Page 29 of The Cruel Highlander's Healer
The morning sun had fully crested the horizon, brightening everything around them. Eliza squinted against it, trying to take in the scenery.
The Laird chatted with the guards, and Eliza turned her ears to take in some of their conversation.
“Is Eliot settled with the bairns?” MacKinnon asked, his deep voice vibrating through his chest.
“Aye,” one of the men answered. “A few of ‘em were stirrin’. The tonic they’ve been givin’ them seems to be helpin’. It’s the most awake I’ve seen some of them in weeks.”
Eliza’s head whirled. She no longer noticed the press of the Laird’s body into hers, or the feeling of the hardness beneath his kilt.Not as her gaze locked on the guard who had just spoken.
“Which ones were awake?” she asked, voice coming out shrill in her excitement.
The guard’s eyes widened. He was a large man, though not as big as either Laird MacKinnon or Eliot. His face was boyish though, giving a more genteel impression than either of the other two men.
“I daenae for certain,” he answered. “But I heard Kate talkin’ to Eliot right as I left. Said that one of them had been one of the first ones to fall ill. I daenae think he’s been conscious in near a week.”
Eliza’s heart began to flutter at the news. She hadn’t gone to check on the children that morning, certain that the Laird would not be happy to be kept waiting. But now she wished she would have risked his ire.
“Thank ye for tellin’ me…” her words trailed off a she realized she did not know the man’s name.
Her eyebrows lifted, staring at the man pointedly as she waited for him to tell her his name. But although Eliza was staring at the guard, it was Laird MacKinnon who answered.
“That is Dougal,” he said, his deep voice bringing Eliza’s attention back to him.
He pointed at the guard she’d just been speaking to and the man dipped his head to her in acknowledgement. The Laird then pointed to the guard riding a few paces behind Dougal, and Eliza’s eyes raked over him.
“That is Alistair,” the Laird explained.
He was not as imposing as any of the other guards that she’d encountered. Eliza sensed that he would be quite tall if he stood up straight, but his shoulders had been stooped by what she assumed was the weight of age.
Beady eyes regarded her, and even at a distance she could make out his pocked and wrinkled skin.
He smiled at her, revealing a row of crooked, yellowing teeth.
“Nice to meet ye both,” Eliza said, directing it mostly toward Dougal.
She wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Alistair, but something about him made her hair stand on end.
Turning back toward the road, she focused on it, allowing her mind to wander. Images of the bairns beginning to wake, the sheen of sweat leaving their foreheads filled her mind’s eye, lifting her hopes higher than they’d been in days.
This will work for Councilman Auld’s people, too. I ken it.
Eliza was unsure where the Councilman’s village was, and as such she had no idea how long to prepare herself to be riding. Time seemed to drag on, filled with nothing more than the clopping of horse hooves and marked by the sun’s path across the sky.
She tries everything she can think of to distract herself from the press of the Laird’s body against her own. She recites a list of all the symptoms of the worst illnesses she can think of, trying to conjure images of boils and warts that might drive the feel of the Laird from her mind.
For what felt like the thousandth time in the hours that they’d been riding, Eliza readjusted herself. Once again, the Laird had grown hard beneath his kilt, and she felt every press of it against her.
Her mouth had long since gone dry, but she gulped anyways. She swirled her hips, desperate to create more space between their tightly pressed bodies. But the only thing it served to do was to grind her backside further against his bulge.
“Would ye stop movin’?”
The Laird’s voice came unexpectedly, deep and strained as he growled into her ear. The rumble of his chest reverberated through her and Eliza had to fight the urge to lean into him.
“I cannae stop movin’ if the horse is movin’,” Eliza argued back.
Sure enough, the horse’s body swayed once more as it walked, causing Eliza’s hips to move as he did so. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she found Laird MacKinnon’s jaw flexing from gritting his teeth.
His dark brown eyes bore into her.
