“Aye, I have and you calm when I do. You also cling fiercely to me.”
Emma was not sure how to respond. It was terribly improper of him and yet it was terribly thoughtful of him. “I want to thank you and admonish you at the same time.”
He laughed. “You can do both if it pleases you. I think the truth of the situation is that we have no choice but to do what must be done. Though I must admit, it is not a chore having you sleep in my arms.”
His words shocked her and a tingle of heat ran through her, though this time she knew it had nothing to do with her fever. And that upset her all the more as did her own words. “I thank you and would not mind if you continued to calm me.”
“As you wish, though you must know one thing.”
“What is that?”
“I sleep naked with you to keep your fever down.”
Emma was truly shocked silent. She could not respond if she wanted to. He was right to have done so and yet terribly wrong of him. No matter how hard she tried, she could not form a sensible response. She simply did not know how to reply to him.
“Since you voice no objections, I will assume the situation is acceptable to you.”
Silence still had hold of Emma’s tongue or did it? Could she actually want him to sleep naked with her? A yawn rose up within her to break the silence.
“Time to sleep,” Rogan announced. “Do you want to stay in your nightdress?”
Emma nodded.
“Sleep well,” he said, “I will join you later.” He walked over to the hearth and returned to tending it.
She sighed softly, glad he would wait to join her. She had no idea how she would react to seeing him naked, and she preferred not to find out. She had no worry that sleep would be difficult, her weakened state would see to that, and it did. She was asleep in minutes.
Rogan waited until he was sure she was asleep and only then did he join her. He had seen worry cross her face when he had informed her that he had been sleeping with her naked. But she had no reason to worry. She was ill. It was unthinkable to even entertain the notion in her condition.
As he disrobed, he pushed a nagging thought aside, one that had been haunting him far too much lately. But it would not go away easily. It continued to poke its head up and torment him.
What if Emma was well and willing, would he deny a chance to bed her?
A muttered oath slipped out when he realized that the thought of such a possibility had turned him hard. Never had he expected to be attracted to Emma. Never had he thought he would find beauty in such a plain female. Never had he expected her to have such an exquisite body. And never had he expected his feelings to grow for his future sister-in-law in ways that were not at all proper.
He slipped into bed with her, though kept his distance. She would find him when she was ready. Until then, he would take the time to control his lust and to remember that she would never be his.
The thought did not set well with him and that troubled him all the more. In the short time they had been here, he had thought more about Emma then he had of Heather. Of course, Emma was ill and needed looking after. So, it was only natural for him to be more concerned about her. But when he did think of Heather, his concerns were more about rescue than how he felt about her. He actually felt nothing for her, but then he had never met her. Given a chance, perhaps they would get along well, maybe even fall in love. What did it truly matter? He had no choice. They had been promised to each other.
Emma no soon as stirred in her sleep, then she reached out to him and he eased her into his arms to rest against him. Though it had only been three nights, he had already grown accustomed to having her there beside him. He favored the way she clung so tightly to him, as if she never wanted to let him go. Truth be told, he did not want to let her go.
His arms tightened around her, holding on to her as strongly as she held to him, as if they both refused to be separated. But separate they must and like the previous days, he would wake before her and leave her reluctantly. It was the way of things. He was promised to her sister Heather, and it would be Heather who he wed.
Sleep claimed him along with dreams, and it was not Heather who haunted them.
Chapter Twelve
Emma snuggled against solid warmth. It felt good since there was a chill in the air. She did not want to open her eyes and greet the day, at least not yet. She wanted to linger and enjoy this wonderful contentment.
Her eyes shot open as soon as she recalled where she was and who she was wrapped around. Her nightdress was up around her waist and her leg lay over his thigh, warm and hard between her two. Her arm was draped across his naked chest, and her head rested comfortably on his shoulder. Her cheeks stung red with embarrassment, and she was at a loss as to what to do.
“Your fever is gone,” Rogan said.
Her hand went to her face. Her skin was cool, except for her glowing cheeks. She looked up at him with a smile. “You are right. The fever has broken.”
“Let us have a look at your wound and see how it does.”
“It does not pain me much,” she said, trying to ease off him, but finding her one foot tangled in the blanket. She gave it a gentle yank. Her knee shot up and over, brushing against his enlarged manhood. She gasped and bolted up to get away from him, then winced, the sudden movement causing her pain.
Rogan’s arm went around her waist. “Easy,” he warned softly as he gently lowered her down on her back.
She lay staring up at him, a small voice insisting she tell him to leave the bed at once and another voice urging her to have him stay right where he was. She remained silent, refusing to give heed to either of them.
“The wound continues to heal,” he reminded.
He was leaning over her and showed no signs of moving, and she did not want him to.
The wound… she would remain focused on the wound and not how her heart beat so wildly when he was close to her, or how her lips seemed to ache to be kissed when he was near.
“I have meant to ask you. Could you judge how deep the wound was?” she asked, forcing herself to remain focused on what was most important.
His fingers ever so gently pushed several strands of her hair off her cheek, tucking them behind her ear.
The faint brush of his warm fingers against her cooled skin sent it tingling. How could a touch make her flesh feel so alive?
“I do not think it is too deep. I recalled the warrior who struck you pulled the sword out quickly rather than shoving it through.”
“Perhaps he had a change of heart,” she said.
“Or perhaps it was ordered that you not be harmed and he realized his mistake and withdrew his sword before any more damage could be done.
The thought lingered between them. It gave Emma hope that if she was not to be harmed, then neither would her sisters. Rogan thought the same, though he wondered why the sisters had not been harmed.
“Either way, I am lucky. It could have been far worse. I must take a look at it now and see how it heals.”
“Let me dress and see to the horses first, then I will help you,” he said and quickly took leave of the bed.
Emma felt a sadness twist at her heart as he moved away, not a good sign. She was caring more for this man than she had a right to. She warned herself to turn away and not look at his naked body, but she refused to listen to herself. And she was glad she did, though it only caused her heart to grow heavier.
She had seen naked men before, having tended her fair share of ill ones through the years, so a man’s body was not unfamiliar to her. It was, however, the first time she was looking at a naked man who she had feelings for—and that made all the difference.
He was a beauty, all hard muscle and though he kept his back to her, she knew that hard muscle extended to every part of him. She turned her head away. This had to stop. Rogan did not belong to her… he belonged to her sister.
“I will not be long,” Rogan said and hurried out the door.
Emma wondered over his
hasty departure. She had been embarrassed at the lusty feelings she had felt toward him when finding them so intimately entwined, perhaps he had thought differently and was rushing to get away from her.
With that possibility troubling her, she carefully moved to the edge of the bed to sit. The pain in her shoulder was not unbearable, though it could stab at times. She so badly wanted to see to her wound before he returned, but it would be foolish of her to deny that she needed his help. She could, however, see if there was any way she could salvage her garments.
She slowly got to her feet and found herself steadier on them than she had expected.
She was feeling much better. Three days of rest and tender care had worked well, and she was grateful to Rogan for being so attentive to her needs. He may be a mighty warrior, but he was also a considerate man.
Emma found her garments draped over one of the chairs, and it took only one look to see that she could salvage some of the material, but not all. At the moment, that would be of no help. She was grateful for her nightdress. She could fashion one of the plaids around it and that would suffice until she got home.
The door opened and Rogan entered, stopping abruptly when he saw her standing near the hearth.
“I am feeling much better,” she explained.
Rogan shut the door. “That is good. Then we will be able to leave soon.”
“Aye, we will,” she agreed with a smile, but not feeling as happy as she had expected.
“Shall we have a look at your wound?”
Emma nodded and reached for her plaid, lying on the chair. She intended to keep as much of herself covered as possible.
Rogan felt as if she grabbed for a shield when she hurriedly went for her plaid, but perhaps that was wise of her. She was a much too tempting morsel that he ached to taste. When she had woken shortly after him this morning, he had hoped she would not move and discover how aroused he was. But then it seemed as if he was in a perpetual state of arousal around her, something he had never felt around any other woman. Of course, he could blame it on their situation. Circumstances had forced them to live here as husband and wife, and it had forced an intimacy between them that was becoming far too comfortable in one sense and far too uncomfortable in another.
“Let me get out of my nightdress and my plaid wrapped around me,” she said. “Then you can help me.”
Rogan walked over to stand in front of her. “Emma, I have seen every naked inch of you and have remained honorable in my actions. You have no reason to fear I would do otherwise.”
He was right. He had remained honorable. She had nothing to fear from him. He was not at all attracted to her. She should be grateful, though she wondered why he was aroused this morning, too long without a woman more than likely.
“Perhaps, but it still is not proper,” she found herself saying.
“But it is necessary at the moment and the quicker we get you well enough to travel, the quicker we return home.”
She could not argue with that and home was definitely where she needed to be.
“I will slip the plaid around you as I lift your nightdress.”
She nodded, pleased that he had a solution to her misgivings. Before Emma knew it, he had her nightdress off her and her plaid wrapped around her just above her breasts. She held it there with one hand while he carefully removed the bandage.
One look at her wound had her smiling. It was healing well, there was only a slight redness and there were no signs of putridness settling in.
“How does your shoulder feel?” he asked.
“I cannot say it does not pain me, though my sisters claim I am more tolerant of pain than most. So to me it is a bearable pain. I also heal faster than most and I wish I knew why so that I could help others do the same.”
“I believe you are stubborn enough to do just that,” Rogan said with a smile.
“Call it stubborn if you like, but to me it is more a penchant for knowledge. The more I learn, the more I want to learn.”
“Does that knowledge include all the things a woman learns to run a keep as well?”
“I can run a productive keep, but do not ask me to stitch a tapestry, though Heather is a true artist when it comes to stitching,” she added quickly.
“What other talents does your sister have?” he asked, reaching for the bandage he had removed.
“No,” she snapped and his brow shot up. She placed her hand on his arm as if it was the most common reaction, but then it had become so between them. “I will need a clean strip of cloth.”
He nodded, though made no move to step away from her. He liked when she reached out and touched him without any thoughts to her actions. Her touch was always firm and confident, so full of courage.
“Heather’s talents,” he reminded as he finally stepped away to cut another swath of cloth from the blanket.
“She has many, though the way she coaxes plants to grow amazes me the most. I think it is her beauty and soft voice they respond to, for there is not a plant in her garden that does not flourish. But then people flourish around her as well.”
“Does she handle a weapon as well as you do?”
Emma laughed. “She better or Patience would be relentless until she did.”
“Patience is the warrior among you three?”
“And a fine one,” Emma said proudly. “I wish Father would realize that and let her lead the clan. She deserves the honor. The clan holds her in high regard as she does each and every one of them. She would make a great laird.”
Rogan returned to her side with the strip of cloth. “It has healed remarkably well for such a short time.”
“Time will heal the rest. We will see how things go today and if all is well, I believe we should leave tomorrow at first light.”
“It will be several days before we reach my home. Are you sure you do not need more time to rest and regain your strength?”
“I will do fine as long as the fever does not return,” she said, though knew that rest would serve to help heal, while riding endlessly for days would not only delay healing, but cause her pain. But the latter would be preferable, since her sister Heather might be suffering far worse than she, and Emma could not live with that thought.
“We will find Heather,” Rogan said, knowing her thought, for it was his own.
“If the Dark Dragon truly does have her, it will not be easy.”
Rogan began to wrap the cloth around her shoulder, gently covering her wound. “No, it will not, which is why we need to make certain, leave no room for doubt, that the Dark Dragon has Heather. Or do we follow the wrong path?”
“Patience would know. She will not give up, not return home until she has found Heather or has found information that will help us rescue her. I cannot help but wonder if she is home now waiting on my return.”
Rogan reached for her nightdress as soon as he finished wrapping her wound.
Emma was eager to slip back into it and just as eager to wrap her plaid around it, covering her body as much as possible. Wanting to be done with it quickly, she hastily raised both arms for Rogan to drop her nightdress over her head.
The pain shot through her shoulder with such force that her whole body went limp, and she knew she was about to faint. She managed to say Rogan’s name just as her nightdress slipped past her face and everything turned dark.
Rogan felt her body sag before she called his name. His arm was around her waist in an instant and he had her up in his arms just as fast. He carried her to the bed and carefully laid her down. He felt her head; she was cool. The arm obviously still pained her and well it should. It had not been that long since the sword had plunged her shoulder. She should be in bed, continuing to rest and heal.
He rinsed a cloth in the bucket of fresh water, then sat on the bed and pressed it along her forehead and cheeks. She stirred and her eyes appeared as if they fought to open. This was one time he was glad she was so stubborn.
“You fainted,” he said when her dazed eyes cleared. “You
suffer more pain than you tell me.”
“It is to be expected. I simply need to be more vigilant in my movements.”
“And riding a horse all day will not prove painful?”
“It cannot be helped,” she said. “Once home I can get plenty of rest.”
“Why is it I believe otherwise?”
She smiled and laid her hand upon his chest. “Because you have gotten to know me too well.”
Her simple touches were like magic, stirring his manhood and his mind with lusty thoughts. He stood, letting her hand fall away and it brushed his thigh as he stepped away from the bed. He silently muttered an oath, thinking what it would be like for her to touch him intimately.
He would be in serious trouble if he kept letting his thoughts turn so wicked and in worse trouble if they continued to remain here alone. Besides, she was recovering from a serious wound and it was not right of him to be thinking such improper thoughts. And how many times did he need to remind himself that he had no right to her?
“We should leave tomorrow,” she said.
She knew his thoughts, but then there were times he knew hers. They were getting much too close. He had to put an end to it.
“We leave tomorrow,” he said as he turned and faced her.
“Aye, at first light,” she agreed.
“I need to hunt. Will you—”
“I will be fine,” she assured him and waited until the door closed behind him to release the heavy sigh that had been locked in her chest. She had seen it. She was certain she had seen it—passion. It had sparked in his eyes. He desired her as much as she desired him, and there was no denying it. They could no longer be alone. They had to return home, preferably to separate ones.
“Get out of bed and see to your needs before he returns,” she urged. “Whatever you do keep your plaid wrapped around your nightdress, and no more sleeping together.”
She paid heed to her warnings and moved slowly so as not to cause herself any sharp pain.
A spring chill filled the air and a persistent wind rustled the new tree leaves yet in full bloom. The cool air felt good against her skin after having lingered with fever the last few days as did the sun that managed to reign over the sky. It was a beautiful day and once Emma finished seeing to her needs, she had no want to return to the cottage.
Lords of the Isles Page 132
