The Doctor and the Princess

by Scarlet Wilson

  ‘Sullivan?’ She nudged him with her elbow.

  He started. ‘Sorry, what?’

  Her smile spread. She raised her eyebrows. ‘You were staring.’

  It was a statement that sounded like a bit of a satisfied accusation. Nothing could dampen the sparks that were flying between them.

  He could feel them. She could feel them. He’d been here less than twenty-four hours. How on earth would he manage a whole two weeks around a woman like Gabrielle Cartier?

  He was still getting over the wonder of actually feeling...something again. There had been a number of women over the last three years—but no relationships. He wasn’t in a relationship kind of place. But now he could feel the buzz in the air. It felt alive around him, pulling him from the fog he’d been in. Gabrielle Cartier was like the freshest air that had swept over his skin in the last three years.

  Two weeks could be perfect. It was just long enough to be familiar with someone but not long enough for any expectations.

  He smiled back. ‘I wasn’t staring.’

  ‘Yes, you were.’

  He nudged her back. ‘I wasn’t. I was contemplating life.’

  She laughed. ‘I don’t even want to take a guess at what that means.’

  She was right. She didn’t. But he couldn’t stop staring at that smile.

  She glanced at the notes. ‘How about we see these two patients now? It doesn’t really work well if the two doctors are seeing patients together.’ She took a hesitant breath. ‘We just have too many patients.’

  He nodded carefully. ‘I get it, you don’t like having to teach the rookie.’ He shrugged. ‘Ten minutes. That’s all. Then hopefully I won’t need to ask for a second opinion again. I’ll be confident to make the diagnosis myself.’

  He wasn’t joking. He would be confident. Sullivan had never needed to be shown anything twice in his whole career. He’d embraced the doctor’s motto of see one, do one, teach one.

  Gabrielle’s gaze narrowed a little. She gave a quick nod. ‘No problem.’

  * * *

  The next few days passed quickly. Every time she turned, Sullivan Darcy was at her back. Or maybe it just seemed like that.

  He hadn’t exaggerated. He picked up things quickly. He’d diagnosed more patients with non-pulmonary TB. He’d adjusted antibiotic regimes for patients who were struggling with side effects. He’d spent hours and hours with patients with the dual diagnosis of HIV and TB.

  His only tiny flash of frustration had been with a young child who was suffering from appendicitis. They had no real surgical equipment in the field. No theatre. No way to sterilise the tools that would be needed for surgery.

  The nearest hospital was four hours away across a dry and bumpy road. Finding transport was a problem. All they could do was give the child some pain relief and a shot of antibiotics in the hope it would stave off any potential complications before sending him off in the back of a worn-out jeep. As the jeep disappeared into the distance Sullivan kicked an empty water canister clean across the camp, his hands balled tightly into fists.

  She watched from a distance.

  There was something about him that was so intriguing. Ask him anything medical and he could talk for ever. Ask about training placements, hospitals, work colleagues and experiences with Doctors Without Borders and he’d happily share all his experiences.

  But ask about his time in the army or his family and he became tight-lipped. And there was something else Gabrielle had noticed about Sullivan Darcy.

  He had the same skill that she’d developed over the years—the art of changing the subject. She’d recognised it instantly. And it intrigued her.

  Had he noticed the same skill in her?

  It was late. The sun was starting to set in the sky. They’d stayed much later at this site. It was one of the furthest away from their camp—which meant that the people in this area rarely saw medical staff. It made sense to do as much as they possibly could while they were there.

  There was a noise to her left and she looked up. The heat of the day rarely dissipated and she’d undone the first few buttons on her shirt and pulled it out from her trousers. One of the tribal leaders had emerged from behind some scrub trees and was scowling at her.

  There were a few other men behind him, all talking rapidly and gesturing towards her.

  She glanced around. Lucy and Gretchen were nowhere in sight. Estelle was at the other end of the site, loading their transport. In the dim light it was difficult to see anyone else. Their local translator had already left.

  The tribal leader strode towards her, gesturing and talking loudly. She’d almost baulked when Gibbs had refused to leave the female staff alone on the mission. But the truth was there had been a few incidents when a traditional tribal leader had refused to allow the women access to their tribes.

  It had only happened twice. But Asfar Modarres had played a vital role in negotiating access to the people suffering from TB.

  The tribal leader marched straight up to her face, his voice getting louder by the second. She quickly started tucking her shirt back in. No skin around her waist had been on display, but it was clear that something was making him unhappy.

  The rest of the men crowded behind the leader. She swallowed. Her mouth was instantly dry.

  In the distance she could see Estelle’s head jerk up, but Estelle was too far away to offer any immediate assistance. Gabrielle had never been a woman who was easily intimidated. But she’d never been crowded by a group of angry men. The others had started to fan out behind their leader, surrounding her on all sides. Her automatic reaction was to start to step backwards, trying to maintain some distance between her and them.

  Any Narumbi words that she’d picked up from the interpreter flew from her brain. ‘I’m a doctor. Wh-what do you want?’ She could only stammer in English.

  The tribal leader poked her in the shoulder with one finger. It wasn’t a violent action. But that one firm poke was enough to make her stumble over her own feet and thump down onto the ground, a cloud of red dust puffing around her.

  The noise came from behind. It wasn’t a shout. It was a roar. She recognised Sullivan’s voice instantly, although she had no idea what he’d just said in Narumbi.

  All the men looked up immediately. She could hear the thuds and a few seconds later the men were pushed roughly aside, several landing in the dust like she had.

  Strong hands pulled her up roughly. She hadn’t even had time to catch her breath. One arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder, pulling her close against his rigid muscles. The words were flowing from his mouth in fury.

  She didn’t have a clue what Sullivan was saying, but it was clear that the men could understand every single syllable. The tribal leader looked annoyed for a few seconds and tried to answer back. But he was stopped by the palm of Sullivan’s hand held inches from his face.

  Sullivan’s voice lowered. The tone changed. Became threatening. A kind of don’t-even-think-about-it message emanating from every pore in his body. She could feel the vibrations coming from his chest, shoulders and arms. But Sullivan wasn’t shaking through fear or intimidation. She knew straight away he was shaking with rage.

  It was a whole new side of him. She’d seen the cheeky side. She’d even seen the flirtatious side. She’d seen the professional side, his willingness to adapt to a situation outside his normal expertise and practise effectively.

  Now she was seeing something else entirely. This was the man who’d served in the military. This was the man who left her in no doubt about how vested he was in protecting the people he worked with. Part of her had felt a little resentful when Gibbs had told her he was sending a man to work with them. Right now, she’d never been so glad that Sullivan Darcy was right by her side.

  The palm of Sullivan’s hand hadn’t moved. He was stil
l speaking in his low, dangerously controlled voice.

  The men exchanged nervous glances. It didn’t seem to matter that Sullivan was outnumbered. His tall, muscular frame and no-nonsense approach left no one in doubt about his potential.

  The tribal leader shook his head and muttered, casting a sideways glance at Gabrielle again. After what seemed like an endless silence—but must only have been a few seconds—he spun around, his cloak wide as he stamped back off into the scrub.

  Her chest was tight. She hadn’t even realised she was holding her breath until Sullivan released the firm grip on her shoulders and blocked her line of vision.

  She jolted and gave a shudder. Sullivan crouched down, his face parallel with hers. ‘Gabrielle, are you okay? Did they hurt you?’

  His hands were on her, pushing up the sleeve of her shirt, checking first one arm and then the other. He knelt down, reaching for her trouser leg.

  She grabbed his hand. ‘Stop it. Don’t.’

  Every muscle in her body was tense, every hair on her skin standing on end.

  His dark green eyes met hers and she saw a flash of understanding. She was still gripping him tightly, her knuckles turning white.

  He put his other hand over hers and rubbed gently. It was comforting—reassuring. The thud of other footsteps sounded. It was Estelle, quickly followed by Lucy and Gretchen. ‘Gabrielle? What happened? Did they hurt you?’

  She could hear the panic in their voices.

  Her eyes were fixed on Sullivan’s hand rubbing hers. A warm feeling was starting to spread up her arm. She sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs and trying to clear her head.

  Sullivan seemed to sense the tension leaving her body. He kept hold of her hand but straightened up, glancing around at the other women.

  ‘Have you finished packing up? I think it would be a good idea to make the journey back to camp now. It was a misunderstanding. A language thing. He misunderstood something that Gabrielle had told his wife. He was unhappy and was angry when he realised she couldn’t speak Narumbi. We’ve done all we can do here today. I’ll need to file a report.’

  Gabrielle licked her dry lips. She was the leader of this expedition. The decision when to pack up and go back to camp had always been hers. Normally, she would be offended but this time she didn’t feel slighted at all. She just wanted a chance to get back to camp and take stock.

  ‘We’re ready,’ said Gretchen quickly. ‘I’ll drive.’

  She was decisive. Gabrielle gave a nod and walked over to where her backpack and laptop were. The rest of the staff spoke quietly to each other as she climbed into the back seat of their custom jeep. She wasn’t surprised when Sullivan climbed in next to her.

  She waited until the engine had been started and the barren countryside started to rush past. ‘What did you say to them? What had I done to upset him? What did I say to his wife?’ she asked quietly. She wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t sure that she could. She fixed her eyes on the horizon. Thoughts of the language barrier were spinning around in her head. She hated it that she hadn’t understood a single word out there. It had made her feel like a complete and utter failure.

  Sullivan reached over and put his hand on her leg. Some people might think it was too forward an action but somehow she knew it was only an act of reassurance. ‘He was unhappy because his wife had told him you’d given her a different medicine for the wound on her leg. She’d been using something that his mother made—some kind of paste. You said she had an infection and needed antibiotics.’

  ‘That was it?’ She was frustrated beyond belief. ‘That woman had a serious infection in her lower leg. If I hadn’t treated it, there’s a chance she could lose her leg.’ She replayed events over in her head. The consultation with the woman. The altercation between Sullivan and the tribal leader.

  He pressed his lips together. ‘I said exactly what I should say. I told them their behaviour was shameful. We were there to help them and everyone in their tribe. I told them if the women around me didn’t feel safe, we wouldn’t be back.’

  This time she did turn her head and narrow her gaze. He looked her straight in the eye.

  ‘Is that your poker face?’

  He frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘Is that your poker face? I might not speak Narumbi, but I don’t think that’s exactly what you said,’ she replied carefully.

  His steady gaze hadn’t wavered. He was good at this. She’d have to remember that.

  He licked his lips, his first tiny sign of a release of tension.

  ‘Then it’s just as well you aren’t fluent in Narumbi,’ he said promptly.

  He lowered his voice. ‘I won’t allow you—any of you—to be treated like that.’ He sighed. ‘I understand that we’re in a different country. A different culture means different people. I respect their views. But if they’re hostile towards you, or threaten you...’ He squeezed her thigh and looked her straight in the eye. Last time she’d been this close they’d been alone in the tent when he’d arrived. The light had been much dimmer. This time she could see the intensity of the deep green of his eyes dotted with tiny flecks of gold. ‘...I’d fight to the death,’ he finished.

  She gulped. He meant it. She didn’t doubt for a second that he absolutely meant it. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered as she shifted in her seat. How come he could look at her unflinchingly one second and tell her only a version of the truth, then the next the sincerity in his eyes could take her breath away?

  She looked down at her hands. ‘I hate not being in control,’ she said quietly. ‘I hate the fact that things can slip so fast, so quickly.’ She shook her head. ‘If I could have spoken the language I could have explained.’ She tugged at her shirt. ‘Or maybe he didn’t like my clothes.’

  ‘Stop it.’ His voice was firm. ‘Gabrielle, you and the rest of the women in the team are appropriately dressed. His mother is the head woman in their tribe. He thinks you insulted her expertise.’ He put his hand on his chest. ‘It’s a different culture. Women in their tribe aren’t really treated with much respect. Maybe that bothers him? Maybe he’s more modern than he seems—so the thought that someone questions the respect his mother holds made him angry.’

  He leaned forward and touched her cheek. ‘You made a clinical decision. You’re a good doctor, Gabrielle. If you hadn’t given his wife antibiotics it’s likely she would lose her leg. And I’ve told him that. In no uncertain terms. Give yourself a break. Their behaviour was unreasonable.’

  He settled back into his seat and folded his arms. ‘And I told them that too.’

  For the first time since it had happened she gave a small smile. ‘And a whole lot more too.’

  She saw him suck in a deep breath. His gaze hadn’t faltered from hers, but she could tell he was contemplating his words.

  ‘I’ve grown a little fond of you. I’d hate anything to happen on my watch.’

  She felt a prickle go down her spine. Was this good or bad?

  Part of her wanted to smile. It was almost an acknowledgement of the mutual attraction between them. But part of it sounded a bit over-protective. Sullivan couldn’t know, but she’d deliberately left that part of her life behind. Being a doctor and working away from Mirinez gave her the freedom she’d never experienced as a child. It wasn’t like Mirinez was some kind of superpower. It was a small country but prosperous—mainly due to its tax haven status. But her great-grandmother had been a film star, which had put Mirinez firmly on the media map.

  She glanced at the others in the jeep. Estelle, Lucy and Gretchen were chatting amongst themselves in the front. They weren’t listening to Sullivan and Gabrielle’s conversation at all. The jeep had moved quickly. Even though the road was bumpy they were far away from the site of the camp today. What’s more, she felt safe around Sullivan. Now he was sitting right next to her she finally felt as if she
could relax. She bit her lip. ‘Well, I might have grown fond of you too, but I’m not your responsibility, Sullivan.’

  He only smiled. That was the annoying part of him. That darned confidence. Over the last three years she’d found it common amongst the medics who’d served in the army. Maybe she was even a little envious of it. She had felt vulnerable today—and she hated that.

  ‘I’ll take that under advisement,’ said Sullivan smartly. He leaned forward and whispered, ‘We’ve only got another week to go. Then it’s back to base. How long have you got before you’re back on another mission?’

  There was an intense twinkle in his eye. He’d already admitted he was fond of her. Headquarters were back in Paris. All staff that arrived back had a few days debrief, then, unless people were rushing back to see their families, there was usually a few days where they would let their hair down before everyone dispersed to their next mission.

  She licked her lips. ‘I might have around ten days. I’m not sure where I’m going next. Gibbs hasn’t told me yet. What about you?’

  Mad thoughts were already flashing through her head. Ten days in Paris with Sullivan Darcy? Now, that could be fun.

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘I haven’t committed yet.’

  ‘You haven’t?’ She was surprised.

  He shook his head. ‘I have a few things I should really take care of back home.’

  She straightened up. ‘What kind of things?’ He’d never mentioned a family back home. And he’d been flirting with her. Just like she’d been flirting back. He didn’t wear a ring. But if he suddenly mentioned a Mrs Darcy he would see a whole new side of Gabrielle Cartier. She just wasn’t that kind of girl.

  He let out a long slow breath and looked away. ‘I really should take care of my father’s house. He died a few years ago and I’ve been too busy working to get around to clearing it out and sorting through his things.’