Chapter 12

For a moment, she did not remember exactly where she was. Fear had Beatrice sitting up—more sharply than she should have. Pain shot through her ankle—reminding her exactly of what had happened. And with whom.

She was still cocooned in blankets, but her soft pillow was gone. He had apparently moved recently. She turned her head slightly and froze. There he was, the cookies and biscuits the doctor’s wife had given them yesterday right in front of him. He had apparently made a return trip to the carriage already.

His strong jaw was tilted slightly downward, and the faintest shadow of stubble traced his face. He was a fine braw lad, this man. One women would watch, everywhere he went.

Mora and Agnes and Isobel certainly did. But he did not have plans for anything of them—he had plans for her. Beatrice still had no idea what he had meant. One hand touched her lips, as she remembered what it had felt like.

Her cheeks flushed as the events of the previous night came rushing back. Oscar, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. His touch had almost burned her, but it had felt good. Made her shiver in an excited kind of way.

The awkwardness of it all hit her. This was a man who was used to being admired, respected, even envied. What must he think of her, now that they had spent the night together in a barn? Respectable young women just did not do that.

Of course, she had not had any choice, had she? Her throbbing ankle was reminder of that.

He was just watching her, a smirk on his face once again. His lip—her cheeks burned when she remembered his mouth on hers.

“Good morning, darling.” He shifted, then covered her with his coat.

Beatrice pulled the coat tighter around her, avoiding his gaze. “Good morning. I am not your darling, Oscar Collins. You had best remember that.”

She winced as she moved her legs. Her ankle—no. She would not be walking on it today.

“Don’t try to move just yet,” he said, crouching down to examine her ankle. He unwrapped the bandages quickly, then poked and prodded and had her gasping. Then he almost caressed her calf. His touch was careful, almost gentle, and it sent shivers through her.

She liked the feel of this man’s touch. She would not lie to herself about that.

And when her eyes met his, she knew…he knew. He knew what she felt when he touched her.

“I’m fine.” She held out his coat. “I will use the carriage blankets. You put your coat back on before you catch a chill. You cannot build a hospital to help people if you are the one in need of care, now can you?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow but did not argue. Instead, he stood and shrugged on his coat. He was a fine built man, this one. Strong and healthy.

“I’ll carry you back to the carriage. We’ll wait there for rescue. No doubt Iagan has gathered the calvary and is on his way, red hair sticking up everywhere. Elspeth beside him, being a mild voice of reason on their adventures.”

Before she could voice her opinion the barn door creaked open, and a burst of voices spilled inside. Beatrice gasped and pulled the blankets closer around her shoulders. She was not quite ready to face the morning. Or him.

Or anyone else.

“There they are!” Agnes’s voice rang out.

Beatrice’s stomach twisted as her friends stepped into the barn. Agnes was at the front, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she took in the scene, followed by Elspeth and a few others. Oh, Agnes—always laughing about something. Sometimes Beatrice did not get the joke. But…Agnes would be there, every time Beatrice needed her. Ever since the explosion had changed everything. Agnes had been her neighbor, and once she realized how truly alone Beatrice was, Agnes had been there. Even when her own grandparents had gone on—and then Agnes was the one left alone. Beatrice had made a point to be there for Agnes, then.

“What on earth happened to you two?” Agnes asked, her grin wide, her expression knowing. “Off having a romantic adventure? Our little Bea?”

“It’s not like that,” Beatrice said. She did not want them to get wrong ideas about what had happened. It would not do for a respected doctor to be gossiped about with a girl. Not with what the two doctors were trying to do here now. She would not be ruining that work for them. “Nothing romantic about a carriage accident and a sprained ankle, Aggie.”

But…about a kiss from a man like Dr. Oscar Collins there was. But that was a secret she’d be keeping to herself.

“Of course not,” Agnes said, though her tone suggested she did not believe a word of it, as she helped Beatrice to her feet and fussed a little. “We’ll get you back to the manor and get you taken care of, Bea. Then you can tell us all about it. We were so worried, but we knew you were with Dr. Collins. Elspeth informed us he could handle just about anything.”

“Beatrice,” Elspeth asked. “Are you all right? We were out looking for you all late last night. We just did not make it this far.”

“I’m fine,” Beatrice said, though the words felt hollow. “We just waited here. That’s all.”

Elspeth’s gaze turned to Oscar, where he had moved to stand just behind Beatrice. His expression was unreadable, his posture stiff. He had a hand on her shoulder now, as he helped her keep her balance.

“And you, Dr. Collins?” Elspeth asked, her tone pointed. “Are you just fine, laddie?”

“I felt it prudent to be the one to stay with her rather than the driver, that’s all. To protect her, and care for her ankle. Sprained, but not broken. But no walking on it without crutches for at least a week.” But he nodded, like he was doing that speaking without saying thing, too.

Elspeth studied him for a moment longer before nodding herself. Beatrice knew they were speaking without saying a word again. “Good.”

“Still, the two of you alone in a barn all night? It’s terribly romantic, do you not think? So many stories start just like that, Beatrice Maeve. But…not more scaring me like that again. I just cannot take it, even if you were with the braw Dr. Collins,” Agnes said, putting an arm around Beatrice’s waist when she wobbled a bit.

“Agnes, stop,” Elspeth said. “Let’s just get her back to the house and get her taken care of.”

The barn doors slid the rest of the way open. People stood there. Beatrice bit off a gasp, and tried to step back—instinctively. A strong male hand was on her back to steady her.

“Well, well. Isn’t this cozy?” Dr. Duvall stepped inside. She had been hoping he’d be gone by the time she returned. His disheveled appearance—red-rimmed eyes, rumpled clothes—spoke of a long and unpleasant night. From searching for her and Oscar, or from finding a bottle? She had never had much respect for those who spent all of their time with spirits. Of any sort. Too many people, innocent people, had been hurt like that.

“Duvall,” Oscar said. “See you’ve slithered out of bed this morning to ride to the rescue.”

“You’ve caused quite the stir, Miss Ardis.” Dr. Duvall studied her disheveled appearance. And Oscar’s hand on her shoulder. “Waking up in a barn with Garrity County’s newest and most eligible bachelor? What will the town say? Have you picked out the church, little lass? Ready for a tall, strapping, wealthy husband, are you?”

Beatrice shrank back slightly, her chest tightening as Dr. Duvall’s words hung in the air. She knew what he was implying and did not like it—or him—at all.

Oscar stepped forward. He tensed, like he was readying himself to protect her. Beatrice stayed right where she was, letting Agnes help keep her balanced.

“You won’t be spreading tales, Duvall. Not if you know what’s good for you,” Oscar said in that mean, growling tone he had. The tone that said he meant it.

Dr. Duvall just smirked, as other voices sounded outside the barn. “Oh, come now, Collins. No need to be so serious. It’s all in good fun, isn’t it? And haven’t you already claimed the little thing as your own?”

“This isn’t a joke,” Oscar said. “Miss Ardis has been injured. I want to get her home, and see she is taken care of properly.”

Dr. Duvall’s gaze flicked to Beatrice one last time, and something in his expression as he studied her so calculatingly made her skin crawl. Then he turned on his heel and left, his retreat slower than necessary, as though daring Oscar to stop him.

She did not like that man. Not at all.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Elspeth asked, her hand resting on Beatrice’s shoulder now.

“I’m fine,” Beatrice said. “I just want to go…home.”

Then Oscar was there. “Let me carry you outside.”

Beatrice hesitated, but the pain in her ankle made her nod reluctantly. Someone would need to carry her and if she was being honest to herself, he was the one man she wanted to do so. He had certainly carried her before, after all.

Oscar lifted her easily, his arms strong and steady around her.

And then he just carried her out to the wagon that had brought her friends to rescue her. As if he had all the right in the world to do just that.

Beatrice just let him.

She had no idea what she was supposed to do with a man like Dr. Oscar Collins.

No idea at all.