Highland Doc's Christmas Rescue. Susan Carlisle
his face.
She mustered a slight smile. “No, tea is fine. You’ve already gone to a lot of trouble for me.”
“No trouble.” He left the room.
While listening to him moving around in another part of the house, Cass laid her head back against the cushion of the sofa and gazed into the flames. The feeling was returning to her feet. She wiggled them. This was nice. The most peaceful she had felt in weeks.
Lyle returned with a small tray. On it were two steaming mugs, a milk jug and a sugar bowl. “Do you take yours with sugar and milk?”
“I don’t know. My coffee I like with both.”
“Then let’s try it that way.” The doctor mixed the ingredients in and handed her a mug.
She wrapped her hands around it, letting the heat seep into her icy fingers.
He sank into his chair with his mug in his hand. The chair fit him perfectly. “How’re you feeling now?”
“Much better. I had no idea how cold and wet I was.”
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees with the mug between his palms. “You really need thicker socks and boots. There’s a good shop in the village for those.”
“My sturdy boots were cut off and discarded when I was taken to the medical tent. I went straight from the tent to the hospital and from the hospital to here. When I can, I’ll buy another pair. And maybe replace my cellphone.” She had said more than she had intended.
His brows went up. “Medical tent? I had no idea. Do you mind telling me what happened?”
“It wasn’t in my file?”
He pursed his lips and gave a noncommittal shake of his head. “Yes, but I’d like to hear it about it from you. I think you need to talk.”
“Being a shrink again, Doc?”
“It’s Lyle, and I was going more for being your friend.” He leaned back, looking completely comfortable. “If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine.”
Now she was being put on the spot. If she didn’t tell him something he would think she was a head case. “There’s not much to tell. I was searching for a girl lost in the rubble of a building after a major explosion in Eastern Europe. It had been two days and there wasn’t much hope. I found her alive but in the process a wall fell on me. So now you have it.” Cass had been careful not to use the word we. She didn’t want to talk about Rufus. She refused to break down in front of this stranger, no matter how nice he was.
“Wow, that’s some story.”
And he hadn’t heard it all. Wouldn’t ever as far as she was concerned. “Yeah, makes for a great party story.”
He gave her a direct look. “I think it makes you a pretty impressive person. Your type of work can be both rewarding and very depressing.”
He was right about that. His piercing empathy made her conscious of her vulnerability. She wasn’t used to people seeing through what she said that clearly. The men she’d had relationships with certainly hadn’t—including Jim, her latest disaster. Now she had scars on her body. How would men react to them?
Lyle put the mug down. “How’re your hands and feet feeling now?”
Relieved he’d changed the subject, she answered, “Instead of being numb they feel like needles are being pushed into them.”
“That’s good. The feeling is returning.”
Giving him a wry smile, she brought the mug to her lips again. The warmth flowed through her, matching the heat in the room. “So how come the administrator of the prestigious Heatherglen Castle Clinic is living way out here in the woods?”
Looking over the edge of the mug, he gave her an indulgent look. “In the daylight it’s not that far out. This was the gamekeeper’s cottage. When I returned from serving in the Middle East I needed a place to live. Turned out this came with the administrator’s job.”
“I don’t see you as the military type.” He didn’t strike her as a squared shoulders, stand-at-attention kind of man. His smile was too quick, his manner too easygoing to fit into that strait-laced world.
“Aye. I was born and bred to it.”
The words were flat, suggesting that hadn’t been a completely good thing. There was more there but she didn’t ask. It wasn’t her business and she didn’t like him prying into hers, so she wouldn’t.
“You were overseas?”
“Aye, two tours in the Middle East.”
“That couldn’t have been much fun.” She was sure that was an understatement.
A dark look came over his face. “It wasn’t.”
He must have seen stuff similar to what she had in her work. She would never have guessed they’d have anything in common. Cass didn’t want to talk about the similarities in their backgrounds. Instead she would rather lock it away and not think about the past. Or the pain. “So you were raised around here?”
“Yes. In the village of Cluchlochry. My parents don’t live far from here. Where’re you from?”
His tone led her to believe he loved the area. “Indiana, but I live in Montana now.”
He raised his eyebrows and nodded approvingly. “I’ve been there. Beautiful scenery.”
“It is. That’s my favorite thing about it. But even with all the snow, it’s pretty around here as well.”
“In the spring it’s like living inside an emerald it’s so green.” Reverence made his Scottish accent more pronounced.
Did it do the same when he whispered in a woman’s ear when he desired her? Heaven help her! That wasn’t a thought she should be having. Where had that idea come from? She swallowed hard and wiggled her toes. Surely it was the fire making her skin so hot.
“Let me have a look at those. I want to make sure you don’t have the beginnings of frostbite.” He went down on one knee in front of her.
“Look at what?” Her mind had been in a completely different place. “Oh, my feet. I don’t think that’s necessary.”
He gave her an odd look then patted his thigh. “But I do. Put your foot up here.”
With reluctance she did as he requested. Lyle’s leg was firm beneath her bare sole, his corduroy pants soft.
He cradled her heel gently in the palm of his hand. All his touches were functional and professional, yet a streak of response zipped through her. She pulled back and sat straighter, watching the top of his head with its light, curly red hair. Were those coils as soft as they looked? She almost reached out a hand. Almost…
“Wiggle your toes for me.”
Her head jerked up. It took her a long second to comply.
His fingers traveled over her toes. She pulled back but he held her foot securely. He raised his head, a slight grin on his lips. “Ticklish.” It was more a statement than question.
“A little.” It sounded childish to admit.
Cass groaned inside.
“There’s no sign of frostbite here. That’s good.” He placed that foot on the floor. “Let me see the other one.”
Cass didn’t even try to resist this time. He gave that foot the same attention as the other, but without tickling her. For some reason that disappointed her.
“Wiggle,” he commanded.
She did.
“Good.” He rose from the floor and moved to pick up one of her socks. “These are still damp. You really are going