Read My Highland Lord (Highland Lords) for Free Online

a friend who knows the inventor.”
    Phoebe’s gaze followed when he looked at Kiernan.
    “You know Nicho las Comins?” she demanded of Kiernan.
    “Not I, Miss Ballingham, my father.”
    “Now, if you don't mind,” Dr. Connor pried the stethoscope from her hands, “I will finish."
    The poking and prodding came to an end twenty minutes later with Dr. Connor’s instructions that Phoebe was not to move from her bed, and that her head was to remain elevated. “You took a nasty blow,” he admonished. “You’re lucky it didn't crack your skull wide open.”
    “Is that any indication of how hard the head is?” Kiernan asked.
    Dr. Connor chuckled. “It has more to do with luck. But it wasn't very wise.” He looked pointedly at Phoebe.
    “You would have done the same had this—this—”
    “This what?” Kiernan inquired.
    “ This man ,” she retorted. “If he had kidnapped you, you would have done the same.”
    “Kidnapped?” Dr. Connor’s attention riveted onto Kiernan.
    Kiernan shrugged. “The fall addled her brains.”
    “Kiernan,” the doctor began.
    “You remember Lord Stoneleigh?” Kiernan cut in.
    “Aye.”
    “Miss Ballingham is his special guest.”
    Comprehension lit the doctor’s eyes and Phoebe knew Lord Stoneleigh's reputation as a womanizer had preceded him even here , in the wilds of Scotland.
    The doctor snapped his bag closed and rose. “Remember,” he said in a stern voice, “you're not to get out of that bed today. I'll see you tomorrow.” He started for the door.
    “Doctor,” Phoebe cried.
    He turned. “Yes, Miss Ballingham?”
    “You aren’t going to leave me here?”
    “You can't be moved, young lady,” he replied in a kindly, but firm voice. He looked at Kiernan. “Inform Lord Stoneleigh she isn't to be moved until I give permission.”
    “I'll see to it, Connor. Thank you for coming.”
    Phoebe watched, mouth agape, as Kiernan escorted him to the door. Dr. Connor exited, and Mather entered.
    “I am returning to Edinburgh the moment I recover,” Phoebe burst out.
    “Don't excite yourself,” Kiernan said.
    “Cease this foolishness,” she snapped.
    “I'm not the one who jumped from a moving carriage,” he replied.
    “I am not Heddy, I tell you."
    “Who might you be, then? Cleopatra?”
    Phoebe stiffened. I will seek recompense for this, Heddy , she telepathed. “For a man who thinks so little of the lady, you are going to a great deal of trouble to keep her in your company.”
    A smile twitched one corner of his mouth. “A man has a right to change his opinion.”
    Phoebe cut her gaze to Mather. “Sir, do you write?”
    “Aye, Miss.”
    “Fine. Be so good as to fetch paper and pen.”
    “Miss?”
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She shook her head in exasperation. Her vision blurred and she pressed the fingers of her right hand to her temple.
    “Heddy?” Kiernan demanded.
    “You are to write a letter for me,” she ordered Mather.
    Mather looked at his master.
    “Do you intend to inform your other…er, friends that you are no longer at their disposal?” Kiernan asked.
    “Nev er mind, Mather,” Phoebe said. “I will not require your help after all.”
    Kiernan made a tsking sound. “You're going to keep the poor fellows hanging?”
    “All I need from you, Mather,” she went on, “is an address.”
    “An address?”
    “Yes. One I am sure you have.”
    “I know very few addresses,” Mather hedged.
    “I'm in need of only one address. I must—no, it is my duty—” she pinned him with a hard look “—your duty, as well, to inform this person’s father of his dishonorable actions.”
    Mather paled and satisfaction surged through her.
    Kiernan took the two steps to her bed and squatted down face level with her. “Miss Ballingham, I have been far more honorable than I would have preferred. I assure you, my father would agree.”
    Phoebe blinked, aware of a frustrated heat rising to her cheeks. Her head began to pound. “Please leave,”