Page 109 of The Laird’s Sinful Secret

Moyra didn’t care about mobility. Didn’t care about scars or limitations. She just needed him alive. Needed him to wake up and look at her with those grey eyes and tell her everything would be all right.

“I’ll stay with him,” she said. “However long it takes. I’m nae leaving his side.”

“I suspected as much.” Brighde finished the last stitch, covering Euan’s torso with clean bandages. “There. That’s all I can dae fer now. The rest is up tae him.” She stood, gathering her supplies. “I’ll check on him in a few hours. If his fever spikes or the bleeding starts again⁠—”

“I’ll send fer ye immediately.” Moyra had already settled into the chair beside the bed, her hand finding Euan’s and holding tight. “Thank ye, Brighde. Fer everything.”

The healer paused at the door. “He fought well today. Fought like a man defending something worth dying fer. That kind of love—it’s rare, lass. Dinnae waste it.”

She looked at Euan’s pale face, at the bandages wrapped around his torso, at the way his scarred shoulder sat wrong even in unconsciousness. He’d nearly died that day. Had come within inches of bleeding out in her arms while she screamed fer help.

“Ye’re an idiot,” she told him quietly, though tears streamed down her face. “A brave, stubborn, absolutely infuriating idiot who nearly got himself killed because ye wouldnae let me faither hurt me.” Her thumb traced circles on the back of his hand. “But ye’re me idiot. And ye’re going tae wake up. Ye hear me? Ye’re going tae wake up and let me yell at ye properly fer scaring me like this.”

Euan didn’t answer. Didn’t stir. Just kept breathing in those shallow, labored pulls that said he was fighting even in sleep.

Moyra settled in to wait. However long it took—hours, days, weeks—she’d be there when he woke.

They’d survived the invasion. They’d survived her father’s cruelty. They’d survive this too.

They had to.

Because she’d just found love in the middle of war, and she’d be damned if she let death steal it away now.