, he never had. Nervously, she sat down again on one of the chairs, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. Being this close to Morgan was torture of another type. He was so tall and male—and she ached to touch him, to memorize his body with her hands and lips. To explore him leisurely with love.

  “Did you see my trout?” he asked, a grin edging his mouth. He rubbed his face, feeling the bristles of his beard. He needed to shave.

  Laura laughed faintly. “No, I didn’t see him, but I saw two beautiful bald eagles flying up the canyon, looking for breakfast.”

  “Eagles?” Morgan raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know Arizona had bald eagles.”

  She shrugged delicately. “Well, unless I’ve completely flipped out, I saw them.” She managed a half laugh. “Maybe I was hallucinating. Anymore, I have a tough time distinguishing reality from…everything else.”

  Morgan felt his heart squeeze in response to her whispered words. He saw the translucence of her features, saw her delicate beauty and her fragile, vulnerable state. Right now he felt more solid, more sure of himself than she did, he realized. But then, she had been the first to be rescued—had gone through two grueling months alone, wondering if he was alive or dead. She’d taken a more brutal daily beating than he had, in many ways.

  Scowling, he draped his hands on his narrow hips and studied the sun-splashed pine floor, shining golden beneath his feet. “Let’s do something together today,” he began in a low voice. “Something different. Fun.”

  “What?”

  Morgan lifted his head and studied her in the gathering silence that stretched between them. He saw hope suddenly spring to life in her eyes and in the way her lips parted. He’d kissed those beautiful, full lips. He’d tasted Laura’s passion, and he wanted a hell of a lot more of it. Tearing his thoughts from his own naked needs, he said, “Remember, Rachel told us about a pretty spot about two miles up Oak Creek? She said it was a nice area for a picnic.” He twisted his head and looked out the window. “Looks to me like a nice enough day—blue skies and sunshine.” Settling his gaze back on her, he said, “How about it? Are you up to fixing us a picnic lunch? I’ll find a blanket, make some coffee, and we’ll spend part of the afternoon exploring that area.”

  “Yes—I’d like that, Morgan.”

  “We need a break,” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “We’ve gone through a lot in such a short amount of time. I’d like to change the pattern and let nature take our attention for a while.”

  Laura nodded. “It sounds wonderful, Morgan. Let’s do it.”

  His grin was uneven but boyish. “Together…”

  Laura tried to hide her awe of the place Rachel Donovan called “the pond.” It wasn’t actually a pond, but rather a place where Oak Creek spilled into a widened area perhaps two hundred feet in diameter. There the rushing water became as smooth and glassy as a lake before narrowing to a bottleneck at the other end and once again becoming a tumbling, rushing creek. The bank where they stood was rocky; on the other side rose a red sandstone cliff capped with a black lava layer a hundred feet thick.

  The cliff stood a good two thousand feet high. Trees, most of them smooth, white-barked sycamores interspersed with aspens and evergreens, crowded the water’s banks. Luckily, Morgan was good at following the infrequently used trail that paralleled the creek, and they’d managed to discover the beautiful spot.

  He stood on the bank now, appreciating the dark, clear pool of water before them. He’d put on a light blue chambray shirt and tan chinos with his
leather hiking boots for the day. He turned and smiled as Laura joined him. “Pretty spot, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “When I think of Arizona, I think of desert, not a mountainous spot like this.”

  “Reminds me more of Montana’s trout creeks high in the Rockies,” he murmured, agreeing with her.

  “You did a lot of hunting and fishing with your father, growing up, as your family moved from one Air Force base to another,” Laura told him.

  Scratching his head, he said, “I don’t remember much about that, but I feel it.” The breeze was warm and intermittent. As Morgan studied Laura, whose face was flushed from hiking at the six-thousand foot altitude, he smiled. For some reason, she’d left her hair loose and free—the way he liked it—instead of capturing it in a ponytail or braids today. Sunlight danced across her crown, creating a halolike effect.

  Reaching out, he gently grazed her hair. “You look like my guardian angel at this moment,” he whispered thickly. Allowing his hand to fall back to his side, he saw the surprise in her expression as she turned to look up at him. “Inside me—” he tapped his chest where his heart lay “—I know you’ve always been an angel looking out for me, haven’t you?”

  Laughing and embarrassed, Laura turned and took the red plaid blanket and, with his help, laid it out on the creek bank in the sunshine. “Angel? Oh, I don’t know, Morgan. I may look like an angel to you, but believe me, I can fall off that pedestal pretty quickly. I have my days,” she warned with a smile.

  Morgan eased the pack off his back. He’d already rolled up his sleeves. “I can’t imagine that even on your worst day you’re really all that bad,” he teased back. He began taking the food and the thermos of coffee from the knapsack and arranging them on the blanket. The temperature was in the high fifties and the sun made it seem even warmer. He hadn’t worn a coat. Though Laura had, she’d shed it halfway to this spot of heaven on earth, because hiking at the high altitude, on a slow, continual upgrade, was enough to heat up anyone.

  Settling on the blanket, her legs tucked beneath her, Laura sorted through the bacon-lettuce-and-tomato sandwiches. Morgan sat less than a foot away, legs crossed, a contentment she’d not seen since his kidnapping visible on his features.

  “I’m not all sweetness and light,” she warned again.

  “What were you like on your bad days?” he wondered, slowly unwrapping one of the thick sandwiches.

  Laura opened the thermos and poured them each a cup of steaming, black coffee. “I could get in snits, Morgan.”

  “Over what?” he asked, munching on the salty, tasty fare. He enjoyed watching every movement Laura made. She had such inborn grace, it was like watching a ballerina dance. When he realized she wasn’t going to eat, he unwrapped another sandwich and handed it to her. She reluctantly took it, after setting her coffee aside.

  “Well?” he prodded amiably, “what would set you off? More than likely, I imagine it was something I did or didn’t do. Right?” He kept his tone light and teasing, sensing that was what she needed right now.

  Laura held the sandwich and looked toward the pool, dancing with sparkles of sunlight. The sky above them was such an intense, deep blue that it took her breath away, and the persistent sun warmed her inner coldness. With birds providing a private symphony around them, the spot was, indeed, heaven on earth, as Rachel had promised. Laura wished she could truly absorb the peace and solitude that surrounded them, instead of feeling like a torn-up battlefield inside.

  “Laura?”

  At the sound of Morgan’s deep, thoughtful voice, she roused herself. “Sorry,” she murmured.

  “Why don’t you eat a little something?” He gestured to the sandwich in her hands. “Come on, at least half?”

  Making a face, she bit into the sandwich and chewed, though it tasted like cardboard to her. Laughing inwardly, she admitted to herself that her five senses had been horribly skewed by the rapes. Not wanting to dwell on those thoughts, she forced herself to swallow, the food becoming a lump in her throat. She reached for the coffee and took several sips.

  “Look,” Morgan said, pointing across the shallow expanse of the pond, “there’s a deer path or something going up that cliff face.”

  Peering in the direction he was pointing, Laura saw a small, thin path that appeared frequently. “Yes, I see it now.” She smiled at him. “You’re more eagle than you realize.”

  “The deer must come off the top of that wooded rim.” He gestured to the lava crown, thickly forested with pine trees, that topped the cliff. “They probably come down at dawn and dusk, to drink and feed.”

  Responding to his enthusiasm, Laura said, “Why don’t we go over there after lunch and look for prints in the sand? I’ll bet you can tell me what animals come down to drink.” She wanted desperately to turn the spotlight on Morgan, not herself.

  He studied her intently for a moment, watching a blush cover her cheeks as she purposely avoided his stare. Sensing her internal panic, he’d backed off from making her reveal parts of herself. Morgan was a little amazed he could feel her emotions so clearly. Had he always? He wanted to ask, but decided against it. Damn his hungry need to know everything about Laura. He was pushing her, and it was the last thing she needed right now.

  “Okay,” he murmured, “after you eat your sandwich, we’ll find a place to cross above this pond. We’ll go over there and test what I think I’ve forgotten.”

  “I’d like that.” Relief flowed through Laura and she bowed her head, forcing herself to eat the sandwich. She knew Morgan would give her grief if she didn’t eat, and she wanted to avoid any kind of confrontation today. Instead, she wanted to pretend their awful past hadn’t happened—that they were simply enjoying the day and each other—as they would have before the kidnapping.

  “Look at this,” Morgan said as he crouched on the bank. “I see raccoon, skunk and deer tracks.”

  Laura knelt nearby in the thin ribbon of sand along the bank. Everywhere else, pebbles, rocks and boulders followed the twisting, winding creek. They had found a place above the neck of the pool to cross, and her fingers still tingled where Morgan had gripped her hand to help her safely across the wet, slippery stones to the other side.

  “What about here?” she said, noticing another, much larger print.

  Frowning, Morgan moved around her and in the direction she pointed. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered, lightly touching the imprint in the sand.

  “What?”

  “If I’m not mistaken, that’s a cougar print.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  He shook his head, looking around for more. “No, I’m not. I’m glad we’re here together. If this cat was hungry and there was only one of us, he might think he’d found lunch the easy way.”

  Laura laughed lightly and stood. “He’d take one look at me and think I was far too skinny for a meal.”

  Morgan grinned and rose to his own full height. In that moment, Laura looked blindingly beautiful to him. The wind had tousled her hair to frame her flushed features, and her dark blue eyes sparkled. Unable to help himself, he walked over and held her face between his palms. Looking deeply into her widening eyes, he said thickly, “You know, I was worried at first when I didn’t recognize you, Laura. I remember drawing a blank when you told me your name and that you were my wife.” His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly. “But the more I’m around you, the more I share time and space with you, it really doesn’t matter anymore to me.”

  Laura closed her eyes and absorbed his quiet strength, the unexpected touch of his hands upon her, feeling guilty of being so greedy for him. “Wh-what do you mean, Morgan?” she whispered, her hands coming to rest on his arms.

  He smiled tenderly. “I mean that even if we don’t have a remembered past with each other, it doesn’t matter anymore to me.” Taking a ragged breath, he murmured, “If today was the first day I’d ever seen you, I know I would learn to care for you….”

  Laura opened her eyes, and studie
d him in the lulling silence. Had she heard correctly? Or, like so many other times, was this some desperate fabrication of her overworked imagination? Morgan had said he cared—about her. She blinked, assimilating his words. He’d not used the word love—in reality, he couldn’t. He’d only known her three weeks, according to his mind, which refused to divulge their rich, wonderful past together.

  It didn’t matter to Laura. She was so emotionally unstable that she would take anything Morgan could give her. Right now, she needed him more than he needed her. Perhaps Dr. Parsons was right: once she felt safe, with Morgan back in her life, she would slowly begin to release all the trauma and pressure she’d endured. Ann had warned her she would have a “letdown,” and that it could make her feel highly volatile and unstable. She realized she hadn’t fully understood the warning—until now.

  Still, Morgan’s words gave her a badly needed sense of hope in the out-of-control world that was flying apart within her, and Laura was wildly aware of his roughened, scarred hands cupping her face. Her lips parted, and in those moments, she saw the change in his penetrating gray eyes, felt the shift of energy around them. Morgan was going to kiss her. And she wanted to feel his kiss again.

  Leaning up on tiptoe, Laura wound her arms around his neck, straining to meet and touch his descending mouth. Nothing had ever seemed so right. Morgan could learn to care for her all over again—whether his memories of them ever returned or not. She would settle for this new caring. But as his lips brushed her, a tiny voice in the back of her head asked her if he was saying these things to ease her anxiety. The old Morgan would never have done that, but Laura had already seen some new, surprising facets to Morgan, completely unlike the man she’d known. Who was the real one? What was important to him now? Was he capable of lying to her to make her feel better?

  The thoughts nipped viciously at her as she felt his groan, his mouth plundering hers with fiery intensity. Laura shoved the nagging ideas aside, melting beneath the onslaught of his powerful mouth. She felt the sandpaper quality of his cheek against hers, felt the explosion of moist breath he released as he took her. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, her hips covered by his large hand drawing her insistently against him. Need flowed through her as her pelvis met and melded solidly with his. He felt so strong and good to her, transforming every square inch of her into a caldron of throbbing heat.