Page 35 of Lost with a Scot
“I remembered how my twin, Alexei, and I used to ride like that, wild and free.”
“That’s wonderful, lassie.” Aiden hugged her from behind. “The more ye remember, the sooner we can find yer family.”
A sudden terrible thought struck her, and she covered her mouth. “Aiden, what if my family was on the ship with me? What if they all perished?”
She buried her cheek against his shoulder as she fought off a wave of panic that threatened to drown her. To have hope only to see it wrecked just like the ship she’d been on... It was unbearable to think about.
“Easy, Anna. Ye canna be sure of that. Not yet. Ye must have hope. And even if ye find out the worst, ye arna alone.Ye have me.And ye are a strong, brave woman.”
Her breathing slowly steadied itself. He was right. She was strong and brave, and she wasn’t alone. She looked up at him. “It was fortunate thatyouwere the one to find me on the beach.”
Aiden smiled at her as a cluster of clouds parted above them and sunlight illuminated the clearing.
“Maybe it wasn’t luck,” said Aiden. “Maybe it was destiny.”
* * *
Arthur MacDonald was sittingin his surgery, reading over the latest medical treatises from London, when his housekeeper’s cry alerted him to trouble. He nearly knocked over his chair as he raced toward the front door.
“Doctor! They found more people from the shipwreck.” The old housekeeper was nearly bowled over as a young man pushed his way into the home.
“Ye must come, Doctor. They’re barely alive.”
“Let me fetch my bag.” Arthur returned to his surgery, frantically shoving anything he thought he might need into his black bag before he returned to the door. “Lead the way.” He followed the man as they jogged toward the distant shoreline.
When they reached the cliffs, Arthur saw a lifeboat being pulled onto the sand by several fishermen far below on the shore. Bodies layered the interior of the tiny vessel. This must have been the majority of the ship’s crew.
Thankfully, the narrow path that zigzagged down to the beach was one Arthur knew well, and he was able to move quickly. He and the young man sprinted down until they hit the thick, heavy sand, then they made their way to the lifeboat. The fishermen were waiting for him by the time he reached the vessel.
“We saw ’em drifting in a short while ago, Doctor.” An older man with a grizzled beard pointed to a part of the sea that was heavy with a rocky outcropping. “We swam out and caught ’em before the boat broke on the rocks.”
“Well done,” Arthur praised. “Let me see them.” He moved from body to body. Nearly all of them were sailors. Their blue short pants, red scarves, and white shirts were uniforms of merchant ship sailors he’d seen so often before. Unfortunately, all but a few were deceased.
A single woman at the tip of the boat was still breathing faintly, along with two other men. Her clothes were simple in design but well tailored and made from costly fabrics. She was highborn, or close to it, if he had to guess. He removed a wooden cylinder called a stethoscope from his bag. It was a revolutionary new invention, and he found it worked better to hear a heartbeat than pressing his ear to a patient’s chest. This proved extremely useful with female patients so that he didn’t create distress by putting his face directly against their breasts. He pressed the end of the cylinder to the woman’s bosom and his ear to the other end. A weak thumping sound came back to him.
“They must’ve been at sea without food or water,” the older fishermen said. “Look at their lips.”
Arthur had noted the parched, chapped lips of the sailors. But the woman seemed less dehydrated than the men.
“They must’ve given the woman their share of the water they had,” another sailor guessed as he pointed to an empty water bucket at the woman’s feet.
Arthur put his hand on her chin, raising her head to check her breathing. Her eyelids fluttered.
“Help,” the woman whispered in Danish. “Help us...”
“We will help ye,” Arthur replied in her tongue. These might be other survivors of theRuritanian Star. It had been almost a week since Miss Anna had washed up on the shore.
“Must... find my lady...,” the woman murmured.
“Does anyone have any water?” Arthur asked the fishermen. The oldest among the group produced a flask of water.
He took the water and pressed the round opening of the flask against the woman’s parted lips. “Drink,” he urged as he trickled the water down her throat. She drank, coughed weakly, and trembled.
“Miss Anna... must find Miss Anna,” she tried again. “My lady... lost in the water...”
“Anna is yer lady?” he asked the woman. He feared pushing her to speak, but he also feared she might not survive, and he needed to get whatever information he could while she was able to talk.
“Must get to London... Her brother will come for her...” The woman lifted a hand, grasping Arthur’s wrist as her weary eyes pleaded with him. “Matter of life and death...” The woman closed her eyes and passed out.
