Someday Her Duke Will Come

by Ellie St. Clair

  Emilia carefully stepped down the creaky hallway and turned as she saw Dougal standing in front of a shelf of books, his arm completely bandaged but his body and hair cleaned up. He was taller than Emilia had expected, standing about six feet tall with wide shoulders and strong muscles. Emilia noted the period correct kilt he wore with sashes across his bare chest in the blue and green colors of his clan. His boots rose halfway up his calf and warm fur protruded from the tops .

  Her review of his clothing abruptly ended when she began to notice the hard planes of muscle underneath the sashes, and the tan of his skin underneath the dark chestnut of his hair. He was the Highlander she had long studied come to life, and a surge of desire rose in her as she studied him .

  She entered the room and stood, waiting for him to notice her .

  “Yer awake,” he said in a gruff tone. “Did my family take care of ye last night ?”

  “Yes,” said quietly. “They were very nice .”

  “Well, thank you for all ye did,” he said forcing a smile. “I was told I wouldna have made it if ye hadn’t a been there .”

  “You’re welcome,” Emilia replied with a smile, which quickly faded as she realized how pale his face was, dark circles under his eyes. “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you really should be in bed. Your shoulder needs time to heal and it will be difficult to tell for some time if you have suffered any long-term effects from your head injury. You’ve also lost great deal of blood. Perhaps you should rest for a time ?”

  “Rest?” he scoffed. “I am not sure if you are aware, lass, as you donna seem to be from around these parts, but I am the laird of this clan. I have no time to lay in my bed ‘resting,’ while the rest of my people work making preparations around me .”

  “Preparations? For what ?”

  “War, siege, retribution — whatever the bastard Buchanan has planned for us .”

  “You won’t do your people much good if you die,” she said matter-of-factly .

  “There is one thing I can assure you, lass, ’tis that I am not dying today,” he said, throwing a subtle grin her way as he looked more closely at her peculiar outfit. “Now, we must return you to your clan. Where would they be ?”

  “I think that question may be difficult to answer,” she replied walking forward. “I don’t know if where is the correct question .”

  “I donna understand,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he looked at her impatiently .

  “I… you see I…” How was she supposed to explain time travel, which she didn’t really understand, to a Highlander from the 1500s? She could barely come to terms with it herself, and she had hundreds of book and movie storylines to draw from .

  He stared at her, an eyebrow raised as he waited for her response .

  “I am Scottish. And Irish .”

  He did not seem impressed with that bit of information .

  “But the thing is, I’m not actually from either of those places. I’m from… another land. I was visiting at Dunnottar Castle, looking out at the fields. And then… well,” she stumbled over her words, her eyes downcast as she couldn’t meet his gaze .

  “I think I may have traveled back through time,” she finally blurted out, her words coming out in a rush. “You see I’m actually from the 21st century, and I was looking out at the fields remembering your battle. I don’t know what happened but there was a flash of light and there you were, floating in midair. When I approached you, touching your skin, I was transported to your battlefield .”

  She finally looked up and met his eyes. He was staring at her incredulously, his hands fisted on the table in front of him. She could tell he was trying not to show any weakness, but he needed the table to help hold himself up .

  “Do you believe me to be mad ?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Of course not .”

  “Then donna fill my ears with this nonsense, I have no time for it,” he replied, ire in his gaze .

  “You think it’s strange for you? Try putting yourself in my shoes,” Emilia replied gruffly, without thinking of what she was saying .

  “I donna think they would fit me,” he said, looking down at her boots. Emilia held back a laugh. Of course he had never heard an expression like that before. “I donna have the time to care for a mad woman. I will return you to yer people if you tell me where they are and they will surely know what to do with you .”

  “I’m not crazy,” she said in frustration, stepping forward. “I - I’m not sure how to prove it to you. Perhaps I can tell you some of the things I know of your time, and what will happen in the future ?”

  “Fine then,” he said with incredulity. “What happens to my clan? How long am I Laird? Who leads after me ?”

  “Actually, that is an interesting question,” she began slowly. “For there is not much recorded of the MacGavin clan past your battle at Castle Dunnottar against the Buchanans .”

  “That response is supposed to convince me of your claim?” he asked, looking at her with raised eyebrows .

  “I can tell you about the battle,” she said. “That was recorded fairly well .”

  She proceeded to describe the details of the battle, but he wasn’t convinced. She could have asked any of those who had been present .

  She was mid-sentence when she took a closer look at him. He seemed to be slowly sinking into the table, and his eyelids were becoming shuttered, now half closed .

  “Dougal? Er — Laird MacGavin?” She tried to meet his gaze, but his head bobbed once, twice, and she only managed to make it halfway across the room towards him when he collapsed over the table .

  8

  Dougal

  T he light slowly filtered through his eyelids as it streamed through the window. As he forced them open, the pain in his temples exploded, reaching into the farthest corners of his mind and he swiftly closed his eyes once again .

  Dougal winced and cursed hard. He had felt much pain before, but this was something different .

  He felt cool fingers on his forehead, which he welcomed as a blessing. They were replaced with an equally cold, wet cloth, that somewhat eased the pain .

  “Block the light, please,” he heard from a low, sultry voice. As the feeling in his head was reduced to a dull throbbing, events from the day before came rushing back to him. The battle, the wound, and the woman. He could tell the light had dimmed around him, and so opened his eyes to the darkened room, and the beauty of the woman who hovered over him, her hazel eyes stormy with concern .

  “What the devil is wrong with my head?” he ground out at her. “And why are you still here? Where is Morag ?”

  Ivor appeared from the corner of the room .

  “She was with you in the study when ye fell,” he said. “Arabel summoned me to come move you to yer bedroom. She didna want the rest of the clan to know the state you were in, smart girl. Morag’s with Bridget, wife of Osgar, as she births her babe .”

  Dougal tried to process this through his fuzzy mind. He agreed with Ivor and Arabel — it would not do for the clan to know that their new laird was in bed after succumbing to such a weakness. He was ashamed of himself, and wished the woman had not seen him in that moment .

  “If I may?” he heard the woman’s voice again from somewhere in his peripheral. What was her name again? He wracked his aching brain as she eased herself beside him on the bed, holding a candle before her. The flame flickered off the planes of her face, and he was mesmerized by the glow of it .

  She began to move the candle towards him, and he flinched backward, jarring his head. “What the devil …”

  “My apologies, Laird, but I would like to see if my suspicions are correct,” she said. “Hold still if you would, and while it may be uncomfortable, if you could keep your eyes open, I’d appreciate it .”

  He looked at her with suspicion, but didn’t see any harm to what she asked, and so kept his gaze locked on hers as she leaned over him. She moved the light in and out of his face before shaking her head
as she nibbled on her lower lip .

  “I believe you have, what I would term, a concussion,” she said .

  “A what ?”

  “A concussion. You may have heard it referred to as a shaking of the brain. While most physicians in this time do not understand the cause, it is from a physical jarring, which likely occurred when you hit your head when you fell. Your brain moved, smashing against your skull. It can take many different forms of varying degrees of severity. When I move the light in front of your eyes, your pupils do not dilate — they don’t change size, as they should with the light .”

  She moved her fingers around the back of his head, coming to rest on a bump high on the left side. He grimaced as even her light touch shot lightning bolts of pain through his head. “Here, this is the spot .”

  “How do you rid him of this?” asked Ivor .

  “By summoning the physician, that is how,” Dougal growled. “There is one that lives not far from here. We do not know this woman! How do we know what she says is the truth ?”

  “Had she wanted you dead, Dougal, she had ample time to do so,” answered Ivor. “She seems to know what she’s about .”

  “How do you know these things?” Dougal asked, turning steely eyes back on her .

  “Most of what I know of medical practice is from a course I took that provided knowledge on how to help others with minor ailments,” she said, trying to explain First Aid in a way a 16th century warrior could understand. “It’s not extensive knowledge, but should I arrive on the scene before medical treatment can arrive — such as what happened on the battlefield — I can help keep someone alive and stable .”

  He wondered why someone would train a woman for such a cause. He supposed it was rational, though seldom practiced. There were many times a person would take ill or injured without a healer nearby to help. Whatever clan she hailed from had done well in determining this idea, and he resolved it would be a practice he’d begin with his own people, although not until she had returned to where she came. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing he admired the thought .

  “As for causes and treatments of this time,” she continued, “I taught a class on Highland Medieval medical practices. If you summon the physician, he may treat you in ways I would not suggest. Interventions of this time could not only worsen your ailments, they could even kill you .”

  “You, woman, are too free in your opinions and ‘suggestions,’” Dougal said. He didn’t like that this woman seemed to feel free to give him orders, particularly when members of his clan were present. “Summon the physician,” he said to Ivor .

  “I really think that —”

  “Summon. The. Physician .”

  Dougal chose not to acknowledge the laughter Ivor was holding in as Emilia rolled her eyes and sighed, moving to a chair in the corner to await the physician’s arrival .

  After Ivor left to fetch him, Dougal felt the pain in his head once more. He wanted to ask the woman to refresh the cloth on his forehead, but didn’t want to admit he enjoyed her treatment. Instead he asked her more about herself .

  “Are you wed? Do you have children?” he asked abruptly, realizing he was more interested than he should be in her answer. The woman was quite mad and it would not do to have any type of feeling towards her .

  “I do not have children, and no, I am not wed,” she responded. He breathed out the air he had been holding in .

  “You are not promised to anyone ?”

  “No,” she said. “I suppose I had an understanding with a man for some time, but I believe we were better friends than we were anything else .”

  He nodded. “I see .”

  “From what I know, you are not wed, but are you promised to be?” she asked .

  “No, although the elders would like to see a lady of the house,” he responded. “But I have neither the time nor the patience to find a woman of my choosing .”

  “No, I don’t suppose patience would be an attribute of yours,” she said with a bit of a smile .

  “The woman is the one who needs patience,” he replied .

  “That is not so!” she argued. “For a strong relationship, both must trust in the other and have kindness and understanding .”

  “What do you know? Yer man is not your husband but yer friend,” he said gruffly .

  “I suppose you are — you’re looking quite ill again. How do you feel ?”

  “Feels as if I ate bad meat,” he said, suddenly feeling as if he might be sick .

  He let her aid him to the side of the bed, and the moment she pulled out the pot from beneath the mattress he heaved out his stomach contents into it. He felt rather like a child as she soothed a hand down his back. It had been some time since anyone had provided him any sort of affection. There were those he loved, including his sister, but he was the one to provide her with protection and tenderness, not the other way around .

  Dougal felt tired again, and could feel perspiration breaking out along his body. He felt Emilia — ah, yes, that was her name, he thought — slip the sashes off his shoulders, leaving him dressed only in his kilt. The air felt good against his skin, and he opened his eyes to look at her. Her gaze was on his well-defined chest muscles, but when she sensed him looking at her, she quickly flicked her eyes away before meeting his. He must have been delirious to sense any sort of desire in her glance, as the face that now looked at him was filled with concern .

  “When the physician arrives,” she said to him, “you must not allow him to do any sort of trepanning .”

  “What do you call this?” he asked .

  “Trepanning. It’s a common practice for brain injury in these times. It involves driving a hole into your head to relieve whatever seems to be ailing you. There are times when this is required, such as when blood is pooling in an area of the brain, but without a sterile environment and with the equipment of this age, it results more often in death than anything else. If I’m right — and I truly believe I am — it will not help your cause at all .”

  He looked at her, torn between wanting to believe her and yet hung up on his own pride, not wanting to listen to the advice of a foreign woman. The idea of a hole drilled into his head, however, was not one he was keen on trying .

  Before he could determine the best way to agree with her without admitting it, there was a knock at the door and the physician arrived, concern on his face. Dougal lifted a large, well-muscled arm to wave him into the room .

  “My head feels as if it is splitting in two,” he told him. “The woman says my brain shook against my skull when I fell and that is what is causing it. What do you suggest ?

  The physician didn’t respond immediately, but took his time examining Dougal, looking into one eye and the other, checking his ears, his nose, and his back and chest .

  “Are you going to check his eyes with the light?” asked Ivor, who had returned to stand in the corner .

  The physician looked at him in confusion. “I am unsure what you mean by that .”

  “‘Tis what the woman did,” Ivor responded .

  The physician took a closer look at Emilia .

  “Who might you be?” he said, staring at her long and hard, whether it was due to appreciation for her looks or a suspicion in her methods, Dougal couldn’t tell. “What type of healer are you ?”

  “She has studied common ailments and their treatments,” provided Ivor with a nod when Emilia hesitated as she thought of the best answer to his question .

  “Yes, that is true,” she said. “I have had the ability to learn much about the practices and treatments of conditions, many of which are not commonly practiced but are effective .”

  The physician nodded but seemed unconvinced .

  “Well, I believe there is something inside the brain that is causing the pain,” he said. “I shall return with my tools and we will free it .”

  “You mean boring a hole into my head?” Dougal asked .

  “Well, yes, essentially,” the physician resp
onded .

  “What do you suggest for treatment?” Dougal forced himself to ask Emilia .

  “There is not much to do to treat this type of condition besides rest,” she said, shrugging her shoulders .

  Dougal looked from one to the other. He hated inaction and the thought of lying here in bed while the rest of his clan prepared for retribution from the Buchanans was unconscionable. However, the idea of a physician drilling through his skull was equally unappealing and would likely keep him from the his duties for much longer .

  “We shall wait,” he said, seeing dismay enter the physician’s eyes. “For now. Should action be required, we will take it .”

  Ivor saw the physician to the door, then returned to Dougal .

  “Is there anything else you need at the moment ?”

  “Nothing as of now,” he said, then pointed at Emilia. “Find her some appropriate clothing. I shall rejoin you in the fields tomorrow to help with battle preparations .”

  “I hardly think —” Emilia began .

  He quelled her protest with a long, hard stare. She gave him one of equal measure before turning and following Ivor out of the room. As she left, Dougal couldn’t help but follow the movement of her shapely legs in the long underwear, desire for her apparent underneath the sheets that hid his manhood. Whatever was he to do with this woman ?

  9

  Emilia

  E milia followed Ivor to Arabel’s room, who he said would find her more appropriate clothing to wear .

  “What the devil is it that you are garbed in?” he asked her .

  She stared at his back, incredulous that she was discussing her wardrobe with Ivor the Terrible. “It’s called activewear. I suppose it’s like a uniform of sorts. You wear certain armor for battle. I wear this clothing when undertaking activities of my own .”

  He turned his head to look at her, puzzled but clearly not inclined to ask her any more questions about clothing .

  He knocked on Arabel’s door. She swung it open, smiling at Emilia .