She turned and hurried to the house while they followed more slowly with the injured man.

Morwenna opened the door and stood back. Shayne and Bobby staggered toward it, and paused in the doorway, catching their balance.

She looked at Bobby. "Well, this will be different," she said softly. "I can't help but wonder just who in the h.e.l.l we've invited in for Christmas?"

Chapter 2.

"What 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.

"This 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.

"Oh, 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.

"Hey!" Mike protested. "Bleeding, in the snow, in the middle of nowhere? How the h.e.l.l did he get here? How do we know he's not an escaped convict or ma.s.s murderer?"

"That'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.

"Dad?" 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."

"Of 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 grat.i.tude 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."

"I'm on it," Bobby said. He turned and exited by the front door.

"Don'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.

"Good, 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 G.o.ds. 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. "Hey, it's all right. You're all right. We're the MacDougal family. We found you outside in the snow. Do you know who you are? Do you know what you're doing up here? You're hurt."

"Morwenna," Shayne said. "One question at a time for the poor man."

The stranger struggled to sit up and winced. Shayne pressed him back down by the shoulders. "Don't try to get up yet. Let's see how you do. Someone hit you good."

He eased back for a minute, closing his eyes again. "Yeah, someone hit me good. Um...my name is Gabe."

They all looked around at one another. "I'm Gabe," he repeated. "Gabe Lange." He winced, and opened his eyes again. "Could I possibly have some water, please?"

"Water, of course," Stacy said, and turned toward the kitchen.

"Move slowly, and when the water comes, take your first drink slowly," Shayne instructed.

Stacy returned quickly with the water. Morwenna thought that actually, it must have been pretty scary for him to open his eyes, to find all of them looking down at him as if he were an unknown wounded creature they had dragged in.

But, then again, he was.

She glanced at Bobby, who seemed to be a step ahead of her. "Hey, urchins!" he said to Connor and Genevieve. "Let's give your dad the doc some s.p.a.ce. I need some help upstairs with presents."

"But...is that guy going to be okay?" Connor asked.

Genevieve's little lips were trembling. Morwenna turned toward her niece. "Yes, of course, my darling. Go on up with Uncle Bobby. The nice man just needs some rest." She glanced at Shayne. Was that all he needed?

"Come on, Lady Niece, Lord Nephew!" Bobby said.

The kids followed him up the stairs.

Morwenna suddenly found herself thinking all kinds of horrible thoughts. He wasn't all right; he was bleeding internally, and he was going to die on her mother's sofa on Christmas.

She lowered her head quickly. What a horrible concept! A man's life could be in the balance, and she was thinking that his death might affect their Christmas!

The stranger's gaze was on her when she raised her head again. A small smile tugged at his lips as if he had read her thoughts. "I'm strong, really. I'm feeling better already."

"Well, lie still until I've gotten that wound cleaned up," Shayne said firmly.

Gabe winced when Shayne laced the wound with disinfectant, but he didn't let out a sound. "The thing is, you probably do have a concussion," Shayne told him. "You'll need to be careful."

"One of us can stay with him and keep an eye on him," Stacy said.

"I'm going to call an ambulance," Mike told her, speaking up. "Any objections?" he asked. He wasn't speaking to the stranger; he was looking at his wife, daughter and son.

"Not to an ambulance," Shayne a.s.sured his father. "What the heck happened to you?"

"Obviously, he got into a fight!" Mike jumped in, his voice harsh.

"I'm with the Virginia State Police," Gabe said. "I was after a man. He eluded me."

"Gabe Lange, with the Virginia State Police?" Mike demanded. Her father sounded as if he was interrogating a prisoner of war. Maybe, in his mind, he was.

"There's nothing to worry about," Gabe a.s.sured them. He looked at Morwenna and grimaced. "I was an idiot. I let him get away. But I crawled up here before I pa.s.sed out. I'm sure that he's long gone. In fact, I'm afraid that he's long gone."

"I'll call that ambulance," Mike said, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. He stared at Gabe while he dialed. Nothing happened, and he frowned at his phone: "3G, 4G-10G! I don't care how many Gs you have, the d.a.m.ned things never work in some places. They're all full of it. Wenna, you're on a different carrier-try your phone."

"Okay, Dad, let me just see where I dropped my purse," she said. She had dropped it inside, hadn't she? Maybe not.

"I think it's outside," she said.

"Morwenna Alysse MacDougal!" her father said. "What have I taught you about-"

"Hurt guy on the sofa, Dad," Morwenna said. "You always told me that human life was worth more than anything I could possibly own, remember?"

He scowled at her. She hurried outside. She had dropped her purse somewhere out there. It took her a few minutes, but she found it and walked back in the house, pulling her cell phone from it as she did so.

"What number do you want me calling?" she asked.

Mike MacDougal looked at their uninvited guest. "Nine-one-one, of course."

She dialed. She looked at the phone-it, too, said that she was out of range. "Sorry," she told him.

"Well, what the h.e.l.l is going on?" Mike demanded. "We always have decent satellite coverage up here."

"Dad, calm down-it might be the storm," Shayne told his father.

"Try your phone, Shayne," Mike insisted.

Shayne sighed. He was standing again; he'd patched up Gabe Lange's head nicely, and there was color returning to the man's cheeks. He did look well enough to sit up. He might be entrenched on the couch with her blanket warming him, but she did think then that he must be wet and freezing beneath the covers.

"No bars, Dad. No coverage. It's one h.e.l.l of a storm brewing up," Shayne said.

Mike snapped his fingers. "Let me see if I can get them out here online!"

He headed for the computer in his office, just down the hall from the stairway.

"Thank you," Gabe told Shayne. "Thank you for patching me up-a stranger on your doorstep."

"Hippocratic oath," Shayne said, grinning. "We're not supposed to trip over the injured and ignore them."

"If I hadn't fallen where I had...if you all hadn't seen me..." Gabe said.

Mike came storming back in from the office. "The G.o.dd.a.m.n cable is down!" he said irritably.

"Mike! It's Christmas. For the love of G.o.d-watch your language!" Stacy said. "Mom, Dad, please, both of you!" Morwenna murmured.

"Dad, you don't need the cops anyway-he is a cop," Shayne said.

"Likely story!" Mike said.

"Mike!" Stacy gasped.

"Dad!" Shayne and Morwenna said in unison.

They didn't deter their father at all. He turned on Gabe Lange. "I have a shotgun in this house, and I know how to use it. I'm a district attorney in Philadelphia, young man, and I know my way around crooks. And if you're a cop, where's your gun? Eh? Where's your uniform?"

"My gun was lost quickly-I try never to use firearms. Innocent people get hurt as often as the bad guys, so it seems. But, yeah, I carry a weapon. Now it's gone, somewhere in a bush halfway up the mountainside," Gabe said. "Look, sir, I'm not here to hurt anyone, I swear it!"

"And so the devil swears!" Mike muttered, and walked away.

"Sorry, the lawyer side of my husband is always angry. But he's a really good man," Stacy told Gabe Lange. Then, she suddenly thrust her hand forward. "I'm Stacy, my husband is Mike. Your real live doctor is Shayne, and this is our daughter, Morwenna. She's an artist and advertising exec. She took business as well as art. Don't you think that was incredibly smart? She is able to use her talent and keep a job, and-"

"Mom!" Morwenna said, interrupting her quickly. She glared at her mother, meaning, Let's not just air the family laundry.

"He doesn't need a dossier on all of us!" she added and laughed to soften the statement. "To finish the introductions in the family, my little brother is Bobby, and Shayne's kids are named Connor and Genevieve. Welcome to our home for Christmas. I'm so sorry about what happened to you. Won't your family be worried?"

Gabe looked away from her for a moment. "I have a huge extended family, but my immediate family wasn't expecting me. They'll be fine without me-there's a lot of work that goes on tonight. I'm grateful that you've taken me in."

Shayne squeezed his shoulder. "I would be happier if you were in a hospital," he said.

Gabe pushed back the blanket and sat up, despite Shayne's protests. "I'm not even dizzy anymore. I swear," he said. "I'm not sure I'd want to hit the ring for a few bouts or anything, but I'm doing fine."

"Then sit."

"I'm sitting," Gabe said.

His teeth began to chatter.

Shayne brought out his little light, and told Gabe to follow the beam. He inspected their guest's eyes with a serious expression, then let out a sigh and shrugged. "Your pupils are showing no signs of a possible problem."

"He's fine, but he's freezing," Morwenna said. "He must be soaked."