Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,45
put it out. I’m sorry my school was burned down, but I’m more sorry you were hurt.”
His gaze held hers for a long moment as she tried to think of a way to express her thanks for his effort, but in the end could only say, “Thank you for trying.”
He looked at the foot of the bed and began to move his legs as if attempting to get up. “I should go.”
She immediately put her hands on his shoulders and held him down. “No, you mustn’t. Not yet. Doctor’s orders.”
“Doctor?” he repeated with a frown.
“Of course we sent for the doctor,” she said, still holding his shoulders, unwilling to let go, or let him go. “You’ve been badly hurt. You mustn’t think of leaving here for a few days, until you’re feeling better. Given what you tried to do, our hospitality is the least we can offer.”
At last he stopped struggling. “You’re…too kind.”
He spoke as if she were being completely selfless. She wished that were so, but if she were being completely honest, she would have to admit she was happy to have him here, where she could watch over him and make sure he recovered. Where she could see him and spend time with him.
Before he went back to his life in Edinburgh, far away from Dunbrachie. And her.
“Well, now, where’s my young man?” a middle-aged, plump, pleasant-faced woman carrying a worn valise demanded as she marched into the room like a captain assuming command of a ship.
An obviously distressed Walters followed in her wake. “I beg your pardon, my lady. I tried to make her wait until I could announce her, but she insisted upon coming up the stairs immediately.”
“Bless you, no need for announcements,” the woman replied as she went to the side of the bed. “I’m the nurse, of course, Mrs. McAlvey.” She set down her valise and cocked her head to one side as she studied Mr. McHeath, who was just as intently studying her.
“That will be all, Walters,” Moira said as she watched the two of them, one young and handsome and sick and wary, the other older, broader, matter-of-fact and…smiling?
“Well, he looks better than I expected, all things considered,” Mrs. McAlvey declared as she took off her cloak and handed it to Moira without any regard for class or rank. She also spoke as if Mr. McHeath was still unconscious, even though he was looking right at her. “I’ve seen plenty hurt worse than him be right as rain after a week or two.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” Mr. McHeath said, a tad louder than he had to and obviously a little disgruntled at being spoken of as if he wasn’t aware of her presence. “I’m feeling better already.”
However dismayed Mr. McHeath might be, Moira wanted to hug her. Mrs. McAlvey had surely been around enough sick and injured people that her opinion could be trusted.
Not a whit disturbed by Mr. McHeath’s disgruntled remarks, Mrs. McAlvey gave a hearty laugh. “A pity you look like a dog’s breakfast, then,” she said to him. She put her hands on her hips. “So, you’re the fella beat the Titan of Inverness. Well, you’ve got the shoulders for it, although I can’t say I ever heard of a lawyer making a bit on the side prizefighting.”
“I wasn’t paid a penny.”
“No? Good heavens, man, you should have been, by all accounts. Most entertaining boxing match in years, they’re saying in Dunbrachie. Still and all, I trust this’ll be the last time. We aren’t none of us getting any younger.” She glanced at Moira. “Now, as delightful as I’m sure this young man is finding your company, my lady, it’s time for you to go. The man needs his rest—and you should have a nap yourself. Dr. Campbell said that seeing you got some sleep was part of my job, too.”
Moira didn’t want to leave, but she doubted there was anything more she could do to help Mr. McHeath now that the capable and voluble Mrs. McAlvey was here.
She was nearly at the door when an even more distressed Walters arrived.
She immediately thought of one reason for his demeanor and hurried out of the blue bedroom, closing the door behind her. “Has my father come home?”
And is he drunk?
“No, my lady,” the butler replied, giving her some temporary relief from her dread before he gave her another cause for concern. “Sir Robert McStuart is below and wishes to speak with you.”
Never had she been more tempted to have