Man In The Mist. Annette Broadrick

some homemade loaves of bread. I always make too much and I figured you don’t have much time for baking with all that you do.”

      Fiona picked up her cup and drank, needing something in her stomach. She couldn’t remember when she last ate. Cake wouldn’t have been her first choice for nourishment, but it was better than nothing. She suddenly realized that she was starved.

      “Thank you for finishing making the tea. I appreciate your bringing me the eggs and baked goods. It was very kind of you.”

      Sarah flushed with pleasure. “Well, you do so much for all of us, dear, that I felt it was only fair to give something back.”

      Fiona smiled. “I’m amply paid for my services, Mrs. Cavendish.”

      Sarah waved that comment away. “Nonsense. You don’t charge nearly enough for the hours you put in. Why, Terese mentioned just the other day how you stayed with her two boys until whatever they had released its grip on them. I don’t know how you do it. You perform miracles every day.”

      “Not at all. Remember my father was a physician and I’ve had training in the medical field.”

      Sarah raised her brows. “He didn’t teach you about all those things you grow in the garden that you turn into tea and ointments, now, did he?”

      “No, he didn’t,” Fiona admitted with a smile.

      “I attended additional classes to learn the medicinal qualities of the herbs I use. I find natural remedies to be a great help in healing.” She rose and brought the teapot to the table. She filled both cups once more before she reseated herself and tasted the pound cake. It absolutely melted in her mouth. Why not, she thought, with all the sugar and butter used in it. She could feel her arteries clogging with each bite.

      The two chatted for several minutes before Sarah glanced at her watch. “Oh, my, I hadn’t realized the time. I need to start back while there’s still some light.”

      They both stood. “Thank you again for all the goodies,” Fiona said. “I can already see the weight I’ll gain, but I must admit it will be worth it.”

      Sarah laughed. “Nonsense. You’re a skinny little thing and you know it. It would do you no harm to put on a few pounds.” With an arch look, she added, “The laddies do enjoy a curvaceous lass, you know.”

      Not that again. Every woman in the village was determined to play matchmaker for her, whether she wanted one or not.

      She walked Mrs. Cavendish to the front door. When Fiona opened it, Sarah took a step forward and paused. “I’m getting more and more forgetful in my old age, I declare. I meant to ask you when I first arrived. Whose car is that? As soon as you opened the door, I completely forgot.”

      “Well,” she began, “I…uh—”

      She was interrupted by the sound of coughing coming from the guest bedroom. Despite being flustered by the need to explain Greg’s presence, she was relieved to hear his cough sounding much better.

      Sarah’s eyes rounded. “My goodness. Someone sounds really sick in there. I didn’t realize you had a patient or I wouldn’t have kept you so long.”

      Fiona smiled. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do need to prepare more tea for that cough.”

      Sarah nodded. “Well, I won’t keep you. Is your patient from the village? I don’t recognize the car.”

      “Um, no. No, he’s not. He’s from—”

      “He? You have a man in your house? Oh, my, Fiona, do you think that’s wise? You should have called one of us and we could have come to stay here with you.”

      “That wasn’t necessary, Mrs. Cavendish. He has been much too sick to be a threat to anyone.” It was unfortunate that she should recall at that particular moment his hand caressing her breast. She knew her face turned red at the memory.

      Mrs. Cavendish never missed a thing. She nodded her head with a knowing smile. “Oooh, it’s that way, is it? Well, I won’t keep you.” She turned away and strode rapidly toward the lane.

      Fiona closed the door. McTavish stood in front of the stairwell with a plaintive expression. “Yes, I know you’re starving to death as we speak. Let me check on our patient first, then I’ll feed you while I’m making more tea for him.”

      She peeked into the bedroom and saw that Greg was still asleep. She walked to the bed and studied him. His color was much better than it had been, his fever had come down and his breathing no longer sounded labored.

      Greg was officially on the mend. It was time for a light meal to help him regain his strength.

      McTavish followed her into the kitchen. She fed him and let him outside before quickly preparing some porridge and dry toast. Before she finished, McTavish scratched at the door to return inside. “Oh, so you’re back on guard duty, are you?” she asked in a low voice.

      McTavish gave her a doggy smile and lifted his paw.

      She shook her head ruefully. She wasn’t certain who was in charge of whom in this household. She glanced up in time to see Tiger sashay through the doorway. No doubt the timing of his entrance was staged as a reminder that he was king of this particular castle.

      He sniffed his bowl and looked around, his expression speaking volumes. “All right! But you’re a long way from starving, mister.”

      After feeding Tiger, she placed Greg’s meal on a tray and went down the hallway. Fiona balanced the tray with one hand and tapped on the door with the other.