“I dinnae either,” Bridget replied, “but she is sleeping now, so it will have to wait.”
The physician arrived just as Fiona came bounding down the stairs. “Come quick,” she said. “There is blood everywhere.”
The doctor ordered all of them out of the room, allowing only Mrs. Ferguson to remain. “Family gets in the way,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. Shane gave Bridget an inquiring look, but she shook her head slightly. There was no need to rile the doctor. Jillian needed tending.
They all waited nervously for what seemed an eternity. The sun was sinking low when the doctor finally came down to the library where they were gathered. Blood stained his shirt.
“Is she…?” Shauna asked softly.
“She lives. I managed to stop the bleeding.”
Bridget forced the next words. “And the bairn?”
“I dinnae ken. For now, she holds him inside. ’Tis the infection that worries me. The cut looks to be made from something sharp and probably rusty. It had a long time to fester.” The physician looked at the group. “Is the MacLeod about?”
“Nae. He is in England. Probably London by now.”
“He should be sent for,” the doctor said gravely. “I dinnae ken if the lady will survive.”
“Her sister should be here too,” Fiona said.
Shane stood. “I have a ship in Edinburgh getting ready to sail for Calais. I will sail her to London instead.”
“Would it not be quicker to ride?” Shauna asked.
“Nae with the storm coming,” Shane answered. “Even if I could get through before it arrives, the passes will be blocked on return. ’Tis quicker to sail the schooner.” He turned toward the door. “Call for the fastest horse to be saddled. I will leave as soon as I pack a bag.”
It wasn’t until much later, after Shane had gone and Bridget was sitting beside Jillian’s bed watching her fretful sleep, that she remembered Jillian had wanted to tell Shane something.
Well, it would have to wait.
