A Scottish Lord for Christmas

by Lauren Smith

  “You must. You’re the only one who can reach the doctor in time. I’ll have the nurse wake Kenna and we will take care of her.” Rowena summoned her inner strength. She could not fail Quinn, not now. This was what she had come here to do, to save him and his child.

  “Quinn, get the doctor,” she ordered firmly, and before he could protest, she slipped Blair out of his hold and into her own arms. Losing Blair put Quinn into a state of action. He gave himself a little shake and stood.

  “Don’t let her…” He didn’t finish but Rowena knew what he was trying to say. Don’t let her die.

  “She’ll be here when you return.” Rowena prayed silently that if God was listening, he would answer this one prayer if nothing else. Let her live. Please.

  Her husband gave a shaky nod and then rushed from the room. Rowena acted instantly. She set Blair back down in her bed and turned to the nurse.

  “Wake Kenna at once. Then bring me cold compresses, some ice chips in a bowl, and warm broth.”

  The old nurse hastily departed. Rowena removed Blair’s sweat-drenched nightgown and retrieved a dry cloth and the basin of fresh water from the washstand. She used the cloth to bathe Blair’s skin, hoping the cool but not too cold water would bring down her body temperature. By the time the nurse and Kenna returned, Rowena had washed Blair completely, had combed her hair and pulled it back in a knot away from her face and neck, and had changed her into a clean, light nightgown.

  “She’s a little better, I think,” Rowena whispered to Kenna as Quinn’s sister took in the sick child with wide, worried eyes.

  “Oh, Rowena, if we lose her…” She covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

  If they lost Blair, they would lose Quinn.

  “We won’t,” Rowena vowed. She refused to accept that Blair wouldn’t get better.

  I will do anything I must to keep her safe and well. The fierce protectiveness she felt toward the little girl was overpowering. She may not have given birth to Blair, but Blair was her child now in every way that mattered.

  Rowena and Kenna kept a silent vigil at Blair’s bedside while they waited for the doctor. When the nurse brought ice chips, they took turns feeding them to Blair by slipping them into her mouth. The girl stirred each time, fussing, but she accepted the little pieces of ice.

  “She must continue to take water. The ice chips will help,” Rowena explained.

  “How do you know all of this?” Kenna asked.

  Rowena shrugged. “I had a habit of nursing wounded animals when I was younger. Often, many illnesses are conquered by having the body’s temperature lowered and fluids in the body maintained. Water is crucial.” She thought of the small fawn she’d nursed back to health a few years before. She and her father had kept it alive in an empty stall in the family stables. She’d fed it a bottle of cow’s milk and massaged its weak limbs. After nearly a week, she’d feared the fawn would perish, but it rallied and she and her father were able to turn it loose in the woods.

  “She seems to be doing better,” Kenna whispered, her eyes fixed on the child’s face lit by firelight.

  “Yes, I think so,” Rowena agreed, and pressed another cool cloth to Blair’s forehead.

  The door to Blair’s room burst open a few moments later as Quinn and a handsome young man with dark hair came inside. The second man, Dr. McIntosh, held a black medical bag. He immediately set the bag down on the bed next to Rowena and removed his coat, tossing it to the floor, uncaring, as he set about examining his patient.

  Everyone held their breath as the doctor carefully looked over Blair, taking her pulse, studying her hands and face, and then listening to her heartbeat.

  “She’s certainly worse off than yesterday,” the doctor murmured. Rowena tensed. “But I see someone has known what to do until I could arrive.” McIntosh turned around to look at them. “Who was caring for this child?”

  “I was.” Rowena stepped forward, her body shaking with worry.

  “You did well to bathe her and feed her ice. It has kept her hydrated.” The doctor’s praise only offered a momentary glow for Rowena before she was back to watching Blair anxiously.

  “I will stay and keep watch over her; that’s all that can be done for her now. If the fever breaks by morning, she’ll be all right,” the doctor said.

  Kenna placed a hand on the doctor’s arm and then escorted the nurse outside, leaving Quinn and Rowena alone with the doctor.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Quinn offered at the same time Rowena settled into a chair near the bed. They looked at each other; then a quiet, deep look passed between them that, for a moment, gave Rowena hope that she hadn’t lost her chance at winning Quinn’s heart.

  “I insist you go to bed. You’ve done enough for Blair tonight,” Quinn said, his voice soft but firm. Yet for some reason his tone made her heart pinch sharply in her chest.

  “But I want to stay, please!” She rose from the chair and caught his arm. “She’s just as much my child as she is yours.” Where her strength to say that came from after all of her exhaustion, she wasn’t sure but she had to tell him that, had to make him understand.

  “You truly believe that?” Quinn’s voice was husky and low, his gray eyes softening to resemble polished moonstones.

  “I don’t have to believe it. I know it to be true. She is my child, Quinn. I love her.” I love her the way I love you. “If you stay here with her all night, then so shall I.” She met his gaze squarely, unafraid to defy him.

  “I think you should let her stay, my lord,” the doctor said. “She’s taken very good care of the bairn, done as much if not more than I could have when it mattered most. Her fever is already showing signs of breaking.”

  Quinn’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, a single tear escaping his eye as he glanced toward the bed.

  “Then sit with me.” He took Rowena’s hand and led her to the edge of the bed. He leaned back to rest against the wall and pulled Rowena down beside him where they could be close to Blair.

  Neither of them spoke, both watching their daughter, worry and hope warring inside them. They didn’t touch except to hold hands, and Rowena wished with her all heart she could crawl into his lap and hug him tight. But there was a distance between them, a chasm that hadn’t been this vast before.

  He isn’t ready yet to love me. Admitting this to herself when she’d only carried hope before now seemed to choke her with a silent despair that robbed her of the last of her strength.

  Rowena closed her eyes for a moment, just to rest…

  When she woke, it was hours later and dawn was coloring the windowpanes of the room with pale pink light. Blair was sleeping on her side, one thumb tucked firmly in her mouth. The doctor was sitting in a chair by the fire, reading a book. He looked up when she stirred. There was no sign of Quinn, and the spot beside her at the foot of Blair’s bed was cold when she touched it.

  “How is she?” Rowena asked weakly.

  “Fine. The fever broke at around half past two this morning. Lord Forres wanted to let you sleep since Blair was doing better.”

  “Is he…gone?” she asked.

  “Yes, once he was assured that Blair was safe and well, he mentioned something about deer stalking and left.”

  “Left?” The word came out in a higher pitch as she stared at the doctor in fury. “He left her after she was so ill?”

  The doctor closed his book and with a sigh faced Rowena. “He stayed through the worst of it, but I know he was thinking of Lady Forres. I was here when she passed and…well it damned near broke the man. I wouldn’t be angry with him. Give him a few hours to find solace in solitude.”

  Rowena’s throat constricted but she managed a nod. Time, he needed time to deal with everything. She’d thought time would be her ally, but now it felt like time had become her foe, keeping her from showing Quinn that he could love again, that he could love her.

  “Er, Lady Forres, if I may be so bold to ask, would you ever consider working at my clinic in the vill
age? You have a talent for healing and I would love to have a hand from time to time dealing with patients. Nothing risky, of course. I’d keep you well away from the dangerous cases, but for simple injuries and maladies, I could use someone like you as a nurse.”

  “A nurse?” She’d never given thought to doing anything aside from running a house and having children, but she had to admit the idea held great appeal.

  “Yes, I assume you’ll have your duties here but if you ever decide you wish to do something else, too, I’d be damned glad to have you.”

  “What about Kenna?” she asked.

  The doctor’s handsome face colored. “Er…well, I would but she’s not much for the art of healing. She’s better at bookkeeping and the like. I could never ask her to work for me, not in that capacity…It wouldn’t be proper, not with her being unwed.”

  “Right,” Rowena murmured. “Well, I should like to think on it, being a nurse I mean.” She would think on it, but her heart was lifted somewhat at the idea.

  At least I could be of use to someone, someone who wanted me around.

  “Thank you for staying the night, Dr. McIntosh. Let me have some breakfast brought up.” Rowena rose and hastily left the room, not wanting him to see her cry. She’d given up everything to come here with Quinn, but she’d be damned if she let anyone see tears.

  * * *

  Quinn rode out before dawn with Douglas, his gamekeeper. They carried rifles and sat on the backs of garrons, workhorses trained to bring back deer carcasses. The snow had fallen thick the night before and the world was in that quiet state between night and the coming day. The memories from the previous evening hung about Quinn like a heavy shroud.

  His mind was cluttered with thoughts, too many to sort through. Blair sick, Rowena taking care of her. Quinn would never have enough words to thank her for saving his daughter’s life. Nor could he tell her how hard trusting her had been. He’d had to leave his bairn to fetch McIntosh and there had been a chance he would never see her alive again. But when Rowena had promised him she would keep Blair alive, he’d trusted her. It was the most terrifying thing he had ever done.

  And the lass didn’t let me down.

  He watched the wintry woods around him, his mind barely on the hunt. Douglas had deer stalked with him for many years and knew better than to speak when Quinn clearly needed quiet to think. There was so much to…face.

  Blair was already accepting Rowena as part of her life, even saying the word mama when asking Rowena to sing to her. She hadn’t called Rowena mama yet, but he sensed she was close. Watching them, a woman singing to a babe, a sweet and soft, haunting song. She was so like Maura in that, yet she was different too. She wasn’t a replacement; she was nothing like his first wife in looks or temperament, but she needed love as much as any woman and deserved to be loved greatly.

  And I’m too bloody scared to let her get close. Because I’m afraid I’ll lose my memories of Maura.

  With every day that passed, her face faded a little, like an old painting left in a sunny corner of a rarely used room. Blair would have no memories of her mother, and his own were softening too quickly. He was also afraid that if he opened himself up to love again and lost that love, he would never recover. Men didn’t survive with shattered hearts, did they? If he hadn’t had Blair to comfort him when his first wife had died, he doubted he would have ever been the same. But Blair’s sunny face and bright smile, her little chattering voice, and her love of the world had kept hope burning inside him.

  Yet he feared that hope, feared what it would cost him if he dared to risk his heart again.

  Rowena was too easy to love, too sweet, too sensual, too warm, too…perfect for him. He’d watched her with the servants, his sister, and Blair. His new wife was a natural sweet-tempered creature with the largest heart he’d ever seen.

  And I’m the fool who broke it.

  “Not too far to the ridge, milord,” Douglas said in a low voice.

  Quinn answered with a nod. The art of deer stalking was tough and dangerous. No more than one to two hunters at a time could successfully track a red deer into the rocky hills and bring it down.

  The morning mists were like milky tendrils through the craggy rocks and the thinning trees when Quinn and Douglas stopped their horses and looped the reins around the low branches of a pine tree.

  Quinn collected two rifles for them while Douglas removed the small satchels with their food and flasks of water.

  “Dangerous day for this.” Douglas pressed his cap on his head and scanned the surrounding lands.

  “Aye.” Quinn handed Douglas his rifle.

  They began the long climb through the mountains. Despite the danger, the surroundings were eerily beautiful. Half-frozen waterfalls cut down through the jagged rocks. Trees stubborn enough to grow out of stone left sparse patches of dark green against the gray mountains before dipping down into the icy lochs. The cold air burned with each breath, clearing the still muddied thoughts in Quinn’s head.

  The weight of a small dagger in his coat pocket felt like a hundred stones. The dagger that had belonged to his father. The note Rowena had written him was burned into his memory.

  Quinn,

  I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you in coming here. I do not regret marrying you, nor do I regret trying to win your heart and loving you as fiercely as I do. But I was foolish to think I could make you love me so soon. I won’t trouble you again with confessions of love. I hope someday you might find it in your heart to love me a little. Until then, I shall remain yours,

  Rowena.

  P.S. This dagger was given to me by a woman who said your father was generous enough to lose it to man in a card game so he could support his family. She wanted you to have it back. Your father sounded like a wonderful man and I wish I could have known him.

  Quinn adjusted his rifle and bent low as he crawled along a cluster of rocks. The rough stone would have cut his hands if he hadn’t been wearing thick leather gloves. Douglas moved silently beside him.

  “Won’t be far now. I think I saw some hinds ahead.”

  Squinting, Quinn peered at the sloping mountain ahead of them. A faint flicker of red amidst the gray caught his eye. Eager to climb faster, he placed one foot on a ledge with loose rock. It gave way and he slid, rocks digging into his calves as he regained his footing.

  “Careful, milord,” Douglas whispered, a steadying hand touching Quinn’s back.

  “Thank you,” he muttered, eyes still fixed on the rocks of the mountain ahead.

  The morning mist thinned momentarily and there it was: the nearest hind was prowling up the rocks, head bent as it quested for plants to eat. Quinn waited, studying the deer. It was an older one, a tad feeble. Perfect to target. Removing the weak deer allowed the stronger to breed.

  The challenge of deer stalking among the barren, rocky wilderness was that it was hard to cross distances quickly. The herd of hinds and bucks forming a smattering of red spots appeared deceptively close but he knew from years of practice how far away they were. To get to that deer he’d need to find an approach route.

  The wind shifted in an instant and a grouse stirred from the rocks ahead, and several of the closest deer sprang up, bolting easily over the tussocks before Quinn could take even one step. The older hind lagged behind, likely too old to catch wind of their scent.

  “Come on, I believe we may get it if we move fast.” Quinn climbed more quickly, his entire focus on the hunt.

  “Watch out—the ledge!” Douglas cried out from behind him as rocks from above tumbled toward them. A buck they hadn’t seen north of them had knocked several small boulders loose as he shot higher into the mountain. Quinn ducked as rocks fell past him over the nearby ledge, and one struck his gamekeeper in the chest. Douglas wavered unsteadily inches from the cliff.

  “Douglas!” Quinn bellowed, his blood pounding as he lunged for the man.

  He caught hold of Douglas’s arm a second before the gamekeeper fell over the edge
. Crashing to the ground on his stomach, Quinn sucked in painful breaths as he stared over the lip of the cliff. Douglas hung there, cursing and hissing as he clawed at the rocks to find purchase. Quinn’s other hand gripped a rock to keep them from sliding off.

  “Douglas…,” Quinn panted. His shoulder felt like it was tearing in half. “Can you land below? I could drop you.”

  “’Tis too far…,” Douglas growled. “But you canna lift me back up.”

  They both knew what Douglas was saying.

  Quinn gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the drop in the pit of his stomach.

  “I’ll not leave you.” He muttered a curse that would have made his mother and father blush.

  Inch by agonizing inch, he dragged Douglas up until he saw the man’s hands scrabbling at the ledge’s edge and then the gamekeeper’s grim face appeared as he fought to get up over the cliff.

  Quinn only released his hold when the other man was completely safe on the rock shelf; then he fell onto his back, shaking violently. His shoulder jutted out at an unnatural angle and the pain hit him hard enough he tasted bile upon his lips.

  “Christ, milord!” Douglas crawled over to him.

  Quinn stared up at the gray clouds, blinking slowly as numbing pain overtook him.

  “Dislocated shoulder,” the gamekeeper muttered, but Quinn could barely hear him. The pain turned from a throbbing sharpness to a slow, burning fire that slowly spread over him.

  “Milord, focus. I need to try to move you. I’ve not set a shoulder back into place before; we need to get you home immediately.”

  The second he struggled to sit up, the mere movement knocked the breath from his body.

  “You’ve got to stand, milord. We can’t stay overnight. I’ve seen wolves in these woods. Our rifles won’t matter if they come prowling.”

  Douglas was right. They had to move. The thought was sluggish as it floated slowly to the top of his mind.

  “Douglas, I can barely breathe,” he confessed as the other man tucked his body under Quinn’s uninjured arm and helped him stand.