Highland Doc's Christmas Rescue / Festive Fling With The Single Dad. Susan Carlisle
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thick Scottish brogue confirmed her earlier thoughts. Yet she was surprised by the way the sunny cheerfulness of his voice curled around her name, nudging at her icy emotions. Irritated, she pushed that odd notion away. This doctor was far too happy and personable for her taste. Her goal was to do what must be done with as little interaction with others as possible. She planned on nursing her wounds in private.
“Yes, that’s me.” To her satisfaction her flat, dry tone dropped the brightness of his smile a notch. If she could just get to her room and collapse she’d be happy. Her right side was burning from the ache in her arm and the agony of putting her full weight on her right leg.
“Flora McNeith, the physiotherapist whose care you’ll be under, couldn’t be here to greet you and asked that I get you settled in.” Concern filled his face. “Do you need a wheelchair? Crutches?”
“No, I can walk on my own. Run, that’s another thing.” She pulled at her jacket to stop the biting flow of air down her neck.
A light chuckle rolled out of his throat and over her nerve endings. “I understand. Then let’s get inside out of this weather.” He looked up at the sky. A snowflake landed on the dark red five o’clock shadow covering his cheek.
Cass averted her eyes and gave the cobblestone drive, cleared of snow, a searching look. It was farther than she wanted to walk, yet she wouldn’t let on. The three steps up to the door looked even more daunting.
All she needed was fortitude to make the walk and climb those steps. She had plenty of that. Soft snowflakes continued to drift down as she took a deep breath and steeled herself to put one foot in front of the other. With another silent inhalation, she started toward the entrance. Dr. Sinclair walked beside her.
She managed the first two steps with no mishap but the toe of her short boot caught the edge of the last one. Grabbing at air, Cass finally found the fabric covering Dr. Sinclair’s arm. She yelped with the effort to hold on. Being right-handed, she’d instinctively flailed out that arm and immediately regretted it. Pain shot through it, but not as sharp as it had been weeks earlier. She gritted her teeth, thrusting out her other arm to ease the fall.
Instead of tumbling onto the steps, her body was brought against a hard wall of human torso. The doctor’s arm circled her waist and held her steady. Her face smashed into thick yarn. A hint of pine and smoke filled her nose. For some reason it was reassuring.
“Steady on, I’ve got you.” His deep burr was near her ear.
Cass quickly straightened, getting her feet under her even though pain rocked her. She refused to show it, having already embarrassed herself enough. Her lips tightened. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Glancing at him, she got the weirdest impression that the concern in his eyes had nothing to do with her physical injuries, as if he was able to see her true pain. That was a crazy idea. She shook that odd thought off and focused on where she was.
Taking a third fortifying breath, Cass stepped into the massive foyer.
No way was she going to let him see the effort it took to keep walking. She’d lived through much worse. She’d always been self-sufficient. Weakness wasn’t in her vocabulary. As a young girl she had learned the power of being emotionally strong.
Still, that brief human contact had been nice.
There were two enormous cement urns filled with pine and berries on either side of the doors. Cass looked further to see the stone arched beams of the ceiling then on to a grand staircase. On the floor beside it lay a pile of pine wood. Here she was in this strange place for the holidays when all she wished for was home. She would get her arm and leg strong again as fast as she could, then return to America to grieve her loss in private.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” The doctor stood too close as if he was afraid she might stumble again.
“I’m fine.” The words sounded sharp and overly loud in the cavernous entrance hall. If she could just get to her room, she could nurse the excruciating throbbing in her arm and leg. She would be limping by then as well.
“On our way to your room, let me tell you where a few things are. This is Admissions.” He waved a hand to indicate a room off the hall. “Louise, my administrative assistant, and I have our offices there. She’s out this afternoon as well. You two can sort out the paperwork in the morning. I’m sure you’re tired.”
Cass was beyond tired. The effort it had taken her to travel from Germany to Fort William then the drive north had worn her out. She hadn’t recovered anywhere near as much as she wanted to believe.
“Over here is the dining room.” He walked across the hall and stood in a wide doorway.
Cass joined him. Despite her physical distress, she loved his accent. It was soothing, for some reason.
The room he wanted her to see was long and wide with a dark barrel ceiling sculpted out of wood from which hung large, black iron chandeliers. A fireplace Cass could stand up in filled the wall on the far end with flags arranged overhead. The walls were partially covered in wainscoting. Above that were a few male portraits in impressive frames. A huge table, surrounded by imposing matching chairs, capable of seating at least twenty people, stood in the center of the room. An oriental rug in blue and red lay beneath it. The only thing out of place was a pile of greenery on the floor in one corner and a few boxes stacked beside it.
He must have noticed the direction of her gaze. “Pardon the mess. We’re in the process of decorating for Christmas.”
Cass pretended he hadn’t spoken. Not even the holidays could heal her broken heart.
Dr. Sinclair was saying, “All meals are served here, unless there’s a reason the resident is incapable of joining us. We dress for the evening meal. It’s at seven.”
“Dress? As in diamonds and tux?”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “No. More like no workout clothes allowed. The idea is for the residents to use their skills and have something positive to look forward to. We work on the principle that if you don’t use it, you lose it.”
She glanced at him. He really was quite handsome in a rugged way. “Like?”
“Fastening a button, passing a bowl or even manipulating a fork.” He turned toward the central hall.
“I have no trouble with any of those so why must I attend?” She joined him.
“Because we want our residents to feel like they’re part of our family, which they are,” he said over his shoulder as he started down the hall.
She had zero interest in being sociable. All she wanted was time to herself to think about what she would do next, where she wanted her life to go. How she could get past the mass of emotions churning inside her. Could she continue working in search and rescue? Work with a new dog? Learn to trust another man?
Maybe she could just make sure she wasn’t around when it was dinnertime. This place sounded more like a prison than a clinic. “Hey, do you mind telling me why I was sent here?”
That got his attention. “So you can regain your mobility.”
“I know that. I mean why here in particular? Couldn’t I have gone to a clinic in America? What makes this place so special?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “As I understand it, your orthopedic doctor believes this is the right clinic for you.”
She stepped toward him, pinning him with a direct look. “What led him to believe this specific clinic was the right place for me to complete my physical therapy?”
Dr. Sinclair shifted his weight and raised his chin. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for but our residents have an uncommonly high success rate of making as complete a recovery as possible, and by recovery I mean holistic recovery. Our state-of-the-art clinic features a peaceful atmosphere conducive to healing…” he waved a hand around, indicating the castle “…and our canine therapy has proved to be fundamental