Her Scottish Groom

by Ann Stephens

  Trying to appear relaxed, she took off her jacket and mopped her face with it. “I don’t think so. Apparently you didn’t notice where the gun fell while you were struggling with me.”

  He tensed and focused on her hands, hidden by the folds of cloth. “You must have grabbed it when you rolled on it. But I hardly think a mere female would have the nerve to pull the trigger, much less give me a fatal wound.”

  Her shoulders drooped. “You’re right, I suppose.” She raised her eyes at his contemptuous snort. “But then I’m not the one holding the gun.”

  Whirling around, he found Kieran, still prone, but teeth bared in a feral grimace as he balanced on his elbows to hold the pistol she had kicked in his direction. One look at his blue lips told her something was dreadfully wrong, however.

  “It’s over, Barclay.” She pointed to a pair of horses and riders galloping down the glen. “Too many people know you kidnapped us. Your story will never be believed.” She pleaded with him. “Save yourself from the noose, at least. Help me get Kieran back to the manor.”

  He made a move toward his cousin only to freeze at the metallic sound of the trigger cocking.

  “No! I’ll be damned if you transport me to some hellhole. I’ve got one card to play yet!” With a wild burst of energy he hurtled toward Diantha, hands outstretched to grab her. He meant to use her life as a bargaining chip, she realized. Instinctively, she looped her jacket over the lowest branch of the tree and swung out of his reach.

  His fingertips just grazed the skirt before he overbalanced and toppled over the edge. Landing on the opposite side of the trunk, she cringed as his scream of terror ended abruptly.

  “Diantha! Oh God, no!” Kieran collapsed on his arms, nearly sobbing her name.

  “Darling, shhh, I’m safe.” She rushed to him, stroking his back and neck. “We’re both safe now. Can you turn over for me? I must see to that wound.” With his cooperation, she rolled him onto his back. To her alarm, he started to shake.

  “Thank God the Comtesse didn’t catch you.” He made the jest through chattering teeth.

  “Do be quiet, my love. Why ever are you shaking so?” She stood, and lifting her skirts, unfastened the billowing petticoat underneath.

  “Shock. Need warmth.”

  Frantically she located a seam and ripped off a muslin flounce. Forming it into a pad, she bound it over the bullet hole in his flesh with another ruffle. Not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed close, covering him with her body and skirts. He tried to put his arms around her, but she guided his chilled hands to rest between her belly and his.

  “Help will be here soon. Stay with me Kier, don’t drift off.”

  “Don’t want to.” She forced him to converse with her until Archie and Billy Green reached them. By then, dusk had fallen and she had to guide them with her voice.

  “My laird! Thank God, I thought it was you tha’ fell.” The grizzled man’s face crumpled in the light of the lantern he carried.

  “Don’t be such a cawker, Green.” Kier gasped out the words from the ground. “You didn’t think I’d ever harm my lady.”

  The ghillie looked downright foolish. “Ye’re both safe after all.”

  Diantha shook her head, unable to keep her voice from trembling. “Barclay shot his lordship and he’s still bleeding.” The lamplight showed the reddened hue of her makeshift bandage.

  The brothers sprang into action. Using their pocketknives, they easily cut her petticoat into strips. Archie replaced her messy handiwork with a larger pad firmly tied over the wound with neat bandages.

  “Billy, you ride back to the house, tell them what’s happened.” Archie frowned. “We’ll have to put the laird on horseback and follow slower. Her ladyship can ride with him; I’ll walk.”

  Diantha told them about Barclay’s horses. “I can ride one of them.”

  She alternated between frustration and agony during the ordeal of getting Kieran on horseback, but pressed her lips together and helped where she could.

  He barely nodded when she explained what they wanted to do. Watching him try to help their rescuers despite his pain and light-headedness wrung her heart. Billy mounted his horse and tore off down the road as soon as his brother had Kieran securely in his grip.

  Picking up the lantern with one hand and taking the reins with the other, Diantha urged her horse down the trail.

  Her awareness shrunk to just herself, Archie, and Kieran during the jolting horseback ride that returned them to the house. Her husband drifted in and out of consciousness while the ghillie held him upright and kept steady pressure on the wound. She had to grit her teeth to keep from urging the horses on, for she knew a faster pace would only make it harder to staunch the flow of blood. In the bobbing light of the lantern, she saw that despite the servant’s efforts, more red stained the bandages.

  As Kieran’s periods of lucidity shortened, her insides twisted in fear. Even the sight of Doctor Andrews and Billy driving a wagon to meet them in the main valley did not comfort her, for her husband barely roused.

  “Lay him down.” The doctor helped ease the wounded man onto his back in the wagon. “Green, I’ll need you at hand. My lady, help us cover his lordship as much as possible, and hold that lantern steady. We don’t dare wait to get to the house.” The four of them quickly arranged a warm blanket over Kieran’s body and placed hot water bottles at his head and feet. Billy slapped the reins and the wagon jerked into motion.

  “Keep that light steady!” The medical man barked the order as he searched his bag for the instruments he needed. With Archie’s help, he poured alcohol over a steel probe and began to search for the bullet. Crouched next to Kieran’s head, Diantha balanced the lantern in her hands and watched the grisly business as little as possible.

  Her arms ached with the strain as the doctor carefully extracted the flattened piece of lead. Asking her to shine light on the wound, he examined it as best he could. “At least there don’t appear to be any bone fragments.”

  After bandaging Kieran’s wound, the doctor informed her that he had made what preparations he could at the house, and asked about Barclay.

  Before she could think of a story to explain his absence, Archie gave an account of what little he had observed of the struggle, including Barclay’s death. Doctor Andrews regarded her silently for a few heartbeats.

  “Well done.” He cleared his throat. “I believe I can think of something to put on the death certificate.”

  Chapter 17

  They arrived to find the house in an uproar. Mrs. Menzies approached Diantha, wringing her hands. “Is it true about Lord Rossburn and Mr. Upton, my lady?” She jerked her chin to the ceiling. “Lady William disappeared into her room as soon as Billy Green brought the news, but I followed the doctor’s directives to the best of my ability.” She sniffled. “My poor Lady William.”

  Archie and Billy entered just then with two more ghillies, using the blanket as a litter to carry Kieran. Seeing the large bloodstain soaking through the thick material, the housekeeper shrieked in horror.

  “For God’s sake, ye miserable woman, stop your caterwauling and get out o’ the way!” Archie shouted as they hurried up the stairs with their burden. Doctor Andrews, following closely, paused to speak to Diantha.

  “I’ll need you to sit with the elder Lady Rossburn. She is doubtless frantic with worry.”

  Diantha shook her head. “My place is with my husband!”

  He waved her protests aside. “You have done more than your share to keep him alive, Lady Rossburn.” He snapped the words out. “Unless you’ve dealt with violent injuries, which Archie Green has, you’ll only be a hindrance in the sickroom now.”

  His brisk manner vanished. “I swear that if it should be necessary to summon you, I shall do so without delay.”

  She understood that he referred to Kieran’s death. Her face stiffened as she fought back tears.

  “Now do as you’re told and let me try to save his lordship
’s life.”

  Lady Rossburn’s maid opened the door to Diantha’s soft knock. In her seat by the fire, Kieran’s mother gripped the arms of her chair until the inflamed knuckles threatened to burst through her skin. Still, her voice remained steady. “Is there news?”

  She carefully gathered the older woman into her arms as she briefly described the doctor’s actions so far. Lady Rossburn nodded. “I have every confidence in Doctor Andrews and in my son’s constitution.” Nevertheless, the gnarled hands gripped Diantha’s tightly until word came that her son would survive the night.

  “Please, look in on my sister-in-law on your way to Kieran’s room.” Tears of relief, the first she had shed, glistened in her eyes. “She is suffering more than we are now.”

  Resisting the temptation to leave Iona to her fate, Diantha nodded and kissed the soft cheek before hastening out of the room.

  No reply answered her soft knock on Iona’s door. After several moments, she quietly twisted the handle. The door swung silently open under her touch. “Ma’am?” Dim light came from a pair of candles on a table by the bed. No sound came from the huddled figure partially hidden by the gauzy bed curtains. “I am so terribly sorry to disturb you—is there anything we can do for you?”

  In spite of herself, pity for the woman’s plight welled up in her heart. She approached her. “I cannot tell you how horrified I am at your son’s death. I swear to you that I regret it more bitterly than you can imagine.” She could not blame Iona for not wanting to speak to her, but could not keep herself from asking for absolution.

  “May I at least send for your maid, or write to a friend to come and stay with you during this time?” She took hold of a cold hand and felt wetness on her fingers. Jerking it back, she nearly fainted. The dim candlelight revealed that for the second time that night, her hands were covered in blood.

  “I can’t faint here.” Automatically, she staggered to the doorway. Keeping her hands hidden, she gained the attention of a footman.

  “Please inform Doctor Andrews or Archie Green that they are needed in Lady William’s room.” Her mother would be proud of her calm manner, she reflected grimly. By the time the doctor rushed in, she had lit enough candles to reveal the body on the blood-soaked bedding.

  He shook his head and lifted a lifeless hand with its slit wrist. “Bad business all the way around.” Iona’s slim fingers wrapped around a sterling silver razor. Drying blood picked out Barclay’s monogram.

  * * *

  After quietly ordering a few trusted servants to clean up Iona’s room, the doctor escorted her to Kieran’s chamber. “Do not disturb him with more bad news, my lady. I was able to stop the bleeding, but he’s not out of the woods yet.”

  Her heart contracted at the sight of Kieran lying motionless in the four-poster bed. His dark hair formed a stark contrast to his waxy skin. As she approached, she wondered if he had died as well. A dry sob escaped her. At the sound, he opened his eyes.

  “Diantha.” The thread of speech betrayed his weakness, but a smile flickered across his beautiful mouth at the sight of her. He extended a hand, barely able to lift it off the coverlet. “Come to me.”

  “Are you in much pain?” She moved to the bed and clasped it. Unable to resist the lure of the dark waves, she gently brushed a strand off his forehead.

  “Andrews gave me a little morphine, but I wanted to see you before I nodded off.” He awkwardly raised her fingers to his bloodless lips. “I can never thank you enough for saving my life tonight.”

  Gratitude, not love. To her horror, tears sprang to her eyes at the realization that despite his tenderness, he could not fully return her feelings. Diantha tried to blink them away, but not quickly enough.

  “Crying?” His fingers tightened on hers but he could not maintain his grip. “My poor girl, you must have been terrified.”

  “I shall feel better once you’re fully recovered.” She forced her voice to remain tranquil. “But in order to do that, you must rest.” He made an impatient noise.

  “None of that, sir. You are going to rest until the doctor tells you otherwise.”

  “Termagant.” The thick lashes fluttered closed as the morphine started to take effect.

  “So it would appear. And on that note, I must leave.” Needing to feel his skin, she bent to press her lips against his forehead.

  Eyes still shut, Kieran smiled. “Don’t go yet.”

  She could not keep her heart from turning over at the request, even as she recognized that it stemmed from residual shock at the evening’s horrific events. “I think I must, before Doctor Andrews orders me out.” She hid a yawn behind her hand. “Besides, the shocks of the day are catching up with me as well. I suddenly find that I can barely keep my own eyes open.”

  He turned to stare at her intently. “Stay here tonight.”

  She froze. “Here? With you?”

  “Only if you want to.” His gaze never left her face. “Please?”

  Torn between her rapidly beating heart and her common sense, she sought the first refuge for her stormy emotions she could think of. “I’ll speak with the doctor.”

  To her surprise, the medical man made no objection. “Best thing for both of you right now, and if you’re with his lordship we won’t need to find a nurse tonight.”

  And so, after changing into her nightgown, she found herself nervously tapping at his door. When he did not answer, she quietly turned the handle and peeked inside.

  “Kier?” Her soft inquiry met with no answer. The light from a single candelabrum showed him fast asleep. She chewed her bottom lip. If he did not remember issuing the invitation tomorrow morning, he would be vastly put out.

  He stirred in his sleep, giving a grunt of pain. As he tried to adjust himself into a more comfortable position, she threw caution to the winds. Arranging the pillows to provide the most comfortable resting place for him, she slid between the sheets on his uninjured side.

  Almost at once, his fingers entwined with hers.

  “Dina,” he sighed. Moments later, she felt his warm body relax completely as he slipped deeper into sleep.

  The next few days passed in a blur for Diantha. The need for secrecy complicated the funeral arrangements; fortunately she and Doctor Andrews came up with a satisfactory story to tell Kieran’s extended family. Barclay, it seemed, had been dazzled by the sunset and lost his footing at the cliff’s edge, then his mother’s heart had given way at the news of his death.

  “Which is the truth in a way, your ladyship.” The doctor relaxed in her sitting room, sipping a glass of sherry, while Diantha arranged a fragrant bouquet from the gardens. New lines creased the doctor’s face as he changed the subject. “I understand Lord Rossburn has asked to attend the services?”

  “He is concerned that everything should appear as normal as possible. I fear he will collapse before their conclusion.” In a low voice, she stated the fear growing in her heart. “Are you convinced he will make a full recovery? He is still so weak.”

  “Your ladyship has nothing to fear.” He crossed the room to clasp her hand in both of his. “He lost a staggering amount of blood. If he’d been left much longer, his wounds would have been fatal.” She shuddered, feeling the prick of tears in her eyes.

  “There, now, don’t cry. While he’ll be weak as a kitten for some time, proper food and plenty of rest will restore him. You just take the same good care of him that you have been.” He patted her hand.

  “The worst thing is he doesn’t even argue about being confined to bed.” A wry smile twisted her mouth. “It’s not like him.”

  “That depends on what I’m doing there.” Kieran stood in the doorway, braced up by his valet. Still far too pale, a lively twinkle nevertheless animated his aqua eyes.

  “Kieran Moray St. Colm!” Face burning, Diantha glared at him as Davison helped him to the divan. “You are disgraceful!”

  “Well I know it.” The doctor’s chuckle relieved her slightly. “I’ve had that lad as a patient a good de
al longer than you have, you know.”

  He picked up his medical bag and took his leave a few minutes later, after assuring himself that Davison had not disturbed any bandages.

  She approached her husband uncertainly. He had appeared comfortable enough in his room.

  “You needed a change of scenery?” She resisted the urge to brush an unruly wave of hair off his forehead. A shock ran through her as he caught her hand.

  “My room was getting a bit oppressive.” His hand gently squeezed her fingers. “And lonely.” Diantha’s heart fluttered at his words, but she was afraid to hope he spoke out of anything but boredom and solitude.

  The next month followed the same pattern. Except on the day of the double funeral for Barclay and Iona, he spent hours in her company. During the days when he lacked the strength to do anything but lay down, she ran the household from her sitting room. At first the servants found it uncomfortable to discuss their duties in his presence, but as Lord Rossburn did not attempt to interfere, they adjusted.

  Estate business proved a greater challenge. Riding out to oversee the property was out of the question in Kieran’s weakened state. He tried to conduct business through reports and interviews with the bailiff, but Mr. Johnstone could not be everywhere himself.

  “Why not use Archie Green?” Diantha made the suggestion after another endless interview that left both employer and employee frustrated. “He’s trustworthy and respected by the tenants. Give him a position such as ‘assistant bailiff,’ perhaps, and pay him for it.”

  The two men looked at each other.

  “Right under our noses the entire time.” Kieran grinned ruefully.

  “Indeed, my lord.” Johnstone bowed slightly in her direction. “Her ladyship’s proposal is most sensible, and very welcome.”

  “Her ladyship is as clever as she is kind and lovely.” Under the affectionate smile he bestowed upon her, she gulped and weakly thanked him for the compliment. Then, stammering that she needed something from her chamber, she promptly fled.