Chapter Six
Emma sat up in her bed, her heart pounding. Screams and shouting came from the other side of the room. The side where Morgan slept.
In addition to her own bedchamber in the keep, she had a very nice space in the healing hut for when she had a patient that she felt needed more attention.
A curtain hung from the ceiling dividing the area, so she had privacy. But now she scrambled out of her cozy bed and raced across the room, her bare feet dancing on the cold stone.
Morgan was flailing about, sweat dripping from his face, his eyes wide open, even though Emma was certain he was still asleep. From the words coming out of his mouth, he was reliving the battle, and the time when the horse fell on him.
Emma reached out and smoothed her hand over Morgan’s chest. He was warm again, not as hot as before, but still above normal.
He continued to thrash about, shouting and struggling. She couldn’t make out his words, but he was obviously in a great deal of distress. She decided soothing him with a cool cloth might help. She hurried to the bucket of water she kept in the room and grabbed a clean linen.
Morgan was now tossing his head back and forth, mumbling, “Nay, nay, nay!”
As she moved to wipe him down, Morgan shouted “nay” again and swung out, hitting her in the jaw.
She dropped the cloth and grabbed her chin. Black dots danced in her eyes as tears dripped down her cheeks. She moved back to sit on a nearby chair and scooped up the cold wet cloth from the floor and placed it on her jaw.
After a few minutes, the spots had disappeared along with the pain, so she dipped the cloth in the water again and wiped his muscled chest, settling him down somewhat, but he did not cease tossing and turning.
Against her better judgment she climbed onto the bed and wiped the other part of his body she hadn’t been able to reach.
She jolted as he grabbed her and pulled her next to him, wrapping his arm around her waist. She took a deep breath, but that only encouraged him to pull her closer.
Amazingly enough, he stopped thrashing about. She turned to look at him. He was still asleep and his face had lost the tension, and his breathing had returned to normal.
Well, here she was in a fine fix. Once he seemed to settle into normal sleep, she inched back to climb out of the bed.
“Nay!” He pulled her close again. “Doona leave.”
She had her suspicions that he was not asleep but if it kept him settled, she could stay for a while, and when he fell into a deeper sleep, she could leave.
Emma’s eyes slowly opened to the glare of sun streaming through the window of the healing hut. She lay on her side with a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her to an equally strong body.
Still not completely awake, she cuddled into the warmth, ready to go back to sleep. Just as she was about to drift off, a thought occurred to her and she opened her eyes.
St. Bridget’s toes! She and Morgan were in bed together. She must have been the one who fell into a deep sleep. She was so unsettled it took a moment before she realized that Morgan had cupped her breast and was fondling it.
Emma jerked back. “What are ye doing?”
The mon tried to look surprised, but it didn’t work. There was no doubt that he knew exactly what he was doing.
“What am I doing? I’m trying to remember what happened between us in this bed that unfortunately I’ve forgotten.”
Emma sat up, pulled the bottom of her night rail down over her exposed legs and pushed her hair back behind her ears. “Nothing happened. Ye had a nightmare.”
Morgan shook his head and offered her a crooked smile. “That was no nightmare.” He reached out for her, and when she pushed him away, he shook his head. “I doona have nightmares.”
“Yer fever came back and I wiped ye down with cool water. But it dinna settle ye enough, so I climbed in next to ye and it seemed to soothe ye.”
“Aye. That would definitely soothe me, especially the part where yer warm soft body was pressed up against mine.”
Emma scooted off the bed and straightened her night rail. “Nothing happened, and ye need no’ bother yerself with trying to remember what dinna happen.”
He grinned at her and for the first time she saw him as a man, not a warrior or a grouchy patient. She noticed again how his already-handsome face became even more fascinating when he smiled or grinned.
The butterflies in her stomach started up again.
Morgan stared at her. “What happened to yer face?”
Emma touched the bruise and winced. She would have to put another cold cloth on it. She cleared her throat and said, “Ye were a tad enthusiastic when I came over to help ye.”
His eyes grew wide. “I did that? I hit ye in the jaw?”
She nodded. “Aye, but as I said, ye were having a nightmare.”
He reached out and gently took her hand. “Ach, Emma, I ne’er hit a lass in my life.” He ran his fingertips over the soft skin on the inside of her wrist, his expression a combination of guilt and something else she didn’t care to identify.
He looked up at her. “I’m sorry for how difficult I’ve been. I ken ye only want to help me.”
Emma studied him. What was this? A complete change? Or just surprise and sorrow at having hit her? She felt herself softening and dinna want to care about him beyond the normal attention she gave all her patients.
She moved back and his hand dropped. She drew herself up and said, “I will send in one of the lads to help ye with yer personal things while I get something for ye to break yer fast.”
He scowled. “Am I going to just lay in this bed then, eating and growing old and fat? How long will it take before I will be able to walk steadily? Or does it matter since as a prisoner there isn’t much I can do except walk to the dungeon?
” Although his words were harsh, his tone had changed in the time he’d been here.
But she still didn’t trust him. A Gunn could never be trusted.
She studied him for a few seconds and placed her hand on his forehead. “Yer fever is back.”
“Nay. If I’m hot it’s because yer are standing there in front of me dressed in yer night rail.”
Emma sucked in a breath, looked down at herself at her nipples poking against the linen, then turned and ran to her corner, pushed the curtain aside, and collapsed onto her bed, taking deep gulps of air.
The mon could fluster her so easily. She crossed her arms over her chest as if to hide the evidence of her body’s betrayal.
This nonsense had to stop. Morgan was a patient, merely one of many she’d treated over the time she’d been a healer. Many of them warriors. More handsome than Morgan and certainly more cheerful. But yet, it was her clan’s enemy who had her all twisted in knots.
She jumped up and began dressing. She had work to do and sitting here thinking about Morgan Gunn was not going to get it done.