Page 51 of A Healer for the Wicked Highlander

Michael had spent years ensuring that nothing and no one could touch him beyond what was necessary. He had his son. He had his land. He had his men. That was all he required.

Until now.

Until a stubborn, sharp-tongued healer had stepped into his halls, challenging him with her every glance, her every word. Until she had soothed his son’s pain, spoken to Cody with a warmth that Michael himself had never quite mastered. Untilshe had looked at him, not as a laird, not as a man to be feared, but as something else entirely.

“She is leavin’.” He had to say aloud. Otherwise, he refused to believe it.

He clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly.

There had to be a reason for her to stay.

Could he ask her to become his clan’s healer? But would it be enough? His men were well, Cody was strong, and though injuries came with the passing seasons, it might not be enough to bind her here.

His hand curled into a fist against the desk.

His thoughts drifted to the missing guards. To Brodie’s suspicions. To the attack that had nearly taken his son.

His enemies had not been found. The shadows that lurked beyond his borders had not been silenced. And Cody… Cody was still a target.

Michael’s fingers tapped against the wood.

There was danger here, one that had not yet been fully reckoned with. If another attack came, if Cody fell ill again, who would behere to care for him? Who would know his body, his strength, his weakness, the way Freya did?

He leaned back in his chair, the firelight gleaming in his sharp eyes.

That was it.

Not sentiment. Not desire.

Protection.

If Freya stayed, it would be because he required her skills. Because his son’s life might one day depend on it. Because there was risk in letting her go, one that he, as a father and a laird, could not afford to take.

Michael exhaled slowly, while his decision settled over him like heavy armor.

Now, he just had to convinceher.

Freya had just finished folding the last of their blankets when she felt a presence behind her. She turned only to find Michael standing a few paces away. At some point, she was certain that she had learned to read his expressions, but now, she realized that could not have been further from the truth.

“Me laird,” she greeted, dusting off her skirts. “Is somethin’ amiss?”

Michael did not answer immediately. Instead, he studied her with those sharp, assessing eyes, as if measuring his next words with care.

Finally, he said, “Ye cannae leave. Nae yet.”

Freya blinked. “What?”

“I need ye to stay,” he said evenly. “There’s somethin’ I require of ye as a healer.”

Her brows knit together. She didn’t understand and she wasn’t even trying to hide her confusion. “But Cody is well. There’s nay one else in need of me aid.”

Michael’s expression did not change. “I’ll explain later. Tomorrow.”

Freya crossed her arms. “Ye expect me to stay without tellin’ me why?”

“Aye.”

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Ye’re a maddenin’ man, Laird McEwan.”