Page 25 of Taken By the Heartless Highlander
A few torches were burning on brackets around the courtyard, and she could hear a strange rhythmic thumping sound from somewhere. She listened intently, curious as to its origins, but saw no one nearby. For want of anything better to do, she decided to follow the sound—if it turned out to be nothing of interest, that would be her sign to go to bed and get some rest.
Her ears led her through an archway at the back of the courtyard that opened into a small square. In the center, a man was ruthlessly attacking a dummy with a sword. He was shirtless and covered with sweat, but she would have recognized him anywhere.
He had a beautiful back, the muscles rippling across every inch of it as he moved with a poise and grace that she would not have expected from a man of his size.
She wanted to thank him again for all he had done for her, to express her gratitude and happiness at her situation and his generosity in helping her. Instead, the words that came out of her mouth were somewhat different from what she had intended.
“I thought I told ye nae to strain yer shoulder!”
CHAPTER11
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?”
