The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,82
me.”
He kissed the place where his knuckle had been. “Did I not?”
Emma closed her eyes and sighed. “Never in all your days diminish what we shared. It was magnificent and pure.”
“Nothing short of miraculous,” he said, his breath whispering along her nape.
She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, dying to ask about what he’d meant when he carried her into the house. “Um…would you mind repeating what you said after I noticed you’d shaved?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Ye ken…what was it you said about wooing a wi—”
“Good heavens, Miss Emma.” Betty burst through the door. “You must forgive me. I was in the kitchens when the accident happened.”
“Step away from my sister’s bed,” boomed Robert in a most unpleasant tone. “Mary Catherine, the family’s healer, has arrived.”
As Ciar’s warmth moved away, the chamber filled with excitable people all yammering at once.
“I’ve brought a tincture of willow bark tea,” said Janet, moving close. “This ought to take the edge off the pain.”
Albert moaned.
Emma reached up. “Ciar!”
“I’m here.” His voice came from the foot of the bed. “You’d best drink Her Ladyship’s tea.”
“How are you feeling, Miss Emma?” asked Mary Catherine, taking her hand.
She glowered, hopefully directing her ire at her brother. “I was much better when Dunollie was tending me.”
“Well, he’s not a healer.” The woman examined Emma’s arm and removed the bandage. “Oh, dear, this needs compression. Betty, apply a cloth, quickly.”
“I’ll do it,” said Ciar.
“No,” Robert groused. “I must speak with you in my library.”
“But Emma needs—”
“I concur with Grant,” said Mary Catherine quite tersely, as if she’d entertain no argument. “Everyone out aside from Betty and Lady Janet—that is, if you have the stomach for it, given your condition, m’lady.”
“I would prefer to be no place other than at my dearest sister’s side.” Janet placed the mug in Emma’s free hand. “Heed me and drink this down before she starts.”
“Robert!” Emma howled, ignoring everyone else. “You be nice to Dunollie or I will never speak to you again!”
“I’ll hear him out. Then I shall decide what is to be done.”
The door clicked shut, and the men were gone.
Emma relented and drank the bitter tea. If only she hadn’t been injured, she would stand between her brother and the Highlander who’d stolen her heart and refuse to budge until Robert relented.
She placed the cup on the side table. “I cannot remain here while my brother acts like an angry bull.”
“I think he kens how you feel about Dunollie.” Janet brushed the hair away from Emma’s forehead. “I made certain of it.”
“Oh?” she asked. “Tell me.”
“Let us just say the laird of this house kens his wife and sister will be moving to Achnacarry if he doesn’t pull his stubborn head out of his backside.”
* * *
Grant slumped into the chair behind his writing desk, a dark scowl fixed on his face, making the knife scar he’d received in a duel with Kennan Cameron puckered and red. Kennan was Janet’s brother, but the two men had been sworn enemies at the time. Ciar remembered the incident as if it were yesterday—in fact, the ordeal was most likely what had started Grant’s love affair with his wife.
“Sit.” The curmudgeon gestured to the chair across the board. “You look like shite.”
“Was just thinking the same about you.” Ciar glanced to the sideboard. “Mind if I pour?”
“My thanks,” Grant responded.
Ciar sauntered over and pulled the stopper out of the decanter, pouring two drams. “Ye ken I’d rather be with Emma at the moment.”
The mad bull scowled. “You’re not going anywhere near her.”
Ciar placed a glass in front of his friend and took a seat across. Saying nothing, he studied Robert and sipped. How many times had they sat in these very chairs and enjoyed a roll of the hazard dice or a game of cards? The library hadn’t changed much in all that time. The walls were lined with hundreds of leather-bound books, the family bible sat on the table near the white marble hearth between two wing-backed chairs, the old globe rested in a stand near the window. How Ciar would like to be anywhere on that round map aside from here at the moment.
Robert turned the glass between his fingers and stared at the amber liquid. “Bless Janet. She’s the reason I haven’t ordered my men to tie you to a whipping post. Lord kens you deserve it.”
“Perhaps I do.” The old lead ball churned in Ciar’s gut. In truth there were many things he would have done differently, though hindsight