Fiona paused in answering. She’d always trusted the old man, he’d done right by her, but her pool of trusted people grew smaller. Her options were limited, and she had to get the three to the security of the Graham house. “Gotta get these ladies home.”
“And I can take her to a doctor,” Margaret snapped.
“I’m not sure it’s safe,” Fiona said. “Besides, I’m sure Mrs. Baumann or Brigid can take care of this little scratch at the house.”
“So now you know what’s best for me?” Margaret asked. “Have you now risen to the station equal with my brother? I’m not capable of making my own decisions?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Fiona said. Seeing the look in Margaret’s eyes, Fiona knew she would not win this battle. As she attempted to make another suggestion, Margaret stopped her with a raised palm.
“You could compromise.” Fiona and Margaret turned to the old man. He blushed at their intense attention. “I can drive the young ladies home,” he said to Fiona. “And since she’s so adamant,” he said pointing at Margaret, “she can get you to the doctor. I got a truck you could use. You can get it back to me when you can.”
Margaret glared at her for a long moment before agreeing. “All right then. As long as Brigid looks after Sunny, and lets my brother know what’s transpired down here.”
“I’m sure he’d feel better if you told him directly,” Fiona said.
“Since we don’t know if they intended to shoot you or me originally, then I think it best we remain together. I know a place we can go.”
“But what about—”
Margaret glared at Fiona. “As long as Eldon knows I’m safe, and with you, he’ll be less worried. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll write him a note.”
Fiona shook her head. “I don’t know why you're so difficult.”
Margaret shrugged negligently. “Because I can be.”
“And that’s not scary for me?” Fiona said. “I’m not sure what’s more frightening. What Eldon will do if anything happens to me and I can’t protect you? Or, could it be what you’ll do if I don’t agree with you?”
“For the time being, I suggest you don’t try to find out the answer.”
Since Margaret agreed with the plan, Chambers went to get their car, after Fiona gave its location. On his return, the packages, Sunny, and Brigid were settled into the car and he drove away. Fiona sat behind the wheel, after another quick argument with Margaret, and followed in the borrowed truck, watching to see if anyone paid too much attention to Eldon’s car or trailed them. After a few blocks, when it appeared they weren’t followed, Fiona turned her head to Margaret. “They seem safe.”
“Good,” Margaret said, nodding. “Drive to Dr. Matthews’ house. We’ll be safe there.”
“Safe from thugs,” Fiona whispered. “Who’s gonna protect me from you?”
The wicked gleam in Margaret’s gaze gave Fiona a surprising tingle in her body, as Margaret said, “Suck it up, handsome. You’re the one who lives for danger, every day I may add.”
Fiona laughed while simultaneously blushing from the compliment. “Here I thought I could rely on you to be my safety zone.”
“I’m the only form of dangerous you can positively live through,” Margaret said.
“Then I’ll let you harm me in a thousand ways.” As soon as she spoke the words, Fiona wished to take them back. She had meant them, with all her heart, but she’d never intended to be so open about her feeling for Margaret.
At least not yet.
The double entendre of her words contributed mental images, which made concentration on driving difficult. Margaret’s type of danger may be more than she could handle—and Fiona did not intend to avoid the prospect.
Chapter Sixteen
ANY OTHER TIME she and Fiona drove around, the scenery would lure Margaret into soothing daydreams of possibilities. This drive was different. She didn’t see the magnificent homes surrounded by tree lined streets and yards, or the beauty of the approaching sunset. Instead, she noticed the paling skin and odd winces as Fiona slowly bled beside her. Margaret could tell it was a chore for Fiona to remain focused, maybe even conscious. “Pull over Fiona. You’re ready to pass out. How can you expect to keep me alive?”
“I can make it, we’re almost there,” Fiona said. “Besides, I’m the driver here,” she added.
“I’m serious,” Margaret said. She appreciated Fiona’s attempts to dismiss her concerns, but Margaret wouldn’t allow it. No matter their short association, Fiona meant too much to her already. Was she the only one who felt it, this attraction between them? “Please, let me drive. I know you’re trying to be stoic, but you’re scaring me, unintentionally of course.” Fiona balked for only a moment, and Margaret assumed Fiona finally realized her correct. Once the truck stopped, Margaret rushed to exit the passenger side and enter the driver’s side, where she nudged Fiona across the seat with her hand. “Now we can get there in one piece.”
Fiona had it right earlier, the ride wasn’t far. They reached the suburbs where houses were larger and extravagant, unlike most of those in the inner city, unlike Margaret’s own. Dr. Matthews lived here for as long as the Graham family had known him. When her parents were alive, the family used to visit Edward’s home often, their relationship more than doctor slash patient, since before Margaret’s mother became ill and her father had died. Growing up, Edward Matthews was as close to an uncle as she had. Which is why she felt a need to put Fiona’s life in his hands. If anyone could—and would—keep Fiona’s secret, he would. She hoped.
Margaret pulled the truck up to the house and turned the engine off. Twisting toward Fiona, she said, “Slide back over here and let me help you out.”
“I can do it on my own,” Fiona said, an edge of frustration in her tone.
Margaret nodded solemnly. “I know you can, honey, but please let me help you.” Fiona complied, grudgingly from her mumbling, and together they made their way to the front door. She rang the bell with the hand not clasped around Fiona’s waist. Margaret prayed Dr. Edward Matthews wasn’t at the hospital, unsure how much longer Fiona could move under her own power. When the door opened, a thin and greying older man stood there. “Hey Peter, is Edward at home?”
Peter gave a cry of delight. “Margaret, it’s so good to see you. In fact, Edward has just returned home. We’re getting ready for supper. Why don’t you both come in,” he said. His glance took in Fiona’s bleeding shoulder, and he shifted to stand beside Fiona to support her left side. “Oh, my. Appears his office hours aren’t over yet.”
“I’m sorry to do this,” Margaret said. “You know I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t an emergency.”
“No, my dear, I know you wouldn’t.” Peter closed the door behind them and started walking down the hallway toward the back of the home. “Follow me, and I’ll get you settled before I go find Edward.”
Margaret and Peter ushered Fiona into a sterile white room outfitted like a hospital exam room. “If I didn’t need his help as I do, I’d be surprised he has this room in his home.”
“You’d be surprised how often this room gets used. Not that we mind,” Peter said. “Keeps Edward on his toes and not getting lazy as he…” He paused, gave Margaret a wink, and helped Fiona onto the examination table. “As he matures.”
“Matures?” she repeated. “Is that how one refers to aging after hitting sixty?”
Peter pressed a hand to his chest and shook his head solemnly. “I, the ever considerate spouse, wouldn’t dare use the word ’old’ to his face, not with his temperament. Would you?”
“No, I suppose not.” Anyone who truly understood Edward knew he was sensitive about his advancing age.
“Exactly,” Peter said. “Must maintain the peace, after all, I need live with the outcome of his ranting.” He shifted his attention to Fiona. “How are you holding up… uh…”
“Finn,” Fiona said. Her quietening tone suggested her weakening.
“All right, Fin
n. I’ll be right back.” Peter left the room to get Dr. Matthews.
Margaret moved to remove Fiona’s jacket. She started to unbutton Fiona’s shirt, but a surprisingly firm grip stilled her hand. Fiona shook her head. Margaret stared at her gravely. “He’s going to figure it out as soon as he starts treating your wound.”
Fiona lowered her head. “I’d just as soon the shock comes later than sooner, give the poor man an opportunity to prepare himself.” She raised Margaret’s hand in hers, brought it to her lips, and placed a gentle kiss on the knuckles. “Thank you, for wanting what’s best for me and helping.”
“I do want what’s best for you,” Margaret said softly. “Just know I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think we could trust him. And you can, Fiona, trust Edward.”
“And Peter too?” Fiona asked. Margaret smiled, privy to information Fiona was not. The playful side of her anticipated the shock Fiona would surely feel when she learned of it also. Margaret considered sharing, but Edward had arrived during her deliberation.
“What have we here?” Edward asked as he entered the examination room. Peter didn’t enter any further than the doorway. Margaret adored both men, but Edward was her favorite. He wasn’t a tall man, standing just a couple inches taller than her five-foot-five height, about fifty years old, pudgy, but not heavy, and wore wire-framed glasses. He had thick dark hair slicked neatly back from his face, and a matching mustache above full pale lips, which were currently pursed in thought.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening Edward, but I’ve need for your assistance and your secrecy.”
“You’re the boy who found the injured girl?” Fiona nodded. Edward moved fully into the room and stood alongside Fiona while visually examining her from head to foot. “Everything seems to be in order, with the exception of some bleeding. Knife wound?”
“No sir,” Fiona replied. “Seems my shoulder got in the way of a flying bullet.”
“Ah, nasty business that. You might want to avoid dangerous and speeding objects in the future,” Edward said, a teasing smile playing across his lips under a bushy mustache.
Fiona returned his smile, albeit weakly. “Would have avoided it this time, had I known it was coming. Good thing I wasn’t in my glad rags.”
“Yes, indeed. Not sure the shirt will make it, young man. Let’s get the shirt off and see what we have to work with.”
Margaret winced. “Oh, about that, you see Finn here isn’t exactly a young man.”
“Not exactly an old one either,” Edward said. He teased, and Margaret realized he’d already figured out the situation.
“That’s not exactly what I mean.” Margaret gave a quick glance to Peter. Returning her gaze to Edward, she said, “You see, it’s—”
Fiona gave a sigh, her body trembling and then swaying slightly. “I’m female.”
Dr. Matthews raised one eyebrow slightly. “Changes very little with the situation, but I can see where you might be uncomfortable with Peter here.”
“Actually sir,” Fiona said quietly, “throws me with either of you in the know. Do what you must.” Margaret met the clouding gaze of Fiona and gave her a nod. “Margaret trusts you, and so will I.”
Edward gave a gentle squeeze to Fiona’s knee. “Very well, Finn, is it?”
“Finn in this guise,” Margaret explained. “Fiona Cavanaugh by birth.”
“Let’s fix this up so you can rest,” Edward said.
Given the go-ahead, Peter entered the room and moved to a cabinet against the far wall, and said, “Or so you can pass out. I would have by now. You’ll stay overnight, of course.” Peter pulled out items from the drawers, placing them on a rolling instrument stand. Margaret unbuttoned Fiona’s shirt.
When Peter returned to the examination table, Edward gave him a tender smile. Next, he asked, “Would you be so kind as to bring me hot water and towels?” Peter nodded and left. “Let’s see what we have here,” he said moving closer to Fiona.
Margaret finished removing the shirt, tugged the Henley undershirt over her head, wincing when Fiona hissed in pain. She gasped in surprise at the tight bindings around Fiona’s chest. The exposed flesh was soft to her touch and pale. Margaret marveled at how slender and yet feminine Fiona’s body was under her baggy clothing. She pulled her hand away and balled it into a fist to curb the impulse to explore her flesh further. This wasn’t the time for that curiosity or exploration.
Another weak smile and Fiona said, “Not exactly necessary given my lack of attributes, but can’t take chances.” Margaret raised a hand to caress Fiona’s cheek, simultaneously touched by Fiona’s admission and upset Fiona felt herself lacking before Margaret. She worried Fiona might be unaware they weren’t alone, speaking of something so personal in front of others, in her pained state.
“Well, it works wonders for your privacy with Peter and me.” Edward gave Margaret a barely discernable shrug, and whispered near her ear, “She appears to be focusing on you in order to remain conscious, which works in my favor.”
Margaret flinched each time Edward poked and prodded the damaged area from the bullet wound and eliciting a groan or wince from Fiona’s lips. The examination seemed to take forever, but she doubted more than a moment passed.
Peter returned with the basin of water, washcloth, and towels, before retreating into the doorway once again. “I’ll wait outside until you need me, Edward.” At Edward’s nod, Peter stepped into the hall and closed the door.
“Okay, Finn, let’s get this cleaned and see what we’re working with.”
As he washed away the blood, Margaret watched the revealing of torn and ripped flesh. Her stomach felt queasy seeing the harm done in order to protect her. “Is she going to be okay?” Margaret asked.
Dr. Matthews must’ve seen her current condition wasn’t much better than Fiona’s. He tilted his chin in the direction of the chair. “Sit down before you fall down, dear.” He returned his attention to Fiona’s wound, but grinned playfully. “You’ll see everything from there, and can make it back over here should you feel I’m harming your friend.”
From her chair, Margaret shook her head. “It’s not that I’d think your—”
Dr. Matthews guffawed. “I understand.” He glanced from Fiona to Margaret. “You care deeply?” Margaret nodded knowing what he asked. “Then I shall take exceptional care.”
For the next few minutes, Edward tended to Fiona’s wound, mumbling as he worked. Finally he took a step back from his suturing, and reaching for the gauze and tape, said, “That should do for now. You’ll need to keep it dry, and to change the dressing in the morning.” He turned to Margaret. “Now, however, I strongly suggest you join Peter and me for supper. There’s plenty. Food will help with the healing process, and make it easier to stomach the medicine I’ll give her for the pain.”
“No, no medicine,” Fiona said quickly. “I have to stay sharp, in case someone tries to harm Miss Margaret again.”
Edward placed a hand gently on her non-injured shoulder. “It’s not like you’re going anywhere tonight, young lady. I have a small cottage in the back of the house, enclosed in a treed area. Few know it’s there, so you’ll be safe. Tonight you’ll need a healing rest. We’ll reassess the injury in the morning.”
If Fiona’s fears weren’t so clear on her face, Margaret would’ve chuckled at her obstinacy. Fiona’s gaze bore into Edward’s skull as Margaret glanced between them. It took several moments, in which Edward crossed his arms challengingly over his chest, before Fiona finally said, “We’ll do it your way unless I see a reason to do otherwise.”
“As you wish,” Edward said. Margaret could tell when he turned away he was trying to hide a smile. He turned his attention to her. “Quite the protector you have here.” Margaret nodded. “I hope there’s not an occasion for this to happen again.”
“I would agree,” Margaret said. Seeing Fiona hurt had been and still was difficult, even as she understood Fiona would be okay.
“Come, join Pe
ter and me for dinner. It’s been a while since we’ve entertained such charming women.” Margaret got up from the chair and helped Edward assist Fiona from the table. He quirked an eyebrow in Margaret’s direction, and asked, “I assume Peter can be himself?”
Margaret nodded. “Entirely himself.”
Edward tenderly pat Margaret’s cheek. She noted the confused expression on Fiona’s face. Teasingly, she said to Fiona, “Not to worry, honey, you’ll understand soon enough.”
Chapter Seventeen
DINNER AND CONVERSATION with Edward and Peter turned out to be the happiest experience for Fiona since time spent with her family and the Donnelly’s. Before, that is, her father got so angry and almost constantly drunk after her mother and brother died. Edward proved to be humorous and a great conversationalist. Peter, with all his sense of humor and flamboyance when he entertained, wore his heart on his sleeve, staring at Edward with such adoration and love. She wondered if anyone would ever look at her that way. Hoped it could be Margaret.
Much as Fiona wanted to enjoy every moment, especially since she could be herself and not the Finn persona, the shooting and the medication were taking a toll on her. Fiona tried not to yawn. She clenched her teeth hoping to stifle the rude action. If Fiona didn’t rest soon, she’d fall asleep in her dessert.
Margaret must have recognized her predicament. “As pleasurable as this evening is, gentlemen,” Margaret said, pushing her chair from the table. “Fiona needs her rest.”
Peter jumped to his feet. “I’ll walk you out to the cottage. Check to make certain you have what you need for the night.”
“Let me know if there’s any problem with the wound,” Edward said.
Margaret gave Edward a kiss on the cheek, but Fiona settled for shaking his hand and voicing her thanks. “I’m at your service if you ever have need of it, Finn.”
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