Page 46 of Highland Renegade
“That is not entirely your housekeeper’s fault,” Juliana said before he could respond. “Emily likes to be independent.”
Yes, she does.Ian lowered her carefully to the bed. She probably—most certainly?—would not have agreed to the kiss had she been awake, but he couldn’t truly regret the small pleasure.
Emily moaned again, her eyes fluttered, then opened. She blinked up at them and tried to sit up but fell back. She raised a hand to her temple and winced. “I guess I took a nasty fall.”
“Ye did,” Fiona said, fluffing a pillow and stuffing it behind her to help her sit.
“’Tis good ye remember,” Ian said, “but I will send for Old Gwendolyn just to make sure ye are all right.”
“Is that necessary?” Emily asked. “I hate to be a bother.”
“’Tis nae bother.” Fiona glared at Ian. “If my eejit brother had ordered the servants to help ye, ye would nae have fallen.”
“Ye already made that point.” Ian turned to Emily. “’Tis better our healer look at ye, since ye were unconscious for a few minutes.”
She gave him a puzzled look, and he hoped she hadn’t been more seriously hurt, but then she nodded, stopping at once.
“Ouch.”
“That settles it then,” Fiona said. “I will ride over myself and fetch Gwendolyn.”
“And send Maggie up,” Ian said.
A few minutes later his housekeeper arrived, a contrite look on her face. Ian had no doubt Fiona had already let her feelings be known, but he wasn’t going to admonish Maggie in front of the Englishwomen.
“I’ve sent for the healer, but do what ye can until she gets here.”
She nodded and less than a minute later Ian found himself on the other side of a closed door while maids bustled by with cool water and cloths. He could hear female voices engaged in conversation, and he hoped they weren’t wearing Emily out with their questions about what happened.
He was glad she remembered going down the stairs and falling, but equally glad she would have no memory of what else had taken place. That would be his little secret.
…
Ian MacGregor hadkissedher. At first, Emily thought she’d dreamed it, drifting in some sort of hazy trance, feeling the lightest brushing of his lips across hers. And then, as she floated toward consciousness, she realized what she’d felt was real. His mouth, gentle as a zephyr breeze, had slowly stroked across her own, lingering for just a moment, teasing her senses before he broke the contact. And, in some foggy, recessed area of her mind, she’d wanted more…a sensation she couldn’t remembereverhaving. Still, she had been too befuddled to open her eyes or even make a sound. The last thing she remembered was him picking her up and tucking her close. She’d experienced another strange sensation as she’d nestled against him and allowed herself to drift away once more. She had feltsafe.
The bedchamber he’d taken her to suddenly felt empty as he was shooed out the door, even though it was crowded with her sisters, the housekeeper, and what seemed like a dozen maids, coming and going.
“I am sure I am quite all right,” she said as Lorelei dipped a cloth in cold water and pressed it to the bump on her head. “Oh, that does feel wonderful.”
“Which just proves you might not be as ‘all right’ as you think,” Juliana said, wringing out a second cloth.
“We will see when Gwendolyn gets here.” The housekeeper looked around the room as if to make sure all was in order. “I will go downstairs and make ye a fresh pot of tea with some honey. ’Tis always good for what ails ye.”
Emily wasn’t sure if Maggie was making the overture because Ian had given orders or because she was sincere. Either way, perhaps it was a start to a reconciliation.
As she bustled out, Emily could hear male voices in the hallway, probably Ian’s brothers or uncles come to find out what all the ruckus was about, since so many servants had congregated. It didn’t take long for the voices to fade, and she wondered if Ian had left as well. It was rather nice knowing he’d lingered.
A short time later, Fiona returned with the healer in tow. She promptly dismissed the maids, although Juliana and Lorelei insisted on staying. Nodding once, Gwendolyn then poked and prodded Emily to make sure the only injury she had was the bump on her head. Shetskedwhen she examined it.
“Ye might as well let the laird in,” she said, without turning around. “He will want to ken what I say and I doona like repeating myself.”
Emily exchanged a surprised look with her sisters. There had been no noise, not even boots shuffling, outside the door. How had the healer known Ian was there?
But he was. When Juliana opened the door, he nearly fell through, like some small boy listening at a keyhole.
“Is Em—the countess—going to be all right?” he asked.
The healer straightened with surprising agility and, as a sunbeam from the window lit her face, she seemed younger somehow. Odd. Usually sunlight made people look older.
