Page 7 of A Highlander’s Heart

Or even return to Clyth Castle?

She might fix him up just to spend the rest of his life in the Mackenzie dungeon at the whim of her laird.

He dropped the oatcake on the table as a flush of heat swept over him, making him shiver. His wound throbbed as if it only just had occurred; sitting like this was making it worse as the rough sheet and mattress pressed into it. The pain of it radiated up and down his limb and settled in his stomach.

He thought about removing the cloth Emma had wrapped around his leg, but as his head continued to spin and his ribs ached, it seemed like too much effort.

He carefully moved to settle back on the bed with his head on the pillow and stared at the ceiling overhead.

Worse yet, would he ever see the light of day? Or would he be stuck in a dungeon, a warrior in chains, for the rest of his life?

*

Emma stomped away from the healing hut mumbling to herself. She’d never had such a surly patient. Aye, he was in pain. And aye, he was in the care of his enemy’s healer. But his antagonism toward her was unnecessary. Did he think she was going to present him with spoiled or poisoned food?

She took a deep breath to calm herself. Even though her da had been killed in a battle with the Gunns years ago, that didn’t mean she would do a poor job of taking care of her Gunn patient.

First do no harm.

It was a good thing for her to recite that to herself with this patient, so she didn’t smack him in the back of his head. Bluidy hell, she’d never had the urge to physically hurt someone before she met this man.

The great hall still held some of those finishing up their meal. After arranging for one of the male servants to help Morgan with his needs, Emma took a seat next to Fiona, a Mackenzie cousin. She had been married to a Sutherland but with no bairns, she had chosen to return to her home when her husband had died of a wasting disease.

“Ye looked a little cross when ye entered the hall just now,” Fiona said as she smeared honey on her oatcake.

“Aye. No’ so much cross as frustrated. I have a patient—a Gunn—whose horse fell on him during the battle that just ended. He also has a nasty-looking gash on his leg I am also watching since I’m afraid it might become infected.” She should have looked at it when she’d brought him his food, but he’d chased her off with his foul attitude.

She shook her head. “He is surly, cranky, and I’m sure he thinks instead of healing him, I’m going to poison him.”

“A Gunn?” she asked.

“Aye. He’s verra unhappy being at the mercy of a Mackenzie healer.”

Fiona huffed. “Based on what ye said about his injury, it sounds as though he doesn’t have much choice. Since they attacked us, he should be grateful y’er no’ putting poison in his food. Do ye think Daniel will throw him in the dungeon once he’s fixed up? Ye ken—being the enemy who attacked us and all.”

Emma shrugged. “I doona ken for sure. Right now the laird is busy trying to help find Megan. Gregory rushed off, headed to Edinburgh but Daniel sent men after him, so he wasn’t traveling alone.”

Emma took a sip of her ale. “The laird questioned the Gunn warrior and he dinna have any information on it, but he did admit that he’d wondered why they had launched such a feeble attack.”

Fiona leaned closer to Emma. “Is he handsome?”

“I’m a healer, Fiona. I doona notice these things. The mon is in pain.” She hoped her face didn’t turn into a red rose since she had noticed the man’s looks which she had determined were very appealing. But considering how rude he was, his looks meant nothing to her.

Liar.

After breaking her fast, Emma spent time in the garden gathering herbs for healing purposes before heading out to make her visits. Once her calls were finished, she braved what came next as she returned to the healing hut.

Morgan immediately scowled at her. “Where were ye? I thought ye were going to check my leg.”

Emma let out with a deep sigh and ignored his question. “Did someone come in to help ye take care of yer needs?”

He nodded and shifted to his side, not moving his leg, but wincing from the pain in his chest. “This cloth is no’ cold anymore. Did ye expect me to march down to the creek and get my own cold water?”

“No. But there is no need to be nasty about it. Despite what ye think, I have more people than just ye to take care of,” she said. She began adding the herbs she’d collected into the jars where they were stored, hanging some and setting others out to dry and be ground up for salves and tisanes.

Morgan lay on the bed, watching. She was aware of him the whole time, and grew tense waiting for him to make some sharp comment as was his wont. Instead, he was silent, which was somehow worse.

That completed, she repacked the basket for her next trip.