The Summons
by
Jo Barrett
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Summons
COPYRIGHT © 2008 by Jo Barrett All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by RJMorris
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History
First Faery Rose Edition, 2008
Published in the United States of America The water felt so good. She needed this soak.
Standing on her feet for twelve hours was too much.
“Wish I’d thought of grabbing a glass of wine before I climbed in,” Lindsay muttered, easing deeper into the steaming water. She really needed to cut back her schedule at the hospital. Maybe she could get Beverly to swap her for Sunday. Then she’d have a long weekend.
She snorted softly at the thought. When had two days become a long weekend?
“It doesn’t matter. A break is a break,” she said, soaping her body with a lavender scented gel.
Tomorrow she’d talk to Beverly and then see about getting her schedule changed. She didn’t need to work extra hours, she didn’t need the money.
“But you don’t have anything else to do,” she said with a sigh as she hung the washcloth over the spout. “No close friends, no male friends, nobody.
But nursing is fulfilling. It’s all I need,” she lied, as she lay back and closed her eyes.
Although rewarding, the work was often grueling. She enjoyed helping people, but sometimes, times when she couldn’t help people, it hurt. And lately there was an awful lot of hurt.
Her thoughts rambled from one case to another until the painful images began to fade and she dozed.
“The water has grown cold, lass.”
With a small screech, Lindsay sat bolt upright in the tub and covered everything she could with her hands. She would’ve snagged her washcloth, although it wouldn’t have helped her much, but it had disappeared, as had everything else. She was no 1
Jo Barrett
longer in her bathroom, but in what looked like a castle bedchamber.
“Doona fash yerself, lass. You’re safe with me.”
The thick brogue brushed across her skin following the heated path of his fingers. Across her cheek, down her neck, and perilously close to her breasts.
She sank down deep into the chilly water.
He chuckled low adding to the goose bumps already dotting her skin.
“I’m dreaming,” she said. “That has to be it.”
Why else would she suddenly find herself in an antique tub with a very big, very handsome Scot eyeing her like his favorite dish?
He unfolded his large body from the chair sitting by the wooden tub and stood. “Hmm, a dream think you? ’Tis an interesting way of looking at it.”
“Yes, a dream. Of course,” she laughed, not too pleased with the faint hysteria lacing her voice. But the room, the chill air, the cold water, it all felt so real. “I-I fell asleep in the tub, and you’re from that romance novel I flipped through at work the other night when things finally slowed down. Yes, that’s it.
The hero was a Scottish laird or something. I just dreamed you up, all tall, dark, and—sexy.”
He laughed softly. “Thank you, lass. Glad I am that you like my countenance,” he said with a slight bow then turned and crossed the chamber. “As to the other, aye, I am A Scot, but I am no laird.”
“Oh. Well, the laird part isn’t what’s important,”
she admitted. His handsome face, big tone body, long dark hair, and unbelievably piercing green eyes were more than enough. He’d fit into any girl’s dream
by
Jo Barrett
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Summons
COPYRIGHT © 2008 by Jo Barrett All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by RJMorris
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History
First Faery Rose Edition, 2008
Published in the United States of America The water felt so good. She needed this soak.
Standing on her feet for twelve hours was too much.
“Wish I’d thought of grabbing a glass of wine before I climbed in,” Lindsay muttered, easing deeper into the steaming water. She really needed to cut back her schedule at the hospital. Maybe she could get Beverly to swap her for Sunday. Then she’d have a long weekend.
She snorted softly at the thought. When had two days become a long weekend?
“It doesn’t matter. A break is a break,” she said, soaping her body with a lavender scented gel.
Tomorrow she’d talk to Beverly and then see about getting her schedule changed. She didn’t need to work extra hours, she didn’t need the money.
“But you don’t have anything else to do,” she said with a sigh as she hung the washcloth over the spout. “No close friends, no male friends, nobody.
But nursing is fulfilling. It’s all I need,” she lied, as she lay back and closed her eyes.
Although rewarding, the work was often grueling. She enjoyed helping people, but sometimes, times when she couldn’t help people, it hurt. And lately there was an awful lot of hurt.
Her thoughts rambled from one case to another until the painful images began to fade and she dozed.
“The water has grown cold, lass.”
With a small screech, Lindsay sat bolt upright in the tub and covered everything she could with her hands. She would’ve snagged her washcloth, although it wouldn’t have helped her much, but it had disappeared, as had everything else. She was no 1
Jo Barrett
longer in her bathroom, but in what looked like a castle bedchamber.
“Doona fash yerself, lass. You’re safe with me.”
The thick brogue brushed across her skin following the heated path of his fingers. Across her cheek, down her neck, and perilously close to her breasts.
She sank down deep into the chilly water.
He chuckled low adding to the goose bumps already dotting her skin.
“I’m dreaming,” she said. “That has to be it.”
Why else would she suddenly find herself in an antique tub with a very big, very handsome Scot eyeing her like his favorite dish?
He unfolded his large body from the chair sitting by the wooden tub and stood. “Hmm, a dream think you? ’Tis an interesting way of looking at it.”
“Yes, a dream. Of course,” she laughed, not too pleased with the faint hysteria lacing her voice. But the room, the chill air, the cold water, it all felt so real. “I-I fell asleep in the tub, and you’re from that romance novel I flipped through at work the other night when things finally slowed down. Yes, that’s it.
The hero was a Scottish laird or something. I just dreamed you up, all tall, dark, and—sexy.”
He laughed softly. “Thank you, lass. Glad I am that you like my countenance,” he said with a slight bow then turned and crossed the chamber. “As to the other, aye, I am A Scot, but I am no laird.”
“Oh. Well, the laird part isn’t what’s important,”
she admitted. His handsome face, big tone body, long dark hair, and unbelievably piercing green eyes were more than enough. He’d fit into any girl’s dream
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