Page 28 of A Healer for the Wicked Highlander

She seemed taken off guard by it for a moment. Also by his proximity. “Michael,” she said, the name rolling down her tongue with ease she didn’t expect. She wanted to keep repeating it over and over again. “And the other?”

He inclined his head. “The other is that ye stay one more week… for Cody’s sake, of course.”

He was so close to her now that she could almost feel his hot breath spilling over her lips. This was how close they were when he kissed her. She was desperate for him to do it again, for her to drown in his arms and never come up for air.

But she pulled away in time, regaining composure. “A week it is then.”

“Aye,” he grinned, as if he had won. “I’ll expect to see the manuscript soon, then.”

Freya nodded, eager to leave before her fraying composure betrayed her further. She turned toward the door, but as her hand touched the latch, she paused. The weight of his gaze lingered on her back, or perhaps it was her imagination.

“Thank ye again,” she said without looking back, her voice quiet.

Then she stepped out into the corridor, her pulse racing. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

She’d done it. Marissa would be overjoyed. And yet, as Freya made her way to find her sister, her thoughts were tangled in the memory of Michael’s eyes, his voice, and the way he’d looked at her.

Freya found Marissa in the sitting room, bent over an embroidery hoop, though the stitches were uneven, and her movements distracted. The moment Freya stepped into the room, Marissa looked up, her dark eyes wide with anticipation.

“Well?” Marissa asked, setting the embroidery aside. “Did ye speak to him? What did he say?”

Freya smiled, though her nerves still fluttered in her chest. “Aye, I spoke to him. He’s agreed to help… on one condition.”

Marissa sprang to her feet, clasping her hands together. “What condition? Tell me!”

“He wants to read the book first,” Freya said gently. “If he likes it, he’ll make sure it’s published.”

Marissa let out a high-pitched squeal, her joy spilling over. “Oh, Freya, ye’ve nay idea what this means to me!” She darted forward and hugged her sister tightly.

Freya laughed softly, patting Marissa’s back. “I think I’ve some idea.”

Releasing Freya, Marissa spun toward the small desk in the corner, where the manuscript lay neatly stacked. She scooped it up with both hands, holding it as if it were a treasure.

“I’ll take it to him now,” she declared, her face flushed with excitement.

“Marissa, wait—” Freya began, but her sister was already halfway to the door.

“I’ll nae wait a moment longer!” Marissa called over her shoulder, her voice light with laughter.

Freya watched her go, her smile fading as the door swung shut behind her. Left alone in the quiet of the room, she let out a slow breath and sank into a nearby chair.

Her thoughts drifted to the laird. She couldn’t help but wonder how he would react to Marissa’s work. Would he see the brilliance her sister had poured into the pages? And beyond that,what would this new connection between him and her family bring?

The unease that had settled in her chest earlier returned, mingled with something she couldn’t quite name. Freya pressed a hand to her temple, trying to quiet her thoughts.

The laird had agreed to help, but at what cost?

“Enter,” Michael called, looking up from his writing table.

The door swung open, and in stepped Marissa, her face bright with excitement. She nearly skipped across the room, her eyes wide with hope.

“Me laird, I—” she began, her words tumbling out in a rush.

Michael raised a hand, his expression softening. “Take a breath, lass. What is it?”

She paused, catching her breath, and then, with a gleam in her eyes, she pulled the manuscript from her satchel. “Here it is! Me book. I’ve worked so hard on it, and I… I wanted to thank ye for helpin’ me.”

Michael could see the pride in her eyes, the sincerity behind her excitement as she handed him the manuscript. Despite herenthusiasm, he noticed the slight tremor in her hands as she offered the book, a subtle reminder that she was still a young woman navigating a world that often didn’t appreciate her talents.