“I believe ye’ll find the examination rooms have suitable lighting. We felt extra lamps in the waiting area would be an unnecessary waste of already strained resources.”
Emma turned and took a step back to escape the pulsating wave of scathing sarcasm attached to the deep baritone voice. “I only meant we would need proper lighting in order to give quality care to the children. I think the work here is fantastic. I meant no disrespect.”
Rolled-up shirtsleeves, paint-spattered jeans, filthy hands and graying hair at the temples. This gentleman must be another proud volunteer, and she had inadvertently insulted him when she’d vocalized her observations.
The man’s scowl didn’t lighten. His dark brows knotted tighter over a pair of eyes narrowed into disapproving slits. Apparently, her first apology hadn’t been enough.
“I am sorry if I offended you, but if I’m trying to stitch up a child’s wound or examine a wiggling baby, I have to have adequate lighting. I never meant to imply that what you’ve done here isn’t outstanding work.”
His squared jaw shadowing a day’s growth of beard; the volunteer arched one of his sleek, black brows and bent a bit closer as if her words amazed him. “Truly? So, ye think our work justmightmeet with your high standards?”
“Uh, Dr. Emma?” Moira cleared her throat with a nervous cough as she edged closer and nudged the tip of Emma’s elbow.
“No, just a minute, Moira.” Emma didn’t appreciate this guy’s imperious tone coupled with a rude defensive glare. Taking pride in his work was one thing, but he didn’t have to be an ass about it. “I tell you what, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see one of these exam rooms that you report are so properly lit. I think I need to check it out for myself.” Emma lifted her chin in silent challenge to Mr. Know-it-all. He might as well find out now that she wasn’t about to be buffaloed by an overly prideful local.
“Right this way,Princessor pardon me, I guess that would beDr.Princess.” With an elaborate bow, the well-muscled volunteer waved Emma toward a gleaming azure door to the left. “Please check the blue exam room and pray to tell us, poor commoners, if it meets with yourAmericanapproval.”
Dr. Princess, my ass.I’ve dealt with bigger jerks than you, buddy. I interned with Dr. Albertson.Shoving through the shining blue door, Emma squinted against the sudden shift in brightness as she entered the room. State-of-the-art examination lights blazed from the ceiling over a steel exam table still draped in layers of shipping plastic.
“So, what do ye think,Dr. Princess? Will these lights meet your discriminating tastes or are we backward Scots too stupid to realize the difference between a flickering candle and an electric light bulb?”
The back of Emma’s neck flushed a warning tingle as she wandered about the room tracing a finger along boxes of unopened instruments. Realization washed over her in a suddenah hamoment. This guy wasn’t some over-protective volunteer. Pursing her lips, she turned toward her belligerent tour guide glowering at the door. “Alexander Mackenzie, I presume?”
“That would beDr.Alexander Mackenzie, if ye dinna mind. And of course, I have the papers to back up the title if ye wish to examine them for authenticity.”
Emma lowered her chin and returned to rummaging in the ancient metal storage cabinet bolted to the farthest wall. Great. She and her new colleague had gotten off to a roaring start. “That won’t be necessary,Dr.Mackenzie. And you may call me Dr. Maxwell.”
“I distinctly heard Moira and Alfred refer to ye as Dr. Emma.”
“That term is reserved fornicepeople.”
When no hissing retort returned fire, Emma emerged from nosing through the depths of the cabinet to discover that Dr. Smart-ass had disappeared from the doorway. “Well, we’re destined to be the best of friends, aren’t we?” The shaggy teddy bear propped on the shelf just stared back at her with shining black button eyes.
“Dr. Emma.” Scooting through the partially opened doorway, Moira cast a nervous glance over her shoulder back into the adjacent hallway. “What in the world did ye say to Dr. Mac?” Her forehead creased with worry lines; Moira caught one corner of her lower lip between her teeth while knotting both hands in the folds of the white apron she’d wrapped around her ample waist.
Emma studied Moira nervously fidgeting at the door and sorted through her choices. Should she catch Moira in the middle of this territorial spat or have mercy on the poor old soul? After taking in the high color on Moira’s flushed cheeks and the ever-deepening creases marching across the older woman’s pale forehead, mercy won out.
“I just introduced myself. Why?” Emma closed the slightly warped doors to the metal cabinet. With a grunt, she leaned against the cockeyed door to the right and kicked the bottom corner with the ball of her foot to get the stubborn latching mechanism to catch. “Howoldis this thing?” Emma stole another glance at Moira’s tensed face and read it like the ticker readout across the bottom of a satellite news channel:Trouble inIsle of Lewis clinic. Local prima donna physician threatened by an interloper from the USA. Catastrophic war inevitable.
Moira nodded at the cabinet with a stiff jerk of her head. “That cupboard was left from the days of the barracks. We just repainted it.” A despondent sigh escaped from between her thin, painted lips. “Now, Dr. Emma, ye must understand Dr. Mac only wants to get to know ye. He was very anxious about your arrival. He truly looked forward to working with a fine doctor from the United States.”
“Oh, I can tell. He relayed that message loud and clear.” Emma yanked the plastic off the table and wadded it up into a ball. She might save this plastic. It was just about big enough to shrink-wrap Dr. Smart-ass in and might even hold his ego too. If he changed his attitude, she might be nice and even punch out a few air holes.
As though reading her mind, Moira hurried to snatch the plastic away from Emma, bobbing her head until her heavily shellacked curls threatened to escape their sprayed confinement. “Please try to understand. Our Dr. Mac cares deeply about the clinic and above all else, ye must understand he truly is a simple man. No matter how much ye educate them and try to tame them, they’re still silly fools when it comes to speaking what’s in their hearts. Please try to see past what comes out of his mouth. I promise ye, he’s a good man. He’s just set his heart on the success of this clinic and dedicated his life to the health and well-being of the folk on this island. Sometimes he lets his drive to make this clinic survive push everything else into the background—including his manners.”
Poor Moira. A nagging stab of remorse tugged at Emma’s heart. Devotion and kindness radiated from the old woman’s eyes as she stood with the balled up plastic clenched against her heaving chest.Well, dammit.Emma huffed an exasperatedsnort. For Moira’s sake, she couldn’t declare war on Dr. Smart-ass. Hurting Moira would be like kicking a puppy.
“I’ll play nice, Moira,” Emma promised, while switching off the light. “But I’m not cowing down and taking any crap.”
“Oh no. No, crap.” Moira snapped a nod in agreement. She scurried alongside Emma and closed the exam room door with a firm click behind them. “We women have known for centuries how to bend men to our will without taking any of their crap.”
No sooner had the words left Moira’s lips than the shining wire cages surrounding the gleaming bulbs rattled and shook with an agitated fervor. Emma stumbled against the smooth concrete wall as the floor lurched beneath her feet. “What the…” Pressing her back against the wall, Emma shifted to a more stable position as a potted plant rattled out of the window and shattered against the floor. An earthquake? On the Isle of Lewis?
“Moira?” Emma flinched as a metal tray of instruments clattered into the stainless steel sink in the utility room. “Moira, since when does the Isle of Lewis have earthquakes?”
Moira peeped out from under the clipboard held over her head and scowled at the swaying light fixtures. “’Tis the beast. He’s up to no good again. He rattles the earth when he’s about to go on one of his rampages and attack the land.”
A beast? What kind of beast? Shocked amazement replaced the uneasiness squeezing the air out of her lungs. Surely, Moira had to be kidding. “A beast? Seriously?” Emma scooted the computer monitor farther away from the edge of the desk and stretched to scoop up a handful of spilled files. “I know I didn’t find any evidence of earthquakes in this region for several hundred years, but that doesn’t mean it’s some sort of beast. I mean really, Moira. This is the twenty-first century. Beasts? Come on. There’s got to be a scientific explanation.”
