Page 5 of A Healer for the Wicked Highlander

They stared at each other, the tension between them crackling like a storm ready to break. Freya’s heart pounded as she searched his face, her healer’s instinct finally seeing what lay beneath his harsh words.

Desperation. Raw, unrelenting desperation.

She softened slightly, though her tone remained firm. “Ye wouldnae be actin’ this way unless ye were truly out of options. That tells me yer boy must be in a bad way.”

The man’s shoulders remained upright, there was not even the smallest crack in his armored demeanor. “He is,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve tried everythin’. There’s nay one else.”

Freya let out a slow breath, her anger ebbing as compassion took its place. “Fine,” she said, raising a hand to stop him before he could speak. “I’ll come. But on one condition.”

The man tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “What condition?”

“Me sisters come with me,” Freya said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “I’m nae leavin’ them here alone, without anyone to look after them. If ye want me help, ye’ll take us all.”

He thought about it for a moment, then he acquiesced. “Agreed. Ye and yer sisters will be safe under me roof.”

Freya narrowed her eyes, not entirely convinced. “And I’ll hold ye to that. Ye harm them in any way, and I’ll be the one draggin’yesomewhere, mark me words.”

A smirk crossed the man’s face, though it vanished as quickly as it came. “Fair enough. Be ready to leave first thing in the mornin’.”

Freya exhaled sharply, giving a curt nod. “We’ll be ready.”

Just as he turned to leave, Freya’s voice called after him, cutting through the cold, night air.

“Wait!”

He stopped in his tracks, his broad back rigid, the cloak draped over his shoulders shifting slightly in the breeze. He turned halfway, his dark eyes glinting in the faint moonlight as he looked at her, one brow raised in question.

“I daenae even ken yer name,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And if ye’re expectin’ me to pack up me sisters and followin’ after breadcrumbs, I’d like to ken where exactly we’ll be headin’.”

For a moment, his expression softened, though his intensity didn’t wane. He inclined his head slightly, a gesture that was almost gentlemanly despite the tension that had passed between them. That devilishly handsome smirk was there again.

It doesnae work on me. Ye can smirk all ye want.

“Michael Hughes,” he said, his voice lower now, with a hint of something gentler beneath the gruffness. “Laird of the McEwan clan. Me castle’s just past the hills north of here. Ye’ll know it when ye see it.”

Freya studied him, her lips pressed into a thin line, still trying to reconcile his earlier threats with the vulnerability she’d glimpsed.

“Well, Laird McEwan,” she said, emphasizing the title with a slight edge, “ye’d best remember this: ye daenae command me. We’re doin’ this me way, or nae at all.”

“If ye can heal me son in two weeks, ye can do things yer way. But if he’s still nae on the mend in two weeks, I’ll have ye kicked out of the territory. Understood?”

That caught her off guard. There was no smirk, only orders. She wasn’t used to that. However, she reminded herself that there was a child at question. If either of her two sisters were ill, she would have been equally protective of them.

“All right,” she said simply. “Two weeks.”

“Done,” he nodded. “If ye daenae arrive at the castle by tomorrow night, I will hunt ye down meself.”

She looked at him dead in the eyes. “I daenae play with the lives of the wee ones. We will be there. Good night.”

With those words, she closed the door, but she knew that another one was left wide open.

CHAPTER FOUR

He turned and strode toward his horse, his commanding presence undeniable even as he disappeared into the night. Freya stood in the doorway, the chill of the evening air forgotten as her thoughts raced.

Her earlier anger simmered beneath the surface, but there was something else there now. Something that made her heart beat faster, feeling a heat that erupted from her very depths.

“Goodness me, what an evenin’,” she muttered under her breath, closing the door and leaning against it. Her heart still beat faster than it should, and her mind replayed the way he’d looked at her, the way his voice had softened just enough to make her chest tighten.