Page 26 of Taken By the Heartless Highlander
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.”
