Page 71 of Duke of Storme
Or whether his jealousy had just cost him any chance of convincing the woman he loved that she was far more than a mere arrangement to the man who’d claimed her heart without even realizing it was happening.
CHAPTER 22
“Mrs. MacLeod needs a physician, and she needs one tonight.”
Diana’s voice cut through the increasingly violent wind as she burst through the kitchen door. Rain dripped from her dark cloak onto the flagstone floor. Mrs. Glenwright looked up from where she’d been supervising the evening meal preparations, her weathered face creasing with concern.
“Your Grace! What are ye doin’ out in this storm?”
“Agnes sent word from the village. The baby’s coming early, and something’s wrong.” Diana pushed back her sodden hood. Her usually pristine hair hung in damp tendrils around her face. “Mrs. MacLeod is bleeding badly, and Mr. MacLeod is beside himself with worry.”
“In this weather?” Mrs. Glenwright glanced toward the windows where rain lashed the glass like angry fists. “Your Grace, nophysician would risk the roads tonight. The bridge over Glen Coric washed out this afternoon.”
“Then we go around,” Diana said with a conviction that surprised them both.
“In the dark? Inthisstorm?” The housekeeper’s voice rose with alarm. “Your Grace, that path is treacherous even in good weather. One wrong step and ye’ll tumble into the ravine.”
Diana felt her jaw tighten with determination. “Then I won’t take a wrong step. Mrs. MacLeod has three children under five years old, and if she dies tonight because we were too frightened to act, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“But His Grace would never allow–”
“His Grace isn’t here,” Diana interrupted firmly. “He rode to Inverness this morning on estate business and won’t return until tomorrow. By then, it will be too late.”
Thunder crashed overhead, shaking the castle walls like a giant’s fist. Mrs. Glenwright flinched at the sound. Her face looked pale in the lamplight.
“Your Grace, please,” she pleaded. “The Duke would have my head if anythin’ happened to ye. Wait until mornin’. Surely the storm will pass by then.”
“Will it?” Diana moved to the window, pressing her palm against the cold glass. Beyond the courtyard, she could see trees bending nearly horizontal under the wind’s assault. “Look at this weather, Mrs. Glenwright. This isn’t a simple Highland squall. This is the kind of storm that lasts for days.”
“All the more reason to stay safely inside.”
“Safe?” Diana turned back to face the housekeeper, something fierce and protective blazing in her brown eyes. “What’s safe about letting a woman die when we might have prevented it?”
Mrs. Glenwright stared at her, clearly recognizing something in Diana’s tone that hadn’t been there before. “Your Grace...”
“Mrs. MacLeod delivered fresh eggs from her hens every week when I first arrived. She brought her youngest daughter to meet me. She welcomed me when others remained suspicious, and even brought her youngest daughter to meet me.” Diana’s voice dropped to something softer but no less determined. “I will not abandon her now simply because the weather is inconvenient.”
“But the Duke specifically instructed that ye’re not to leave the castle grounds without–”
“Without his permission, yes.” Diana began untying her wet cloak with brisk efficiency. “Well, he’s not here to give it, is he? And I refuse to let a woman die while we debate propriety.”
Mrs. Glenwright wrung her hands, torn between loyalty to her Duke and growing respect for his wife. “At least take someone with ye. Young Jamie knows the shepherd’s path well.”
“No.” Diana’s refusal was immediate and final. “I won’t risk anyone else’s life for my decision.”
“And what am I to tell His Grace when he returns?”
Diana paused in her preparations. The question was fair – Finn would be furious when he discovered what she’d done. But the alternative was unthinkable.
“Tell him I couldn’t live with myself if I’d stayed safe while Mrs. MacLeod suffered,” she said quietly.
Thunder rolled overhead, and lightning illuminated the kitchen windows in stark white flashes. Diana pulled the hood up over her head and stepped into the storm. The wind nearly threw her off balance, driving rain into her face with needle-sharp intensity. Diana bent her head against the assault and pushed forward toward the stables, her boots slipping on the treacherous cobblestones.
Inside the stable, she found Mr. Calder finishing his evening rounds. His weathered face creased with alarm when he saw her storm-soaked figure.
“Your Grace! What in God’s name are ye doin’ out in this weather?”
“I need a horse,” Diana said without preamble. “Your steadiest, most sure-footed mount. I have to reach the MacLeod cottage tonight.”
