The Highlander's Stolen heart (Macinnes Sisters Trilogy) (10 page)

“I will heat more of the brew for you, and you should eat something if you can,” he said, walking over to the hearth. “We still have some of what Samuel gave us, and tomorrow I will hunt.”

“Where are Samuel and your warriors?” she asked, blaming it on the fever that she had not taken note of their absence before now.

“You and I were the only ones left after the attack,” he explained, setting the pot of brew in the hearth to heat. “My warriors and their horses were nowhere to be seen. As for Samuel,” —he shook his head— “the place appeared deserted when we arrived. The hearth was cold, as if it had not been lit in weeks, no farm animals to be seen, and not a sign of Samuel. It was as if the place had not been occupied for some time.”

A shiver ran through Emma and she hugged herself. “I do not understand any of this.”

Rogan filled the goblet and brought it to her and gently moved her legs over some so that he would have enough room to sit on the bed beside her. “I agree, none of it makes sense. With the ghost warriors attacking us, it is reasonable to conclude that the Dark Dragon has taken your sister.”

“But why?”

“That is my thought. Why take Heather? If he wanted her for a wife, then all he had to do was speak to King James and request her hand in marriage. With all he has done for the King, his request would have surely been granted. And the idea that he abducted her to sell her makes no sense either. He is a wealthy man. So why abduct her?”

“Perhaps he is not interested in a wife, but simply a woman to warm his bed,” Emma said her heart filling with dread.

“From the tales that spread about him, it seems he does not lack for female companionship.” Rogan shook his head. “No. There is more to this abduction and we need to find out what it is.”

“We cannot stop searching for Heather,” Emma said, worried that Rogan would halt the search.

“What search? It is obvious the Dark Dragon has taken Heather, and there is a good possibility that he may have Patience as well.”

“But his men did not take me, and they certainly had the opportunity,” she argued.

“I can make no rhythm or reason out of it, though I have come to realize since the last attack that it is no longer a search for Heather. To get her back, we will have to battle the Dark Dragon.”

Emma lay in bed resting, thinking over what Rogan had said and his reasoning troubled her, for it made sense. She still held hope that Patience had not been captured. If her sister had come to the same conclusion as them, then Patience would surely collect as much information as possible, before she returned home.

She had to get home. Patience could have returned home already or perhaps father had heard something. She turned to Rogan at the hearth stoking the fire. “I need to take a look at my wound.”

He threw the stick he was using into the flames and walked over to her.

He seemed larger to her, his strides more powerful, but it was probably because she felt so vulnerable laying there, feeling much too helpless. She startled when he laid his hand to her brow, though calmed quickly enough, his hand cool against her warm skin.

“Can it not wait? It is better you rest. You grow warmer.”

She was annoyed that the fever continued to not only linger, but to also vary in degrees. If it was not for that, she would be on her horse right now headed home. But fever could prove deadly, and it was not worth taking the risk.

“The morning then?” she asked, knowing his advice was wise.

“Aye, the morning,” he confirmed with a nod.

Emma ate what Rogan gave her, though not all of it. She was not very hungry and she was not sure if it was the fever or worry that caused her lack of appetite. Either way, it was not a good sign and if she was to grow stronger she needed sustenance. So, she forced herself to eat.

She fell asleep with a prayer on her lips for a speedy recovery. A delicious smell woke her and she turned to see something roasting on a spit in the fireplace.

“You have slept the day away again,” Rogan informed her as he approached. His hand went to her brow and he frowned, though made no comment.

He did not have to. Emma felt the heat in her body. The fever had risen instead of diminishing.

“Something smells good,” she said, though she had no want for food.

“I decided to hunt today in hopes that roasted rabbit would tempt your appetite, but from the lack of a smile on your beautiful face, I would venture to guess I was wrong.”

Beautiful face.
No, he did not call her beautiful. It was the fever playing tricks on her.

“I am not hungry at the moment,” she said.

“Perhaps you will be once the meat is done. In the meantime, you can enjoy some more of your brew.”

He sat on the bed beside her, a commonplace action since their arrival, handed her the goblet, and waited until she finished taking a sip to ask, “Who is Daniel?”

Emma stared at him bewildered.

“The fever had you talking. From what I gathered, Daniel is a liar and he somehow hurt you.”

“It was nothing,” she said.

“I disagree. It was something. You ran to your sister Heather for comfort.”

“It happened many years ago,” Emma said, not wanting to recall the troubling memory.

“Tell me about it,” he urged.

“Why?” He would probably find it amusing as most of the villagers had, though not once Patience had gotten done with Daniel. Not another word had been said about it then.

“I care about you. You are future family.”

Her heart swelled with his first few words, then plunged with the ones that followed.

Whatever is the matter with you, Emma?
She silently scolded herself. He belongs to your sister. How many times do you need reminding? Do not make a fool of yourself as you did with Daniel.

“I appreciate that you should care, but I would rather not discuss Daniel with you.”

Perhaps she did not, but he wanted an answer to one particular question. “Did you love him?”

“As I said, I do not wish to discuss it with you,” she reiterated.

He was not used to being denied an answer when he asked a question and her refusal irritated him. “It is a simple enough question. Why not answer me?”

“I do not want to,” she snapped.

“I am your sister’s future husband and—”

“Have no say over me,” she finished.

“But I do. With your father so ill, it will fall upon me to secure a good marriage for you. It is my duty and I will see it done.”

“You most certainly will not,” she said, biting back her anger.

“I most certainly will,” he insisted.

Emma went to sit up, but the pain forced her to stay as she was. She did, however, raise her chin a notch. “Listen well, Rogan MacClennan, you have no say over me now, nor will you ever. It is I who will decide who I wed or if I want to wed at all. I am finding I quite like life without a man and, at the moment, you are helping me to like it even more.”

He leaned forward to within an inch of her flushed face. “And I have no doubt I could change your mind easily enough.”

She closed her eyes against the tingling sensation that suddenly ran through her and seemed to refuse to subside. Her heart began to thump madly and her stomach fluttered at an alarming pace. “I am not feeling well.”

“Is there something I can do?”

“A wet cloth,” she said barely able to speak.

Rogan hurried to cut a strip of cloth from the blanket he had used to bandage her wound and dunked it in the bucket of water he had filled from the rain barrel. He rinsed it and took it to her, though he did not hand it to her.

He folded it and laid it across her brow, pressing it against her heated skin. He waited a moment, then turned it over and pressed it to her cheeks, chin, and then along her neck.

Emma sighed with relief, though worry remained. She was concerned that it was not merely the fever that had affected her. His remark left much to the imagination, and Emma had not been able to help but think what it would be like to make love with Rogan, for that was surely what he had implied. The thought had evoked an unexpected response from her body.

Rogan went and got the bucket of water and sat it by the bed, then returned to his position on the bed beside her. He continued to bathe her face and neck with the wet cloth, rinsing it after it became too warm.

These lusty feelings she was having toward him would not do. They had to stop and distance would be the one way to see to that. “I want to go home,” she said, opening her eyes.

“When you are well enough to travel.”

“My home, not yours,” she clarified.

He did not answer immediately. It was as if he was weighing his words, and Emma knew she would not like what he had to say.

“In time you can go home, but—”

“No, once we return to your home, I will take my warriors and return to my home. I cannot help but wonder if Patience is already there waiting for me with news. She had to have reached the same conclusion as we did. She would know to battle the Dark Dragon alone would be foolhardy. She would return home and devise a solid plan.”

“Liam will let us know what goes on at your home upon his return,” Rogan assured her.

“It matters not to me what you say. I am going home.”

“I will not argue with you while you are in a feverish state, but know this—you go nowhere without my permission. And this time I will make certain of it.”

“You have no right to—”

“Are we going to argue over what has already been established? Your father sent you along with your sisters to my home, knowing I would see to your care. I am responsible for you whether you like it or not.”

“I do not need you—”

“You presently do need me and if we were sensible, we would realize we need each other. You know your sisters well and I know battle well. Together is the only way we will bring them home safely, God willing.”

Her annoyance drained away. He was right and she had no trouble admitting it. “A wise observation and one I completely agree with. But I still think my home is where we may find some answers.”

“You may be right, but first we return to MacClennan land.”

She nodded a bit reluctantly. She may be feverish, but she was coherent enough to understand what he proposed was the best solution, presently, to their problem. If things should change, then plans could change. In the meantime, she would do what was necessary to bring her sisters home.

Unfortunately, that would require spending more time with Rogan than she thought was wise, but she had little choice. Somehow she would get through it, at least she hoped she would.

~~~

Emma was pleased to find she had grown hungry and ate a little of the meat, but as the night wore on she felt her skin prickle with heat. Having tended many ill clansmen, she had observed that illnesses and fevers always seemed to worsen as night approached. Some claimed it was that death liked to stalk in the shadows and darkness of night and toy with poor, sick souls. She did not know what caused it to be so. She only knew that it was wiser to be more vigilant of the ill at night. And so she spoke with Rogan about it.

“That is why I have slept with you since arriving here,” he said after she finished explaining her concerns.

“You have been sleeping with me?”

“Aye, I have and you calm when I do. You also cling fiercely to me.”

Emma was not sure how to respond. It was terribly improper of him and yet it was terribly thoughtful of him. “I want to thank you and admonish you at the same time.”

He laughed. “You can do both if it pleases you. I think the truth of the situation is that we have no choice but to do what must be done. Though I must admit, it is not a chore having you sleep in my arms.”

His words shocked her and a tingle of heat ran through her, though this time she knew it had nothing to do with her fever. And that upset her all the more as did her own words. “I thank you and would not mind if you continued to calm me.”

“As you wish, though you must know one thing.”

“What is that?”

“I sleep naked with you to keep your fever down.”

Emma was truly shocked silent. She could not respond if she wanted to. He was right to have done so and yet terribly wrong of him. No matter how hard she tried, she could not form a sensible response. She simply did not know how to reply to him.

“Since you voice no objections, I will assume the situation is acceptable to you.”

Silence still had hold of Emma’s tongue or did it? Could she actually want him to sleep naked with her? A yawn rose up within her to break the silence.

“Time to sleep,” Rogan announced. “Do you want to stay in your nightdress?”

Emma nodded.

“Sleep well,” he said, “I will join you later.” He walked over to the hearth and returned to tending it.

She sighed softly, glad he would wait to join her. She had no idea how she would react to seeing him naked, and she preferred not to find out. She had no worry that sleep would be difficult, her weakened state would see to that, and it did. She was asleep in minutes.

Rogan waited until he was sure she was asleep and only then did he join her. He had seen worry cross her face when he had informed her that he had been sleeping with her naked. But she had no reason to worry. She was ill. It was unthinkable to even entertain the notion in her condition.

As he disrobed, he pushed a nagging thought aside, one that had been haunting him far too much lately. But it would not go away easily. It continued to poke its head up and torment him.

What if Emma was well and willing, would he deny a chance to bed her?

A muttered oath slipped out when he realized that the thought of such a possibility had turned him hard. Never had he expected to be attracted to Emma. Never had he thought he would find beauty in such a plain female. Never had he expected her to have such an exquisite body. And never had he expected his feelings to grow for his future sister-in-law in ways that were not at all proper.

He slipped into bed with her, though kept his distance. She would find him when she was ready. Until then, he would take the time to control his lust and to remember that she would never be his.

The thought did not set well with him and that troubled him all the more. In the short time they had been here, he had thought more about Emma then he had of Heather. Of course, Emma was ill and needed looking after. So, it was only natural for him to be more concerned about her. But when he did think of Heather, his concerns were more about rescue than how he felt about her. He actually felt nothing for her, but then he had never met her. Given a chance, perhaps they would get along well, maybe even fall in love. What did it truly matter? He had no choice. They had been promised to each other.

Emma no soon as stirred in her sleep, then she reached out to him and he eased her into his arms to rest against him. Though it had only been three nights, he had already grown accustomed to having her there beside him. He favored the way she clung so tightly to him, as if she never wanted to let him go. Truth be told, he did not want to let her go.

His arms tightened around her, holding on to her as strongly as she held to him, as if they both refused to be separated. But separate they must and like the previous days, he would wake before her and leave her reluctantly. It was the way of things. He was promised to her sister Heather, and it would Heather who he wed.

Sleep claimed him along with dreams, and it was not Heather who haunted them.