“Oh, leave off!” her father said, incredulous. “That’s the daftest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Well, it’s true. He came down to the village when I was healing and bocked after I drained an abscess. Then he acted as if I had the plague and wouldn’t touch me. The only reason he wanted me at all was because of Lord Strathwick.”
Alan stroked his thick gray beard. “Because he thinks the wizard fancies you?”
“Aye. He didn’t want Strathwick to have anything that washis.”
Alan studied her, his expression guarded.
“Why do you look at me so?” she asked.
“Is there any basis to MacPherson’s jealousy?”
Rose blinked serenely at her father. “No.”
He didn’t look convinced; his eyes narrowed slightly, then he sighed. Rose continued to be impressed by the improvement in him and hoped it was due to the protective spell she and her sisters had placed on him. If it was witchcraft that ailed him, the spell would protect him until they discovered the culprit.
“Did you have nightmares last night?” she asked, passing her hands over him. His color was still weak but stronger than it had been the last time she’d checked.
He shook his head, then reached his hand out to her, palm up. Rose placed her hand in his.
“I wish you wouldn’t take so much on yourself. I’m an old man—”
“You’re not—”
“And old men have to die sometime. Let it go, love. You’ve done all you can. What more can you do? Move on. Marry a man of your choosing. What about this Strathwick fellow?”
“I just told you there was nothing between us but friendship. And you’re not going to die. Look how long you’ve hung on. Soon Sir Philip will be back with Sir Donnan, and he will remove the curse. All will be well.”
“Will it? Is that all that troubles you, love? My illness? Or is it something more that shadows your eyes when you look at me?”
Rose averted her gaze, fixing it on the silver terrier curled on the rug and staring unblinkingly at her. Sometimes Alan MacDonell saw too much.
“Talk to me, Rose.”
And suddenly she wanted to. It pressed at her chest, wanting out, but she bit back the words, refusing to burden a sick man, knowing that telling him now and seeing the pain it caused him would only make her feel worse.
“There is nothing, Da…except…would it make you terribly angry if I never wed?”
He blinked at her, surprised. “But I thought you wanted to.”
“I did…maybe I still do. But let’s not do it this way—rushing a wedding because you think you’re dying.”
“But I want you looked after when I’m gone.”
“I will be. I have two wonderful brothers-in-law who will let no harm befall me. And there is always Hagan.”
“I’ll protect her,” the Irishman promised. He was a constant, silent presence in the room. Often Rose forgot he was there.
“I know you will,” Alan said. He sighed unhappily. “But I’d like to see her with a family.” His troubled gaze turned back to Rose. “You work so hard, Rose. You seem so unhappy.”
“I’m not,” she assured him emphatically. “I vow it. I love healing…and Jamie told me he didn’t want me to do it anymore once we were wed. I don’t want a husband like that.”
Alan sighed again, still squeezing her hand. “We’ll talk more on this later, aye? Let me think about it.”
They spoke of other things until his eyelids began to droop. Then Rose gathered Conan under her arm and left, closing the door softly behind her.
Chapter 16
