Editor's Choice Volume I - Slow summer Kisses, Kilts & kraken, Negotiating point (4 page)

* * *

Sun glinted through mullioned glass windows, waking Geneva from a sound sleep. The guest chamber she’d been allotted at Torkholm Castle was luxurious and a glance at the clock showed she’d slept longer than she usually did. Yesterday had, to say the least, been an eventful day. She stood and stretched, before washing up in the adjacent bath. Even her grandparents hadn’t fitted out their castle—in the family since the Middle Ages—with private bath chambers for each guestroom, but here, a maid had assured her, such conveniences were the norm, as was a private ice-box and warming plate. Instead of having to ring for a maid, who would carry up a heavy, laden tray, she could fix her own tea and add fresh, cool milk right in her room. The laird was apparently a staunch advocate of modernization. She’d never seen someplace as remote and yet as advanced as this castle.

A knock sounded on the connecting door as Geneva began to braid her hair in preparation for twisting it into its usual knot. Her thick, wavy mop was too unruly for any other style—at least one that could be considered even remotely professional.

“Come in,” she called, around the hairpins stuck between her lips.

Alice entered, looking as cheery and refreshed as Geneva felt. A rosy flush tinted her cheeks. “I’ve already spoken to Rannulf. The laird is up and about, already down in the great hall, talking to some of the villagers.”

Geneva pulled the pins from between her lips and dropped them on the dressing table. “That idiot. I said he could get out of bed today, not tramp up and down flights of stairs.”

Alice took the dish of hairpins—not including the ones from Geneva’s mouth—and brushed Geneva’s hands aside to pin up the heavy braid. “He seems fully recovered to me. I know you’re familiar with magick, but I’ve never seen the like before.”

It was a luxury to have someone help with her hair, so Geneva closed her eyes and enjoyed it. When she visited her family, there were ladies’ maids for such things, but in Edinburgh, her only staff was Elspeth in the surgery and a daily housekeeper. “I’ll chase him back to bed, never fear. Before we leave, I want to check on a few of our other patients, if you don’t mind. I didn’t like the look of Ian MacRae’s arm, did you? Hopefully, it won’t go to gangrene.”

“I’m in no rush to get home, and I agree about Mr. MacRae. There’s also the lad with the broken leg—perhaps we could stop by his cottage.” Alice added one last pin and patted Geneva’s hair. “There, you’re done. I wish I had your curls. Mine is so straight even curling tongs don’t work.”

“While I’ve been envying your silky smooth locks.” Geneva’s newfound friendship with Alice was an unexpected benefit to this trip. It still astounded her that the woman had once considered marrying Geneva’s father. “Rannulf seems to like the way you look, at any rate. Are you thinking of seeing him again after we leave?”

Alice shrugged. “I doubt it. He lives here, after all, and it’s quite a trip. If he stopped to call sometime when he’s on Mull, however, I wouldn’t turn him from my door.”

“Or your bed?”

Alice’s face pinkened again. “Perhaps not. I’ve been widowed a long time.”

Geneva put her arm around the other woman’s waist. “Good for you. Now make sure he’s invited to visit, before we leave today.”

Chapter Four

They chose to bypass the lift and walk down the marble stairs to the great hall, where breakfast was served. Perhaps ten people sat in groups of two or three at the long trestle tables, with Magnus and Rannulf at the head of the U-shaped arrangement. Geneva marched to the laird, who sat in state, a plate piled high with eggs and kippers and steak in front of him. As she approached, he stopped gesturing and stood, pulling out the chair beside his. Geneva sank into it, nodding at the maid who hurried up with fresh coffee.

“You look like a medieval warlord surveying his domain.” Geneva shook her head. He seemed healthy enough, although dark shadows still rimmed his eyes. “You’re supposed to be upstairs today, recuperating.”

“I needed my people to see me,” he said in a tone so low, only she could hear it. “They had to know I was recovered.”

“You aren’t recovered yet. If I looked at your wounds, I’d find that not all of them are healed. Am I right?”

He tipped his head. “Perhaps.”

“And your hip is aching, is it not?”

“Aye.” He glowered. “But I’m hale enough to dine with my family and friends.”

As he was sitting there eating enough food for a regiment, she could hardly argue. His blond hair was shining and clean for the first time since she’d met him, and again, he made her think of a Viking from legend. Of course the Hebrides had a strong Norse influence historically. There was no doubt Magnus was descended from Scandinavian stock.

She helped herself to some eggs and ham from the heated platters on the table, and thanked the maid who brought the tea. An automated toast rack caught her attention and she smiled. “Wherever did you find that? My grandfather would love one. My sister, however, would insist on disassembling it to see how it works, putting it back together with added functions.”

“My cousin Rodney sent it from New York. My friends and family know I appreciate innovation. Since I cannot leave Torkholm to see the world, they do their best to bring the world to me.” Magnus gave her a smile that melted her to her toes. “You’ve an interesting family of your own, it seems. One sister studies medicine, and the other is a tinkerer. Any others? A general, perhaps? An aunt who’s a blacksmith?”

She began to bristle, but caught the twinkle of humor in his eyes. “No, I’ve only the one sister—and she’s an engineer and inventor, recently finished at Lovelace College. No aunts at all that I know of, nor cousins either. I do have a friend who’s a rather famous photographer—Amélie, Lady Lake.” The Canadian-born artist had married a scion of the Order a few years back, and her unconventional profession had made her a quick favorite among the wives and daughters of other Knights.

“Ah, I have a copy of her book. Brilliant work, particularly her landscapes. I’m sure the portraits of the Royal children were more lucrative, though.”

“Having the Queen in her corner made it much easier for her to continue working after her marriage without risking social ruin.” Being the daughter-in-law of the Duke of Trowbridge, head of the Order, hadn’t hurt either. A future duchess could be allowed certain eccentricities.

“Tell me, how does a lass who’s friends with a marchioness end up a Highland doctor? Shouldn’t you be in London, enjoying the social whirl and finding a husband?” His smile let her know he was teasing, so she resisted the urge to slug him as she would have her brother.

Instead she swallowed a mouthful of ham and shrugged. “I love what I do, and my parents were good enough to allow me to study medicine and support my decision. My practice is in Edinburgh, but Alice is a…friend of my family and she asked me to come.”

“She’s the one who pulled me off the beach?”

“Her servant did, but she’s the one who stabilized you until I arrived to set the bones.” A short while later, Quentin joined them, along with Alice and Rannulf. Talk turned to the kraken and Geneva looked at the laird. “You seem to be an educated man, Lord Findlay. Why do you think these sea creatures are suddenly behaving so oddly?”

“He knows why.” Quentin scowled. “He just refuses to admit it.”

“Really?” Geneva studied their faces, Quentin’s drawn into a sullen sneer, while Magnus’s went taut, his full lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw locked. “What could possibly be the cause?”

“’Tis the magick,” Quentin said. “They’ve told you more than they should, you may as well hear the rest. The power of Torkholm is angry that the laird has given it no heir.”

Goodness.
Geneva sat back in her chair. Given what she’d already seen his native magick do, wreaking havoc didn’t seem outside the realm of possibility, but something didn’t ring true. “Why would the magick risk the life of the one person it’s supposed to protect?”

“Aye, that’s what I said.” Magnus stood and poured himself more coffee from the heated urn on a sideboard. Despite his protests, his movements were strained. His hip was hurting. “I know my duty, Quentin, but ’tis a little difficult to meet potential brides when I cannot leave my island.”

Wasn’t he marrying the shrew? Interesting. She filed that away for future consideration.

“Marrying a mainlander worked so well the first time, laird, that you’d care to repeat it?”

“Well, perhaps I won’t marry at all.” Magnus shrugged. “I have an heir, if it comes down to it. You.”

Quentin turned an alarming shade of purple. “And I told you, the magick isn’t in me. I’d know if it was. You need to marry, and you need to marry an islander. Soon.”

“Enough!” Magnus’s roar silenced every voice in the vast hall, and all eyes turned toward the head table.

“’Tis none of your concern, Quentin. Haven’t you work to be doing? All of you?” He stared pointedly around the room. “Finish your breakfast and be about your business. Doctor, if you’d come with me, please? I’ve something I want to ask you about.”

“Of course.” She eyed her half-eaten breakfast and sighed, but blotted her lips and fingers with her napkin. She’d get a snack later.

Alice raised a questioning eyebrow, but made no move to stop Geneva from going off with her patient. Geneva followed him, curiosity making her more docile than normal. If in addition to watching his limp, she snuck a glance or two at the muscular calves showing beneath his kilt, who could blame her? She was a red-blooded woman after all, even if she’d devoted her life to her profession rather than marriage.

“Tell me, Doctor, what do you think of Torkholm Castle?”

Geneva muffled a sigh of relief when Magnus led her to the hydraulic lift, rather than stubbornly taking the stairs back to his chamber on the third floor. “I think it’s magnificent. You’ve managed to integrate the best of modern conveniences without damaging the character of the structure. I’m almost surprised you don’t have a teletext cable installed.”

He grinned, giving his gaunt features a decidedly boyish cast. “The cables are to be laid from Tiree later this summer. We had to delay it due to the kraken attacks.”

The steam-powered elevator creaked and wheezed before the iron grate opened. Once inside, Magnus leaned heavily against the wall, confirming her suspicions that he’d pressed his body too hard.

“That’s too bad. Once you gave us your name, I was able to find out where you lived, but we hadn’t had time to send out a boat yet. It would have been nice to get your men to Alice’s sooner.”

“Aye.” His gaze seemed to examine her, and her skin flushed hot under his regard. “How’d you find out where I lived?”

“Debrett’s,” she said. “Your clothes and sword were too fine for you to be a peasant. Once you gave us your name, I teletexted someone to look it up.”

“Clever lass. Did I say anything else while I was dreaming?”

“Only that you wanted to come home.”

“Aye. Thank you, again, for seeing to it.” After a moment’s awkward pause, he said, “Rannulf tells me you’ve been treating some of my people. How do they fare?”

“Most are coming along fine. There are a few I’d like to see again this morning. Your healers seem a bit overwhelmed, though they denied it.”

He scowled. “I’ll be having a talk with Edda. In a community this size, every last man, woman and child is important. Your help is more than welcome.”

“I’m glad to have been of assistance.” She gave him a rundown of the patients she’d treated the day before, withholding names and other personal matters. “No deaths from yesterday’s attack. That’s something to be glad of.”

“I’ve plenty to be happy for,” he said. “I’m sorry that Edda caused you grief.”

“Is Edda the middle-aged woman, or the younger?” The older one had been a self-righteous crone, but the younger—Geneva winced at the memory of the words the black-haired bitch had called her as she stormed out the door.

“Edda’s the mother, Catriona the daughter.”

It was Catriona, then, who claimed to be his future bride. “I imagine both of them are far from pleased with me.”

“No doubt.” Magnus’s grin melted something in Geneva’s chest. “It wouldn’t please Cat to have another beautiful young woman on the island. She likes to think of herself as the crown jewel of Torkholm.”

Geneva flushed. He thought her beautiful? It was probably only gratitude for her helping save his life. She was too tall, too red, too brusque for beauty, although she didn’t think she was a gorgon, either. The lift shuddered to a halt and Magnus stunned her by leaning heavily on her shoulder for the short walk to his bedroom. “Thank you again.”

She helped him out of his kilt and boots before he got into bed. It was hard to be impersonal and professional with his big, warm body pressed against her, smelling of soap and masculinity.

He groaned with relief when she tucked the covers around his waist. “I’ll not be disobeying you again for a few more hours at least. The bones have knit together, but they still hurt like the devil.”

“You don’t need me to tell you that you’re lucky to be alive at all.”

“No, though there’ve been times I wished this place would let me go.” He reached out and caught her hand. “Will you do me one more favor, Doctor? Will you stay awhile? Take care of my people until I can find a way to be rid of this menace? The squid cannot reach the castle. You’ll be safe here, away from the shore.”

“I have a practice in Edinburgh—patients who depend upon me.” Even as she protested, she knew she was going to stay. In Edinburgh, there were other doctors. Here there were only two overburdened folk healers. Added to that, there was Magnus himself—a man who fired all her curiosity. He was likely destined to marry the healer, which meant she couldn’t let her absurd attraction for him go anywhere, but despite his size and power as a warrior, she felt oddly protective of the man. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll need to let people know. Perhaps someone can take me to Tiree to send some teletexts?”

“The boats are too dangerous. Write down what you need to send and I’ll have one of the men take it. Do you think your friend will mind staying? I’d not like to risk her in the boats either.”

A small chuckle escaped Geneva’s throat. “I think your uncle could convince Alice to remain here on a permanent basis if he half tried.”

“Aye, I was thinking the same. He could use someone of his own. His children live on the mainland, and his wife’s been gone for twenty years.”

“Alice’s husband has been dead for some time too, I believe. Tell me something. According to Debrett’s, you’ve no living relatives. On the other hand, Rannulf called himself your uncle and Quentin claims to be your cousin.” Clan relationships could be convoluted, but it had been nagging at her since she’d met the two men. Rannulf certainly seemed fond enough to be a parent to Magnus.

“Rannulf was my mother’s half brother, born on the wrong side of the blanket, so bloody Debrett’s doesn’t acknowledge him. Quentin is a third or fourth cousin, I think. In a clan, everyone’s related to one degree or another.” Magnus blinked his eyes open as they sagged.

Geneva squeezed his hand. “Time for you to rest, my lord. I’ll speak to Alice about staying awhile. For now, I’ll go see to your men.” She pulled the drapes shut as she exited the room.

* * *

Another kraken attack occurred that afternoon. This squid was smaller and quickly subdued, but two men were still hurt. After they’d discussed the matter, Geneva and Alice agreed to stay. Two men set off in a fast skiff to send her messages—one to her father and one to Dr. MacLeod in Edinburgh. They were also picking up mail and supplies for the island, Rannulf assured her, things that had been delayed while all hands were out searching for the laird. No one was risking his life just to send her teletexts.

Since they were staying on, Geneva and Alice had been given a more private room for their makeshift surgery. It was a relief not to see patients in the great hall. A sunny sitting room, in a more modern part of the castle, had been hastily rearranged with a firm bed, a sturdy table and a cupboard full of clean sheets and other supplies. French doors opened directly to the gardens, meaning patients wouldn’t have to tramp all the way through the castle to see them.

After patching up the two men injured in the most recent attack, Geneva had to reluctantly turn away a patient whose clockwork foot had malfunctioned. Magnus needed an engineer as well as a doctor, it seemed. She sat at the small desk in the room to write up her notes while Alice rearranged the supply cupboard to her satisfaction.

A tap sounded on the glass door, and Geneva looked up to see a maid with a tea tray standing outside. The brisk breeze blew her skirts, but that didn’t explain the look of worry on the young woman’s face.

Geneva hastened to open the door. “Thank you. Couldn’t you have come through the castle?”

The maid flushed and set the tray down on the desk. “I didn’t want to run into Mrs. Campbell.”

Geneva raised one eyebrow. The housekeeper hadn’t been particularly friendly since Geneva’s run-in with the local healers the previous day, but she wouldn’t be likely to deny them tea.

“This isn’t part of what I usually do.” The girl was short and plump, with the fair hair and blue eyes common on the island. “It’s just—I wanted to see you. Mrs. Campbell is kin to Edda, and if she finds out…” She twisted her fingers in her apron.