Page 13 of A Highlander’s Heart

“Ye’d no’ be able to do ‘interesting’ things in the shape y’er in.” She couldn’t help grinning at the mon again. No doubt he used that charm on all the lasses. But she couldn’t let him work it on her.

“Ye are a sassy lass.” He narrowed his eyes and his smile faded. “And it appears ye ken too much about what I just said. Are ye married, then?”

“Nay.” She huffed and placed her hands on her hips. “But now we need to concentrate on ye healing. Ye need to eat before I can give ye the tisane.”

This mon was able to distract her in a way that had never happened to her before. She’d helped many warriors over the years, but to her they were just patients.

And she needed to remember that was exactly what Morgan Gunn was.

*

Morgan watched Emma Mackenzie stride from the room. No sashaying or gently gliding along for her. She was all business. Yet she still managed to tempt him with the sway of her generous hips.

He must truly be bored if he was casting his eyes in the direction of a woman named Emma. Although ’twas a better pastime than thinking about his future. If he could no’ continue on with Second-in-Command to the Gunn, he had no idea what he would do for the rest of his life.

How would he earn a living?

How would he take a wife and raise a family, which was something he had always planned to do one day?

And what would happen to him if the Gunn passed away and Morgan became the laird? Unable to swing his sword or limping from a poorly healed gash on his leg? Who would honor and respect him as laird of the Gunn clan?

He managed to get the broth down without spilling too much, but he would be cursed before he would ask Emma to help him with it. The bread was tasty, but there simply was not enough of it.

The door to the healing hut opened and a woman entered, her hand wrapped around the upper arm of a lad about eleven winters. After looking around, she said, “Where is Emma?”

The lad had tracks of dirt down his face from crying, along with a growing black eye and blood tricking down his chin from his lip and nose. ’Twas obvious he’d been in a fight.

“She is no’ here right now, but I doona think she will be gone long.” He had no idea why he was getting involved with those who came to the healing hut. He was a patient.

In pain.

Still hungry.

And a Gunn.

The enemy.

The woman leaned down to the lad and although he didn’t hear her words, from the sound of her voice she was very angry.

Emma entered a few minutes later and turned her attention to the woman with the lad.

“Emma, ye must take a look at Alasdair’s nose. I think the fool lad broke it in a fight with Daniel.” The woman glared at her son. “Again.”

Emma looked at the lad and shook her head as she moved him near the window with better light.

Morgan enjoyed watching Emma work. She was truly a gifted healer. Her manner with her patients was interesting to watch. She had both the mom and the lad calmed down by the time she assessed the damage and pronounced his nose not broken, but bruised.

Both left the healing hut with a smile on their faces. The door no sooner closed then Enoch from the kitchen came in. “Did ye speak with the laird about my training?”

Emma wiped her hands dry on a clean linen and smiled at the lad. “Aye. I dinna have a great deal of time to speak with him, but he said after talking to Jemima he thought training with me was a good idea.”

The lad grinned.

Emma glanced over at Morgan, and then looked at Enoch. “Ye can start yer training by gently turning Morgan over—be careful of his ribs—so I can see how the gash on his leg looks.”

The lad would probably make a good healer. His gentle touch caused very little pain in his ribs. He wasn’t happy to hear Emma draw in a deep breath when she looked at his leg.

“What?” he said.