The Surgeon's Baby Bombshell
Page 16
She’d hardly slept since she’d received the news last week. The journey here had been arduous—where were decent connections when you needed them? Victoir had bombarded her with information she’d had no hope of getting her head around but she knew she had to. And then the dark, the bang, the shock and the loss of blood. She was overtired, overwrought, drugged and still in pain. And finally here was Leo, looking at her like she was something the cat had dragged in.
Leo, whom she’d once loved with all her heart.
She was buried under a wad of tissues but she needed more. She made a desperate swipe for the box but she didn’t connect.
And then a wad of dry tissues was tucked into her hand. The sodden ones were removed.
She could hardly thank him. She blew her nose again and struggled to stop the stupid tears.
Everything was shaking.
Stupid drugs. Stupid head. Stupid, stupid, stupid...
And then there was a heavy sigh and she felt a weight on the side of her bed. And arms came around her and gathered her into a warm, strong hug.
It needed only this.
The sensible part of Anna should react with horror. Sensible Anna should shove him away, tell him to take his prejudiced, judgemental self anywhere but here. The sensible part of Anna would...what? Walk out of here, bloodstained and woozy. Call Victoir to come get her?
But right now the sensible part of Anna wasn’t big enough to mount a coherent argument. The rest of her was mush, and that mush was being held fast by arms she knew.
She was being held against a chest she loved.
She didn’t love. She didn’t! But right now she needed. She let herself fold against him, feeling the strength of his arms, the warmth, the solidness.
He was wearing a clinical coat, a bit stiff. It felt okay. More, it felt good. Medicine and Leo, they were a solid combination of safety, surety. Home...
Where had that word come from? Home was England, the dogs, her village, her people.
She could feel his heart beating. Strong. Steady. Leo.
The shaking was easing. Whatever was happening, this helped. She had no strength to draw away and she didn’t want to. Drug-free medicine... A hug...
She let her mind stop its useless spinning and focus on just being held.
By Leo.
There was no pressure. He didn’t push her away, even as her sobs subsided. He simply sat and held her, letting her take as much time as she needed to get herself back together.
Letting her take as much comfort as she needed.
And she did need it. She didn’t want to draw back.
This was an illusion, a memory of times past, a comfort that shouldn’t be any kind of comfort at all.
Oh, but he felt...
‘Dressing tray.’ The female voice... Maria’s?...came from the doorway. And then there was an apologetic reaction as the nurse saw what was happening. ‘Whoops, sorry, back in a moment.’
‘It’s okay.’ Finally—to her regret—Leo pulled back. ‘Bring it in, Maria. Anna, are we all right to get these stitches in?’
‘I... Of course.’ The tears were gone. She was bloodstained, puffy-eyed and mortified, but somehow she hauled together what was left of her rag-tailed dignity. ‘Stitches and then twelve hours of obs and I’m out of here.’
‘That’s what we both want,’ Leo said, and, comfort or not, the old resentments surged back.
This man was her treating doctor. She needed him to help her. He’d comforted her with a hug.
She still wanted to slap him.
Copyright © 2019 by Marion Lennox
ISBN-13: 9781488048258
The Surgeon’s Baby Bombshell
First North American Publication 2019
Copyright © 2019 by Denise Chavers
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