Page 39 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

“You took a chill the night of the storm, an between that and weariness, coupled with the battle, you were ill for a few days.”

“How many days?” Ewan swallowed, then coughed. His throat and his chest hurt. Grace immediately gave him some water.

“Three.” Grace’s voice was soft as she helped him drink.

“Three! I have tae…”

“Ye have tae do nothing save rest an’ regain your strength.” Grace’s voice was firm.

“I cannae…”

“Ye’ll listen tae yer lass, or ye’ll listen tae me, but ye’ll be in that bed fer one more day, an’ resting in yer own fer another day whether ye wish tae or nae.” Megan’s no-nonsense voice stopped him from trying to sit up again. “Did ye ken ye took an infection from tha’ cart accident a few days ago? An’ with wood splinters in the wound as well.”

He recalled his shoulder had felt stiff and sore, but he hadn’t thought he’d been wounded that badly. Not as badly as he’d been hurt in the bandit attack a few days before that. “Didnae feel too bad…”

“It was, an’ ye did yerself nay favors with all the travelin’ an’ gettin’ caught in rainstorms an’ the like. An’ then goin’ tae battle as ye did. So ye’ll heed me orders, me laird, or there will be enough valerian in yer tea tae make sure ye have nay choice.” The healer’s voice was stern, and Ewan knew she was likely to do as she said she would.

A woman with enough steel in her spirit to be the healer for the MacTavish clan would likely do whatever she thought was best, no matter who tried to stand in her way. Ewan grimaced, but allowed himself to be pushed back against the pillows. If he was honest with himself, he knew he was in no shape to move, not when he felt like his limbs were encased in stone.

He let Megan fuss over him, but his eyes went to Grace, to the shadows in and under her eyes. “Were ye hurt? Or ill? Ye dinnae look well.”

“She’s been after fussing o’er ye since ye were brought here. Hasnae left yer bedside, fer fear ye’d worsen afore she could return.” From the way Grace blushed, the healer’s blunt speech was the truth.

“Ye… took care o’ me?” He blinked, surprised.

“I… I did. I was concerned for you.” Grace’s blush deepened. “Besides, I felt responsible for your condition. If you had not protected me on the road…”

“’Tis nae more than any man would have done.” Ewan would have waved a dismissive hand, had it not been for his aching wounds and the healer at his side.

“But it was you who did so, and I would feel ungrateful and rude, had I not tended to you in your hour of need. Besides… I…” Grace stopped, biting her lip.

“Aye?”

“It is nothing. It will wait. I should not like to incur the healer’s wrath by agitating you overmuch.” Grace shook her head.

Megan scowled at her. “If ye wish tae avoid me wrath, lass, then ye’ll go straight inside and get a hot mug o’ broth, an the tisane I prepared fer ye, then straight tae bed.”

Grace blinked. “I said I would…”

“Ye wanted tae look after him until ye were certain sure he was on the mend. Fever’s broken, and his wounds are healin’. The infection is drawn. Time is all he needs now, an’ I dinnae need another patient when ye keel o’er from a lack o’ rest.” The healer made an impatient motion toward the door. “Off with ye, unless ye want me tae dose ye an’ have Master Malcolm carry ye tae yer chambers.”

Grace rose, then paused, glancing at Ewan in silent question. There was a part of him that wanted very much to ask her to stay. Then his gaze fell on her pale cheeks, and the dark smudges under her eyes, and he realized, despite the fog in his mind, that he did not want her health to be endangered for his sake.

Grace’s presence was sweet, and filled him with warmth, but he’d no desire to have her there at the expense of her own well-being.

He waved a hand. “It seems we’ve both tae obey the healer, Grace. Go tae rest, an’ ye can come tae visit me when I’ve been allowed tae return tae me own rooms.”

Grace blushed a deep crimson, then dipped her head and hurried away. Ewan stared after her, confused by her sudden departure, and the blush. It wasn’t until he was drifting off again, helped along by a tisane from Megan, that he realized what he’d suggested, and how it might be understood by anyone who heard it.

It was far too late to call Grace back and explain what he’d meant, but the knowledge drifted into his thoughts and filled them with a sense of warmth and desire that followed him into his dreams.

He dreamed that night of Grace, and his dreams were sweeter than he could ever remember them being.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Are you comfortable?” Grace watched as Ewan settled back in his bed, grimacing at the pressure on his healing wounds. “How are your wounds?”

“I’m fine. Ye neednae fret.” Ewan smiled at her, his eyes warm, despite the obvious discomfort he was in. “Ye heard the healer. I’m recovering fine, an’ in another day I’ll be well. Then I can tak’ ye tae see Niamh.”