The Doctor's Daughter

By Chris Kalyta

In 1812, Lieutenant Lawrence Orr is defending the Canadas from an American invasion. Grievously injured, he finds himself falling for the two women tending him. Will he choose the doctor's daughter, a beautiful and enthusiastic young woman who matches him socially? Or will it be her thoughtful and lovely maid?

"A beautifully descriptive treat for lovers of historical fiction. Set during the Battle of Queenston Heights during the war of 1812, it captures the period with clarity and emotion. A simply stunning read." ~ Gemma Parkes, UK

"The Doctor's Daughter juxtaposes a beautiful love affair with the turbulence of the War of 1812. Fans of historical romance will savor every word!" ~ Cindy Jacks, Washington, DC

• Language: English
• Publisher: XinXii
• Release date: Dec 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9780987392039

Chris Kalyta

Chris Kalyta is the pen name for a Canadian writer of erotic and non-erotic fiction. His story settings are historical, science fiction, fantasy, in the modern world, or any combination of these. Whatever the genre, his stories tend to be adventures, and sometimes have elements of romance or horror. Chris writes for personal enjoyment, so his ebooks tend to be inexpensive. He lives in Ontario with his amazing wife and two wonderful kids. In 2017 I intend to publish some new ebooks which will likely include an erotic sci-fi series (of approximately a dozen ebooks eventually) about Minx, an interstellar bounty hunter and her sexy adventures and an erotic historical series taking place during the War of 1812. Others will follow as time allows. I hope you find something that you enjoy reading!

Book preview

THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER

Copyright © 2013 by Chris Kalyta

ISBN: 978-0-9873920-3-9

Cover Photo by Irina Afonskaya.

Printed and bound in Australia.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Q~Press Publishing

Yellow Silk Dreams edition

Published February, 2013

Author’s website: www.chriskalyta.ca

E-Book Distribution: XinXii

www.xinxii.com

THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER

Chris Kalyta

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank ‘catbrown’ for her suggestions and her hard work in editing this story.

I would like to thank my love, whose support and encouragement made this book possible.

Lastly, a thank you to all the historians and re-enactors, both Canadian and American, who have done so much to keep the War of 1812 from being forgotten.

Prologue

This story is set during the War of 1812. The Battle of Queenston Heights has just taken place as the story begins.

For those unfamiliar with the conflict and the time, Canada did not exist as a separate nation and the lands north of the United States were still under British control. Britain did not want the war, as they were busy dealing with Napoleon in Europe. Many Yankees and Canadians also did not want the war, as they had friends and family just over the border.

The Battle of Queenston Heights, in the Niagara Frontier, was the first serious attempt the Americans made to actually invade Canada during the conflict. The attack failed for many reasons, and the Yankees beat a hasty retreat back across the Niagara River. But the victory for Britain and Canada came with a heavy price: the death of Major-General Isaac Brock who had once been hailed as the only man who could save the Canadas from the Yankees.

I

There was an insistent banging on a door and my head throbbed painfully with the sound of each impact.

Open up! We need the doctor! shouted a male voice.

I let out a long groan. My wounds no longer hurt, but every loud noise was agony. How had I become drunk? Searching my memory, I could find no recollection of any alcohol. I remembered charging up the hill, with the Americans firing at my men and me. I remembered the war whoops of our native allies. I remembered running past the General’s corpse and I let out another long groan.

There was a burst of light. My eyes were closed, but I could still see the light through my eyelids. I waved at the light as if to somehow push it away.

He’s drunk, said a woman scornfully.

Well, he needed something to kill the pain. He was hit by musket balls in the arm and in the leg, explained the man’s voice.

A drink will dim the pain, but a bottle will make him bleed! Let’s hope you haven’t killed your officer, then.

I felt them drag me across the floor and set me, none too gently, on some large flat surface. I drifted in and out of consciousness.

Remove his clothes, soldier, ordered the woman. There were other sounds that I could not identify.

Uhm, miss?

I said remove his clothes. I have to clean the surgical tools so I can remove the musket balls and clean his wounds. Unless you prefer to operate on him? she asked imperiously. This was a woman who could take charge, I thought.

Uhm, no miss! Where’s the doctor? Someone in town told me that he lived here.

Father was taken to the battle to care for the wounded. I don’t know when he’ll be back. Now remove that man’s clothes so I can save his life, soldier!

I felt tugging, then coolness and then nothing.

II

There was a cool breeze upon my bare shoulders and face. Opening my eyes, I was surprised to find I was inside a house. I was lying in a comfortable bed and sunshine lit up the room, although none of it was shining directly on me. There were small portraits upon the walls, which I assumed were images of various family members of whoever owned this house. The wallpaper had a pleasant pattern that I was unable to identify. It was odd how little details jumped out at me.

I examined the other furnishings in the room without stirring. The room had the appearance of belonging to a well-to-do family. A portrait of the king on the wall told me that I was still in Upper Canada.

At least I wasn’t captured. I assumed one of my men had taken me into Queenston to recuperate from my wounds, but I could not hear muskets or cannon. There was a twinge, and then my leg throbbed painfully. My shoulder was sore as well, but other than that I just felt weak. I licked my lips, as I was very thirsty.

Oh, you’re awake, Lieutenant.

My eyes darted to the open doorway and I spied a vision with long, blonde hair and light blue eyes floating into the room. She wore a sky-blue dress and her delicate face showed much sympathy for my condition.

Definitely not on the American side then, I thought.

We were so worried you wouldn’t survive when the fever took you. She placed her palm on my forehead and shook her head, making her hair swish back and forth pleasantly. You still have a bit of a fever, sir, but I daresay that you will be well by tomorrow.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my tongue was too dry, as was my throat.

Now you shush! You’re in very good hands, Lieutenant. And I think you’ll find that the ladies of Upper Canada can take care of brave officers who lead charges against heavily fortified Yankee positions. Rest and we’ll soon have you ready to rush back to battle. But, before you leave you’ll have to tell me all about your adventures, she added with a sparkle in her eyes and a mischievous smile on her lips.

She leaned over, kissed me briefly on the forehead and then seemed to float out of the room.

I licked my lips again and tried to call out for water, but no words escaped my mouth. I drifted off into sleep where I dreamed of a cool stream that flowed near the manor of my boyhood. My elder brothers and I had often gone swimming in the sections that pooled, but on this day I lay on the bank and drank up as much of the refreshing liquid as I could.

III

I awoke around dawn. The room was lit with a pale glow that gave all surfaces in the chamber a ghostly, luminous look. For a brief few seconds I wondered if I had succumbed to my wounds, but my throat was just too dry for me to have shuffled off my mortal coil, as the bard wrote.

I slowly pushed myself up to a partially sitting position and looked about. There was a glass of water off to my left, on a nightstand. Acquiring the treasure either meant stretching out with my wounded left arm or rolling over on to my wounded left leg to reach it with my right hand. I felt unprepared for either option, so I lay back down and examined the room again.

It looked just as before, except the room was darker.

After a few minutes, I sighed.