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"Oh, Dr. Stillwell, what can we do? You have to save him." She started sobbing and the hiccups began.

"I will certainly do what I can for Nicholas, but if you come down ill, who will help Amanda, or Nicholas, through this crisis?" This time, the doctor gave her a stern look, and she knew he was right.

She nodded her head several times in agreement, and held her breath to stop the hiccups. When the doctor held out a hand, she took it and he pulled her to her feet. Together they walked over to the bed.

"Mrs. Jeffrey explained briefly what happened. Do you have any idea how long Nicholas was in the water?" Thomas became very professional as he asked questions and probed Nicholas's legs.

For the first time since the accident, she actually became aware that Nicholas wore only a nightshirt, his legs bare, the covers thrown back. Even when she had been tending him, she hadn't thought about anything except making him well. She blushed now as she watched Thomas examine him. After all, they were Nicholas's bare legs.

"Miss Eastman?"

"Mmm? Call me Jaci." She answered automatically.

"Well, all right. You don't appear embarrassed being at a man's sick bed, so I assume you will help Mrs. Jeffrey take care of Nicholas?" His words were hesitant, but she heard neither acquiescence nor condemnation in his voice.

"I'll do whatever needs to be done." She felt stronger, now that the doctor was here, although he had yet to comment on Nicholas's condition. "Will he be all right?"

Thomas shook his head. "I don't know. We have much to learn about the human body. Just when we learn to diagnose, some poor specimen betrays us and dies, or survives, despite our best efforts." He gave her a weak smile, but she saw the grave concern for his friend in his gaze.

"You appear to have some skill at nursing, as his skin feels normal to the touch. The nerves below the surface are another matter, and may take time to recover from such trauma. I have no doubt, though, that he'll develop a fever, in which case you might need Mackey or Selkirk to help keep him in bed."

He snapped his bag shut. "I'll leave some medication. We won't know what damage was done until he wakes up and tells us." Handing her a bottle, he turned back to his friend, placing his palm on his chest once more. "Get well, my friend. I'll have to think hard to come up with something that can possibly outdo you on this one."

Jaci didn't understand the significance in his remarks, but panicked when she realized he was leaving. "Don't go! What will happen if he does get a fever? How long before we know something?" The idea of taking care of Nicholas, the idea of not being capable of doing so, quickly overwhelmed her.

"You and Mrs. Jeffrey will do fine. Many a time she's had to take care of Nicholas and me when we got into trouble well over our heads." He smiled at the older woman who once again hovered over the still form on the bed. "Besides, there's little more I can do for now, and I have an anxious lady and a most worried husband waiting for the delivery of their first child. Where Nicholas is in little danger of further damage, George's trials have only begun."

"I'll walk you down the stairs." She needed to move; needed a breath of fresh air.

"Someone must get word to his brother, Cameron," she stated at the door, although she was actually thinking that someone in the family needed to be here to be in charge.

"I took care of that before I came out. The minute Sam came to my house, I sent a servant down to the dock master. If he's not already on the way back, they'll track him down and relay a message as fast as possible."

* * *

Night had fallen by the time she bid the doctor good-bye. She walked out to the kitchen and helped Delta prepare a tray which she took back upstairs to Nicholas's bedroom.

"Any change?" she asked Mrs. Jeffrey as she set the tray on the small table by the window.

The housekeeper shook her head.

"Here; have something to eat." Jaci set out two bowls of soup and a plate of fresh bread.

With a tired sigh, Mrs. Jeffrey sat down at the table with Jaci. "How does something like this happen?" The woman shook her head sadly.

Jaci reached over and patted her hand. Sounding more confident than she felt, she said, "He'll come around, as hard-headed and feisty as ever."

* * *

She lived to regret her words when, three days later, they were still fighting Nicholas as his fever raged. He would be calm, though unconscious, for hours at a time, before suddenly flinging the covers aside. His eyes would be open as he ranted and raved about anything and everything but he didn't see her, and no amount of soothing words stopped his rampage.

After the third such episode, one of the men always remained close, either in the room or right down the hall, for neither Jaci nor Mrs. Jeffrey could hold Nicholas down when he decided otherwise. She doubted he would have hurt either of them, but she knew he didn't realize what was happening.

He did, however, seem calmer when she sat with him, speaking in a soft voice, though her words didn't always make sense even to her. After one such fever episode, she noticed that no matter how much he thrashed about the bed, he wasn't moving his legs. It was only his upper body that moved.

"I'm not at all sure the cause," Thomas frowned in answer when she asked him about it on his visit. He poked and prodded along Nicholas's leg, then lightly ran his finger up the sole of his foot. Not one toe curled in response. "His legs are normal in color and warm to the touch. I no longer fear gangrene, but until he becomes conscious, I can't tell you more."

For Jaci, that meant waiting, however long it took. Amanda came to keep her company, but the poor child grew so sad seeing her uncle lying helpless on the bed that Jaci tried to find other things to keep her occupied. While she sat with Nicholas, Molly would play with Amanda, Mackey took her for horse rides in the barn, and the twins even rounded up the kittens and brought them up to the house one afternoon.

If Jaci wasn't with Nicholas, she spent time with Amanda, reassuring her that her uncle would be fine, that it wasn't her fault, and that her father was on the way home. What little sleep she managed came from exhaustion when she would unintentionally fall asleep in the chair by Nicholas's bed or on the couch by the fire in his room.

Tonight she dreamed that he was finally awake and fully recovered. He called her name and she ran to him, hugging him in a tight embrace and kissing him with abandon. Other sounds intruded, but she blocked them from her mind in her joy to have him back with her. It took her fatigued mind long minutes to realize that she no longer dreamed, and that the noises came from across the room where Nicholas lay.

Scrambling to her feet, she rushed to the side of his bed to find his eyes open. He struggled to sit up, but when she reached forward to prop him up with more pillows, he pushed her away.

"Leave me." His voice, harsh from disuse, grated on her already frayed nerves.

"No, you need me."

"I don't need anyone. Besides, you haven't seemed especially blessed in any of the other domestic areas. When did you learned the art of healing, and how the hell do you expect to help me?"

"You're feverish," she commented, reaching out to touch his brow. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed. "Get out!"

She knew it was the pain and fever talking. She didn't know if he had tried to move his legs. She assumed he had and was having difficulty. That would explain his tantrum, and she simply refused to listen.

Mandy had called her plenty of names when punished for wrongdoing, and she found that to be a good parent you had to be consistent and tough-skinned. She decided she would have to treat Nicholas the same way.

In a no-nonsense manner, she moved back by the bed and straightened the bed covers and poured him fresh water. She felt him watch her and her hands shook.

He was right: she knew nothing about taking care of a sick person. All she had ever done was pick up the phone and call their family doctor. But no one here wanted to be in charge. Selkirk and Mrs. Jeffrey both looked to Nicholas anytime something went wrong. Now, until he was better, he would have to put up with her.

She moved to the hearth and started to add a log to the fire.

"Don't. It's hotter than hell in here now. Do you want to burn the house down?"

She turned back to him and noticed he had thrown the covers off and his face now looked flushed. She moved to his side and wet a cloth with cool water. He fought against her placing it on his forehead, then finally gave a ragged sigh of resignation and threw an arm over his eyes to shut her from his vision.

His action reminded Jaci of hide and seek with Amanda. She had stood in a corner as plain as day and covered her eyes with her hands, thinking if she couldn't see Jaci, then Jaci couldn't find her. Now she was sure Nicholas thought the same, although she didn't understand why he was so determined to hide from her help.

She changed the cloth on his forehead. "Does that feel better? When I'm sick, I know--"

"You don't know anything about it." His hot breath fanned her cheeks as his anger swept across the short distance between them. Flashing silver eyes, the color of a storm cloud, defied her to tell him different.

"You're right; I don't know how you're feeling right now. But I do know about the little boy who peed on his mother's flowers because he had heard his father say the ground was too piss-poor to grow anything." His eyes widened at her language, and the fact she knew this about him, but she still saw the anger.

"I also know about the young boy who took a whipping for his little brother when he left the gate open and the horses got out."

"Why are you doing this?" He choked out the question, his anguish tugging at her heart.

"I want to know where that spunky boy is--the one who could bear anything for his family. Where's the man with a smile for everyone, who treats Amanda with the love of a father--the one who embraces life? Where is he?" she demanded.

There was a long silence as Nicholas glared down at his legs lying uncovered on the bed, not a muscle moving in either of them. He raised his gaze to her, the anger so intense Jaci took a step back.

"He drowned in that pond."

Nicholas turned his head to the wall, and Jaci knew she would not reach him now. She watched in silence as his eyes drifted closed and his breathing became shallow. At least this time it would be a natural sleep; a sleep that would make him well--she prayed.

* * *

Loud cursing followed the crash of shattering glass. Shaking her head in resignation, Jaci started up the stairs.

"This has got to stop," she muttered to herself. It had been over a week since the accident, and Nicholas wasn't improving. He still couldn't move his legs, and each day he became more surly. To a point, she didn't blame him, but he didn't have to take it out on the staff.

As she reached the door to his room, Selkirk came out, carrying a dustpan with shards of broken glass piled high. The smell of whiskey was strong. That was another problem she supposed she would have to deal with, since no one else appeared capable of taking charge.

"I'm sorry, miss," Selkirk said, shaking his gray head. He seemed to have aged in the past week and she knew Nicholas's illness was taking its toll. Selkirk was the only one Nicholas would allow near him to tend to his personal needs, but at the same time he verbally debased the poor man.

"None of this is your fault, Selkirk, so please quit saying you're sorry." She straightened her back and decided that, regardless of circumstances, she would have to make Nicholas see reason. After all, what could he do? Fire her? And even if he did, he couldn't enforce his dictates. Perhaps that would make him mad enough to get well. She grimaced at the unpleasantness she was sure awaited her behind the door.

Patting the butler's arm, she cautioned him. "No matter what you hear in the next few minutes, do not come up here." At his attempt to interrupt, she repeated herself. "Don't come up, do you understand?" She captured his gaze and held it. Only after he nodded his head in agreement did she release his arm from the death grip she had.

Pasting a smile on her face, she pushed open the door and entered the lion's den. "Nicholas, you must stop badgering the help. Poor Molly and Mrs. Jeffrey won't even come up here anymore. What's to happen if Selkirk decides to remain in the kitchen with everyone else?" She chattered gaily as she crossed to the windows and pulled back the curtains, letting in the wintry morning light. She didn't look at him yet, for she knew if she did, her resolve would weaken. The sight of him lying helpless on the bed always did that.

"Get out." Two hostile words were all she got in return.

"You know I won't do that." Although it might appear improper, Jaci was the only one Nicholas allowed to touch him, even though she knew he hated every minute of exercise she provided because it continued to bruise his ego. He yelled and cursed at everyone from the lowest stable lad to Selkirk. If he told them to get out, they obeyed, for he was still the master of his household. She simply refused to pay any attention.

"You're letting your hair grow." The unexpected comment, couched in softer tones than his usual bellow, spun her around.

She gasped at how rough he looked. His face had become much more lean, his cheekbones more prominent, his silvery eyes deeper set. A dark shadow of a beard covered most of his lower face. Apparently he hadn't allowed Selkirk to shave him before he had thrown his tantrum.

"You are, too," she commented, for his hair looked as wild as the north wind and quite as unruly.
Yes,
she thought,
it was definitely time to take charge.

She stopped at the wardrobe and grabbed a clean nightshirt. "Here, put this on while I get the lotion." She handed him the shirt, but instead of taking it, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer. Her heart beat faster.

"Why don't you put it on for me?" In other circumstances, she would have gladly complied, but his voice wasn't seductive. It was a sneer, and she knew he only tested her.