sister. “What should I do? Leave him out here to freeze to death? I’m a doctor. I can’t do that.”
“Well, of course, we can’t let him freeze to death,” Morwenna said. “It’s just that … he’s a total stranger.”
“So what other choice do we have?” Shayne asked.
“Morwenna, it will be okay,” Bobby assured her. “Hey, there’s a pack of us, and one of him. It’s going to be all right. And Dad does have his shotgun.”
“Can he actually shoot?” Morwenna asked.
“Well, I’ve seen him go skeet shooting,” Bobby said, grinning. “I think he hit a few plates.”
“What? When?” Morwenna asked.
“When we were kids, remember? We were in Memphis. The parental units brought us all on a canoeing vacation, and we went to see Graceland. It was great, if I recall.”
“Yeah,” Morwenna said, lowering her eyes. “It was great, wasn’t it?” she said softly.
“Doesn’t matter right now whether Dad can hit the eye of a needle or miss the side of a barn, it’s freezing out here,” Shayne said. He had deftly run his hands over the stranger, checking for broken bones or other injuries. “Seems like just his head is bleeding. Maybe he got stranded, got out of his car and fell. God knows, this place has lots of rocks, for certain. Wenna, back up. Bobby, get around over there.”
“I’m not puny—I can help,” Morwenna said.
“I know that you’re the queen of Pilates, Morwenna, but let Bobby help me right now,” Shayne said.
“All right, all right, I’ll get the door. Be careful, you two. Maybe he’s faking it.”
“One, two, three … lift beneath the shoulders,” Shayne said.
“Your children are inside that house,” Morwenna said worriedly.
“You know he could sue you if we injure him more, Shayne,” Bobby said, still not having moved.
“That can’t be helped—he’ll freeze. He might be in shock … he might well be on the way to hypothermia,” Shayne said. “Look, we have to move him, or he’ll die.”
“I guess that we really have no choice. We can’t—”
“No, but … we can’t let him just stay here. I guess we can’t ask questions or get to know him,” Morwenna said.
“I just hope we don’t hurt him worse,” Bobby said.
Bobby did as his brother instructed, dipping low, and sliding his arm beneath the stranger’s back while Shayne carefully did the same from his angle. The stranger groaned again as they managed to get him to his feet.
“It’s all right, it’s all right!” Shayne said quickly. “We’re bringing you in. We’re trying to help you.”
The man had green eyes, Bobby noted. Strange green eyes. They were actually a greener color than he’d ever seen before, and also weirdly translucent.
He noted that Morwenna was staring at the man, looking into his eyes.
And the man was staring back at her.
He managed a single whisper. “Thank you.”
She turned and hurried to the house while they followed more slowly with the injured man.
Morwenna opened the door and stood back. Shayne and Bobby staggered toward it, and paused in the doorway, catching their balance.
She looked at Bobby. “Well, this will be different,” she said softly. “I can’t help but wonder just who in the hell we’ve invited in for Christmas?”
Chapter 2
“What in the name of—” Mike MacDougal began, hurrying into the parlor as his sons stumbled in with the bleeding stranger.
Morwenna looked at her father; she was worried about what they were doing, herself, but to avoid a family argument over Shayne’s absolute determination to be a physician at all times, she waved a hand in the air.
“This guy was out there hurt, Dad,” she said. “We have to help him.”
Stacy, drying her hands on a dish towel, came hurrying into the parlor as well.
“Oh, no! The poor man. Get him onto the sofa, Shayne. Oh, he’s bleeding! I’ll get a clean washcloth and warm water. I’ll—” Stacy began.
“Hey!” Mike protested. “Bleeding, in the snow, in the middle of nowhere? How the hell did he get here? How do we know he’s not an escaped convict or mass murderer?”
“That’s what I said, Dad,” Morwenna replied, setting a hand firmly on his chest. “But your son, the physician, refused to allow anyone to bleed to death. Now, Dad—move, please!”
Mike groaned, staring at the man on the sofa. “If you saw everything that I saw, you’d be more careful,” he said.
“Dad?” Shayne said.
Genevieve and Connor appeared in the kitchen doorway—just their little heads popping out.
Morwenna hurried toward them. “Hey, little ones. Want to do me a favor? Run upstairs to my bedroom and bring me one of the pillows off my bed. And a blanket, huh? Can you do that?”
They both nodded at her gravely. “Don’t worry,” Connor told her. “My father will help that man.”
“Of course he will,” Morwenna said.
She went into the kitchen. Her mother was already filling a basin with warm water; she walked to the pantry and found a stack of fresh linens. “Mom, can I take these?”
Her mother glanced at her. “Of course! You can take anything. The guy’s bleeding!”
Stacy was ready with the basin. Morwenna grabbed the towels and they returned to the parlor. Shayne nodded his gratitude and took the basin and the towels. “Looks like he took a good wallop to the side of his head … and there, on his temple. I’m going to need my bag. It’s still in the car.”
“I’m on it,” Bobby said. He turned and exited by the front door.
“Don’t just hover!” Shayne said, looking up at Morwenna and his parents as he began to dab carefully at the stranger’s wounds. “I think he needs to breathe, too, you know?”
They all stared blankly at him for a minute, and then took a step back.
The kids came clunking down the stairway, bearing a blanket and pillow.
“Good, good, let’s get his head propped up,” Shayne said. He glanced at his sister, perhaps surprised she’d asked that one of her pillows be used for the cause.
She
