An Angel for Christmas Read Online Free Page A

“Well, this will be different,” she said softly. “I can’t help but wonder just who in the hell we’ve invited in for Christmas?”

Chapter 2
    â€œWhat in the name of—” Mike MacDougal began, hurrying into the parlor as his sons stumbled in with the bleeding stranger.
    Morwenna looked at her father; she was worried about what they were doing, herself, but to avoid a family argument over Shayne’s absolute determination to be a physician at all times, she waved a hand in the air.
    â€œThis guy was out there hurt, Dad,” she said. “We have to help him.”
    Stacy, drying her hands on a dish towel, came hurrying into the parlor as well.
    â€œOh, no! The poor man. Get him onto the sofa, Shayne. Oh, he’s bleeding! I’ll get a clean washcloth and warm water. I’ll—” Stacy began.
    â€œHey!” Mike protested. “Bleeding, in the snow, in the middle of nowhere? How the hell did he get here? How do we know he’s not an escaped convict or mass murderer?”
    â€œThat’s what I said, Dad,” Morwenna replied, setting a hand firmly on his chest. “But your son, the physician, refused to allow anyone to bleed to death. Now, Dad—move, please!”
    Mike groaned, staring at the man on the sofa. “If you saw everything that I saw, you’d be more careful,” he said.
    â€œDad?” Shayne said.
    Genevieve and Connor appeared in the kitchen doorway—just their little heads popping out.
    Morwenna hurried toward them. “Hey, little ones. Want to do me a favor? Run upstairs to my bedroom and bring me one of the pillows off my bed. And a blanket, huh? Can you do that?”
    They both nodded at her gravely. “Don’t worry,” Connor told her. “My father will help that man.”
    â€œOf course he will,” Morwenna said.
    She went into the kitchen. Her mother was already filling a basin with warm water; she walked to the pantry and found a stack of fresh linens. “Mom, can I take these?”
    Her mother glanced at her. “Of course! You can take anything. The guy’s bleeding!”
    Stacy was ready with the basin. Morwenna grabbed the towels and they returned to the parlor. Shayne nodded his gratitude and took the basin and the towels. “Looks like he took a good wallop to the side of his head…and there, on his temple. I’m going to need my bag. It’s still in the car.”
    â€œI’m on it,” Bobby said. He turned and exited by the front door.
    â€œDon’t just hover!” Shayne said, looking up at Morwenna and his parents as he began to dab carefully at the stranger’s wounds. “I think he needs to breathe, too, you know?”
    They all stared blankly at him for a minute, and then took a step back.
    The kids came clunking down the stairway, bearing a blanket and pillow.
    â€œGood, good, let’s get his head propped up,” Shayne said. He glanced at his sister, perhaps surprised she’d asked that one of her pillows be used for the cause.
    She shrugged and watched her older brother as he moved the stranger’s head carefully. “His vital signs are growing stronger. I think the blow weakened him and the cold did the rest,” he told them. “Of course, I can’t make sure he hasn’t suffered any serious head trauma until we get him to a hospital.”
    The stranger stirred. By now, Shayne had washed away the little trails of blood that had streaked down his face.
    It was a good face, Morwenna thought. Nicely chiseled, a bit like the statues she’d seen of Greek and Roman gods. Except, of course, he had a slightly more rugged appeal. Actually, he was a very nice-looking stranger.
    And still a stranger! she warned herself.
    They needed him out of their house.
    His eyes flew open as she entertained that thought. He was looking straight at her.
    She was surprised when she knelt down and touched his cheek.