Page 12 of A Highlander’s Heart

Obviously grinding her teeth, Emma closed the door a tad more enthusiastically than necessary. Once again he berated himself for snapping at her. She was a kind, considerate woman and from what he’d seen, a capable healer.

After all, he was her clan’s enemy, and he was here in her care because his clan attacked their castle to kidnap one of their clan members. He was lucky they hadn’t thrown him in the dungeon and left him there to rot.

He tried to tell himself it was the pain and the lack of a future that had him acting this way, but he knew in his heart he was fighting the attraction he felt for the healer. If he could keep her angry with him, he would not have to worry about Emma.

Emma.

*

It took her a while to have a few lads to lug the water from the creek to the healing hut and for Enoch to be released from his duties so he could place Morgan in the tub. She hadn’t done it often, usually just wiping the patient down with cloths was enough, but she was concerned with this injury. She needed to continue to monitor Morgan’s leg and give more attention to his ribs. However, right now the fever was the priority.

She had directed Enoch and the lads on where to set up the bath and then left to eat her noon meal and bring food back to Morgan. “Be sure to keep his leg out of the water,” she added as she left.

“How is yer patient doing?” Daniel asked as Emma took a seat at the table next to the laird. Normally she wouldn’t sit with the laird and his family, but with the warriors taking their break the hall was quite filled up, so Daniel had waved her over. Plus, she thought he wanted more information about her patient.

“The main problem is assessing the bruised ribs and the infection that just started on the deep gash on his leg.”

Daniel shook his head. “We should dump him in a wagon and drag him back to Gunn Castle and let their healer take care of him.”

“Daniel!” His wife, Beth, frowned at him. “If ye are going to kill the mon, just do it, but doona drag him around with crushed ribs, a serious gash, and a fever.”

He nodded. “Aye, wife, as always ye offer good advice. I’ll plunge a dirk into his heart when I am done with my meal.”

Both Beth and Emma gasped. “Ye will no’ plunge a dirk into my patient,” Emma said.

Daniel smiled. “I was just making a joke, lass.” His smile quickly turned into a frown. “However, once the mon is on the mend, it will be necessary to speak with him.”

She heard Beth say under her breath, “Be nice, husband.”

Emma finished her meal and went to the kitchen to have a tray made up for Morgan. She’d had Jemima make a bone broth and placed a bowl of it with a piece of bread onto the tray. With a fever, it might be difficult to get him to eat, but the food would help start the healing process.

Morgan appeared to be asleep when she entered the room. The tub of water sat near the fire and after looking at her patient it appeared he’d had his bath. She felt his forehead, which was warm, but not as hot as before.

He opened his eyes. “Did I die and go to heaven? It seems they sent the bonniest angel to show me the way. And here I thought I’d be sent to Hell.”

She couldn’t help the smile forming on her lips and felt something warm spread in her middle. Then she chastised herself. Why did that statement affect her? This mon was her enemy. His clan had taken her da’s life. ’Twas better when Morgan was grousing at her. She didn’t want to like him. Or find him attractive.

Even though she did.

What she was having a hard time with was how quickly he switched his moods. One minute he was charming and the next he was grouchy.

She took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, Gunn, this is no’ heaven and I am no’ an angel. However, I did bring ye food. Nothing heavy, just broth and bread.”

He shifted a bit so he could see her better. “If ye expect me to get better, ye need to feed me more than bairn’s food.”

She shook her head. “Ye sound like Adair Mckenzie. Ye have had a serious injury and now ye’ve a high fever. ’Tis better to give ye food that is easy on yer stomach for a day or two.”

Morgan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The seriousness of his voice and the fear etched on his face tightened the muscles in her stomach.

“Lass, I’m a warrior. I need the use of my arms and legs. ’Tis verra important to me that I am able to swing a sword and stand on two solid legs.”

He reached out and took her hand, his eyes widening, as something strange and unknown passed between them. They stared at each other, and Emma’s heart began to pound.

Suddenly this handsome, frightened mon became just another patient, not the enemy. Truth be known, Morgan Gunn was not just another patient either, but one who was able to throw her senses and feelings into a spin.

Feeling a bit confused, she pulled her hand away. “I am doing my best for ye, but bruised ribs take a while to heal and the gash on yer leg is causing yer fever, and honestly giving me some concern. That could take quite a while to heal since ’tis a deep cut. Now, ye need to eat and then I have a tisane for ye to drink that will ease ye.”

“Nay. I doona want a tisane.” He shook his head and offered her a slow, little-boy smile and winked. “Now if ye bring me some of that whisky ye dumped on my leg, that would help with the pain and make me sleep. Or do other interesting things.”