Emma tearfully hugged the two women, giving Agnes a longer hug and bid them goodbye. She hurried out the door, her eyes brimming with tears.
She was only a few steps away from the cottage when she was grabbed and wrapped in strong arms. She sunk into their strength, knowing they belonged to her husband.
“What is wrong?” Rogan asked, holding her tight.
“Goodbyes are much too difficult,” she said not able to stop her tears from falling.
“I am sorry, Emma, I do not wish our leaving to cause you pain.”
“I know and it is not your fault,” she assured him, wiping her tears away. “And what are you doing here? You said you would wait at the keep.”
“I intended to, until I recalled what happened yesterday and decided I would remain your shadow today so that you do not exhaust yourself again.” He released her, though took her hand. “Now where are you off to?”
“Daniel’s cottage, and, Rogan,”—she stared at him unable to find words as a teardrop hung from her one eyelash.
Rogan wiped it away with his thumb. “I am here for you, wife, and I always will be.”
His words touched her heart and she held firm to his hand as they walked through the village together. When they reached the cottage, Rogan told her he would wait outside. After giving her a light kiss, he walked over to a worn bench and sat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
Emma smiled when he settled himself comfortably, letting her know he would wait for her as long as it took. She entered the cottage, eager to be done with Daniel so that she could spend time with her husband. She was surprised when Helen excused herself and stepped outside. She approached Daniel who appeared to be doing well, of which she was glad.
“What can I do for you, Daniel?” she asked with a warm smile, stopping next to the bed.
“I am fine, Emma, thanks to your bravery and knowledge.” He coughed lightly, then spoke up. “I want to apologize for what I did to you when we were young. It was wrong of me and I regret it most profoundly. I do hope you can find it in your heart to forgive a fool like me.”
Emma stared at him, not quite sure it was Daniel who had spoken. Where had this sudden heartfelt apology come from? He had already apologized when he thought he would not survive the mill accident. So why do so again and with such sincerity?
It dawned on her then. “Did my husband force you to apologize?”
“I had all intentions of apologizing for my horrid behavior.”
“That is not what I asked, Daniel,” she said. “Did my husband force you to apologize?”
“He persuaded me to do the honorable thing,” Daniel said and lowered his voice. “And I would be grateful if you would express your appreciation that I did so and in a most sincere manner, for I am truly sorry, Emma. And let him also know that I will tell everyone how I apologized to you.”
He wore his worry for all to see and fear quivered his voice, and Emma felt sorry for him. “My husband frightens you.”
“Aye, he does,” Daniel admitted without hesitation. “He is a mighty warrior who could do me great harm with the mere swat of his hand. And that he loves you makes it all the more possible that he would have his revenge. But I will say it again regardless of that… I truly am sorry.”
“You do not have to keep apologizing. I was just as foolish for thinking myself in love with you when all I wanted was a lad to pay me the attention that was paid to my sisters.”
“You did not love me?” he asked, sounding disappointed.
“At the time I thought I did, but looking back on it,”—she laughed—“I was jealous of my sisters and you were sniffing after me, so you were—convenient. Now if all is well with you, I will be on my way.”
Daniel nodded. “I am fine.”
“Good, then do as I told you and you should continue to heal.” Emma left the cottage, talking briefly with Helen before going to her husband who was already headed her way.
His arm no sooner went around her, then one of Rogan’s warriors approached with a shout. “Stay here,” he said to Emma and went to the warrior who hurried toward him.
Emma’s stomach clenched, watching the exchange. It was obvious something was wrong.
Rogan returned to her in quick strides. “My father has taken ill. We need to return home now.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“We travel fast, so take only what is necessary,” Rogan instructed as he walked her to the keep. “Have your servants pack what you wish to take from here and I will leave a few warriors behind to bring your belongings as soon as they are made ready.”
“Do you know how ill your father is?” Emma asked with concern for Rogan and for her own father since she would have to leave him, and his illness still lingered.
“No, but the message is from Liam and he would not summon me if he did not think it serious. Now hurry, we leave shortly.”
Emma went straight to her father and was pleased to see him up, standing by the hearth, his cheeks flushed and a hardy smile on his face. It faded when he took one look at her.
“What is wrong?” her father asked, opening his arms to her.
She ran into them and he closed them tightly around her. It was as if she was a young lass again and all was right, her worries fading with her father’s generous and loving hug. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe that her father’s arms could dissolve her problems and all would be well. But the truth was that she was leaving him and would no longer be able to seek his reassuring arms or even speak to him every day.
“Emma?” he questioned with worry.
She raised her head off his strong chest. “Rogan and I must leave now.” She went on to explain what had happened.
“Of course, you must go and see to Rogan’s father,” he said when she finished. “You are not to worry about me. I am doing well, and Maura will continue to tend me when needed. You will return to visit and celebrate when your sisters come home.”
He sounded so confident that Patience and Heather would return home that it gave her own belief a boost, though she asked, “You will let me know the King’s response to your letter?”
“As soon as I hear,” he said. “Now you must hurry. I am sure Rogan is impatient to leave.” He hugged Emma tightly. “I believe Rogan will be a good husband to you, Emma, so be an obedient wife.” He grinned. “Or at least try to obey him.”
She laughed softly. “I will do my best, Da.”
“Then Rogan will have no complaints.”
Emma’s eyes filled with tears and her heart pounded in her chest as she gave her father one last hug. When he kissed her cheek and told her he loved her, she had to run from the room, not wanting to cry in front of him and upset him.
Servants were waiting in her room to help her, but she left the decision of what garments she should take to them. She was more concerned with what herbs she would require to help Angus MacClennan. She made certain to speak with Maura before she left, the woman assuring her that she was not to worry about her da, that she would look after him and he would be fine.
In no time, Emma found herself on her mare ready to leave.
Rogan approached her on his steed, the horse prancing hard, as anxious as his master to leave. “We will ride hard and fast, Emma. If you tire, let me know and you can ride with me and rest. I do not plan on stopping until we are home.”
Emma nodded and watched her husband take the lead and his warriors surrounded her as they rode off. She did not dare look back at her home or she thought for certain her heart would rip from her chest. She may have gained a loving husband throughout this whole debacle, but she had lost so much.
She longed for the days when worry was limited to minor problems and the evening was shared with her father and sisters. And she had time to pursue her interests and learn all she could. But then Rogan would be lost to her, and she found that she quite liked having him around. Life would not be bad with him. Actually, she could not see a day without him. She had grown accustom
ed to him and found that she favored sleeping with him. She had not thought she would want to share her bed with any man, but Rogan was not any man… he was exceptional, and he belonged to her.
A roll of thunder had her glancing up at the cloudy sky. Rain seemed likely and if it proved a downpour, then it could slow their pace.
An hour later they were forced to take whatever shelter they could find against the pouring rain. She snuggled in Rogan’s arms beneath a pine tree, the thick growth of branches preventing them from getting completely soaked.
Emma suffered little from the rain, Rogan having wrapped his cloak around her, tucking her close against him.
“This will delay us,” he said annoyed.
“I am sure your healers have matters well in hand,” Emma said, trying to reassure him.
“Matters cannot be good if Liam sent for me.”
She tried to ease his worries. “Once the rain slows we will be on our way home soon enough.”
“You will make him well,” Rogan said, though it sounded more a command.
“I will do all I can,” Emma assured him.
“Then he will get well soon enough,” Rogan said with confidence. He hugged her close and shook his head. “I sometimes think I lost my da along with my mum the day she died. And I often wish the Da I knew would return home, but I think he would prefer to join my mum.”
“He stopped living, he needs to start again.”
“He refuses.”
“He needs a push,” Emma said.
“I have tried, but it is useless. He has turned all the duties of running the clan over to me and no doubt will soon relinquish the title of laird to me. He does nothing, but drink and drown in his sorrows.”
“He has not drowned yet. There is still hope.”
“It would take a miracle to set him right, but enough of my father. How are you?”
“I am fine.”
“Truthfully?” Rogan asked. “I yanked you away from your father so fast that you barely had time to bid him goodbye.”
“It was not easy, but when I gave it thought the prospect of not having you in my life every day outweighed the sorrow I felt about leaving my da. I will see him again. You, I want to see every day.” She kissed him softly. “I want to do that often. I want to be in your arms whenever possible, and I want,”—she slipped her hand beneath his plaid—“to touch you and feel you grow hard in my hand.” She stroked him to life.
“Bloody hell, woman,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut against the delectable feel of her determined touch.
“I love the feel of you swelling in my hand,” she whispered and gripped him firmer, eager to bring some joy to him and herself.
“Emma, you must stop,” he groaned quietly.
“Why? Do you not enjoy it? I do.”
Her innocent remark flamed his already heated passion.
“No one is near. No one can see what we do. And I want to chase your worries away if only for a while as you did mine.”
“And what of your pleasure?”
She smiled. “You can see to it later,”—she released him and cupped his thick sac in her hand—“though the delicious feel of you just may have me climaxing.”
He jerked when her hand returned to grab the long hard length of him and he had no want to stop her. He could think of nothing but how good she was making him feel in the middle of a downpour under a towering pine. He had planned to show her that making love knew no specific time or place and here she was showing him that she instinctively understood that.
She turned her lips on his neck, though it was light, loving nips she settled upon him. He caught himself before he groaned aloud, fearful that it would drift off on the wind and become a roar.
“Emma,” he ground through clamped teeth, feeling himself ready to explode.
“Good Lord, how I want you,” she murmured and hoisted her skirt just far enough so that she could rub him against that tiny spot that brought her so much pleasure.
Rogan exploded in a blinding fury and it magnified when he heard Emma sigh her release as she continued to tug and stroke until he was completely spent and her ripples had faded.
She wished she could linger in the moment with him, but that would not be prudent. She almost laughed. What she had just done had not been prudent, but it had been extremely enjoyable and so very satisfying. She reluctantly tucked his plaid back over him, straightened her garments, and then dropped her head on his chest. “That left me spent.” His chest shook against her cheek as a chuckle rumbled through it, and she smiled.
“Not half as much as me,” he said his hand slipping up to the back of her head, grabbing a handful of hair and gently tugging her head back. “I owe you for that, wife,” he said playfully and kissed her quick.
She smiled. “I shall make certain you pay your debt.”
He laughed. “I have a feeling I will be indebted to you often.”
“A distinct possibility,” she said and blinked as a raindrop splattered on the tip of her nose.
Rogan rubbed it away with his own nose, then looked past her. “The rain is slowing and the clouds scattering.”
Emma turned in his arms, resting back against him. The rain was clearing off. The warriors would soon show themselves, leaving their private moment left to memories. She wanted to make a ton of memories with Rogan so that she could cherish each and every one of them through the many years to come.
The warriors were soon gathered and mounted and ready to continue their journey. Emma knew there would be no more stops made. They would ride into the night until they finally arrived home, and that was what they did. They rode nonstop, until they arrived home completely exhausted.
Though it was late, the village stirred upon their arrival. Liam met them at the keep’s steps, looking as if he just woke.
Rogan gave no greeting, he asked, “My father?”
“Feverish,” Liam answered gravely.
“Take me to him,” Emma said and hurried into the keep.
They quietly entered a sparse bedchamber that appeared more fitting for a monk than the laird of a large clan. Bertha sat beside the bed, her hands knitted in worry, though she stood quickly when seeing they had entered.
“Thank the good Lord you are home,” Bertha said, laying eyes on Rogan. “He keeps asking for you.”
Rogan approached the bed just as his father’s eyes fluttered open.
“Is he here yet, Bertha?” Angus asked with difficulty.
Rogan was at his side instantly, taking hold of his hand. “I am here, Da.”
“Good. Good, for I fear I will be joining your mother soon.”
As father and son shared a private moment, Emma waved Bertha aside and walked to the hearth with her to speak in hushed tones.
“What happened?” Emma asked.
She shrugged. “I am not sure. He turned feverish one day and it has grown worse.”
“Had he complained about anything before the fever struck?”
Bertha shook her head. “Nothing. He was his usual self, eating, drinking, and feeling sorry for himself.”
“And you noticed nothing—nothing at all—different about him?”
Bertha shook her head, and then suddenly stopped. “Now that you ask, I thought he was walking oddly one day, though I dismissed it, thinking it nothing more than his drinking.”
“How oddly?”
“Like he was tilting or favoring one leg over the other.”
“Thank you, Bertha,” Emma said and approached the bed.
“Can you help him?” Rogan asked anxiously.
“I need to see his legs,” Emma said.
“You will not be looking at my legs, lassie,” his father argued.
Emma paid him no mind. She grabbed the blanket before anyone could stop her and threw it off him. The others gasped at the sight of his one swollen and discolored leg. She shook her head and turned to Rogan. “Turn him on his side, so I can see the back of his leg.”
“You will not�
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Rogan paid him no mind and did as his wife said and turned his father on his side. He gasped again when he saw the back of his father’s leg.
“I took a fall. It is nothing,” his father insisted.
Emma bent over to examine it more closely. It held no stench, a good sign. But it would not be long before it did, if she did not cleanse it and attempt to draw out what poison had already settled in. Something caught her eye before she turned away and she leaned closer. She shook her head.
“What is wrong?” Rogan asked.
“He took a splinter of wood when he fell and it rots his leg. I must get it out for the leg to heal.”
“You will not be touching my leg, lassie,” his father commanded.
Emma ignored her father-in-law and looked to Bertha. “Get plenty of ale and hot water.”
“Are you listening to me, lass?” Angus yelled.
“No,” Emma shouted as loudly as he had.
“I am the laird of this clan and—”
“Then behave like one and do not be such a coward,” she said.
“You dare call me a coward?” Angus said, spitting out his words in frustration.
“Prove to me you are not,” she challenged.
Rogan thought to interfere, concerned for his father, then he realized that his wife knew well what she was doing and he stepped aside and let her have her way.
“Get out,” Angus yelled.
“You waste your breath, old man, you will not win this,” Emma said.
“Old man? Not win this?” Angus turned red with fury.
Before he could say another word, Emma leaned down in his face. “Your fury would be better spent on fighting to live. Do you not want to see grandchildren born? Spend time with a granddaughter perhaps that looks like your Anna and bears her name? And what of your son? He does not wish to lose you. Stop being selfish and fight to live.”
Angus glared at her, and then his eyes softened. “You are as bold as my Anna was.”
“Then be as courageous as she believed you to be.”
“Tell me what I must do,” Angus said capitulating.
“Be strong, for it will be painful.”
Lords of the Isles Page 145
