Page 40 of A Highlander’s Heart

Collapsing on top of her, he took a deep breath and slid off her body to settle along her side. It took them a bit of time to catch their breath.

Once they settled down, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Her smile caused a fleeting warmth to rush through his body. One that was not connected to his recent release after a long absence from joining with a woman. This was something that was only Emma.

His wife.

He brushed the damp hair from her forehead and looked into those compelling hazel eyes. “’Tis sorry I am for it to be over so fast, Emma.”

“Fast?”

“Aye. There are things I can do to ye, and for ye, that will make it much more pleasurable. But with us being not too far from the men, I doona think it’s a good idea. Joining can be a noisy thing, as you may have kenned.” He kissed her on the nose and said, “Next time will be in a nicer bed with privacy.”

She smiled and snuggled close to him, her small, warm hand resting on his chest. He took a deep breath and feared this bonny wife of his had already unlocked his heart and soul.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Morgan was looking quite pale and strained as they drew within miles of Clyth Castle. Emma worried that the ride in, and out of the wagon, and the fact that he’d taken her—quietly—every night of their travels had done his recovery harm.

He’d groused at her every time she mentioned it, reminding her of the early days when he’d first arrived at her healing hut. Realizing how stressful returning to the castle must be for him, she didn’t argue back. She knew if things grew too bad, he would turn to her.

Their relationship had grown since their marriage. Of course, it had gotten much better from the time Morgan had been dragged into her healing hut.

She was happy with their nighttime activities, although they didn’t have an actual bed. The men with them were thoughtful enough to spread their wraps far from them at night, but she knew that Morgan took some teasing each morning, which stopped once she joined the men.

Now the time had come for Morgan to stake his claim as laird. She had to admit to some fluttering in her stomach and the beginnings of a headache. Morgan appeared calm, but with how he held his body so stiffly, he was either nervous himself or he was in pain.

They were less than eighty furlongs from the castle when the first Gunn warriors appeared. Two rode in the front with at least thirty behind them. One man at the head of the group carried the Gunn banner.

They either didn’t recognize Morgan, or pretended not to. “Halt!” the warrior next to the one carrying the banner said. “Who goes there?”

Knowing it must be painful, she watched Morgan stiffen his legs in the stirrups and stand. Cupping his hands he shouted, “Morgan Gunn, Laird of the Clan Gunn of Clyth Castle.”

The man carrying the banner shook his head. “Nay. The Laird of the Gunn Clan is dead. He was hanged by the king’s order.”

“I can assure ye I am no’ dead. As I said, I am Laird Morgan Gunn, nephew of Laird Stephen Angus Gunn, and rightful heir.”

The two men leaned close to each other and spoke. The one not carrying the banner said, “Morgan Gunn was taken prisoner at Castle Leod and executed.”

“Nay. I repeat, I am Morgan Gunn, and I was no’ taken prisoner. I was injured in the fake battle waged on Clan Mackenzie and have been working with the healer since then, regaining my strength.”

His body stiffened most likely in anger. His voice rose. “I am no’ dead! I am the rightful Laird of Clan Gunn, and I demand ye move out of the way.”

At those words, there came the ring of all the Mackenzie warriors behind them drawing their swords. The two Gunn men in front of them, the ones to whom they had been speaking, waved at their men behind them, who fumbled. One was having a hard time withdrawing his sword. Another slid from his horse and landed on the ground.

He didn’t move. No one noticed.

Two others looked down at their empty scabbards and shrugged.

Obviously disgusted with the group, Morgan shook his head and waved their warriors on. They rode past the Gunn men, with the two at the head of their group arguing with each other.

*

Once they grew closer to the castle, the men on the rampart began shouting to them.

Morgan held up his hand. The men stopped. He leaned forward, once more cupping his mouth with his hands. “Open the gate. The Laird of Gunn Clan has arrived.”

The men stared at him with their mouths hanging open.

“Open the gate, I command ye,” Morgan shouted.