Page 48 of A Highlander’s Heart

“Was she sick?” Emma asked as she wandered around the hut. It didn’t appear to her that the healer before this one was much better than Margaret. Her stores were low, and the garden behind the small hut that should have contained herbs to use for healing was overgrown.

“Yes. I mean, she said she was sick, but I think she drank too much brandy.”

Emma’s brows rose. “Not while she was working?”

The lass shrugged. “I think so.”

“Then, Margaret, it looks to me like we have a lot of work to do. I have a great amount of healer things I brought with me. The laird has ordered the room next to our bedchamber to be emptied so I can use that as a healing room.”

The lass looked surprised at her words, but merely nodded.

“What say ye and I go upstairs and bring down some of the items? I would like to leave my herbs up there so I can make potions and tonics.”

Margaret merely nodded again. “Aye.” She hesitated for a moment. “Will ye teach me how to make potions and tonics?”

“Aye. Once I start doing some of the chatelaine duties I won’t have as much time to dedicate to healing.” She smiled. “Much to my regret. I really like my healing duties.”

She headed to the door and turned. “Since there is no one here right now, would ye like to come with me and help me bring the things down that will stay here instead of in my bedchamber?”

They set off, Margaret asking numerous questions, which made Emma happy since she liked the idea of having an enthusiastic partner, anxious to learn.

The two of them spent time emptying Emma’s trunk with her supplies in it. There was still a line in the great hall when they passed through to return to the healing hut.

She had to make sure when it came time for the nooning that a tray was brought to Morgan, since she was afraid he was tiring again. After that brutal trip here, followed by the attack on Patrick, he needed bed rest. But trying to convince her stubborn husband was not an easy thing.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“It’s been two bluidy weeks since everyone turned against me!” Emma shouted at Morgan as he finishing pleating his plaid, readying himself for the day.

He looked over at her with a surprise expression on his face. “Emma, I ne’er heard ye speak like that.”

She fisted her hands at her side. “That is because I’ve ne’er been this angry before.”

Morgan sighed. “I have problems, Emma. Many of them. I’m finding my way, too. I can’t make the people like ye.” He finished fastening the neckline of his léine and started tugging on his boots.

Morgan still limped but it was slight enough that she felt confident he would be pain-free soon. He didn’t practice on the list, which she thought had more to do with pride since he didn’t want to appear unable to swing a sword properly in front of his people.

She stopped admiring her husband and replayed his words in her head. “Do ye ken how that sounds? I had plenty of friends at Castle Leod. I dinna need anyone to make people like me. The clan actually liked me, and respected me as a healer.”

“Give them time. They will like ye here as well.” He stared at his waistline then rearranged the pleats in the front of his plaid.

“Like me! They loathe me. Thanks to whoever turned everyone against me—and I have my suspicions—they all consider me the enemy. I keep looking behind me, waiting for an attack.”

He placed his hands on his hips and glared at her. “I have my own problems. My limp is a constant reminder to everyone that I was absent from the clan for a month and that during that time Patrick took over what he’d planned to be a permanent spot as laird of the clan.”

She waved her arm around. “So throw him in the dungeon and be done with it!”

Morgan walked over to her and placed his knuckle under her chin. “I doona want to fight with ye, lass. But ye must understand that with the problems I have ye need to fix this yourself.” Then he kissed her on her nose like a bairn, and left the room.

Emma picked up one of her heavy garden boots and threw it at the door.

She sat on the bed and held back the tears. She couldn’t understand what had happened. Things had started out so well when she’d arrived.

Margaret had been happy to learn healing from her, and she’d been more than welcomed in the kitchen. Mary was happy to learn new foods from her, and they spent time visiting with each other over cups of tea and mugs of ale.

She’d taken over the healing herb garden, and just as she was beginning to see some of her hard work pay off, she was visited by Maisie, who told her there were others to do that job.

Maisie.