Page 8 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior (Highland Whispers of Love #1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

B efore she could hit the ground, Roderick’s strong hands shot out and grabbed Moira by the waist. He held her firmly in place, surprised at how instinctively he reacted to protect her as he steadied her against him—almost as if she were his to protect.

Holding her felt natural, the subtle curves of her body softer than he had expected, molding in his arms. But he only had a moment to savor the long-forgotten sensation of holding someone close, before his thoughts were flooded with concern for her.

“Moira” he murmured, his voice low. “Are ye alright?” The sounds of the morning filled the empty and forgotten space around them—the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, and the distant chirping of birds–but despite all that, he was laser-focused on Moira and her well-being.

“I’m fine, I think,” she said. “Just twisted me ankle, I’m nae sure if I can walk on it, let me try.”

“Are ye sure?”

“Aye,” she nodded.

Roderick hesitated but then released his hold on her, stepping back just enough to give her space. Moira braced herself, carefully placing her weight on her foot. She took a tentative step forward, testing the ground beneath her.

As soon as she stepped down, she yelped in pain. Roderick immediately reached out, his hand catching her elbow just before she could fall again. She turned to face him, her face contorted with pain.

“Somethin' daesnae feel right,” she said softly, leaning against him. “I think I’ve injured it pretty badly.”

Roderick exhaled slowly. "Ye shouldnae be tryin’ tae walk on it." His voice was low but firm, "that’ll only make it worse.”

Moira continued to wince in pain, and Roderick felt another sharp wave of protectiveness that came over him so instinctively it required no thought.

“Now I’m going tae dae somethin' ye’re nae goin' tae like," he said. "But ye’re goin' tae have tae trust me. Can ye dae that?”

“What are ye—” she started, but her words cut off as Roderick bent down and slid one arm under her knees, the other wrapping securely around her back. With ease, he lifted her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

Before she could protest, she let out another groan of pain. “Where are ye takin’ me?” She asked. “I need tae see someone but I dinnae need ye tae tak' me like this, I can walk wi' some assistance.”

“An’ I can carry ye,” Roderick shot back, his stride steady as he began walking back through the rose garden and the maze to where the castle’s healer lived. “So quit yer arguin’ and let me dae what needs tae be done.”

Roderick noticed Moira open her mouth to protest but thought better of it. “Fine,” she said. “But all o’ this fussing is yer idea, nae mine.”

Roderick arched one of his brow’s, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Aye, whatever ye say, Moira.”

After a while, as Roderick continued to walk with Moira in his arms, her protests gave way to a heavy silence. The only sounds were the crunch of his boots against the gravel path, the occasional chirping of birds, and her faint whimpers of discomfort.

Roderick found himself oddly content with her in his arms, despite the circumstances. There was something grounding about her presence, as if her vulnerability and the simple act of caring for her, took him out of his thoughts and back into reality, away from his burdens.

He glanced down at her, noting the way her features had softened. She was no longer the fierce investigator who had arrived at the castle to unearth secrets—right now, she was just a lass in pain and in need of his help, rather than the other way round.

Finally, Roderick reached the garden’s main quarters, and he walked down a stone pathway that led to a small, ivy-covered annex attached to one of the castle’s outer walls.

“Dinnae worry, Moira,” he said as they reached the annex’s weathered wooden shutters, “ye’re goin’ tae be all right.”

Outside the healer’s chambers, was a large garden filled with rows of well-tended herbs, such as thyme, sage, rosemary… The strong scent of oils filled the air as Benedict Dunbar, the castle’s healer, opened the two doors immediately. He must have seen them coming.

“Me laird,” Mr. Dunbar called, his voice rich and steady as he stepped out of the chamber. The castle’s healer was a stout man with silver-streaked hair and a perpetual look of calm. He wiped his hands on a linen cloth, the faint traces of herbs and oils clinging to his fingers. “What’s all this now?”

Roderick shifted Moira in his arms slightly, his expression serious. “Lady Wilson’s hurt her ankle. She cannae walk on it. I need ye tae tak' a look.”

Mr. Dunbar’s sharp eyes darted to Moira, scanning her with precision. “Bring her inside,” he instructed, stepping out the way, and allowing them to enter.

Mr. Dunbar’s chambers smelled more strongly on the inside. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and mint, and the room was both cozy and chaotic. To the left was a small bed, and in the center stood a sturdy oak table that was cluttered with vials, notes, and bowls of oils and herbs.

Roderick carried Moira to the small cot by an oval window, carefully setting her down. She winced and avoided his gaze, apparently focusing intently on the garden outside. The sunlight spilled through the panes, streaking down the center of her face, and accentuating her soft features– she was soft in ways Roderick hadn’t noticed before.

Roderick couldn’t help but admire the way the light danced in her eyes, turning them into a striking mix of light and dark emerald green.

“She seems tae be in a lot o’ pain,” Mr. Dunbar said, his voice cutting through the air and diverting Roderick’s attention toward him. “What happened out there?”

“Well,” Roderick began. “We were just takin' a walk in the rose gardens, an' all of a sudden she fell. I had tae grab hold o' her afore she fell tae the ground, I dinnae ken exactly what happened—I didnae see, but she must’ve gotten her foot caught on somethin’. I think her ankle twisted pretty badly.”

As Roderick spoke, Moira continued to shift on the cot, in pain. He stood by Mr. Dunbar, hovering over her, and watching her intently, wishing there was more he could do.

“Alright, me laird,” Mr. Dunbar responded, his voice calm. “It’ll be alright, just slow down, tak’ a seat and trust me, I ken what I’m doin’.”

Roderick didn’t think that he had been speaking fast at all, for he had been wrapped up in taking care of Moira. But as Mr. Dunbar’s calm voice broke through his anxious thoughts, he realized that his fists had been clenched, his shoulders were rigid, and his jaw was set with an intensity that filled his whole body with a sense of unsettled urgency.

“I’m calm, but she’s been in pain from the moment she twisted it,” Roderick said, exhaling slowly, his voice laced worry. He had had some unpleasant experiences with the doctor and wanted to make sure Moira was in the right hands.

He moved to sit on a chair facing the bed Moira was on, his gaze unwavering as he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees.

“I will take care of her, me laird, ye need nae worry.”

Roderick nodded, but did not leave her side.

The healer moved toward the bed where Moira lay silently on her back, and spoke to her as he assessed her injury. “Lady Wilson, I’m goin’ tae move yer leg, and I want ye tae tell me if it hurts.”

“Aye,” Moira responded softly, her voice strained.

He shifted her ankle slightly to the left. Moira’s lips tightened, and her breath hitched. “Hurt?”

She nodded.

“And this?” he asked, moving her ankle to the right with the same deliberate care.

Moira winced, gripping the blanket beneath her. “Aye, that’s worse.”

Roderick leaned forward in his chair, his jaw tightening as he watched the exchange.

“It is nae thing too serious, just a bad twist,” Mr. Dunbar said.

“An’ what should she dae?”

Roderick was both cautious and impatient when it came to the health and well-being of those around him, and Moira was no exception.

“Here’s what I’m going to dae,” Mr. Dunbar began, “first, I’ll make ye a poultice tae reduce the swelling and then I’ll wrap yer ankle tae keep it stable. Ye’ll need rest—complete rest—an’ elevation fer a few days at least. That means nae putting weight on it.”

“All right,” Moira said. “I think I can manage that.”

Roderick glanced her way, relieved to hear her speaking normally again. Her pain had unsettled him, chipping away at the edges of his composure. “Glad tae hear ye’ve gotten yer voice back,” he said, offering her a small smile.

Moira rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

As Benedict began to bind Moira’s ankle, Roderick noticed something had piqued Moira’s interest. She had sat up, watching him carefully as he moved the bandages over her foot.

“I see ye have a fine garden out there, Mr. Dunbar,” she said. “Dae ye have the same herbs all season round?

Mr. Dunbar glanced up briefly, his hands not pausing, while he secured the bandages. “Aye, I keep the garden well-stocked year-round. Takes a bit o' plannin' an' some work, but it’s worth it. Most o' what I use fer healin' comes straight from there.”

Moira tilted her head in thought as Roderick got up from his chair and moved around the room. It was past midday, nearing the afternoon–and with Moira already seeming a little better, he started to think about all his duties for the rest of the day. Part of him felt guilty for having argued with Moira, insisting that she rush her work.

“That’s impressive,” Moira said. “I’ve always wondered how healers keep their supplies fresh in the colder months. Dae ye grow anything indoors?”

Mr. Dunbar chuckled softly, tying the bandage and brushing his hands off onto his tunic. “Some things, aye. The more delicate plants I keep in pots by the hearth. Others can survive a light frost, so I leave them be. An', o' course, I dry an' preserve what I can in the warmer months.”

“I see,” Moira said. “What are the plants ye make use of the most? I think it is fascinating that different plants can be used fer such different things.”

“Aye,” Mr. Dunbar smiled, looking from Moira to Roderick—before he reached for a pot from one of his shelves. “I hadnae realized that Laird Fraser’s betrothed had such a keen interest in medicinal healin’.”

“She’s a curious lass, arenae ye, Lady Wilson?” Roderick responded, turning his attention away from the window to the room.

“Indeed,” she said. “Anything that can be used tae save a life has earned me interest an’ respect, tae say the least.”

“Some plants dae,” he said. “It is difficult tae say though, every plant serves its purpose, sometimes more than one combined—and I get all sorts o’ cases comin’ through me doors. A big part o’ me job is usin’ me knowledge tae pair effective plants together.”

Mr. Dunbar stood over his large oak table, mixing together a balm with a wooden pestle, at a rapid pace before decanting it into a small jar.

After a moment’s silence, he continued his explanations. “This is the part I enjoy most, mixin’ together a balm from the elements—all I am is a vessel fer the products o’ nature’s work.”

Rather than listen to Mr. Dunbar, Roderick had drowned him out completely, and he was instead focused on Moira. He watched her stare at the balm Mr. Dunbar was preparing with a keen intensity, her eyes following his every move.

“That is wonderful,” Moira said. “What a noble and fine profession.”

Mr. Dunbar smiled to himself as he handed Roderick the balm. “This needs tae be applied twice a day fer three days, if ye need more, ye ken where tae find me.”

“Thank ye,” Roderick said. He noted with curiosity the effect that Moira had on the healer–she had such a way with words when she wanted to.

Moira began to sit up, “Thank ye kindly, Mr. Dunbar. I feel much better kenning I’m in safe hands.”

“Of course,” the healer nodded. “An’ remember, be sure tae tak’ it easy on yer ankle, even when it starts tae feel a wee better.”

“I will,” Moira said, lying back down. “I promise ye, Mr. Dunbar.”

Mr. Dunbar shot a glance in Roderick’s direction, as though to make sure he understood too. He must have been able to tell, Roderick thought, from the urgency with which he had brought Moira over there, that he considered her well-being important. He’d take care of Moira, of course he would.

“I will mak’ sure she stays off her leg,” Roderick said to Mr. Dunbar. “Nae accidents on me watch, I can assure ye.”

“Very well, me laird,” Mr. Dunbar said, “I’ll give ye some privacy now, tak’ as long as ye need.”

“That’s really nae necessary,” Moira said calmly. “This is yer chamber after all.”

Mr. Dunbar smiled, and Roderick could tell how much he preferred Moira to him, although he might not have, had he known who Moira truly was. Perhaps he hadn’t given her enough credit, for now he saw that she could play the role of the sweet and agreeable, high-born lady well enough when she chose to.

“It’s nay hassle,” Mr. Dunbar assured, “I’d meant tae go herb pickin’ outside in the gardens anyway, me rosemary is runnin’ a little low

Once alone, Moira began to get herself up from the bed, and she was about to place her feet on the ground before Roderick stopped her.

“Ye’re nae supposed tae walk Moira, or did ye forget what yer healer had said.”

“Me healer,” Moira tutted. “I’m fine Roderick, I’m already feelin’ a wee better, and we cannae very well stay in this hut fer the rest o’ the day, can we?”

“Nay,” Roderick interjected, “that’s why I’ll carry ye.”

Moira’s eyes widened, as she looked at him in shock. “Nae, Roderick, ye’ve done that quite enough. I think I can mak’ it back tae me chambers now without ye having tae dae all that.”

It was amusing to Roderick what sort of things garnered Moira’s emotional response. Most things didn’t appear to affect her at all, but when it came to Roderick carrying her or caring for her, for whatever reason, she seemed outraged.

It wasn’t a big deal to Roderick, she was as light as a feather. Although he felt telling her that would only make things worse.

“Moira” he said plainly. “I insist, I will nae tak’ nay fer an answer.”

“Fine,” she huffed after a moment’s consideration, looking off to the side. “At least ye gave me some warnin’ this time.”

“A true gentleman, I am,” he smiled, before once again taking Moira into his arms. He walked with her in silence, all the way to her chambers. Some passing people gave them concerned looks–but for the most part they were left alone.

The bandage on Moira’s leg was explanation enough.

Once inside her chambers, she broke the silence insisting he put her down.

“Aye just a minute,” he said, and then carefully settled her down onto her bed. He closed the doors behind him, and was just about to advise her to rest, when suddenly she moved.

She slipped down from her bed, landing firmly on her two feet. To Roderick’s surprise she began to walk around the room with ease toward her case.

“What are ye daeing?”

She didn’t respond, but smiled back at him, a mischievous smile—one that completely contradicted her previous semblance of pain.