“A cloth,” she said and when Rogan handed her a piece of the torn blanket, she stuffed it in her mouth and nodded.
He hated what he was about to do, but he was quick about it. He was surprised when she did not faint from the pain, though it would be better if she had. Her eyes turned wide, she clamped down hard on the cloth, and her whole body stiffened against the excruciating pain that would linger after it was done.
He pulled the cloth from her mouth when he finished. “Are you all right?”
Her eyes drifted closed and she nodded. “Do not wrap it yet. Place a cloth over it until morning.”
He did as she told him, then said, “Rest, we leave at first light.”
She nodded, her eyes closing and was asleep before Rogan laid his blanket on the ground on the opposite side of the campfire. His head still hurt, though was no longer pounding. He found he had no urge to sleep just yet. He kept an eye on Emma while his mind began to stir with the events of the attack. He was concerned for his missing men. What had happened to them? They were loyal warriors and would not run off and leave him to fight alone. That meant they had been taken by the ghost warriors, but why had he and Emma been left? And why had they both been left alive or had they thought them both dead?
Rogan sat staring into the darkness that surrounded them. Were they alone now or were they being watched? Never had he come up against warriors that were not seen until it was too late. While he was a skilled warrior, he was one man with an injured woman to protect. He needed to get Emma to safety and let her heal, and then he needed to return home and devise a plan to find Heather.
Morning dawned with the sun fighting back a few clouds. With the day looking promising, Rogan felt renewed, though he had gotten little sleep. He hated waking Emma, knowing rest was what would serve her best right now, but he had no choice.
Her movements were slow as she instructed him on how to bandage the wound. She winced in silence as she settled in his arms once mounted on his horse and fell asleep shortly thereafter. She woke a short time later, though it was more like she roused herself from sleep.
“A fever is setting in… I can feel it. I need you to listen and do what I tell you,” she said and grimaced, at the hot pain that struck her.
“I am listening and will follow your instructions,” he assured her.
She detailed how to prepare the herbs in her pouch and how and when to use them. Once she finished, she laid her hand on his arm.
Her hand was limp and much too warm, and Rogan’s concern grew.
“If my skin grows hot you will need to keep me cool. Do not ply my body with blankets. Strip me down to my shift,”—she hesitated—“strip me bare if you must, but keep me cool until my fever breaks.”
“As you say,” he said and her eyes drifted closed once again. Her strength continued to amaze him. And that she should tell him to strip her bare of her garments if necessary meant one thing—she trusted him.
*
Rogan was relieved to see the cottage, but as he drew closer he grew concerned. There was no smoke from the chimney. The few farm animals Samuel had were nowhere to be seen. The place looked as if it had been deserted.
He approached more cautiously, wondering if the ghost warriors had attacked and taken the animals. Could they have taken Samuel too? But why? They would have no need of an old man or food, since it was said the Dark Dragon provided well for his warriors.
Rogan felt much too vulnerable with Emma in his arms. If attacked now, he could not defend them. He eased off his horse, holding Emma firm, and pushed the front door open with his shoulder. He entered cautiously. The place was empty, the hearth cold and cleaned of all ashes as if it had not been used in some time.
He placed Emma on the bed and pressed his hand to her brow. She was much too hot. He did not know what had happened here that the place should seem deserted, but he had no time to give it thought. He had to see to Emma and to securing their safety.
With quick steps, he returned to the horses and secured them in the lean-to, supplying them with food from the trough and water from the rain barrel. He then gathered their bedrolls and weapons and hurried back to the cottage.
He made sure the door was firmly latched against unwanted intruders, then he laid the items he carried aside, rid himself of his cloak, and went to Emma. She looked so pale, and when he reached out and pressed his hand to her brow, his breath caught.
She was as hot as Hades.
Rogan did not waste a minute. He began to undress her. There would be no saving her shift. It was beyond repair. And with her fever raging, he would have no choice but to strip her bare. He was careful as he maneuvered her in his arms, trying not to cause her any pain. The squint of her brow and the small intake of breath let him know that as hard as he tried, his good intentions still caused her to suffer. And the thought ate at his gut.
Finally, she lay completely naked and he would have pulled the soft wool blanket he had placed at the end of the bed over her, if he did not recall her words. Strip me bare if you must, but keep me cool until my fever breaks.
She was burning. He needed to leave her as she was—naked.
He could not help but admire her gorgeous body. She might be plain to look upon, but her body was perfection. Plump breasts, narrow waist, flat stomach, rounded hips, firm thighs, all perfectly proportioned, as if sculpted by a skilled artist.
He shook his head. She is not yours. You have no right to touch her.
She groaned and moved uncomfortably in the bed.
His hand went instinctively to her head and with a tender caress, he said, “Rest, Emma, I will take care of you. You have nothing to fear.”
She quieted, and he was reluctant to leave her to see to the brew, but it had to be done. She had to be healed. It was bad enough that he had failed to find her sister. He would not lose Emma to death.
After he started a fire in the fireplace and set water to heat, he returned to Emma to check her wound. He slipped his arm beneath her back and lifted her gently to place a rolled blanket beneath her head. Her head lolled against his chest, her heat searing him. He shifted his one hand to the back of her head while he slipped his other hand around her waist to ease her as gently as he could back down on the bed.
Her hand suddenly latched onto his arm and though her eyes remained closed she said, “It is all a lie. You lied to me. You never meant what you said.”
It took Rogan a moment to realize that she was not truly speaking to him. At first he thought she was accusing him of not keeping his word about finding her sister. But it was obvious that her fever had taken her to another time and place when next she spoke.
“I am not ugly.” A tear slipped from her eye. “Heather! Heather, where are you? Daniel lied to me. Please, Heather, I need you.”
Her anguish gripped at his stomach. Had Emma once been in love? Had the man wronged her? His anger grew at the thought, far more than he would have expected.
It pleased him to know that Heather had consoled Emma in her time of need and no doubt protected her as well, especially with Emma being the youngest of the three sisters. His da had warned him that the Macinnes sisters were close and that it might cause a problem for him. But seeing Emma so determined to find her sister, no matter the cost to herself, made him realize how strongly she loved. His mum and da had loved that strongly, which was why his da was having such a difficult time since her death.
“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.
Chapter Ten
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.
Lords of the Isles Page 130