Page 6 of A Highlander’s Heart

She flinched also. “’Tis sorry I am if my hands are cold.”

The swelling in his leg had gone down, but it hadn’t yet returned to normal. Also, she was afraid there might be the beginning of an infection. Instead of ripping out the stitches she decided to wait a few hours and smooth more liniment over it that could stop any infection if used soon enough.

“Shouldn’t yet wrap my ribs so they heal faster?” Morgan asked.

She shook her head. “Nay. Although yer bruise is painful and will take a few weeks to totally heal, wrapping it is not considered the best thing to do because it could affect your breathing.

“Also, ye should take a few deep breaths every hour or so. If it hurts to do that, ye can hold a pillow against ye while ye do that.”

He stared at her. “Are ye making his up? Is this something ye are telling me to keep me stuck in this bed longer?”

Emma fisted her hands at her side, lest she smack the ejjit over the head with something heavy. It was best not to make the patient suffer more than he already was when he’d arrived, no matter how tempting the idea.

She took a deep breath. “I doona make things up to keep my patients under my care longer.” She turned away from him and muttered, “Especially ye.”

Feeling the need to leave the man’s presence, she took another deep breath and said, “I will bring ye something to break yer fast.” She turned on her heel and left the room, experiencing what some she’d heard some describe as seeing red.

If he remained her patient much longer, she would pass out from all the deep breaths she was taking.

Chapter Three

With a mixture of satisfaction and guilt, Morgan watched Emma storm from the room. He had no reason for his rudeness. The healer was a kind and caring lass.

But her name is Emma.

It had been two years since he walked into the warriors’ quarters during the evening meal and caught Emma Gunn with Noah, another warrior, romping in the man’s bed. He’d left the warrior with two black eyes and what he’d thought might possibly be a broken jaw. Fortunately—for Noah—it wasn’t broken, but he did have trouble chewing for a time. And, he’d avoided Morgan after that.

Just as Morgan avoided Emma. He’d never spoken to her again. She later married a warrior from another clan, and he’d learned they had produced a bairn a few months later.

Now he had to deal with another Emma who was beautiful with a wonderful body, and even though he hadn’t known her for long he was certain this Emma had too much honor to ever betray a man.

His thoughts wandered until she returned with his food. He thought that, based on how she’d left in a stunning fury that only made her somehow enticing, she would have preferred to allow him to starve. And yet, she returned.

She carried a tray with a large bowl of porridge, an oatcake smothered in butter and honey, and a cup of ale. Without speaking, her lips tight, and her chin high, she placed the items on the table next to him.

He growled at her.

She frowned then, turned, and fetched a basket from her counter. Then she headed for the door. She didn’t even look at him! Good, he didn’t want to talk to her.

Still, Morgan cleared his throat. She stopped at the door, but didn’t turn around. “Did ye need something, Gunn?”

He should apologize to her again, but with the attraction he was feeling toward the woman—her being both an Emma and the enemy—it was better if he left things as they were. “Nay.”

She hesitated as if fighting with herself, and then turned to him. “I will be back to check on ye later this morning since I have visits to make in the village. In the meantime, I will send one of the men to help ye with….ye ken.” Even with the work she did, she still turned a deep red at the idea of Morgan relieving himself.

That was also intriguing. Unlike his Emma, this Emma apparently didn’t enjoy consorting with men.

When the door closed, and his nemesis gone, he struggled to sit up and move his legs over the edge of the bed to eat like a man, not some invalid. The anger he’d been able to suppress due to the initial pain and panic he’d suffered returned with a vengeance though his breath escaped and his head swam. He fought through it and reached for the food. Mayhap after he filled his stomach he would be less dizzy and less angry.

But it hurt to even take more than a few shallow breaths and lifting his arms to reach for even just the plate was difficult.

Where would he be after this? He pulled the plate close and lifted the oatcake to his lips. Taking a bite, he shook his head, unable to stop dwelling on this annoying injury he’d receive just so his laird and the Sinclair could snatch a married woman away from her husband and home. Then the ejjits had intended to get the woman’s marriage annulled and wed her to his uncle.

Now he was stuck here at the Mackenzie keep with Emma for a healer and was probably headed to the dungeon once he recovered, all for their nonsense.

He was a warrior. Had always been a warrior, the Second-in-Command to the laird. He’d trained and worked his men hard, making sure they were prepared to defend Clyth Castle from attack.

He’d never trained to support the actions of foolish, self-serving men. And now, because of their foolishness, would he even be able to resume his position once he mended? How long would that be? Was this healer correct and he didn’t have a broken rib, only a bruise? And was her treatment correct? When would he be able to swing a sword? Ride his horse into battle?