The Highlander's Stolen heart (Macinnes Sisters Trilogy) (9 page)

“Heather,” Emma cried, another tear spilling from the corner of her eye.

Rogan caressed her brow again, wishing he could rid her of her pain. He hoped she could hear his words and that they helped ease her suffering. “We will find Heather. I promise, Emma, I promise.”

Whether it was his words that calmed her or that her dream had dissipated, he did not know, but he was relieved to see she had quieted.

He reluctantly left her side to prepare the brew as she had instructed, his thoughts weighing heavily on him as he did.

Duty
. It was something that had been drilled into him from a young age. He had an obligation to his clan since he was not only the lone son, but also the only child. His clan’s survival weighed heavily on his shoulders. So duty took precedence over all else—especially love.

He did not search for Heather out of love as Emma did, but strictly out of duty. He felt nothing for Heather. How could he when did not know her? He had recalled seeing her when he had visited the Macinnes clan a few times, but that had been some time ago. He had looked forward to getting to know her. With so many people having spoken so highly of her, he had felt fortunate that his da had secured such a fine woman to be his wife.

Though now, having met and spent time with Emma, he found himself attracted to her never-wavering courage, her persistence in searching for her sister who she loved dearly, and for her exceptionally vast knowledge. There was also her luscious body.

Rogan refused to turn and glance at her stretched out naked on the bed. She was racked with fever and he had no right admiring her body. But damn if it was not a sight he would never forget. The image was forever embedded in his mind and he feared he would never rid himself of it. And worse, he did not want to. And worse yet... the urge to make love to her was growing ever stronger.

He shook his head, though it was not that easy to chase away nagging images. What was it about this plain woman that had him having such salacious thoughts about her? He gave his head another shake and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Besides, he had to pay attention and get the mixture right or it would not help Emma.

It proved easier to prepare the brew than to get her to take it. He finally got a few mouthfuls of it into her. Afterwards, she seemed to settle into a comfortable sleep, and he took the time to take stock of the cottage, particularly to see if there was any food available to them.

Shortly after nightfall was when Emma grew restless and her fever spiked. He did everything Emma had instructed him to do to bring down the fever, but he feared the fever worsened rather than improved.

She was so restless that he worried that she would somehow cause the wound more damage, so he made a decision. He decided it was best to join her and keep her still in his arms. The one problem was that he feared his garments might worsen her fever.

He could think of only one solution. He stripped naked and got in bed with her, taking her in his arms. She nestled contentedly against him, as if she had been waiting all along for him. And not only did she drift comfortably off to sleep... but so did he.

Rogan woke before Emma the next morning and was relieved to find she was no longer hot, though she was warm. Her fever still lingered, though gratefully not as bad as yesterday. It was easy to ascertain that her fever did better, since her naked body was sprawled across his. Her breasts were pressed against his chest and her leg hugged his so hard that he could feel the soft snatch of hair between her legs nestled against his thigh. Her arm lay draped across his middle, as if laying claim to him, which all had served to turn him hard instantly. She had not stirred a slow arousal in him... no, she had turned him rock-hard in mere seconds. Something he had never experienced before.

He had to get out of bed and away from her and get his engorged lust under control. He began to ease himself away, a task more difficult than he would have thought since Emma clung greedily to him as he tried to slip out of her grasp.

He soothed her with reassuring words and the worry that knitted her brow and scrunched her eyes eased. His own brow creased when he realized how pretty she was in sleep. All her features softened and he noticed that she had the most beautiful skin. It was flawless, not a scar or blemish stained it. Beauty was there, if one only bothered to look.

His gentle words relaxed her hold on him enough for him to finally ease out of her relentless embrace. It was with great reluctance that he finally left her in bed alone.

Sometime during the night he must have pulled a blanket over them, and he used it now to partially cover her. She was not completely free of fever and he didn’t want to make it worse by warming her up even more with blankets. But for his own sanity and to get his arousal to fade, he needed to at least cover her partially.

He quickly donned his garments and stepped outside, sword in hand in case he needed it.

A gray sky and chilly day were the only things to greet him. He checked on the horses and looked around. The place appeared deserted. He could not understand how that could be when only a couple of days ago it had been occupied by an old man who had looked as if he had resided on the small croft for years.

He saw to his needs, then he further explored the woods behind the cottage. There did not seem to be signs of anyone, but that meant nothing as he had learned over the last couple of weeks. He could only hope that the ghost warriors had gotten what they wanted and were finished with him and Emma. He would let them think that they had won, but the battle was far from over.

More warriors would be needed in his search for Heather and with the combined efforts of the Macinnes and MacClennan clans that should be no problem. He was confident that they would be able to find Heather and bring her home. What was presenting a bigger problem to him was his attraction to Emma. It was growing stronger by the day. What troubled him the most was that it was not merely a physical attraction, he also enjoyed her company. Conversations with her were not only interesting, but stimulating, something he had never found with any woman. But then Emma was not any woman, at least not to him.

He shook away the troubling thoughts and headed back to the cottage. Emma was still asleep when he entered, and he set another brew to simmer so it would be ready when she woke. He ate more of the food Samuel had given them and realized that it would last only today. He would have to hunt tomorrow.

Rogan glanced over at Emma and wondered how long it would be before she could travel. He wanted her home, at his keep, where she would be safe. Until he could get her there, he worried for her safety. One minute the ghost warriors seemed ready to snatch her and the next they ignored her.

Her eyes fluttered and she stirred, and Rogan went over to her. He rested his hand to her brow and though it was not hot, warmth still lingered there.

Her eyes drifted open and before drifting closed again, she whispered, “You do care.” And with a weak smile, she returned to her fevered slumber.

Rogan’s brow wrinkled in thought. For some reason he did not think she was talking about him. And from her previous feverish mumblings, he believed it had to do with a man who had once hurt her heart. The thought that some man had been cruel to her fired his anger, though he recalled his da telling him that no man had ever paid interest in the plain Macinnes sister. He wondered if it could have been a secret liaison that she had had and only confided in her sister Heather. He grew all the more curious to find out.

~~~

Emma felt uncomfortably warm and shoved the suffocating blanket off her, desperate to rid herself of the heat. It would be a hot day. She would need to see that the crops did not go dry and if some were in need of harvest. But at the moment, she did not feel like moving. It felt like all strength had been drained from her body, leaving her exhausted.

She allowed herself to drift off, then after a moment, admonished herself for being terribly lazy. There was work to be done and she needed to get herself out of bed. She fought to get herself moving, but the more she did, the more difficult it seemed. It felt as if something was holding her there, refusing to let her get up, and suddenly frightened by the thought, her eyes sprang open.

“Easy, I am here with you and you are fine. It is the fever you battle.”

Emma glared at Rogan. It took her a moment to realize that she was not home and to recall where she actually was and why. The fright drained from her body as soon as she did, though some apprehension remained when she realized that she lay completely naked in front of Rogan.

He realized her worry, and said, “You instructed me to keep you cool, naked if necessary to accomplish that.”

She was about to thank him, and then thought better of it. It did not seem proper to thank a man for stripping her naked. But then it was not proper that he see her naked at all.

“The brew?” she asked.

“I have more ready.”

He left her side and for a moment panic gripped her. She suddenly felt vulnerable and alone and she feared she would submit to tears. Her worries eased as soon as he returned.

He slipped his hand beneath her head and gently lifted it as he brought the goblet to her mouth. “Slow and easy,” he advised as the liquid touched her parched lips.

Once she finished taking several sips, she asked, “How long have I slept?”

“Through the day, night fell hours ago.”

“I have no strength,” she said frightened that she lay so helpless.

“The fever drains you, but your strength will return. Until then, I will be your strength. You have nothing to fear.”

Emma could not stop a tear from falling from the corner of her eye. Never had she thought she would hear a man say that, least of all from the man promised to her sister.

Rogan was quick to wipe it away. “You are safe with me.”

She gave him a weak smile. Yes, she was safe with him. She was safe with all men, since none found her appealing. Another tear slipped down her cheek as her eyes closed, and she once again returned to her feverish slumber.

Rogan wiped the tear away and bristled at the jolt to his heart. Her tears upset him, though more so the vulnerability he saw in her eyes. But then she was completely helpless, completely naked and having no choice but to trust him, more a stranger to her than friend and—her sister’s future husband. Something he needed to keep reminding himself.

~~~

Rogan was grateful he stirred awake before Emma the next morning. He had warned himself not to sleep with her again, but she had become so restless that he had no choice but to climb in bed and soothe her. Once she stilled, he had tried to leave, but she had clung to him. He had to stay, or so he convinced himself, and they both had slept comfortably throughout the night.

She was warm this morning, though not as warm as yesterday and thankfully her fever had not spiked during the night. He was even more grateful that he had eased himself out of bed and finished dressing just before she called out to him.

He turned and saw that she had covered herself with the blanket and when he caught the look on her face, he hurried to her side. “What troubles you?”

“I need to go outside for a bit.”

He realized her need, but worried she was too weak to walk. “There is a chill in the air, perhaps I can find a bucket.”

“No!” she all but screamed, her cheeks turning scarlet.

“The fever has left you weak.”

Her chin went up. “I am strong enough.”

“You are stubborn,” he said with a smile.

She returned the smile, though it was a small one. “I am.”

“Your garments are beyond repair.”

She frowned, though brightened quickly enough. “My nightdress is in my sack.”

He nodded and retrieved it, though warned as he approached. “You will go easy and lean on me while you gather your strength.”

She nodded and waited for his help. Gently, he slipped his arm under her back and eased her up to sit. The room suddenly spun and she quickly latched onto his arm that had suddenly wrapped around the front of her waist.

He sat down beside her, and she immediately dropped her head on his chest.

“It will pass,” he assured her.

His arms went tight around her, his chest comfortable, and the feeling she was safe more powerful than she would have imagined. The dizziness subsided, and she silently scolded herself. She had warned people, who had been ill and bed-ridden that she had tended, never to get up too fast and to expect some lightheadedness. She had not listened to her own advice. But then Rogan’s arms seemed to work just as well.

The thought startled the last of the dizziness away. When it did, she realized that she was half-naked in front of him, the blanket having slipped down to her waist. And strangely enough, at the moment, she did not care. She was content in his arms and she did not want to move.

“Feeling better?” he asked, hoping she was, though not wanting her to leave his arms. He loved having her there.

“Yes,” she said, telling herself to get her nightdress on and keep it on.

“Let me help you into this,” he said, holding up her nightdress, and then easing her out of his arms.

She went slowly this time, though winced loudly when pain shot through her shoulder as he slipped her arm through the sleeve hole. She once again rested her head to his chest, this time fearing she might faint.

He mumbled several oaths and rested his cool hand on the back of her head.

“I am fine,” she assured him, worried that he would stop her from going outside and seeing to her needs.

“Stubborn,” he snapped.

She laughed softly. “We have already established that.”

His finger slipped beneath her chin and he raised her head up slowly to look at him. “You will tell me immediately if you do not feel well or if you feel dizzy.”

“That sounds like an order.”

“It is,” he said sternly.

She would have snapped at him if not for the worry she saw in his dark eyes, and it touched her heart.

“Lean on me as you stand, so that you give yourself time to gather some strength,” he instructed and stood slowly, taking her with him as he went.

She held firm to his arm as she rose to her feet and the weakness in her legs forced her to rest against him. His arm quickly went around her waist, and she was grateful for the support.

“After I take a few steps, I should be fine,” she assured him, or perhaps she was trying to reassure herself.

“Take your time,” he said, keeping tight hold of her.

Emma was relieved to feel strength return to her limbs as she walked slowly to the door, though she made no mention of it. The more Rogan helped her now while her limbs grew stronger, the easier it would be once she had to stand on her own.

Once they stepped outside, the chill in the air sent a shiver through her.

“You need a cloak,” he said, annoyed that he had not thought of it.

She shook her head. “No, the chilled air feels good against my heated skin, and I will not be staying out here long.”

Rogan stopped a short distance into the woods and asked, “Are you sure you can do this on your own?”

Her warm cheeks flamed. “Even if we were wife and husband, I would not let you assist me in such a personal need.”

Rogan took hold of her chin. “If you were my wife, I would not leave the choice to you.”

“But I am not your wife and never will be,” she said, hoping the sorrow that descended on her had not been reflected in her words.

It was good she had reminded him of that. He was growing much to use to touching her, holding her, and sleeping with her. “But as my future sister-in-law you are my responsibility and I will see you returned home safe, no matter how stubborn you are.” He let go of her slowly, making certain she had enough strength to stand on her own.

Emma wanted so badly to step away from him, far away from him, but that was not possible. She needed his help until she healed and then... she would keep a good distance from her future brother-in-law.

Rogan had wisely left her to stand beside a tree, and she used the sturdy trunk to support herself. He had not gone far, a few feet away, and had turned his back to her. She saw to her needs, though far more slowly than she would have liked. And once done, she realized the simple chore had taken more from her than she had expected. But then fever still lingered with her and she had to be vigilant that it did not get worse. She could not push herself too much. Her body needed time to heal, time to fight the fever, and time to rest. Her brew would certainly help with that.

She walked over to Rogan, feeling the weakness in her limbs and realizing it would take days before she was strong enough to travel. The thought did not sit well with her.

Rogan turned at her approach and went to her side, his arm coiling around her waist once again.

She wasted no time leaning against him, and he wasted no time scooping her up and carrying her back to the cottage. She did not protest. She needed to heal as fast as possible so that she could continue her search for Heather. The longer it took to find her, the more she feared they never would.

Rogan placed her on the bed, a pillow at her back and the blanket pulled up to her waist. It was good she wore the nightdress, at least now he would not be distracted by her lovely naked body. Or so he told himself.