Using her last reserves of strength, Aria forced herself to move forward, squinting against the snow until she could see the looming outline of what looked to be a large manor house, one that might have even been larger than Millstone. So, an estate then, one that might have outbuildings where she could shelter for the night and treat her injury again. At the very least, she would be out of the weather and she might be able to sleep for a bit. She was certain she would be well enough to travel again once she had a few hours of rest. She could not afford to think otherwise.
Following the siren’s call of the flickering golden light, Aria eventually drew close enough to see that the light was actually coming from a stable, one that looked both warm and dry, and had its own hearth if the smoke curling from the chimney was any indication. Unable to believe her good fortune, her knees buckled and she somehow found herself on the ground, shivering in the snow. However, she was this close to some measure of safety. She would not be deterred now.
Pulling herself forward, Aria crept closer on her hands and knees to peek inside the apparent safe haven of the stable.
For the most part, the stable was empty, save for one small boy just finishing mucking out the stalls. Lanterns were placed about, giving the place a soft, warm, and welcoming glow. She could hear the low whicker of numerous horses and smelled the sweet scent of hay. There was also a scent of rich leather that wafted to her nose, and an undeniable warmth that called enticingly to her tired, aching body.
Slowly creeping inside, Aria could see that the heat came from a hearth that was walled off from the main part of the stable with thick stone. A heavy iron door, likely the work of a talented blacksmith, lay open to allow the heat to pass into the stable, though she assumed that the door could be closed should a fire break out. It was quite a clever design, actually, and she would have been far more intrigued by it if she had been feeling better.
As it was, her mind dimly took note of what she was seeing as her body instinctively sought out the closest stall, one that was blessedly both empty of horse and full of soft hay at the same time. Crawling forward on her hands and knees, Aria noticed a half of a carrot hanging from a bucket on the next stall over. Without thinking, she snatched at the bit of food and took it with her as she moved deeper into the empty stall.
It took her several minutes before she was confident that she would not be discovered, but the only two human occupants of the stable – the young boy and now an older man who might have been a groom – hadn’t seemed to notice her entrance anyway. If anything, they kept talking about someone named “the doctor” and fretting over his bachelor status – and his current state of melancholy.
Well, certainly no physician owned this sort of estate, Aria’s sleepy brain noted, but there might be one staying here for a few days – wherever here was. Perhaps, she thought to herself as her body finally began to give out on her completely, after a few hours rest, she could tap at the back door and ask if he could give her something for her leg. It really was beginning to throb unmercifully and she wasn’t certain how much longer it would support her weight.
That was the last thought Aria had before the yawning blackness she had worked so hard to fight off finally claimed her and dragged her under, her body collapsing back into the hay before she could burrow in deeper to hide herself.
Chapter Two
“And you did not see the boy enter?” Dr. Michael Longford stared down at the prone body currently sprawled out awkwardly and completely unconscious in his hay.
“No, sir.” Owen Brown, one of Michael’s stable boys, looked up at him with fearful eyes. “I was mucking out the stalls before the storm got worse. I only went to assist Mr. Pike for a moment when he called for me. Musta be he come in then. I’m sorry, sir. I know you don’t like anyone near the horses what don’t know ‘em.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed, but not at his young stable hand. “Fear not, Owen. You have done nothing wrong.”
“Sir?” Owen’s eyes were as big as saucers.
“Nor is Mr. Pike in any trouble, just so you know.” Michael wouldn’t dare do anything to upset his head horse trainer – not for all of the money in the world. That included reprimanding Pike’s favorite stable hand, as the older man tended to view Owen as a son. Too much coin would be lost if the temperamental man became upset and left Michael’s employ. Besides, Michael had a feeling that all was not as it seemed with this “lad” flopped down in his hay reserves.
Besides not quite looking like a young boy, the person’s frame was thin, almost gaunt. Michael had seen that same look on dying men before. This person was close to death, if not halfway there already. There was also the matter of this person’s right leg. Though at a glance, everything appeared in order, Michael could see a darker patch of fabric covering the calf area. To his trained eye, the patch looked more like a blood stain than mere dirt, so there was an excellent chance this person was injured as well.
“Thank you, sir.” Owen was clearly relieved, and Michael did his best not to smile. “Do you want me to toss ‘er bugger out?” Now that he knew he was not in trouble, the boy seemed almost eager to prove his worth once more.
Michael shook his head as he studied the figure in the hay more closely. “No, I don’t think so, Owen, but thank you just the same.” He nodded in the direction of the manor house. “However, you can do me a great favor.”
“Anything, sir!” The young man was clearly eager to please.
“Go and inform Mrs. Lambert that she needs to prepare the old duchess’ chambers for an invalid that will require a great deal of old-school field medical care. Tell her exactly that and nothing else. She will understand what that means.” Michael hoped the woman would not question why he had given the order for just then, he could not explain it himself.
Mrs. Lambert had been Michael’s unofficial assistant for many years and had also served as his nurse on the battlefields of Spain as the war had raged against Napoleon. She had followed the drum with her husband, a lieutenant in the same unit where Michael had served for so long. Wanting to feel useful while her husband was off fighting, she had quickly picked up basic nursing skills and assisted Michael day in and day out, even after her husband had been killed in battle.
She could have returned home after that, but instead, she had opted to stay on with the unit and, when the war finally ended, Michael had offered her the position of housekeeper at the country manor house he was about to call his own.
There were few people Michael trusted more at this moment to keep what he suspected would be a very big secret, save for perhaps his brother Nathaniel. Except that Nathaniel wasn’t here. Mrs. Lambert was. Thus, she was the one Michael would trust to keep the secret he was likely about to uncover.
“Yes, sir! Right away, Dr. Michael!” Owen was off like a shot, racing through the snow drifts as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving Michael alone to stare at the unconscious figure in the hay.
Skin was flushed, bright red in places and so pale that it was almost a translucent blue in others. Breathing was shallow and unnatural heat seemed to radiate from the right leg. Body was thin, too thin, as if the person hadn’t eaten in quite some time. Cheekbones appeared unnaturally hollow and what he could see of a right hand looked more skeletal than flesh and blood human.
For that was what this body was to him at the moment. Just a body in desperate need of immediate medical attention. That was the physician in Michael talking. However, the man in him was all but certain that this “boy” was really no boy at all. Not with the hint of curved waist that was just barely visible where the coat and pants did not quite meet.
Kneeling down, and thankful that he was wearing his old clothes for this piteous creature stank unbelievably, Michael reached up and removed the cap from the “boy’s” head. As he suspected, with the clatter of a few pins, lush auburn tresses tumbled free to spread across the soft bed of hay like a river. A quick slide of his hand over the “lad’s” body, offered hints of more feminin
e curves as well.
With her golden skin and delicate bone structure, how anyone could have mistaken this lovely – if half frozen – creature for a boy was beyond him. It was clear to him that not only was she female, but likely a lady as well. The working class did not have such perfect skin, even if hers was tinged blue at present. Then again, it was Michael’s job to know the human body better than most people. Perhaps that was why he could so easily see what others could not.
The last thing he either needed or wanted was a female in his home, especially a nearly dead – and likely unwed – one, but there was naught to be done for it. If he left her here in the stables, she would die, if not from cold then from her wound. Now that he was closer, Michael could smell the sharp, coppery tang of blood, all but confirming her injury.
“Up you go then, pet,” he whispered as he reached down to scoop her into his arms, more than a little alarmed when he discovered she weighed practically nothing. When she whimpered in pain, he shushed her quietly and she responded by burrowing into his embrace, likely seeking out his body heat. “Oh, sweet, what did someone do to you?” he whispered again, knowing that there had to be a reason a woman like her was out on her own in this frigid countryside, and not likely a good reason.
Hefting her more solidly into his arms, Michael slowly began making his way across the yard toward the manor house, using his body to shield her from the elements as best he could. The task was not easy for the wind and snow were rather vicious and he was half frozen himself by the time he reached the side portico door where his butler was waiting for him.
However, the bundle Michael carried in his arms was safe. He shuddered to think about what would have happened if he had not found her this evening. Or rather, if Owen had not found her. She likely would have died had she spent the night in the stables, no matter how warm they were. She might still expire if she did not receive proper medical care, provided it was not already too late.
As Markham, his butler who was also another war veteran, closed the door firmly against the weather, Michael turned to his old friend. “Are the chambers ready, as I’ve requested?”
The other man nodded. “Mrs. Lambert has enlisted much of the staff to assist her. Young Owen said it was an emergency.”
“It is, unfortunately.” Michael hefted the woman in his arms, a bit annoyed that Mrs. Lambert had probably alerted his entire staff to the presence of their unexpected guest. Oh, well. He supposed that could not be helped and such matters were the least of his worries just then.
“A female?” Markham’s eyes widened with surprise.
Michael nodded as he began to stride through the house with his bundle. “Certainly ill. Likely injured. Definitely dying. Probably on the run for some time.” He paused. “And a lady. Despite her present state of dishevelment.”
“Oh.” Markham didn’t seem to know quite what to say and Michael wasn’t surprised. He didn’t know what to say either.
“Yes. Oh,” Michael agreed. “I have no idea what is beneath these clothes,” he continued as he strode up the servants’ stairs, Markham hard on his heels. “However, I smell blood, so she likely has some kind of injury. Given my cursory examination, I am thinking her right leg. If the splotch on her breeches is blood, as I suspect it is, then the wound is grievous, indeed. And have a bath drawn as well. I cannot treat her properly if she is dirty. There is too much risk of infection.”
“Of course, sir. I shall see to it immediately.” Markham agreed, having known the doctor long enough to understand his methods. “Then I shall leave you to it.” He followed Michael down the hallway to open the door to the old duchess’ chambers. “Just be careful, sir. If she is a lady, not to mention an unwed innocent, that could portend trouble.”
“Don’t I know it.” Michael shook his head. “Yet I cannot allow her to die. Not if I can save her. I will not violate my oath simply to adhere to foolish social rules created by addlepated nitwits.” He gestured down the hallway. “When Mrs. Lambert arrives, help her set up. The bath too, as quickly as you can. Then I want the two of you gone. I fear this might go badly, and I’ll not have either of you subjected to any more gruesome scenes.”
“But, sir!” Markham protested.
Michael cut the other man off far more harshly than he intended. “You have both suffered enough over the years. I won’t have you endure any more horror and watch an innocent die of exposure to cold.”
“Neither should you, sir,” the butler replied softly. “Just so we are clear, neither should you.”
Before Michael could reply, Mrs. Lambert appeared, a medical tray balanced in one hand and Michael’s field medical bag in the other. The maid accompanying the housekeeper was quickly sent off to the kitchens to see about the bath. Then, with a collective sigh, the physician, the housekeeper, and the butler gave each other one long, last looked before proceeding.
Silently, the three people trooped inside the grand set of rooms that had once served as the duchess’ chambers. While Michael set about laying the woman in his arms on the bed and stoking the fire up as high as possible, Mrs. Lambert and Markham began to organize the room to resemble a makeshift field hospital. It was something they had done many times in the past and when they were finished, the two servants stood off to the side quietly, though they could have also brought in a herd of elephants for all that Michael paid attention to them. Just then, all he could see was his patient.
He didn’t even notice when a small army of footmen appeared with the bath and buckets of steaming hot water, so Markham directed the men on how to best set up the large copper tub just to Michael’s liking.
Once that was accomplished, Mrs. Lambert cleared her throat, obviously ready for her next orders.
“Leave us,” Michael all but barked, images of other patients in another land flashing rapidly behind his eyes. “I will see to the lady from here.”
“But, doctor,” Mrs. Lambert began before Michael cut her off once again.
“I said leave us,” he growled, the pressure behind his eyes growing, though he did his best to concentrate on the woman before him and not allow his demons to creep inside his mind.
“As you like, sir.” That came from Markham.
Michael was dimly aware of the closing of the door immediately after that and quickly took it upon himself to lock the door so he would not be disturbed. He locked all of the other doors in the room as well, just to be certain. He did not want another set of eyes in here when he began his work. The privacy-challenged, blood-soaked fields of Spain were one thing. The shabby chambers of a long-gone duchess were quite another.
When Michael was finally satisfied that he was alone and would not be disturbed until he was ready, he turned to the woman lying on the bed. She was so still that he feared she might already be dead, yet he noticed a slight rise and fall of her chest indicating that she was still breathing.
The sight of her lying there so still and deathly pale made something shift inside of him and kept the demons at bay for the moment. Michael could not understand why he had reacted that way, but he also knew better than to question his good fortune. He had a life to save, after all.
“Let’s see what you’re about, pet,” he whispered to the woman as he approached the bed, happy when he saw her chest continue to rise a tiny bit and then fall again. She was still alive. God-willing and with his skill, she would remain that way.
Slowly, Michael unbuttoned the heavy wool coat that had clearly seen better days. He tossed it into a far corner of the room, mentally making a note that Markham could have the thing burned later, for it stunk like the worst sort of refuse that Michael could imagine. He quickly added her hat to the pile, followed by the bulky man’s shirt that she wore. It too was filthy and fit only for disposal.
Gently, he undid a belt strapped directly against her skin that was used to anchor a large storage pouch to her body. From the feel of things, the pouch was full of items, but investigating those was for a later time, though he was eager to kn
ow if something in there might give him a clue as to her identity. Now, however, he had a patient to attend to and hopefully nurse back to health.
Michael paused for a moment after placing the pouch aside, taking in the unknown woman’s nearly naked torso.
In addition to her thick, chestnut hair, she also had impossibly thick lashes and though he could not see her eyes, he had a suspicion they were either brown or hazel. He had no idea why he was so certain; he just was. Though far too thin now, so thin that her collarbone protruded nearly through her delicate skin, her breasts were still lush, even though they were still partially bound and concealed by a sheer chemise that had been awkwardly chopped in half just above her waist.
Curiously, her skin retained a bit of a golden hue, as if she had known many years under a sun far harsher than the one that shone over England most of the time. Her lips were full and sensual, and though her face was thin now, in Michael’s mind, he could picture it a bit fuller and, oh so lovely. In the prime of her health, this woman no doubt had scores of men trailing after her, for she looked like the daughter of the devil himself – all sin and seduction. Now, however? She looked ill and weak.
Still, ill as she was, she was also unquestionably beautiful. If Michael could save her, she would be even more so, though, for a moment, he wondered if she even wanted to be saved. He also wondered what she was running from, for a lady such as this did not end up in the frozen wilds of Somerset in December unless she was running from something – or possibly someone.
With a sigh, Michael shook off his lustful thoughts and with quick, efficient movements, he stripped off the rest of her garments, tossing them into the same pile as her coat, hat and shirt before removing his own clothing, which now smelled as bad as she did. As he had suspected, a makeshift bandage covered a large wound in her right leg. Though most of the bleeding had stopped some time ago, some blood still seeped down her leg and the skin around the wound was burning hot to the touch.
Christmas With a Scoundrel Page 2
