‘Are the kittens all right?’
‘The kittens?’ He struggled to find his voice and force his mind to focus on something other than anticipating the pleasure of making love with Kate. ‘Um, yes, they’re fine. They’ve had a mad run around and a good supper and were asleep when I left.’
His gaze followed as she moved around the room, collecting her things. He couldn’t forget how she had felt in his arms, how she had tasted that day in the car park when passion had raged between them. How could she deny what they had? She had been as aroused as him, urgently pulling at his clothes, rubbing herself on him as her body had sought the fulfilment they had both craved. He wanted her so badly it was a physical ache. And now he had to spend the evening with her dressed like that and not touch her? No way was he going to survive this. And no way was any other man laying hands on her. Nic could be trusted for a couple of dances but that was it. Whether she liked it or not, he was staking his claim on Kate and woe betide anyone who tried to move in on his territory tonight.
Kate collected her jacket and bag, checking she had her mobile in case of emergencies, and turned to face Conor, halting at the raw expression in his sultry green eyes. It was hot and sexy and scarily intent. Hell, she had known this outfit was a mistake. Having braved the subject with Aileen and been told several members of the surgery staff would be attending the dinner with their partners, Kate had found herself at the address Hannah had given her and been taken under the wing of Moira Montgomery, the elegant, middle-aged woman who owned the select clothes shop. She had fallen for the shimmery trouser suit the second she had seen it. On the rail it had looked classy but once on her eyes had widened in alarm when she had looked at herself in the mirror.
‘I don’t think I should wear this,’ she had breathed, concerned it was too revealing.
‘Nonsense, lovey,’ Moira had insisted, fussing around her. ‘You look magnificent. It could have been made for you.’
Now every millimetre of her flesh tingled under Conor’s inspection. His obvious hunger was exciting yet scary, but she was even more frightened by her own response, the rush of desire she was unable to control. Burning with arousal, she could imagine the whisper of his touch on her skin, the caress of his hands, the taste of his mouth, and her pulse rocketed, her breath lodging in her throat. He looked impressive but unfamiliar in his dark grey suit, white shirt and grey tie. Having disapproved of his style of dress when she had first met him, she now couldn’t adjust to him wearing anything else, acknowledging how the casual clothes suited his personality. His hair was semi-tamed but still flopped across his forehead. Her fingers itched to brush it back. What she really wanted to do was rip his clothes off and never leave there tonight at all.
Alarmed at the dangerous electricity sizzling between them, she turned away and fussed with her jacket, thankful when she was covered up.
‘Shall we go?’ she suggested, her voice crisper than she’d intended as she struggled to hide her reaction and fragile self control.
Conor found his protective and proprietorial instincts were well to the fore when he escorted Kate out of the flat into the dark evening to the car. He feared the journey would seem a long one and not just because of the wet and windy weather. Initial attempts at conversation, even with safe topics like Lizzie or the kittens, soon fizzled out, which was unsurprising given that the atmosphere between them was charged with tension and desire. Glancing across at her, he noted that her hands were clenched in her lap and, along with his physical hunger, he experienced a deepening need to watch over her. Suddenly troubled, he remembered his conversation with Kyle, his instinct that if and when Kate let go of the pain inside her the fall was going to be a big one. A shiver rippled down his spine and he was alarmed by the inexplicable feeling that something important and life-changing was about to happen. Affected by the charged atmosphere, he flicked on the CD player, hoping the background music would help fill the deafening silence and help them relax. Hands tightening on the wheel, he focused on negotiating the narrow lanes in the difficult conditions, trying to shrug off his unease and push his jumbled thoughts to the back of his mind.
‘Hell!’ he exclaimed, bringing the car safely to a halt as they rounded a bend to find the road blocked by a serious accident. He turned to Kate, his hand resting on her arm. ‘You OK?’
‘Fine.’
Her gaze was fixed on the scene and Conor’s attention shifted, too, as blue lights from an attending fire engine, ambulance and police car reflected off the wet road in the darkness of the evening.
‘I’ll see what’s going on,’ he said, aware Kate was following as he left the car.
It took a moment to make sense of the tangled mess but it appeared a tractor pulling a trailer had crossed the road. A car coming round the bend had seen it too late and the collision had impacted the vehicle under the trailer. Firefighters worked with obvious urgency on the wreckage and Conor could see one paramedic inside the remains of the car. His colleague was running from the ambulance towards the crash site, carrying some equipment.
Recognising the paramedic, Conor joined him. ‘What’s happening, Ally?’
‘Conor. Thank God.’ Ally looked stressed and anxious. ‘We’re in a hell of a mess here, Doc. Ten-year-old boy trapped by his leg in the car. We have fluids up. Airway clear, no head injury. But he’s deteriorating fast and he’s in shock; his BP is dropping, he’s pale and cold. The trapped leg looks non-viable, but we can’t access it or the other leg. We fear massive internal bleeding following blunt trauma to his abdomen after the rapid deceleration—could be spleen, liver, bowel, anything. The fire service are working as fast as they can but they can’t get him out for some time. And there’s a major incident elsewhere taking up much-needed personnel. We have no road assistance or air ambulance coming here sooner than twenty minutes. That’s far too long. We need him out. Now. Leg or no leg. But none of us have surgical skills.’ Worried hazel eyes stared at him. ‘He’s going to die if we don’t do something in a hurry.’
Before Conor could reply, he heard a moan of distress and turned to see that Kate was just behind him. Her face was deathly pale and, as she swayed, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close, feeling her trembling.
‘Kate? What’s wrong?’
She didn’t appear to hear him. He looked into her eyes, alarmed at the look of stark anguish in them. Ignoring him, she turned to Ally, licking her lips and sucking in a deep breath before could speak, her voice rough and shaky.
‘Capillary refill?’ she demanded.
Ally shot him a querying glance and Conor nodded, not understanding but going along with any idea she might have to help. ‘This is Dr Kate Fisher—she’s working with us at Glentown.’
‘Very prolonged,’ Ally informed her, answering her rapid questions, and Conor listened to the brisk conversation, knowing that if it took six seconds or longer for the skin to turn pink after being pressed, as the blood refilled the capillaries, it was a dangerous sign. As Ally had indicated. ‘He’s top priority, immediate extraction.’
Which meant they had to get him out and off to hospital without any more delay. Another glance at Kate’s face and Conor noticed her unnatural pallor, her lips bloodless. But her eyes had changed, now totally blank of emotion and expression, as if she was shutting everything down inside her. It scared him. He remembered the times she had blanked out before but this was different. Worse.
‘I need gloves,’ she said as Ally’s succinct briefing came to an end, and continued to list things she wanted.
‘Kate, I don’t think—’ Conor began, but she was shrugging away from him, moving to the car as Ally rushed off to get what she had asked for. Anxious, Conor turned to her. ‘Kate!’
Before he could stop her she was throwing off her jacket and wriggling inside the car to examine the boy and talk to Dave, the other paramedic. Feeling helpless, Conor stood by the wreckage unable to hear what Kate was saying as the fire-fighters worked on, trying to cut the tangled metal
free and gain access to the trapped boy’s legs. Remembering where they were meant to be, he took out his mobile and sent a text to Nic to let him know they were helping at an accident scene and might not make it to the dinner. At least their friends and colleagues wouldn’t worry if they didn’t show. All the worry was his at the moment. For Kate.
Ally returned, handing the gloves and other things inside to Kate and Dave. ‘Any other casualties?’ Conor asked as they waited for Kate’s next move.
‘Tractor driver is in shock—one of the policemen has taken him home,’ Ally explained, pointing towards the nearby farmhouse. ‘The boy’s name is Russ. His father, Bryan, is in the back of the ambulance—shock and minor cuts and bruises.’
Kate’s starkly white face appeared at the gap where the twisted car door had been removed, that frighteningly blank look still in her eyes as she asked for ketamine, saline and other items. ‘And I need more light in here,’ she instructed, unrecognisable as the woman he knew.
When Ally had delivered the things Kate had requested, the fire crew stopped work. Kate calculated dosages and administered the ketamine through the IV to anaesthetise Russ, with Dave responsible for monitoring the oxygen and breathing. Once Russ was under, Conor held the light steady and observed as Kate used a tourniquet above the knee, then flushed the open, traumatic wound site with saline before she set to work.
‘Air ambulance less than fifteen minutes,’ Ally whispered to Conor.
He nodded, all his attention focused on what was happening in the car. ‘Right.’
‘Is Kate a surgeon?’
He opened his mouth to say no but closed it again, frowning. Did this explain the gaps in her CV? Maybe this was why she knew Professor Fielding-Smythe so well. Struck dumb, he watched as Kate carried out the impossible procedure with a speed and skill he could only marvel at. She didn’t even have the right equipment but she never hesitated, Dave and Ally doing exactly what she told them while he directed the light and watched in awe and confusion. If Kate had the training to attempt what she was doing now, why on earth was she working as a GP locum in their rural Scottish practice?
Fighting down the fear and the nausea, Kate tried to blank everything out and do what needed to be done. She had heard the words ‘He’ll die if we don’t do something in a hurry’ and she had known she had to act. No one else here could do it. She could. If she could find the courage. Too many people had died already. She couldn’t stand by and do nothing, knowing that if she had acted the boy might have had a chance. But she didn’t know how to make herself face it either.
Her first sight of Russ’s injuries had convinced her that the leg was not viable and, with his internal injuries and deteriorating condition, the seriousness of the situation was indisputable. Russ came out now or he died. He might still die, but this way he had a chance—if she could do it and if the air ambulance arrived on time.
Paralysing fear threatened to overwhelm her and she wanted to leave the car. To run. Again. She closed her eyes. The only way she could do this was to blank everything from her mind, operate, literally, on autopilot, forgetting the past, forgetting Conor.
Lying at an uncomfortable angle inside the wreck, her fingers feeling numb and lifeless, she worked on bones shattered beyond repair, tying off blood vessels, saving nerves and tendons, doing the best she could to preserve muscle and take enough viable skin for the surgeons at the hospital to work with.
When Russ was finally able to be removed from the car with the utmost care, they found his other leg had suffered a more minor open fracture and she welcomed help from Conor, Dave and Ally to treat the leg and maintain the boy’s fragile clinical condition.
By the time the air ambulance arrived, complete with an experienced trauma doctor on the crew, Russ was ready to go, critically ill but with a chance of survival he would not have had were he still trapped in the car with time running out. She gave her report to the attending doctor in a monotone, never more relieved to abdicate her care of a patient. While Conor and the others were occupied with the transfer, she slipped away, making it nearly as far as the car before reaction set in. Slumping to her knees on the ground, she was violently ill. Then the shaking started. Images and memories flooded her brain. It was too much. Self-preservation kicked in, something inside her switching off, closing her down.
‘Where’s Kate?’ Conor demanded.
‘Don’t know, Doc.’ Ally frowned. ‘I haven’t seen her since we began the transfer. She was awesome in there.’
Conor glanced round, unable to find her. Russ was safely installed in the air ambulance en route to the specialist help he needed—only alive thanks to Kate’s skill and quick thinking. Dave and Ally were clearing up and taking Russ’s father, Bryan, to hospital by road, while the firefighters and police were making the scene safe. Taking his leave, he picked up their discarded jackets and went in search of Kate, his heart pounding as his worry increased, his mind buzzing with questions. As he neared the car, he saw her slumped at the side of the road and he ran forward.
‘Kate!’
She didn’t answer. Kneeling down in front of her on the wet grass, he saw she hadn’t even taken her gloves off. She looked bedraggled, streaked with blood, and although her eyes were open, she wasn’t seeing or hearing anything. She was horribly pale, her body shaking, and she had a haunted look that scared him. Hating to leave her even for a moment, he eased off her gloves then opened the car, put their things inside and returned with a dry blanket. Wrapping it around her, he drew her into his arms and held her close, rocking her, feeling inadequate because he had no idea what was going on and how to help her.
‘Katy?’ he whispered, voice choked with emotion. She shivered but didn’t respond. He stroked the damp strands of hair back from her face and brushed his lips over her cold, pale cheek. ‘I’ll take care of you. Everything’s going to be OK.’
He hoped to God that was true. Rising to his feet, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the car, gently setting her on the passenger seat and wrapping the blanket around her before securing the seat belt. The drive to his house seemed to take for ever. Kate never stirred, just sat staring into the darkness, deep in one of her trance-like states. When they pulled up at the house, he left her in the car while he opened the front door and turned on the lights, then he went back for her, carrying her inside and up to his bedroom.
‘Can you stand for me?’ he asked, setting her on her feet in the en suite bathroom, holding onto her as she swayed. ‘We need to get you cleaned up and warm.’
Her beautiful trouser suit was ruined—wet, dirty, torn and covered in blood. Concerned for her physical well-being and emotional state, knowing she wasn’t fit to do anything for herself, he hid his own emotions and began gently stripping off her ruined clothes. She stood like a child while he helped her, his fingers unsteady as he slipped off her shoes and then moved to find and struggle with the side fastening of her one-piece outfit. He soon discovered why the fabric clung to her like a sheer glove—she was wearing virtually nothing underneath it.
This was going to kill him. No matter how much he told himself he was a doctor, that he had to do this for Kate’s sake, that it wasn’t personal, it was impossible to ignore his feelings. She was so incredibly beautiful.
Don’t look! He repeated the words over and over like a mantra in his head. Close your eyes, he told himself. It didn’t help. Not one bit. He tossed the garments aside and quickly followed them with his own, keeping his boxers on to maintain some propriety—not that Kate was in a fit state to care.
The most important thing was to get her warmed up and as it didn’t seem likely that she could stand safely on her own in the shower, much less wash herself, he needed to get in there with her. Maintaining as safe a distance between their bodies as he could, he drew her under the water, keeping his touch as impersonal as possible as he cleaned her, avoiding the most dangerous no-go areas. A frown creased his brow as he noticed a scar on her left side halfway between her hip and he
r lower rib, wondering what had caused it, remembering how she had held herself there, passing it off as a stitch, the day they had walked up to the Grey Man. In the circumstances he couldn’t look closely but from what he could see the wound wasn’t very old and hadn’t been professionally tended to when fresh. More unanswered questions jostled in his head. Frowning, he rinsed her hair with care then snapped off the shower. He wrapped a towel around her head then reached for another large fluffy one to encase her body before stripping off his wet boxers and knotting a towel around himself.
As she seemed more steady on her feet, he slowly walked her to the bedroom and sat her on the bed, drying her and swapping the towel for a large T-shirt before turning his attention to her hair, combing it through and drying it. When he finally tucked her into his bed, she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her hands shaking as they clutched the duvet. He was loath to give her any medication until he had a better idea what was wrong. Her pulse and her breathing were normal. This was something deeply emotional, part of the cracking process he so feared might happen if she didn’t release whatever inner pressure she was carrying. And she still hadn’t cried, was keeping everything buried inside her. He knew a little more now, at least in terms of the professional skills she had hidden, but not enough for any of the jigsaw pieces to fit and the picture to make sense. For a while he sat in silence, stroking her hair until she seemed to settle, some of the tension leaving her body, her hands relaxing their death-like grip on the duvet.
‘Kate, can you hear me?’ An imperceptible nod was his only answer, but at least a response was there, a sign she was emerging from the dark, lonely place in which she had shut herself. ‘Would you like a drink?’ Again the tiny nod. But his suggestion of water brought a negative shake. ‘Hot chocolate?’ This time the nod was firmer. ‘Just rest. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes, I promise.’
A Doctor Worth Waiting For Page 14
