Six Sexy Doctors Part 2 (Mills & Boon e-Book Collections): Posh Doc Claims His Bride / Surgeon Boss, Surprise Dad / Children's Doctor, Society Bride / ... His Bride / The Rebel Surgeon's Proposal

by Anne Fraser

  Seeing the words in print was like a betrayal that cut to the heart. How could he have done that to her?

  Looking back at the article, her gaze was drawn to the last few lines.

  Nothing has yet been stated about the future of services at Castle Park Hospital. The paediatric A&E unit is under threat of closure, with the probability that the paediatric wards, maternity and obstetric-gynaecology wards will also be withdrawn. A spokesman for the Trust said, ‘We are still looking into the viability of keeping these units open. Proposals will be put before a public meeting to be held at the Town Hall on Saturday.’

  She threw the paper down onto the table. Viability? What did that mean? It sounded very much as though her unit was in as much danger as ever. Had nobody listened to what she had been saying? Did the views of the parents whose children might have died if they hadn’t been treated in her A&E department count for nothing?

  James had given her a ray of hope when he’d suggested how she might turn the board around, but it had faded into oblivion when he’d used her ideas to further his own ends. He didn’t care about helping her to keep what was as dear to her as if it were her own flesh and blood, no matter that it could save the lives of countless children, and he surely didn’t care for her. If he had any feelings for her at all, how could he have stood back and let this happen?

  She was still angry and bewildered when she went back towork the next morning. Nothing could take away the bitter taste in her mouth when she thought about what James had done, or failed to do. He was a member of the board, a well-respected man, and he could surely have swayed them to reconsider if he’d wanted to.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve arrived,’ Alice greeted her when she walked into the central area. ‘It’s been non-stop here for the last two hours. I was beginning to think we would need to call on agency staff to help out.’

  ‘What’s been happening?’ Louise frowned. ‘Not another traffic accident, surely? We’ve had a few of those lately.’

  ‘More an influx of domestic accidents,’ Alice said. ‘And then there was a little boy who nearly drowned in the lake near to the country park. We managed to resuscitate him, and he’s in the observation ward now.’

  ‘I’ll go and take a look at him. How is he doing?’

  ‘I think he’ll be fine, given time. His heart rate was erratic for a while and his blood pressure was falling, but he started to mumble one or two words, so James is hopeful that there’s no brain damage.’

  ‘That does sound encouraging, at least.’ She looked around. ‘Is James with him now?’ She wasn’t at all sure that she was ready to face him just yet, but duty meant that she had to act in as professional a manner as was possible.

  ‘No, he’s with a two-month-old baby right now. The infant had a history of vomiting and diarrhoea over the last few days, and he appears to have gone into shock. The last I heard, James was struggling to put in an intravenous line because the baby’s circulation was closing down.’

  That wasn’t good news, and Louise glanced quickly at her list of patients before deciding that she could spare the time to go and see if he needed any help.

  ‘I heard that you were having trouble,’ she said as she went to stand beside him by the baby’s cot. The infant wasn’t moving, and showed no recognition that he knew anyone was there.

  A glance at the monitor showed her that the baby’s heart rate was over two hundred beats a minute and his blood pressure was extremely low. James was giving him one hundred per cent oxygen because, as the infant’s circulation shut down, the oxygen would not be delivered to where itwas needed. ‘Is there anything that I can do?’

  He glanced at her. ‘You could do a blood glucose analysis for me. We’re short on nurses this morning. I’ve put an intraosseous line into his left tibia, and I’m starting to infuse normal saline. His distal pulses are absent.’

  ‘His blood glucose is only thirty,’ Louise said. ‘I’ll treat that right away.’

  James had infused the first bolus of saline, and now repeated with a second bolus. They waited to see if there was any change in the baby’s condition.

  ‘The heart rate’s down a little,’ James murmured after a while, ‘but it’s still high at one ninety. I’ll give him a third bolus of fluid.’

  Louise looked anxiously down at the infant. It was clear that the vomiting and diarrhoea had left him dehydrated, to such an extent that his life was in danger.

  ‘He moved a finger just then,’ James said, ‘and his foot twitched slightly. I think we must be making some headway at last.’ He glanced briefly at the monitor. ‘His heart rate is down to one-fifty.’

  ‘I think you’ve done it,’ Louise said in a quiet tone. ‘He’s on the road to recovery.’

  Her gaze meshed with his. ‘Perhaps in a few months’ time, when we’re no longer able to accept patients here, and you’re looking round your beautiful, well-equipped A&E unit at the Royal Forest Hospital, you’ll remember this child, and the little boy whose windpipe was blocked, or even the child who nearly drowned today. Maybe you’ll even feel a twinge of conscience that you did nothing to make sure that others like these had the same chance to cling on to life.’

  He frowned, his gaze narrowing on her, but she didn’t give him any opportunity to answer her because she turned away from the cot and walked out of the room.

  For the next few hours she looked after the sick children in her care and tried to forget that he was anywhere near her. James, for his part, was kept busy with one patient after another and when lunch time came he left for a meeting with the Trust board.

  Louise finished her shift and set off for home in the late afternoon. Coming back to Watermead House, with its fine gabled roof and backdrop of mature trees, usually had a calming effect on her, but today even the sight of the beautiful mellowed stone and latticed windows couldn’t lift the burden of sorrow from her. The scent of roses drifted to her as she stood in the porch and put her key in the lock of the front door, but that didn’t have its usual soothing power either.

  She let herself into the house and walked slowly through to the kitchen. James was a wonderful man in many ways—a skilled doctor, a caring brother and grandson, a light-hearted, teasing saviour to all those children who depended on him for their lives. Yet he could be blind to the innermost needs of those closest to him. How could he not have seen what was happening to his brother? How could she love a man who had no understanding of her dearest hopes and dreams?

  She flicked the switch on the kettle and then walked through to the oak-beamed lounge. The floor was finished in the same light oak, glowing softly with warm colour as the sunlight filtered through diamond-paned glass. In the centre of the room was a luxurious rug, woven from rich woollen fibres and shot through with shimmering threads of red, gold and green.

  Two deep latticed windows looked out onto the garden beyond, and now Louise sat on the cushioned window-seat and gazed out at the trees that edged the lawn. This was her sanctuary, where she could watch the breeze gently lifting the leaves and all her troubles would miraculously melt away.

  She sighed. That wasn’t going to happen today. Turning back to look around the room, she saw the painting that Joseph had given to her and once again she marvelled at its beauty. Joseph had been a good man. He had done what he could to ensure that children would receive the treatment they needed at the Royal Forest Hospital, and it was only right that James would continue in his footsteps.

  But why did it have to be at the expense of her unit? What would happen to her precious children in years to come?

  The doorbell sounded and she stood up and braced herself to go and answer it. It was probably the man, delivering fresh fruit and vegetables from the farm further along the lane. She frowned. Hadn’t he said he wouldn’t be making his usual delivery until the weekend?

  She opened the door, trying to summon up a smile and readying herself to exchange pleasantries with the man. Only it wasn’t him at all. James was standing in her porch, admiring t
he pink rosebuds that peeped out from among the leafy branches that scrambled over the trellised arch.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re home. I was hoping that we might talk.’

  She made a fairly good recovery from the shock of seeing him there, and lifted a brow. ‘That’s something new, isn’t it? You don’t seem to have been much in the mood for talking lately.’

  ‘Life has been getting in the way,’ he said. ‘There were a lot of things I needed to get straight in my head, and several problems I had to sort out.’

  ‘Yes, well, I dare say we all have problems of that sort at one time or another.’

  He inclined his head a fraction to one side, as though he was studying her. ‘I can see that you’re still upset with me over something. Does that mean you’re not going to invite me in?’

  Over something? Her eyes narrowed on him. Did the man not know where he had gone wrong? She might not have expected him to be successful in swaying the board, but he might at least have made some attempt to help her out. She loved him, longed for him to tell her that he loved her in return, and all he could do was follow the management line. He had thrown her to the wolves.

  ‘I suppose you had better come in, since you finally got around to deciding there was something to be said.’ Her mouth flattened. ‘I might as well hear you out.’ She stood back and waved him through to the living room.

  ‘Thanks. I appreciate that.’ He smiled, ducking down to avoid the low entrance, and followed her along the hallway.

  In the living room, he glanced around and admired the softly upholstered couch and ran his fingers over the antique writing desk that stood to one side of the armchair. ‘This is lovely,’ he murmured. ‘I see you have a bureau with the same detailed carving. It’s very intricate.’ ‘It is. I like it, so I searched the antique stores until I found what I wanted. I have some pieces with inlaid marquetry designs too. It’s such an exquisite skill to lay in different layers of wood and form a satisfying pattern from them, I think.’

  He nodded and turned to look at the picture of Watermead House, in pride of place on the wall beneath a gentle arch formed from the stonework. ‘That’s probably a very valuable piece, you know. I’m sure my grandfather knew that, and that’s why he wanted you to have it.’

  Her chin lifted. ‘Perhaps he did, but it’s not for sale. Your grandfather knew that its value was more than monetary. The picture’s a representation of this house, and it will be forever a reminder of your grandfather’s wonderful nature. I shall treasure it always.’

  His mouth curved. ‘I’m glad of that. I didn’t mean to imply that you should sell it. It simply occurred to me that you might want to have it insured at some point.’

  ‘Perhaps I will.’ Her tone was slightly mollified. ‘If there’s something you want to talk to me about, maybe you should sit down. I’ll go and make some coffee.’

  She waved a hand towards the couch and left the room briskly, hurrying along to the kitchen. She needed space, time alone so that she could catch her breath and adjust to the fact that he was here, in her house. He was so very normal, so much himself, when she was in pieces inside. She couldn’t fathom what he was doing here.

  Was he hoping to break the news to her before it appeared in the national papers that her A&E department was about to be shut down? Everything else in her world had gone wrong, so why not nudge the boulder and send the whole lot crashing down?

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  She pulled in a quick breath and whirled around to face him. ‘No, thank you. I can manage.’

  ‘If you say so, though I’m told I have a magic touch with coffee.’ He sent her a crooked grin. ‘It’s all in the way you add the cream, you know, pouring it over the back of a spoon so that it lies on top.’

  ‘Then, when you drink it, you get a milk moustache.’ Despite her best efforts to remain cool with him she couldn’t help herself. She stopped what she was doing and looked at him directly. ‘You seem to be in a good mood,’ she said. ‘That’s a little different from the way you’ve been acting these last few weeks. Has something happened? Has Robert come back?’

  He nodded, and came to lean against the cupboards where she had laid out a tray. ‘I sent him a few text messages, as you suggested, outlining the plans we have for the estate, and it seemed that he came to his senses at last. He came back last night. He wanted to go over everything with us and, from what I can gather, he’s pleased with all the projects we have in mind.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘I’m really happy for you. What sort of things have you come up with?’

  ‘Gemma’s keen on having open days where we might have pageants and country fayres, and allow people to view the house and grounds. She was thinking of opening up her studio on those days and presenting some of her artwork for sale. She had it in mind to branch out into ceramics. Robert was particularly taken with your idea of expanding the stables. We thought we might use part of the estate to show how farming was carried out in years gone by, with the old horse and plough, and we want to restore some of the ancient machinery for people to view.’

  Louise’s mouth curved. ‘I’m so glad that you’re all happy with how you want to go on. It must be such a relief to have Robert back with you, and enthusiastic about what you want to do.’

  ‘It is.’

  She checked the percolator and began to pour the coffee into cups. ‘Perhaps you’d better do your thing with the cream,’ she said. ‘Only I’ll add my sugar first.’

  ‘Will do.’ He added a generous helping of cream to each cup, and then sent her an oblique glance. ‘You were upset with me earlier today. When you had finished helping me with the boy who was suffering from dehydration, you made a comment about my having a twinge of conscience about the children who might not have the same chance in the future.’

  Louise sipped her coffee, more to give herself time to compose herself than anything else. She carefully licked the cream from her upper lip and when she saw that his glance followed the movement she immediately regretted it. His eyes held that same arrested expression that they had when he’d held her in his arms and kissed her passionately. It was a man thing, a pure sexual drive, and it had nothing whatever to do with love, did it?

  ‘I hoped you might come to realise that medicine is about more than creating super-hospitals and catering for needs on a large scale. There are individuals involved, people and children who are more than statistics, who will fall by the wayside if management has its way.’ She pressed her lips together. ‘But nothing has changed, has it? You still follow the management line.’

  He studied her thoughtfully for a moment or two. ‘I’ve learned a lot since I came back into clinical practice. It’s made me think about why I put it on the back burner in the first place.’

  She stared at him. ‘And why was that?’

  ‘Working in any branch of medicine, and especially with children, can be harrowing at times. I didn’t want to find myself weighed down by the dark side of what goes on, when we’re fighting overwhelming odds and nothing we do will make a difference. I needed to take a break and allow myself to recover from what can be a difficult, heartrending job. Then I decided that going into management and restricting my medical work to a few hours a week would be the answer.’

  He made a rueful face. ‘Neither of those alternatives did the trick. It was only when I started working alongside you that I felt as though I had finally found the right balance. Somehow, you showed me a different perspective, where I could learn to absorb the knocks and concentrate on the positive side of things. As you say, it’s when the children recover and want your attention that you realise they’re on the mend and you feel good inside. I still enjoy the management side of things, but from now on I’ll work to achieve a better balance between the two.’

  She stirred the cream into her coffee and took another sip. ‘You had some success with the management side of things, didn’t you? I read in the local paper about the funding for the R
oyal Forest Hospital. It must be cheering to know that your grandfather’s dream is going to continue.’ She frowned. ‘I’m just not sure how you managed it, given that all your plans for the estate will take time to bring results.’

  His mouth tilted at the corners. ‘That all came about because of the roof repairs.’

  She shook her head in confusion. ‘I don’t think I’m following you.’

  ‘You remember that I told you I had to clear out the attic?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Well,’ he went on, ‘I spent some time doing that, and I discovered where all the paintings were that my grandfather had talked about—the paintings of the houses in Brooklea and various places round about. Some of them were in the old chapel, but a good many were up in the attic, and alongside them were several landscapes, portraits and silhouettes that my ancestors had collected over the years. There are far too many for us to ever put them up in the house, even if we alternated the collections over the years.’

  Louise was intrigued. ‘You said that my painting was valuable. Does that mean that you’ve had the others assessed?’

  He nodded, and took time out to swallow his coffee. He didn’t get one morsel of cream on his upper lip and she gave him a vexed looked. How did he do that?

  He must have read her thoughts, because he laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he murmured. ‘It’s very sexy when you do it.’

  She glowered at him. ‘You were telling me about the paintings,’ she said.

  ‘I had an art dealer take a look at them, and the figure he came up with was staggering. So I put it to Gemma and Robert that we had to decide what to do with them, and we made a list of those we would offer to the museums and art galleries in the region. Fortunately, they were mostly interested in buying them, so we’ve achieved two things—money to invest for the hospital fund and the upkeep of the estate, and a sale that will ensure the community has a chance to share in our heritage.’

  ‘That’s fantastic news. You must all be delighted.’ She laid a hand on his arm, wanting to show him just how happy she was for him, but then she realised what she was doing and drew back from him.