close is he to death?’ she asked bluntly, and saw him wince. He really did care.
‘Until you arrived, I’d have said it’d be a matter of weeks.’ Suddenly he was slowing his stride, as if it was important that she hear what he had to say. ‘Days even. Once he’s in a nursing home I imagine he’ll lose any last vestige of will to live. He lives for this place.’
‘For this castle?’
There was a wry grin at that. ‘No. Loganaich Castle gives him pleasure but, as amenable as he was to building it, this was his wife’s baby. He doesn’t love it. His vegetable garden, though, is a different matter. But now…’ He hesitated.
‘Now?’ she prodded, and he seemed to think for a bit before continuing.
‘Now we have a landscape gardener and a doctor on hand,’ Jake said. ‘Who knows what difference that could make?’ He paused before a pair of vast oak doors, set with two plastic plaques. DEIRDRE LIVES HERE was engraved on a teddy-bear-embossed plastic plaque hanging on the left-hand door and ANGUS LIVES HERE was hung with decorative fishing lines on the right.
It was too much for Kirsty. She started laughing. Jake swung the door wide, and she was laughing as she met the Earl of Loganaich.
Serious lung deterioration was difficult to disguise and Angus showed all the symptoms. He was seated at the window but he stood as they entered, a frail man who groped for his walking frame before taking a faltering step toward them. His breathing was shallow and rasping, and his lips had a faint blue tinge.
If he was my patient, I’d have him on oxygen, Kirsty thought, and caught a flash of grim amusement from Jake.
She wasn’t going to look at him any more.
That was easy enough to arrange—for the moment. Angus was coming toward her, a quizzical smile on his wrinkled face.
‘Here’s my visitor,’ he said, his obvious pleasure giving lie to Jake’s declaration that he couldn’t have visitors. ‘But not…’ His face clouded in disappointment. She’d held out her hand to greet him and he stared down at her bare ring finger. ‘Not Rory’s widow? Jake’s made a mistake, hasn’t he? Rory never married.’
‘He did,’ Kirsty told him, confused. Why hadn’t Rory kept in touch with his family?
‘But you’re not…’
‘My sister married your nephew,’ she told him.
‘And she’s not here.’
‘Susie’s here, but she’s ill herself,’ Jake said softly. ‘We’ve popped her into bed. She’s exhausted.’
‘She’s ill?’ This old man was anxious on her sister’s behalf, Kirsty thought with more than a little incredulity as she listened to his laboured, painful breathing.
‘My sister’s looking forward to meeting you very much,’ she told him. ‘Jake seems to think it’s OK for us to stay the night.’
‘Of course it is.’
‘We won’t bother you. And we’ll leave first thing in the morning.’
His face fell. ‘So soon?’
‘We don’t want to disturb you.’
‘No one wants to disturb me,’ he snapped, so harshly that he made himself cough. ‘Why didn’t Rory tell me he was married? Why didn’t Kenneth tell me Rory was married?’
Kirsty had no answers. She knew Rory had a brother, but she’d never met him. As far as she knew, there was a deep and abiding dislike that had been the major decision behind Rory’s decision to emigrate.
‘Maybe Susie knows more than I do,’ she murmured. ‘You can talk to her in the morning.’ She cast an uncertain glance at Jake, and then looked back at Angus. His lips were still tinged blue and his distress was obvious. He was struggling to stand. As she turned back to him he staggered slightly. She caught his hand and helped him sit on the bed.
‘Th— Th—’ It was too much. He lay back on the pillows and gasped.
‘You need oxygen,’ she said urgently, and turned to Jake. ‘Why isn’t he on oxygen? It’d surely help.’
Jake sighed. ‘Thank you, Dr McMahon. The US has heard of oxygen, then, has it?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, backing off in an instant. What was she about, interfering in a doctor-patient relationship that had nothing to do with her? ‘Of course it’s none of my business. And Angus—your… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to call you.’
‘I haven’t done the introductions,’ Jake said. ‘Dr Kirsty McMahon, this is His Grace, the Earl of Loganaich.’
She glowered, and then shot a cautious smile at Angus. ‘Gee, that makes it easier to know what to call you.’
Angus managed a smile back—and so did Jake.
‘Call me Angus,’ the old man managed. But then he started to gasp again and Jake’s smile died.
‘Angus, you need to let me help you,’ Jake said urgently, and Kirsty could hear the raw anxiety in his tone. This was something much deeper than a doctor-patient relationship.
‘Angus won’t use oxygen,’ Jake added, startling her by referring to a conversation she thought he’d effectively closed. ‘I know it’s none of your business, Dr McMahon, but now you’ve brought it up we may as well give Dr McMahon an answer, don’t you think, Angus?’
‘No,’ Angus gasped, and struggled for some more breath.
‘Angus won’t use oxygen because he’s decided to die,’ Jake said, still roughly. ‘Just like your sister. Just like Susie.’
‘Susie wants to die?’ Angus gasped. ‘Rory’s wife wants to die? Why?’
‘The same reason you do, I expect,’ Jake growled. ‘No point in going on.’ Then, as Angus started coughing again, he lifted the old man’s hand and gripped, hard. ‘Angus, let us help. Stop being so damned stubborn.’
Kirsty took a deep breath. She glanced sideways at Jake—and then decided, Dammit, she was going in, boots and all.
‘You know, the way you’re looking, without oxygen you could well die in the night,’ Kirsty said softly. ‘Susie’s travelled half a world to meet you. She’d be so distressed.’
‘I’m not… I’m not likely to die in the night.’
Kirsty cast another cautious glance at Jake but for some reason Jake had turned away. Go ahead, his body language said. This may be none of her business but he wasn’t stopping her.
‘Jake’s told you I’m a doctor,’ she said, and Angus took a couple more pain-racked breaths and grunted.
‘Aye. Too many of the creatures.’
‘He means two too many,’ Jake said. He’d crossed to the window and
