Editor's Choice Volume I - Slow summer Kisses, Kilts & kraken, Negotiating point (5 page)

Geneva eased the maid into a chair and sat facing her, motioning to Alice to close the curtains. “If she found out what?”

“I think I might be—that is…” She took a deep gulp and looked up into Geneva’s eyes. Terror registered in her expression. “I think I’m increasing.”

Time to slow down before the poor girl panicked completely. Geneva caught the girl’s hand. “Very well. Let’s start with an easy question, shall we? What’s your name?”

“Flora, miss—I mean Doctor.”

“Either one is fine, Flora. You can even call me Geneva if that’s easier. Now, tell me what leads you to believe you’re expecting.”

She tightened her fingers on Geneva’s. “I haven’t—my courses are late.”

“How late? When was the last time?”

“Two months.” Flora’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m a good girl, Dr. Geneva, but… Dugall and I were going to be married.”

“Now you’re not?” A baby might change that circumstance swiftly enough.

“He was lost in one of the kraken attacks. At first I prayed he was only swept away, like the laird, and we’d find him again. It’s been a week now, so I have to accept that he’s gone for good.”

“Dear lord, you poor girl.” Alice bustled over and poured the girl one of the cups from the tea tray. “Do you have family? Will they be understanding?”

Flora shook her head. “I’ve no one. My ma died last year. Mrs. Campbell will turn me off in a heartbeat if she even thinks I might be carrying. Where will I go?”

“If it comes to that, we’ll think of something.” Alice patted Flora’s hand.

“Meanwhile, let’s see what we can see, shall we?” Geneva gave Flora her brightest smile. “Sometimes our bodies shut down for a while for any number of reasons. It might not be a baby.” This far along, she’d be able to tell with a physical examination.

“I haven’t been sick,” Flora said as she took off her high-button shoes and lay back on the bed. “But I don’t feel normal either. Sleepy mostly, and wanting to cry all the time. That’s over Dugall.”

“It can also be a symptom of pregnancy.” Geneva eased up the girl’s skirts, glad Flora didn’t wear a corset. While Geneva performed the examination, she continued to ask Flora questions about her symptoms, sleeping habits and such. A few minutes later, she stepped back and washed her hands in the adjacent water closet. When she returned, Flora had restored her clothing and was sitting up, waiting for the verdict.

Geneva nodded. “I don’t know whether to say I’m sorry or congratulations, but you’re definitely with child. Probably around February.”

Tears slipped down Flora’s cheeks, but she took a deep breath and firmed her chin. “It’s good. I’m glad Dugall left me a babe. I’ll find some way to support us. Thank you.”

“You’ll come back to Mull with me,” Alice said. “My housekeeper is getting on. She could use someone younger to lend a hand and learn the job.”

“As long as things are going well, you can work until the last month or thereabouts,” Geneva said, blessing Alice for her compassion. “No heavy lifting, mind you. I’m afraid you will have to talk to Mrs. Campbell.” Unfortunately, the girl’s story was common enough. A woman caught having intercourse out of wedlock was considered a strumpet, while a man would be cheered on. It was ridiculous, of course, but the housekeeper was liable to be entirely set in her ways. Perhaps Rannulf or Magnus could help.

“I will, Miss Geneva. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my babe.”

Geneva helped her down from the high mattress. “I’ll put in a word with the laird. Perhaps he’ll be able to give you some kind of pension, in Dugall’s name.”

Flora gasped. “Suky MacRae said ye were an angel come to bless us. ’Tis true, every word.” With that, she ran from the room.

* * *

“You said
what?
” Magnus roared at the doctor who stood in his chamber, looking perfectly calm while he paced—barefoot—up and down his carpet.

Geneva crossed her arms under her impressive bust line. Her eyes flashed. “I told her I’d speak with you. You can’t really mean to let your housekeeper turn the girl away with no way to make a living for herself and her child.”

“Of course not. Dugall was a Findlay, for God’s sake. One of my kin.” He’d been a good fisherman and a bright lad. Magnus had entertained high hopes for him, expecting the boy to captain one of the boats in time. “I’ll instruct Mrs. Campbell not to let her go.”

“That would be a start. Thank you.” Geneva tipped her head. “In the meantime, can I ask to have her assigned to assist Alice and myself? That way I could keep my eye on her and be sure her duties aren’t too taxing.”

“Were you not already given a ladies’ maid?” Normally one of the servants would immediately be assigned to a guest of any importance. What had Mrs. Campbell been thinking? More than likely it was just a show of support for her sister Edda. Well, Magnus could put a stop to that as well as making sure she didn’t turn off the maid. The castle staff was usually Rannulf’s arena, but Magnus would handle this personally.

“No.” Geneva shrugged. “Apparently, a mere physician doesn’t qualify as a lady.”

“Ballocks.” Her breeding was evident in every line of her imperious posture. “Mrs. MacDonald is an officer’s widow, and I’ll wager your father is an esquire at the very least.”

A tiny smile quirked the corner of her mouth. “A Knight, actually. Sir Fergus MacKay, if you please. My grandfather, Sir William, is a baronet.”

“I knew it.” Magnus held up his palms in a gesture of defeat. “I’ll see to the maid, and have a talk with Dugall’s da. We might be able to come up with something more permanent for the girl. Now, can I have my shoes back, or must I go down to supper barefoot?” Between her and his uncle, they’d confiscated every last piece of footwear Magnus owned in an effort to keep him trapped in his room.

The daft woman had the temerity to laugh. “Fine. You’re recovered enough to sup downstairs. I’ll have Rannulf return your shoes and boots.”

“No need. I know where he put them.” It was Magnus’s turn to laugh. “Rannulf’s chamber is right across the hall. Nonetheless, you were right. I needed to rest and let the magick do its work, so I stayed put and didn’t let on that I know his hiding places. Now, how would you like a look around my castle?”

“As long as you don’t overtire yourself, I’d love it. I haven’t had the grand tour yet as I didn’t want to be a third wheel with Rannulf and Alice.”

“I’m thinking they’re in need of a chaperone.” Magnus padded barefoot across the hall to his uncle’s room, where he found a small trunk full of his boots and shoes exactly where he’d expected it—in the box beneath the window seat. “He’s been hiding things there every Christmas since I was a lad.”

“What about your parents?” She gazed out the window while he pulled on a pair of comfortable old boots. “I’ve wondered about that. If the island’s magick keeps you alive, how is it that your father is gone? In fact, how is it that you’re not overrun with all of your ancestors?”

“It isn’t all-powerful.” He shrugged and took her arm, feeling more himself now that he was fully clad. “As you saw. The magick seems to wane with age, and doesn’t work against all sickness. My grandfather developed consumption in his later years. I can be killed outright, too, same as any man. My parents drowned when I was ten, on an afternoon sail. When they found my da’s body, his skull was caved in. He’d have died in a moment, with no time for the power to mend him.”

“I’m sorry. Rannulf raised you?” She squeezed her fingers where they rested on his forearm.

“Aye. His wife had passed a year earlier in childbirth, so Rannulf moved into the castle with his two offspring.”

“You have first cousins?”

“Aye, but closer to brother and sister. Catherine is a wee bit younger than me. She lives in Glasgow with her husband now, and Rodney, a year my elder, is my agent in London. He travels all around the world, keeping track of the clan’s business interests.” Magnus didn’t say how much he’d envied Rodney his chance to see the world.

“You must miss them. I know I do my siblings when we’re apart.”

“Aye. I do, but they visit when they can. You mentioned a sister. Are there even more of you at home?”

“Three of us, all out on our own. I’m the eldest, then Connor, and Melody’s the baby. Connor works with our father, in—service to the Crown. Melody is the engineer I told you about.”

“Service to the Crown? Sounds important.”

“It is, but we don’t speak of it,” she said.

“Then we shan’t.” He led her through the family portrait gallery, pointing out ancestors and telling outrageous tall tales about them. After viewing several of the unoccupied suites on this level, he led her up to the parapets, bypassing the fourth floor and the nursery. He hadn’t looked at that in four years and wouldn’t begin now.

Once out on the castle ramparts, she looked around with all the wonder of a child sighting a candy store. “Oh, my lord, this is beautiful.”

“Were you talking to me or to God?” Odd, how much he relaxed around Geneva, to the point of feeling at ease teasing her a little.

“To you, although the other would work. What a magnificent view of your island.”

“Aye. It is at that.” He looked out over the familiar rolling hillsides and rocky shoreline that made up his prison and his home, all rolled into one. “If you call me Magnus, it’ll avoid any confusion.”

“Aye, it would.” She mimicked his Highland burr and chuckled. “I’m Geneva. There’s no point standing on ceremony with someone who’s seen your bare backside, is there?”

“It does seem unfair. You really ought to let me take a look at yours in return.” Magnus stopped, stunned at having voiced such a crass sentiment aloud—and to a lady at that.

Geneva blinked. After a moment, she laughed, deep and hearty. “Very nicely played, my lord Magnus. Except I think there’s a pretty island healer who might object if I did.”

He shrugged. “She’s no call to object. She likes being the belle of the island, but it’s Quentin she’s betrothed to.”

“Oh.” She chuckled again. “Well, I misunderstood that part of her rant. On the other hand, she still doesn’t seem any too fond of modern science, including the medical profession.”

“Well, that’s her problem, isn’t it? I’ve enough of my own to worry about.”

“You have no idea what’s causing the kraken to attack.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Quentin has a few. The magick is angry, he says, about my modern inventions, and because I’ve not taken another bride.”

“How long ago did you lose your wife?” She looked away, out across the sea, but there was a wealth of compassion in her husky tone. Not pity—he hated that. Somehow Geneva made it seem as if she genuinely cared. Likely that was the gift that made her such a good physician.

“Four years.” Magnus turned away from her, looking out over a different wall. When it came to Isobel, his emotions were unstable, to say the least.

A soft hand touched his shoulder. “How did she die?”

“Childbirth.” He gave a rusty laugh. “Her father claims I killed her, and I suppose I did. She begged me to take her to the mainland for the birth, to the doctor who’d treated her since childhood. Unfortunately, I cannot leave Torkholm, and for the magick to take, my son needed to be born on the isle.”

“She had to have known that before she married you. Surely you could have brought a doctor here?” Her hand slid down to rest on his on the crenellation in front of them.

“I offered, but she went a little mad, I think. A month before the child was due, Isobel jumped from the balcony off our bedchamber.”

She inhaled sharply and her fingers tightened around his. “Good heavens, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Oddly enough, the fall didn’t kill her, but it did set off labor, and the birthing went poorly. Edda tried to save the babe, but the lad never took a breath.” Magnus paused a moment, his jaw tight as he fought to steady himself. “Now you know why so many in my clan want me to choose a bride from Torkholm—one who won’t go mad being trapped here the rest of her life.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Magnus.” Her voice was strong, fierce. “I assume she agreed to stay here before you were married. Sometimes the brain is a strange thing. One tiny blood vessel can rupture and destroy everything that makes us who we are. Or, during pregnancy, the chemicals in the bloodstream can cause strange fancies. I’ve seen how you care about your people. I can’t believe you were any less concerned with your own wife and child.”

“I did my best. ’Twasn’t a love match, but I honored her. Sent for anything she desired.”

“How did you meet her in the first place? From what you say, you’ve been laird since you were a child. You can’t have left, not even for school or the usual Grand Tour.”

“No. I haven’t been farther than Mull since I was five years old. My mum took me to Skye once, to see her kin for a night. That was the farthest I’ve ever been.” He settled against the parapet and drew her hand more firmly into his, lacing their fingers together. It had been such a long time since he’d had someone he could talk to, other than Rannulf who felt as much guilt as he did. “Isobel was a schoolmate of Catherine, my cousin. Catherine brought her home for a visit one summer, along with a few other friends. She hoped that I’d be interested in one of the girls.”

“And you were.”

“Aye. Isobel was a good lass.” The memories hurt less than he’d expected, as if the mere act of telling the tale relegated it to the past, where it belonged. “I liked her a great deal. She was clever, you see. Quick witted and full of plans. Much of the modernization here was her idea. Half the time she could beat me at chess. Yet, in the end, being a baroness didn’t make up for the loneliness of being trapped here. Torkholm wasn’t enough. She’d decided to go to London for the Season, before she learned she was increasing.”

“She was unhappy about the pregnancy.”

“Aye and nay. She wanted children, or at least, she said she did. Just not quite then. ’Twas me who couldn’t wait. Planning for the bairn felt like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one. I couldn’t wait to see if it was a boy or girl, fair or dark.” His desire had killed her, plain and simple.

“You wanted a family of your own, to help make up for losing your parents so young.”