by Katy Baker
Darcy nodded but her friend's words didn't make her feel any better. She glanced around the little room at the back of Lily's shop. She'd managed to purloin a large table from Rebecca which she'd scrubbed clean and placed in the middle of the room to act as her examination table. Her bag, which contained her twenty-first century supplies, she'd placed in a locked cabinet in the corner of the room. The bag held equipment and medicines that would give her away instantly should someone discover it so she'd been very careful not to let anyone see the bag’s contents. She wasn't sure what she'd do once her limited supplies ran out but she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.
Besides, if this morning was anything to go by, that wouldn't be a problem. It was her first clinic and so far there’d been not a single customer.
She should have known this was a bad idea. What had she been thinking?
Lily sat back and sighed. "You have to have patience," she said. "Do you reckon there were customers flocking at my door when I first set up my shop? It took time. Time for my reputation to spread. Time for people to trust me. They'll come. You'll see."
Sudden shame washed through Darcy. Here she was moping and feeling utterly sorry for herself and not giving a thought to anyone else. Although Lily put on a brave face, Darcy couldn’t fail to notice the worry that crossed her face when she thought nobody was looking. Fraser had left a few days ago to infiltrate the Murray clan. It was a dangerous mission and the whole MacFarlane clan was on tenterhooks, Lily more than any of them.
Darcy crossed to her friend and gave her a quick hug. "I'm sorry. You're right, of course. How about I make us some mint tea?"
Lily smiled then stretched her arms over her head, working out the kink in her shoulders. "That sounds lovely."
Darcy filled the kettle and put it on the stove.
A hesitant knock sounded on the door and Owen, the blacksmith poked his head through.
"Hello, Owen," said Lily. "What brings you here? After some new trews? I've just the material to match your eyes!"
"Nae, lass," Owen replied. "I'm here to see Lady Darcy, actually."
"Let me through, Da!" came a young boy’s voice.
The door burst open and William came bustling into the room.
"Darcy!" he piped, running over to her. "She's had them! Ten, just like I said! Will ye come see? Ye promised!"
"Whoa! Slow down!" Darcy laughed. She crouched down level with William. "Am I to understand your cat's had her kittens?"
"Aye! This morning. Will ye come see?"
"I'm sorry, Lady Darcy," Owen rumbled. "But he wouldnae stop pestering me until I promised to bring him to find ye. I've not got a stick of work done all morning."
"It's fine, Owen," Darcy said, rising. "I did make a promise after all." She looked down at William and held out her hand. "Well? What are we waiting for? Shall we go and see these kittens of yours?"
William squealed in delight, grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door. Darcy gave Lily one last wave and then allowed William to lead her through the village to his house, a bemused Owen following behind.
Sure enough, the orange tabby had given birth to ten kittens. She was curled around them in a bed of straw in the forge, busily licking them. William crouched beside them and began scratching the momma cat's ears.
"She's a good girl," he said, sounding like a proud grandparent. "She's caring for them real good."
"She certainly is," Darcy agreed. "Would she mind if I checked the kittens? To make sure they're healthy?"
"Nae, Tabs won't mind. Will ye, girl?"
Darcy picked up the kittens one by one, checking their eyes, their ears and sexing each one. "There are seven boys and three girls," she told William, "and they all look as healthy as can be."
William beamed up at his dad who stood at the door watching his son with a bemused smile.
"Ye must look after them, William," he rumbled. "It will take a lot of work to see them all through to adulthood."
William put on an offended expression. "Of course I'll look after them! Can they come in the house, da? Can they?"
"Nae, lad. They'll be fine here. "
William pouted, crossing his arms, and Darcy had to laugh at the expression on his face.
"Your da's right, William. This is Tab's den. She'll feel safer here than in the house. I'll come check on them soon and make sure everything's okay. Meanwhile, you need to start thinking of some names."
William picked up one of the little females and held it up. "Well I've already thought of one. This is Darcy!"
"I'm flattered!" Darcy laughed.
With promises to visit again soon Darcy left the blacksmith's household and returned to Lily's shop. William's boyish enthusiasm was infectious and Darcy found that her mood had improved no end by the time she pushed open the door to Lily's shop.
But it took a nose-dive when she saw who was waiting for her in the clinic.
Quinn looked up as she entered the room.
Her heart thudded at the sight of him. She wasn't sure if it was excitement or dread. Maybe a bit of both. She was relieved to see him, of course. Relieved to see him whole and well after all the time she'd spent worrying about him. But as always when he was around, her feelings were suddenly mixed up and confused.
"Darcy," he said in greeting.
"Quinn," she replied stiffly.
He rubbed his chin. "Um...are ye well?"
"Fine. Thank you for asking. When did you get back?"
He winced at her cold tone. "Late last night. I hoped to catch Fraser before he left on his mission to the Murrays but it seems I missed him." Gesturing at the room, he asked, "Rebecca told me I could find ye here. She said ye'd set up a 'clinic'. What's this all about?"
Darcy shrugged nonchalantly. "I told you I'm a vet. Lily was kind enough to help me set up a clinic here. After all, if I'm going to be here a while I'll need to pay my why. I can't rely on charity forever."
"Why?" he asked, a frown marring his face. "Did I not say ye were under my protection? If ye need aught, ye just come and ask me."
“Ask you?” Darcy asked incredulously. “And how exactly could I do that? You've been gone for ages! You left me on my own here!"
"Ye weren't on yer own. Ye had Rebecca to look after ye."
"Rebecca is my friend, not my nursemaid. And I don't need anyone to look after me!"
"Is that so?" Quinn replied. "I've only been away a week and ye've already gone and done something hair-brained. What were ye thinking, lass? It’s not right for a lady to being doing something like this. Ye should have come to me afore you set up this venture."
"Why? So you could tell me I wasn't allowed to do it?"
"Aye, and save ye some embarrassment."
Darcy's mouth dropped open. "Save you embarrassment you mean!" she yelled. "After all, aren't I 'your responsibility' as you keep reminding me? You don't want tongues wagging about Quinn's odd foreigner and her strange ways do you? We couldn't possibly have anything that might tarnish the mighty Quinn's image!" She'd taken a step towards him and now she faced him with her hands balled into fists. If the table hadn't been between them she might have swung for him.
"Yer my guest, woman!" he growled. "Is it too much to ask that ye do as I say? God above, why couldn't I have found an obedient woman on the road?"
That did it. A cold rage settled in the pit of Darcy's stomach. Obedient? Who the hell did he think he was? He disappeared for weeks and then turned up here telling her what to do!
"This is my clinic,” she said. “I'd thank you to get the hell out."
He didn't move. His blue eyes were fixed on hers, assessing. Darcy was well aware that he was the laird's brother and technically all this land belonged to him. If he wanted, he could toss Darcy out on her ear and march her bodily back to the castle.
The silence stretched between them. Then Quinn marched to the door and yanked it open. He paused and looked over his shoulder.
"I'll be riding out again this afternoon, scouting our east
ern border. I might be gone a while."
Darcy crossed her arms. "I'll try not to get into too much trouble whilst you're not here to supervise me."
He left without a word, slamming the door behind him.
With a cry of exasperation, Darcy slapped her palm against the table. Insufferable man! He swanned in like he owned the place, making her feel like a naughty schoolgirl, then calmly announced he was leaving again! Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting back the angry tears that were gathering. She looked around at the little clinic. The empty clinic.
Was Quinn right? Was this an idiotic idea? Would nobody come?
Her heart sank. Quinn, one of the most important people in the clan, didn't approve of her venture. Once word of that got around, her chances of getting any customers were precisely nil.
She balled her hand into a fist again. Damn the man!
***
Insufferable woman!
Quinn stomped through the village, sending squawking chickens scattering from his path. He knew he was scowling fit to curdle milk but couldn't seem to help it. Far from easing the tension between him and Darcy, his visit had only made it worse. Why did she have to be so difficult? Why couldn't she just do as she was bid like any other good clan woman would?
He paused, glancing back at Lily's shop. In the time he'd been away from Dunbreggan Darcy had filled his thoughts. He'd missed her terribly.
So why couldn't he tell her that? Why had he shied away when they'd kissed last week? Why had he avoided her ever since like a frightened boy? And why was he so annoyed that when he'd returned he’d found that, instead of pining for his return, she'd taken it on herself to set herself up in business, striking out on her own rather than waiting for him to come back and provide for her?
"Quinn, yer a fool, with yer stupid pride," he said to himself.
Darcy's strength, her fire, were why he found her so damned attractive. She kept him on his toes, made him work to please her. He shouldn't be surprised that she'd been busy while he'd been away.
"Ho! Quinn!" called a voice from up ahead.
Old Mac was walking towards him, his dog, Shep, by his side. The old farmer held most of the crofts close to Dunbreggan and he and his family had successfully farmed them for years. He walked with the aid of a staff now but to Quinn's eyes he still seemed as gnarly and strong as an oak tree.
"Mac!" Quinn greeted the old man, slapping his shoulder. "How are ye, ye old bastard?"
"Better now ye and yer men have returned, I'll tell ye. Did ye find anything in yer scouting?"
Quinn winced. He and his men had spent the last week living in the wilds, chasing rumors of brigands and worse in the east of MacFarlane lands. They'd not found any brigands, only burned out crofts and slaughtered animals. So far, there'd been no human casualties but if this carried on, it was only a matter of time.
"Word has it it's that bastard de Clare," Mac said, his bluff face folding into a scowl. "Is it true he's married Murray's daughter? Bad news for us if he has."
"We've no proof," Quinn replied. "Only rumor. Until we know for definite we can't assume anything."
Fraser had been gone for two days now and there'd been no word. Quinn was worried about the lad. He could hold his own in a fight but wouldn't stand a chance against the might of the Murray clan. Had he done the right thing in sending the lad into danger? He'd never forgive himself if something happened to him.
Quinn's eyes fell on Shep. The old sheepdog was limping, holding up his left paw. "What's yer hound done, Mac?"
"The daft animal still thinks he's a pup, doesn't he? Tried chasing down a hare and came off worst. He's not walked right for days."
"Ye should take him to see Darcy," Quinn said. "She's a vet, ye ken?"
Mac stared at him. Quinn laughed.
"Nae, I'd never heard the word either. But it means she might be able to fix yer hound for ye. She's set up in the back of the weaver's shop."
Mac ran his fingers through his beard. "I'd heard tell of the lass doing some such thing. What do ye make of it?"
Quinn pulled in a deep breath. Old Mac was looking to him for guidance. "She has my patronage," he found himself saying. "And my permission. Pass the word, will ye? Encourage people to go see her."
"Aye, I can do that." Mac looked down at his dog. "Well, come on, ye daft hound. Let's take ye to see this 'vet'."
As the old man walked away Quinn called, "Oh, and Mac? Don't let her know I sent ye? She'll likely wring my neck."
Mac chuckled. "Aye, I understand the way of it, lad. I've been smitten with a lass or two in my time, ye ken. I'll keep my mouth shut."
Quinn watched Old Mac head off. Was he that obvious? Did everyone in the clan know how he felt about Darcy?
Everyone except for Darcy, it seems, he thought. And it's best if it stays that way.
Chapter 12
“What do ye reckon then, Lady Darcy?" Angus MacFarlane said, anxiety in his voice.
His wife, Elsa, watched from the doorway, their two-year old daughter Maisie clutched in her arms.
Darcy well understood the crofter's concern. Daisy, the long-haired highland cow who lay in the straw in front of her was Angus and Elsa's main source of income. They made her milk into cheese to supply Dunbreggan. Without her, they'd be in trouble.
"It's nothing serious," Darcy replied. "She has a chest infection. I'll give her some medicine and she'll be fine in a few days."
Angus blew out his cheeks and Elsa sighed in relief. Darcy turned her back on them and rummaged in her bag. Being careful to keep her equipment out of sight she filled a syringe with antibiotic and quickly injected Daisy.
"There," she said, turning to the crofters. "All done. Keep an eye on her the next few days. Come and get me if she takes a turn for the worse."
"We will," Angus said, taking Darcy's hands in his own. "We canna thank ye enough. What can we give ye in return for yer help?"
"Nothing," Darcy replied. "You've all offered me so much kindness and hospitality, this is the least I can do to repay it."
Angus beamed. "Ye are a marvel, Lady Darcy. Quinn is a lucky one to have found ye."
Elsa squeaked and shot her husband a look. "Ignore him, my lady. He never knows when to keep his opinions to himself."
Darcy felt herself blushing. Dear god, did everyone in the clan think she and Quinn were an item? If they only knew the truth! Almost two months had passed since their altercation in Lily's shop. During that time they seemed to have reached an uneasy truce. That basically meant they ignored each other. Oh, they chatted politely enough when they happened to cross paths, but for the most part they avoided each other. That suited Darcy just fine.
That ache in her heart every time she saw him was just annoyance at his behavior. Nothing else. Definitely not.
She closed her medical bag and climbed to her feet. Since that first day her practice had gotten busier and busier. Now she was run off her feet most days visiting the outlying crofts to see horses with bad teeth, sheep with coughs, dogs with limps and a hundred other things besides. Her supplies were already starting to run low. What would she do when they ran out? She had no way of restocking her drugs and medicines. Could she find some kind of local equivalent? She thought she might be able to replicate penicillin if she could get the right equipment.
She shook her head. What was she thinking? It was a moot point. She'd be going home soon. And then it wouldn't matter at all.
Giving Elsa and Maisie a quick hug, Darcy stepped out into the rain. It hadn't let up all day. In fact, it hadn't let up for days on end now. She held her bag over her head as she gingerly made her way to the path that led back down to the village.
What she wouldn't give for a decent raincoat and umbrella!
A figure was running up the path towards her. As it got closer, Darcy realized it was William, the blacksmith's son.
"Lady Darcy!" he cried, skidding to a stop and panting. "Quinn sent me to find ye."
"What is it?" Darcy asked, fe
eling a spike of alarm.
"It's Old Mac's sheep. They've been trapped by a flood! Quinn and some others have gone to help rescue them! He's asked if ye'll come and help in case some of them are injured!"
"Of course I'll come!" Darcy replied. "Lead the way!"
William took off at a run and Darcy ran after, doing her best to keep up with him in her long gown. The path had turned treacherous and slippery and more than once Darcy stumbled to her knees before hauling herself up and pushing herself on. It took around half an hour before they reached the valley that housed Old Mac's farm.
Darcy skidded to a halt at the sight that greeted her. The valley was flooded. The waters of the stream had risen so far that it had burst its banks, turning the valley bottom into a lake. A group of sheep huddled on a strip of quickly shrinking dry ground on the far side, trapped between the water and a sheer cliff behind them. Darcy could hear the plaintive bleating over the drumming of the rain.
Old Mac and his three sons were down at the bottom along with at least half a dozen men from Dunbreggan. Darcy's eyes sought out Quinn and she found him on the water's edge, shouting orders to the others. He'd stripped to the waist and had a rope tied around his waist, the end held in the anxious hands of the other men. Even as Darcy watched he took a step into the rushing water.
Terror flashed through Darcy. He was going to ford the river! Was he insane? One wrong move, one slip, and he'd be washed away in an instant.
She was running before she even realized it. "Quinn!"
She pelted down the valley side, slipping and sliding in the mud until she reached the bank.
"Ye came," Quinn said.
"Of course I came," Darcy snapped. "What did you think I'd do? Go home and sit by the fire while you're out here?"
A faint smile quirked Quinn's lips. "I suppose not. I'd be grateful if ye would check the animals as we bring them over. Some may be hurt."
Darcy nodded. "Of course." She looked at the raging river and the sheep huddled on the other side. She swallowed. "You're not seriously going to cross that are you?"
"What choice is there? I canna let Old Mac lose half his flock."