Kilts & Kraken

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  “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.”

  Gene
va 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.

  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.”