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?
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.
Finally, with a deep breath, she said, “I asked one of the kitchen men to bring cold water and dip yer cloth into it and lay it on yer chest.” She refused to look at him.
“And when will that be?”
“When he has time,” Emma said with gritted teeth.
After a few moments of silence, Morgan said, “Emma.”
She took a deep breath, and still didn’t turn around. “What?”
“Look at me.”
She placed the last jar on the shelf and turned. “What?”
“I, ah…I want to apologize.” He had red spots on his cheeks, like he was embarrassed, though his face was pale underneath. Placing her hands on her hips, she said, “For which insult? Which complaint? Which temper tantrum?”
The man had the nerve to smile. “Can ye come closer?”
What would he do now? Strangle her? Test the muscles in his arm by hitting her with his fist?
She wasn’t truly afraid of the man, but she wasn’t feeling too pleasant toward him. She took in a deep breath and moved a few steps.
Morgan’s smile widened as he reached for her. “Closer.”
Aye. He did intend to strangle her.
She moved, ignored his hand, and looked into his eyes, something she should not have done. His smile didn’t quite reach his deep brown eyes, but that smile alone had done enough to her.
She swallowed and said, “What?”
“I want to apologize for my behavior since I’ve arrived. I ken ’tis no’ yer fault I was injured. In truth, I am concerned for my future. Being a warrior is all I have ever been.” He shrugged, apparently uncomfortable offering that much of himself.
His eyes were shining, glassy, as if he’d been crying. That was odd, she thought, but she felt herself softening. “I canno’ say I have ever faced a challenge like that, but I do ken a good attitude does help healing.”
His smile vanished. “’Tis been a while since I’ve had a reason to smile.”
After a few moments of silence when they just stared at each other, Emma cleared her throat. “I would check yer leg now before I make the rest of my visits.”