Page 71 of A Healer for the Wicked Highlander

He let out a rough exhale, his body still shuddering, but the feverish heat beneath her palms was already fading. She allowed relief to wash over her. The worst was gone, although he still did have a long way to recover from the poison.

Michael stirred, letting out a low groan as he pushed himself upright. His movements were slow, but the strength was already returning to them. The poison was leaving his body. He was alive.

Freya could no longer hold herself back. A strangled sob broke from her lips as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. Her fingers dug into him, clutching at the solid warmth of his body, desperate to feel him breathing, living, next to her.

“Ye daft, stubborn man,” she choked out, pressing frantic kisses to his face, on his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “Ye nearly died on me!”

Michael let out a low rumble, his breath warm against her skin. “Lass, ye kiss like a battle charge. Too rough.”

She pulled back just enough to glare at him, her eyes still shimmering with unshed tears. “Aye, well, ye had it comin’. What were ye thinkin’, lettin’ yerself get poisoned?”

He gave her a tired but amused look. “I dinnae exactly plan it, Freya.

She huffed, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “Ye scared me half to death.”

Michael’s expression softened then. His large, calloused hands came up to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. He held her as if she were something fragile, something precious, despite the strength she had just shown.

“Then let me make it right.” His voice was quieter now, steadier. “Freya… marry me.”

Her breath caught.

Michael’s gaze never wavered, filled with something deeper than his usual confidence. There was something raw, something real, something she hadn’t seen before.

“I’ll take care of ye, of yer sisters. I swear it. I’ll spend the rest of me days protectin’ ye, if ye’ll have me.”

Tears welled in Freya’s eyes, her heart slamming against her ribs.This man.The one who had fought for her, bled for her, trusted her with his life.

And now—he was offeringhislife toher.

A watery laugh broke from her lips as she nodded. “Aye, ye great fool. Of course, I’ll have ye.”

Michael exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on her for just a moment before he pulled her to him, capturing her mouth with his. Freya kissed him back, her lips soft against his as her heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with fear or danger. It was a sweet, desperate relief, the kind of kiss that said everything words could not.

For a long, dizzying moment, it felt like the world had faded away. It was just the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of their own tangled emotions.

But then, a loud, throat-clearing cough echoed from behind them. Freya’s eyes snapped open, her face flaming as she pulled back, nearly bumping her head into Michael’s.

There, standing a few paces away, was Brodie, his arms crossed and a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Me laird, seein’ ye’ve just been poisoned, perhaps it’s time we head back to the castle?”

Freya blushed, chuckling. “I think that is exactly what we need to do now.”

Michael let out a low, strained chuckle, but it quickly turned into a wince of pain as he tried to sit up straighter. The movement pulled at the wound on his arm, and Freya could see the lingering exhaustion in his eyes.

“Careful, Michael,” she murmured, placing a hand on his chest, her concern immediately returning.

Michael laughed again, though it was tinged with more pain than humor. “Aye, Brodie. I’ll try to save me romantic gestures for later—when I’m nae on the verge of dyin’ again.”

Freya couldn’t help but smile at his teasing, even though her heart clenched with worry. The humor, though laced with pain, was a relief in itself. It meant he was truly coming back to her, back to life.

Brodie chuckled, shaking his head, before nodding toward the others. “Come on, let’s get ye both home.”

With a final, lingering glance at Michael, Freya helped him to his feet, holding onto him as they both started walking back. The cool morning air felt like a balm on her skin, and despite the battle, the bloodshed, and the poison still lingering in the back of her mind, it was hard not to feel a surge of warmth.

She had him.

He was alive.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything seemed… right.