Page 11 of Taken by the Heartless Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #2)

CHAPTER 11

As soon as she spoke, the rapid movements against the dummy ceased, and MacAllen turned to her. His chest was on full display once more, and she found it difficult not to stare.

He had looked impressive enough while he sat and let her tend to him in the forest, but now, with a sheen of sweat over his rippling body, he looked almost like a god.

She focused her eyes on his, which were looking at her with thinly veiled irritation. She walked slowly forward, fixing him with an unimpressed look, her hands crossed over her chest, angry that he had not taken her advice.

There was now fresh blood on his shoulder from where the wound had reopened, and she huffed as she advanced on him.

“I must tend to yer injury.”

“I’ve had worse cuts from shaving,” he muttered, putting up a hand as though to wave her away.

“Take a seat,” she said sternly.

He rolled his eyes, the sword dropping to the floor as he lowered his arm on a long-suffering sigh. It reminded her of Scott when he was in a particularly irritable mood.

‘I wouldnae have to see to it if ye had heeded me advice,” she said, pushing him to a stone bench and taking a seat beside him.

“It is not me shoulder I am worried about, woman,” then he shut his mouth abruptly, as though he had not intended to say that out loud. She paused looking at him curiously.

“What do ye mean?”

“T’is nae yer concern.”

“Why? Is yer worry about somethin’ other than an ailment?”

His jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together. “Nay.”

“Well then.”

“Ye are very confident in yer own abilities,” he said heatedly, not meeting her gaze. As her fingers touched his bare skin she saw him shiver, his eyes closing as he took in a deep breath.

“Well, ye are very irritable for someone who chose to save me life. The only reason I am here is because of ye, me laird?—”

“Dinnae I ken it?—”

“And so, I think, as yer newly appointed healer, for however long that may be, ye should tell me what the problem is. If it is nae yer shoulder, then what is it?”

She continued unraveling the bandage. His activities had not only reopened the wound but widened it considerably.

She shook her head and saw a hint of a smile on his face as she did so. But the smile was quickly gone when she stood, looking down at him with concern.

“If ye willnae look after yerself, then I will be the one to do it for ye. Come me laird, I cannae re-dress the wound here.”

“It will heal just fine now?—”

“And who is the healer here? Is it ye?”

He sighed again, scratching at the skin around the wound absently and looking scandalized as she slapped his hand away.

“Come along. I will bandage it before infection sets in, and ye lose yer arm.”

All she heard as she stalked away was some very colorful cursing, which, for some reason, made her smile.

Noah followed Keira through the familiar corridors to the healer's chambers.

He was lucky not to have had to visit Deindre often, but when he had, the rooms had always reminded him of a field infirmary on the battlefield. Though much cleaner, it had always had a strange, unpleasant smell that reminded him of sickness.

As he entered Keira’s chambers, however, he was greeted with quite a different sight. Despite occupying the rooms for only a few hours, it instantly had the same feel as her cottage had done.

Herbs and spices were dotted everywhere, on every surface imaginable. He wondered whether the donkey’s pack had been magical because he couldn’t understand how she had brought so much with her.

Crystals hung from the ceiling in front of the small window at the back of the room, catching the light and sending little cascading patterns all over the space. The dancing lights were comforting, and the herbs smelled divine.

It smells like her hair, he thought.

“Have a seat beside the fire, Me laird,” she said as he shuffled inside. He had brought his sword with him, he noticed, surprised to see it still in his hand. Apparently, if she snapped her fingers for him to follow her, he did so without question.

By the time he sat down beside the merry little fire in the grate, his mood was as black as the coals glowing before him.

Keira was fussing with various jars on the other side of the room. There was a long wooden box in the corner, which she started rifling through rapidly. She was clearly searching for something, but he refused to ask what it was.

As he watched her, she bent down over a chest to pick something up from the floor, giving him a beautiful view of her shapely body. He looked away hurriedly, staring into the flames and wondering why this fire smelled so much better than all the others he had ever sat in front of.

Finally, she bustled back over to him, carrying the bandages and a small dish of water. She looked happy and cheerful, as though she were doing precisely what she had always wished to do.

She sat beside him, giving him a long and assessing look before he finally turned from the fire with a grunt to give her access to his wound.

She brought a soaked cloth to the site and smoothed it across the cut. He winced and glared at her, but she only pressed harder.

“Ye are a devil woman; perhaps the priest was correct.”

“If ye had listened to me, we wouldnae be in this position.”

Noah glanced at her full breasts, which hovered just beneath his vision as she tended to him. He couldn’t help imagining a great many ‘positions’ that he would prefer for her to be in—preferably beneath him.

For a long time, they sat in silence. It felt companionable and easy, and he wasn’t certain what compelled him to begin speaking.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the day and his inability to sleep or the prickling discomfort that remained in his chest. Perhaps it was simply that he felt safe with her; he did not know.

“Me chest,” he said in a rumbling sigh that was hardly a word at all.

“What about yer chest?” she asked quickly, as though she had been waiting for him to open the conversation.

“‘T’is me heart.”

The words came more easily than he had expected. He did not like showing weakness, but if he couldn't show it to the woman who'd seen him bleeding and thought only to help him, who could he show it to?

Noah worried that he had some ailment that would only become more serious as time went on. He had avoided speaking to healers because he was sure they would just offer to bleed him. That always made him feel weak and listless afterward—or they would fill him with worries and woes about what could be.

He did not know why he felt Keira would be different.

“A young, strong person like ye?” she asked, and he felt a bolt of pride that she thought he was strong. “Why do ye believe it is yer heart?”

“Yer heart is in yer chest, is it nae?” he asked impatiently, feeling the coolness of her fingers on his skin as she wrapped the injury again. “Every night, I am plagued by it. Me chest hurts, and I cannae go to sleep unless I have worn meself out. Even then, me sleep isnae peaceful.”

She pinned the bandage in place, and he rolled his shoulder experimentally. It felt much better than it had even half an hour before. Whatever ointment she had added to it had reduced the stinging, and his skin felt cool and clean beneath the fresh bandage.

“I could examine ye,” she said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Images flooded his head of her hands on his skin, stroking him to find out what ailed him. He almost groaned aloud at the preoccupation of his mind.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” she asked.

“Six months.”

“Did anythin’ happen six months ago? A battle? A wound?”

“Nay.”

Keira seemed confused by his answer and leaned back, looking at his face with an intense stare.

“I’ll help ye, me laird; I owe ye as much for the life ye have given to me and me brother and sister.”

“If ye can manage to do that, I’ll give ye anythin’ ye want. I’ll be in yer debt.”

The pain he experienced was so intense some nights that he thought he might be close to blacking out. He could not imagine anyone being able to resolve it, but he could only hope.

As he turned to thank her, he found that their faces were only inches apart.

Her eyes watched him with the same intensity he was feeling. He could see every one of the beautiful freckles scattered across her slender nose. Those full lips were so close he could have brushed his own against them merely by moving forward less than an inch.

For a moment, madness engulfed his mind. One movement, and he could take her into his arms, cover her mouth with his own, taste her sweetness for the first time, feeling if her lips were as soft as they looked.

He would hold her body against his, push her down to the floor pressing his body against hers. Caress the swell of her breasts, tasting her skin, finally allowing himself the pleasure he had been denied for so long?—

He sucked in a breath, pulled away and stood up, cursing inwardly at what he had almost done.

She is yer healer. Ye cannae pursue this. Ye are a fool for bringin’ her here.

He grabbed his sword from the fireside and strode to the door, looking back at her startled expression but keeping his mind focused on the matter at hand.

“Come find me if ye think ye can be of any use.”

He opened the door and stalked out, closing it behind him as gently as he could, trying to shut out the room, the smell of her hair, and the very presence of this woman from his life.