But can he heal her heart?

When surgeon Jude Slater volunteers for a post in Mwuranda, romance is the last thing on his mind! But something about his coworker Claire Morgan unleashes emotions he’s always strove to hide.

Claire can’t fall for any man until she deals with the event that haunts her and caused her escape to Africa. Yet Jude reawakens her wounded soul in ways she never thought possible. Is he the man to heal her? And in opening his heart to Claire, can Jude also heal himself?

‘About this morning, Claire... I’d hate to think that you might feel awkward around me...’

‘I don’t,’ she said quickly, not wanting to get into a discussion. Something told her that it would be the wrong thing to do when her emotions were in such turmoil. ‘You were trying to comfort me and I understand that.’

‘I was.’

He didn’t say anything else apart from wishing her goodnight. Claire switched off the lights after he’d left and made her way upstairs. She knew she should be relieved to know that Jude had merely been trying to comfort her, yet she couldn’t deny that her heart was aching as she got into bed. Maybe it was foolish, but she couldn’t help wishing that he had kissed her because he had wanted her, because he had desired her—because he simply hadn’t been able to help himself!

She pulled the sheet over her head, her cheeks burning. How crazy was that?

Dear Reader,

I planned this book several years ago but, as sometimes happens, life got in the way and I put it aside. However, the central characters never quite left me, and I knew that one day I would have to tell their story. At the end of last year the time was right, and Jude and Claire stepped out of my imagination and onto the page. And what a journey they took me on!

Bringing these two together at last was a real joy, even though I probably worked harder on this book than on any previous one! Although I said at the beginning that I had planned Jude and Claire’s story, that isn’t quite true. Oh, I knew the basics—who they were, what obstacles they needed to overcome—but that was it. I am not a planner; I wait to see how my characters want to ‘behave’ and this pair kept on surprising me. Suffice to say it was an emotional journey. I hope after reading this book you feel that they deserved their happy-ever-after. I did!

If you want to know more about the background to this book then please visit my blog: jennifertaylorauthor.wordpress.com. I would love to hear your comments.

Love to you all,

Jennifer

Reawakened by the Surgeon’s Touch

Jennifer Taylor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JENNIFER TAYLOR has written for several different Mills & Boon series, but it wasn’t until she ‘discovered’ Medical Romances that she found her true niche. Jennifer loves the blend of modern romance and exciting medical drama. Widowed, she divides her time between homes in Lancashire and the Lake District. Her hobbies include reading, walking, travelling and spending time with her two gorgeous grandchildren.

In memory of Jean and Bob Taylor.

The best parents anyone could have had.

Praise for Jennifer Taylor

‘A superbly written tale of hope, redemption and forgiveness, The Son that Changed his Life is a first-class contemporary romance that plumbs deep into the heart of the human spirit and touches the soul.’

—CataRomance

‘Powerful, compassionate and poignant, The Son that Changed his Life is a brilliant read from an outstanding writer who always delivers!’

—CataRomance

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Praise

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

WHAT IN HEAVEN’S name was he doing here?

As the plane began the final stages of its descent, Jude Slater was struck by an unexpected rush of panic. Up to this point anger had buoyed him up. He had been so furious when his former mentor, a man he greatly admired, had accused him of choosing the easy option that he had set out to prove him wrong. Maybe it wouldn’t have stung quite so much if Jude hadn’t had the sneaking suspicion that the other man was right. He had been coasting for the past few years, although he had refused to justify himself by explaining why. He tried not to think about that period in his life; it was too painful. Suffice to say that he had paid his dues, even if it didn’t appear so to an outsider.

Nevertheless, the accusation had spurred him on so that almost before he knew it, he had signed up to work for Worlds Together, a leading medical aid agency. True, he had been a little disconcerted when he had been invited for an interview a couple of weeks later and offered a post. He hadn’t expected things to move quite so quickly but he had been determined not to back down. Nobody would be able to accuse him of losing sight of the real issues once he had done a stint overseas, he had assured himself. He would be accorded his true standing within the medical fraternity and that was all he wanted. It had all sounded so perfect in theory but now that he was about to land in the tiny central African country of Mwuranda reality had set in.

What did he know about the problems of working in the developing world? Jude thought a shade desperately. He was London born and London bred, and he thrived in the constant bustle of city life. When he travelled abroad, he visited other cities—New York, Paris, Rome—places where he felt at home. Wherever he went, he stayed in five-star luxury hotels too; however, recalling what he had been told at his interview—something about Mwuranda recovering from the effects of civil war—it appeared that five-star luxuries were going to be very thin on the ground here!

The plane rumbled to a halt and Jude unfastened his seat belt. Ten hours spent squeezed into a gap between piles of packing cases hadn’t made for the most comfortable journey but, hopefully, things would improve from here on. The one thing he mustn’t do was panic. Conditions couldn’t be that bad or nobody would volunteer to work here, so it was just a question of putting everything into perspective. Maybe luxuries would be few and far between, but so long as he had the basic necessities he would cope. He was only here for three months and he could put up with a bit of hardship for that length of time.

Jude felt much better once he had reasoned everything out. He had been told that he would be collected from the airfield, so as soon as the ramp was lowered, he made his way out of the plane. His heart sank as he stepped onto the runway and looked around. All he could see in every direction was khaki-coloured landscape, the few scrubby trees which were dotted about providing the only relief from the monotony. It was mid-afternoon and the air was blisteringly hot. Apart from the plane he had arrived on, the airfield was deserted. He couldn’t see any sign of a car waiting to collect him and his spirits sank even further at the thought of having to hang around in the heat until his transport arrived.

‘Dr Slater?’

The voice was female but that was the only indication of the speaker’s gender, Jude discovered when he turned around. The figure standing before him was dressed in a bulky old boiler suit which completely disguised the wearer’s shape. Heavy boots on her feet and an old baseball cap pulled low over her eyes completed her ensemble.

Jude could just make out the lower part of her face—a softly rounded chin and a mouth which was bare of any trace of lipstick. He had no idea if she was young, old or somewhere in between, and it was unsettling when it meant that he wasn’t sure how to pitch his response.

‘That’s right. I’m Jude Slater.’ He held out his hand and smiled charmingly at her. ‘And you are—?’

‘Your driver.’

The woman ignored his outstretched hand as she stared past him into the hold and Jude felt himself bridle. Quite frankly, he wasn’t used to women of any age ignoring him. The older ones wanted to mother him, the younger ones wanted to sleep with him, while those in between could go either way.

‘If you’ve brought any luggage with you then you’d better fetch it. There’s a truck on its way to pick up our supplies, but there’s no guarantee it will make it back to town tonight. It all depends how long it takes to unload the cargo.’ The woman treated him to a cursory glance and he could tell how unimpressed she was by his attempts to charm her by the sneering curve of her unadorned lips. ‘We don’t drive around after dark. It’s far too dangerous.’ Jude’s chagrin faded in the face of this fresh snippet of information. He managed to hide his dismay but the situation seemed to be going from bad to worse at a rate of knots.

‘I’ll get my bag,’ he said shortly.

‘You do that. I just need a word with the pilot and I’ll be right with you. The bike’s over there.’

Jude stopped dead, wondering if he had misheard her. It had been extremely noisy in the plane and his ears were still ringing from the throbbing of the engines, but he could have sworn she had said something about a... ‘Bike?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She pointed across the runway. ‘That’s it over there. There’s some rope under the seat, so I suggest you tie your bag onto the back. It should be safe enough so long as we don’t hit too many potholes.’

Jude’s jaw dropped when he spotted the battered old motorbike propped against the perimeter fence. Its bodywork was pitted with rust and even from this distance he could tell that the tyres were completely bald of any tread. She didn’t really think that he was going to travel on the back of that thing, did she?

‘This is a joke, isn’t it? Some sort of a...stunt you pull on new recruits like me?’ His good humour returned in a rush as he realised what was going on and he laughed. ‘You wind us up by telling us that we’re expected to ride on the back of that heap of junk and I, in my innocence, very nearly fell for it!’

‘I hate to disillusion you, Dr Slater, but it isn’t a wind-up. We’ll be travelling back to town on that bike, so I suggest you get your belongings together.’ The woman pushed back her cuff. ‘It’s almost two o’clock and I haven’t got time to waste, hanging about here. If you don’t want to spend the night sleeping in the plane then you’d better get a move on.’

With that she walked away. Jude watched her make her way over to where the crew were standing then realised that he was holding his breath. He breathed out and then in, but not even a fresh shot of oxygen made him feel any better. His gaze went to the rusty old motorbike and his mouth thinned. Given the choice, he would have refused to get on the blasted thing but he didn’t have a choice, did he? He was a stranger in this country and one who knew very little about what it took to survive here too. He might be able to hold his own in any city in the world but he was as vulnerable as a newborn babe out here and it was galling to admit it.

He was used to running his life the way he chose these days. It had taken him a while to get back on track after he had quit working for the NHS and he had no intention of relinquishing his autonomy ever again. Maybe he was at a disadvantage here but he still intended to be in charge of his own destiny.

Jude took another deep breath and used it this time for a specific purpose, i.e. shoring up his anger. He would start as he meant to go on. No way was he going to be ordered about by some overbearing, pushy woman!

* * *

‘I’m sorry about the delay but our usual driver didn’t show up this morning and we had to find a replacement.’ Claire Morgan glanced at her watch again and frowned. ‘The truck should have been here by now, though, so I don’t know what’s happened to it. I’ll have to check back with base and see if they’ve heard anything.’

She left the crew to begin the task of unloading the cargo and made her way over to the bike. Dr Slater had just finished roping his very expensive leather holdall onto the back and he looked round when he heard her approaching. Claire pulled the peak of her cap lower over her eyes, hating the fact that she felt it necessary to hide beneath it. She had hoped that she had got over this fear but as soon as she had seen Dr Jude Slater disembarking from the plane, her internal alarm bells had started ringing.

She knew what the problem was, of course: he reminded her of Andrew. There was something about that air of self-confidence he exuded that put her in mind of her ex so that it was an effort to carry on walking towards him. The thought of having to live with this fear gnawing away inside her for the next few months was more than she could bear, so maybe she needed to focus on the differences between the two men rather than the similarities?

It was worth a try, so Claire tested out the theory as she crossed the runway. Jude Slater was tall like Andrew, but whereas Andrew was heavily built, Jude had the lithely muscular physique of an athlete. Both men had dark hair, but Jude’s hair was jet black with the hint of a wave to it whereas Andrew’s was a rather muddy shade of brown and poker-straight. Jude’s eyes were a different colour, too, Claire realised as she drew closer—a warm hazel with flecks of gold in them. Andrew’s eyes were pale blue, very cold and frosty. In fact, if she had to choose one feature which she had disliked it would have been Andrew’s eyes. Even when they had been sharing their most intimate moments, his eyes had never held any real warmth.

Claire sighed. With the benefit of hindsight, she could see that she should have taken it as a warning but she had been too besotted at the time to read the signs properly. It was a mistake she wouldn’t make again. If she ever reached a point where she could consider having a relationship with a man again then she wouldn’t choose someone who looked like Andrew or Jude Slater, for that matter.

‘Is everything sorted out?’

‘Nearly.’ Claire’s tone was clipped as she stopped beside the motorbike. She didn’t look at him as she lifted the seat and took out the two-way radio transmitter. She had done her best—flagged up the differences—but it hadn’t helped as much as she had hoped it would. She still had this deep-seated urge to run away and hide, and it was painful to acknowledge how little progress she had made in the past two years.

‘Nearly? So do I take it there’s a problem?’ he persisted, obviously not satisfied with her less-than-fulsome reply.

Claire ignored him as she tuned the radio to the correct frequency. Although most of the rebel fighters had been driven out of the area, there were still pockets of resistance and keeping in touch with base was vital.

‘Hello!’ He stepped forward and bent to peer under the peak of her cap. ‘I asked you a question. Did you hear me?’

Claire immediately recoiled. ‘Do you mind,’ she snapped, twisting the dial this way and that in the hope that it would disguise the fact that her hands were trembling. She hated it when anyone invaded her personal space. It was a trick Andrew had used to intimidate her and even though there was no reason to think that Jude Slater was trying to do the same, she resented it. Bitterly.

‘I’m sorry. I just find it frustrating when people won’t answer a simple question.’

He stepped back, folding his arms across his chest as he leant against the fence post, but Claire knew that he had sensed her discomfort. Colour ran up her face as she bent over the radio. Nobody knew about her past. Not even her family or her friends knew what she had been through. She had been too devastated to tell them the truth, that Andrew had forced her to have sex with him, that he had raped her. Women like her—intelligent, independent women—were supposed to be able to look after themselves. They weren’t supposed to put themselves in a situation whereby something like that could happen. If they did then the consensus was that they were to blame for leading the man on.

It had taken Claire a long time to accept that she hadn’t been at fault and that it was Andrew who was the guilty party. However, she knew how fragile her confidence was and there was no way that she was going to risk undoing all her hard work. Maybe Dr Slater wasn’t cut from the same cloth but she wasn’t going to test out that theory. For the next three months she intended to keep her distance from him and, more important, make sure he kept his distance from her.

‘I need to contact base,’ she explained as coolly as she could. ‘The truck that was supposed to collect our supplies should have arrived by now and I need to find out what’s happened to it.’

‘It could have broken down en route.’ Jude shrugged when she looked at him. ‘If it’s the same vintage as this machine then I’d say it’s more than likely, wouldn’t you?’

‘It’s possible. But I drove along the route the truck would have taken on my way here and I didn’t see any sign of it—’ She broke off when the radio crackled. The reception was terrible and she winced when a series of ear-splitting shrieks erupted from the handset. Twisting the dial, she tried to find a better signal, but it was no clearer.

‘Here, let me have a go.’

He reached over and took the radio off her before she could object. He turned the dial the merest fraction and the next moment, Claire heard Lola’s voice flowing across the airwaves. He handed the handset back to her with a smile that immediately set her teeth on edge. She knew it was silly to get upset over something so trivial, but his actions smacked of condescension and it was the one thing guaranteed to rile her.

Andrew had displayed the same high-handed attitude towards her. He had treated her with a mixture of charm and contempt from the moment they had met only she had been too naive to realise it. The way he had taken over at every opportunity had seemed touchingly gallant and she had enjoyed having him take care of her. It had taken her a while to realise that there was nothing gallant about his desire to rule her life, and definitely nothing gallant about the way he had reacted when she had told him that she no longer wanted to see him. Sickness roiled inside her at the memory and she forced it down. She had nothing to fear because she wasn’t going to put herself in that position again.

‘Thank you,’ she said coldly, turning so that she could speak to Lola without having to look at Jude. ‘Hi, Lola, it’s me—Claire. I’m at the airfield and the truck hasn’t arrived. Have you heard anything?’

‘Not a word, hon. Give me a second and I’ll see if I can get hold of the driver.’

Claire waited while Lola tried to contact Ezra, the truck driver. The heat was stifling that day and she could feel sweat trickling between her shoulder blades. The boiler suit she was wearing wasn’t the most comfortable outfit in these conditions but all the women on the team made a point of covering themselves up whenever they left the hospital. Although the Mwurandans were lovely people on the whole, there had been a few unpleasant incidents recently, and it was safer to err on the side of caution.

‘I can’t raise him, Claire. I’ll keep trying but at the moment I can’t get a reply.’

Lola came back on the line. Claire frowned when she heard what the other woman said. ‘Maybe his radio’s down. Some of the sets are on their last legs, so that could be the problem.’

‘Could be. Anyway, you’ll be driving back along the same route, won’t you, so you should pass him on the way.’

‘I suppose so. Thanks, Lola.’ Claire switched off the radio and stowed it under the seat then turned to Jude, trying not to let him see that she was concerned about what might have happened to the truck. ‘We’d better make a move. There’s no point hanging around here. The driver will just have to bed down in the plane if it’s too late for him to drive back to town tonight.’

She straddled the scooter and started the engine then looked round when she realised that he hadn’t moved. ‘Are you coming or not?’

‘Do I have a choice?’ He sighed as he swung his leg over the seat. ‘It’s either a ride on this contraption or a night in the hold. Not much of a choice really, is it?’

‘What did you expect? A chauffeur-driven limousine?’ Claire retorted, letting out the clutch. The motorbike bucked as the gears engaged and she heard him swear as he grabbed hold of her around the waist.

‘Do you have a licence for this thing?’ he demanded, leaning forward so she could hear him above the roar of the engine.

Claire gripped the handlebars, her heart pounding as she felt the weight of his body pressing against her back. It had been a long time since she had been this close to a man and the memories it evoked weren’t pleasant ones, either. It was all she could do to behave with apparent calm as they set off. ‘No, I don’t have a licence as it happens. However, I’ve not had an accident yet, so you should be safe enough.’

She increased their speed as they left the airfield, weaving her way around the potholes that peppered the road, and felt Jude’s grip on her tighten.

‘You really know how to reassure a guy, don’t you?’

‘I try,’ Claire retorted.

She skirted around a particularly large hole, grinning to herself when she heard his breath hiss out as the rear wheel clipped the edge. Maybe it wasn’t a kind thing to do but she had to admit that it felt good to be in control. She had a feeling that Jude Slater rarely allowed other people to order him about and she may as well make the most of it while she could. Once they were back at the hospital, she was going to do as she had said and steer well clear of him. It wouldn’t be a hardship. From what she had seen so far, he was more trouble than he was worth!

CHAPTER TWO

THEY DROVE FOR almost a quarter of an hour in silence. Claire suspected that it was a combination of the noise from the engine plus a fear of her driving which was keeping Jude quiet, not that she was sorry, of course. When he suddenly leant forward she had to steel herself not to react as she felt the solid length of his body pressing against her back.

‘What’s that over there? Is it the missing truck?’

Claire slowed so that she could look at where he was pointing and felt her stomach sink when she spotted the truck partly hidden by some trees. All their vehicles were old and riddled with rust which was why the truck had blended so perfectly into the background; in fact, she wouldn’t have noticed it if Jude hadn’t pointed it out.

‘It looks like it,’ she agreed, bringing the motorbike to a halt at the side of the road. She kept the engine idling while she looked around, but there was no sign of movement from what she could see. The area appeared to be deserted, although she wasn’t about to take that as proof there was nobody about. It could be a trap set by the rebel fighters and she needed to be on her guard. Switching off the engine, she climbed off the bike, nodding to Jude to indicate that he should get off as well. Opening the seat, she took out the pistol.

‘You carry a gun?’

The shock in his voice would have been comical in other circumstances but not right then. Claire was starting to get a bad feeling about this and she didn’t need him kicking up a fuss.

‘This isn’t Mayfair, Dr Slater. This is the middle of Africa and there are rebel factions active in the area.’ She nodded at the bike. ‘Stay here while I go and see what’s happened.’

She didn’t wait to check that he was following instructions. She just headed towards the truck, sure in her own mind that the handsome Dr Slater would prefer not to risk his oh-so-handsome skin. Anyway, she needed to keep her wits about her instead of worrying about him...

‘Shouldn’t we find some cover? We’re sitting ducks out here in the open.’

Claire spun round when she heard him hiss the question at her and glared at him. ‘I thought I told you to stay with the bike!’

‘You did,’ he said shortly, staring past her. His hand shot out when she went to walk away. ‘Wait! I thought I saw something move— Yes! There! Just to the left of the truck—did you see it?’

Claire screwed up her eyes against the glare from the sun as she stared towards the truck. ‘I can’t see anything.’

‘It could have been a bird, I suppose.’ He turned to her and she could tell from the set of his mouth that it would be a waste of time ordering him to go back to the bike. ‘OK. Shall we do this, then?’

‘Yes, but stay behind me.’ She gave him a grim little smile. ‘I wouldn’t like you to get between me and any potential target.’

‘And here was I thinking that you would love the chance to put a bullet in my back.’

He gave her a mocking smile then set off, ignoring her instructions as he led the way towards the trees. Claire muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath as she hurried after him. Why, for two pins, she would haul him straight back to the plane and have the crew lock him in the hold! Didn’t he understand how dangerous the situation was and that they were both at risk of walking into a trap? Yet he had to get all gung-ho about it, playing the big, tough hero protecting the helpless little woman...

‘If you’re going to curse me then may I suggest you wait until later?’ He stopped so suddenly that Claire cannoned into his back. Muscles rippled as he absorbed the impact and she hastily disentangled herself, not wanting to run the risk of storing away the memory of all that warm, hard flesh.

‘All that hissing and spitting under your breath is going to be a real problem when we reach those trees.’ He glowered at her. ‘I need to be able to hear if there’s anyone moving about and your mutterings and mumblings will only hamper things.’

‘Oh, well, excuse me! I didn’t realise you were such an expert in these matters. Maybe you’d like me to walk downwind so I don’t interfere with your olfactory processes?’

‘Funny. If you’re as good with that gun as you are with your tongue, lady, then we should be safe enough.’ He treated her to a smile that was all flashing white teeth and very little warmth. ‘However, from the way you’re holding it—like a freshly skinned rabbit—I very much doubt it. So no more muttering until we know for certain there are no bogeymen lurking in the woods, eh?’

With that he started walking again, ignoring her as he headed towards the trees. Claire glared after his retreating back before she forced herself to follow him. If they hadn’t been in such desperate need of another surgeon at the hospital then she would have left him here and to hell with the consequences. So far as she was concerned, the rebel fighters were welcome to him!

They reached the outer rim of the trees and stopped. Jude cocked his head to the side, obviously listening for any sound of movement. Claire held her breath because even though the rebels might be welcome to him in theory, she didn’t really want him to come to any harm. He glanced at her and there was no trace of laughter on his face this time. He seemed completely focused on the possible dangers and for some reason, she felt almost ridiculously pleased that he was taking her concerns seriously.

‘I’m going to skirt round towards the truck through those trees,’ he explained in a whisper, pointing out the route he planned to take. ‘I want to see if the driver’s still in the cab.’

‘I’ll keep you covered,’ she replied equally quietly, quelling a shiver as she looked around. The thought that someone could be hiding in the scrub, watching them, wasn’t a pleasant one.

‘You do that.’ He gave her a quick grin. ‘But if you do see anything untoward then make sure it isn’t me in your sights, will you? I don’t fancy taking a bullet home as a souvenir.’

‘I’ll do my very best to miss you,’ she agreed sweetly, and he laughed.

‘Promises, promises—sounds like the story of my life!’

He slipped away before she could say anything, not that she could have come up with anything apposite. Claire sighed because it was the story of her life that she could never come up with a witty response when she needed it. She waited in silence, wondering how she would know when he had reached the truck. He was hardly going to holler, Yoo-hoo, I’m here, was he?

Was he?

Her heart sank at the thought that he might not be taking this as seriously as she had thought. After all, Dr Slater knew nothing about the dangers of working in this country. Although the majority of the Mwurandans were kindly, God-fearing people, the rebel fighters stopped at nothing to achieve their aims. In the past two months they had stepped up their campaign of terror and everyone working in the country had been warned to be on their guard.

Claire knew that the Worlds Together team would be pulled out if the situation worsened and that she would have to leave with them if that happened. Although she wasn’t officially part of their team, she worked alongside them and there would be no excuse for her to stay if they left. Although her visa expired shortly, she wanted to remain here for as long as possible. The thought of going back to England didn’t appeal, so she tried not to think about it.

There was still no sign of Jude and she could feel her anxiety rising. Where on earth was he?

All of a sudden she spotted a movement near the rear of the truck and her breath hissed out in relief when she realised it was him. He was crouched down beside the back axle and, as she watched, he began to creep forward, using the truck as a shield as he made his way to the cab. He disappeared from view and she held her breath, praying that nothing had happened to him. If it was a trap, she had let him walk right into it...

He suddenly reappeared and she saw him lift up his hand and beckon to her. He pointed towards the trees, obviously indicating that she should follow the route he had taken. Claire gripped the pistol more firmly as she began to make her way through the undergrowth but her palm was slippery with sweat. Twigs snapped and grasses rustled and her heart pounded harder than ever. She was making so much noise that it would have been far simpler and a whole lot quicker just to run across the clearing. Anyone watching was bound to have heard her!

She reached the truck at last and gasped when she saw that Jude had found Ezra, the driver. He was lying on the ground beside the cab with Jude crouched down beside him. She ran forward and dropped to her knees, staring in horror at the bloody mess that was the man’s head.

‘Is he dead?’

‘No. He’s hanging on—just.’

Jude’s tone was grim as he elbowed her aside so that he could finish examining the man. Claire didn’t protest as this was hardly the time to worry about the social niceties. Long, dexterous fingers tested the man’s scalp with a delicacy she had witnessed only a couple of times before in her nursing career. Surprisingly, a lot of surgeons had big, clumsy-looking hands, but Jude’s hands were as finely tuned as a pianist’s as he felt his way across the driver’s skull. He looked up and something warm and sweet rose inside her when she saw the concern in his eyes. Despite appearances to the contrary, Jude Slater possessed more than his share of compassion for his fellow man, it seemed.

‘His skull’s a mess. There’s at least two deep depressions, so heaven only knows the extent of the damage. It looks as though he’s been clubbed over the head because he certainly didn’t get injuries like these from sitting in that truck, minding his own business.’

‘It must have been the rebel fighters,’ she said shakily, struggling to get a grip. Thoughts like that certainly weren’t ones she wanted to encourage. ‘Maybe they thought he was transporting equipment to the airport and that’s why they ambushed him. They’ve been doing a lot of work on the runways recently.’

‘You could be right.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to get him to hospital but it certainly won’t be on the back of that motorbike of yours. It looks as though I’ll have to drive the truck back—if it’s still working.’

‘I wonder why the rebels didn’t take it,’ Claire said, frowning. There had been a number of similar incidents recently and on each occasion the vehicle had been stolen.

‘Probably because it doesn’t work,’ Jude suggested with a grimace. ‘In which case, we’re up the proverbial creek without the proverbial paddle.’

He didn’t say anything else as he stood up and climbed into the cab. Claire heard the engine screech as he attempted to start it and her stomach tightened with fear. If there was anyone hiding in the trees then now was the time they would show themselves.

The thought had barely crossed her mind when there was a loud cracking noise and she felt the air shiver as a bullet whistled past her ear. She dropped flat on the ground, her heart pounding as more shots were fired at them. Some hit the truck, others ricocheted off the trees, and all were far too close for comfort.

‘Hell’s bells! These guys really do mean business, don’t they?’

The shock in Jude’s voice as he dropped down beside her made her smile despite the precariousness of their position. ‘This isn’t a theme park experience, Dr Slater. This is the real thing, bullets and all. We really are being shot at by the bad guys.’

‘That tongue of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one of these days.’ He ducked as another volley of shots whined over their heads. Rolling onto his side, he glowered at her. ‘OK, Ms Know-it-all, what do you suggest? Do we wave the white flag and appeal to the goodness of their hearts? Or do we try to outmanoeuvre them?’

‘I don’t think they’re very big on the milk of human kindness,’ she retorted. ‘We have a choice. It’s either fight or flight, and I know which I prefer.’

‘I’m with you there, although I don’t know if this thing is up to it.’ He shot a disgusted look at the truck. ‘That engine doesn’t sound exactly tuned for speed to my ears.’

‘Probably not if you’re used to something more luxurious but we’re not so choosy here,’ she snapped, pressing her face into the dirt as more shots whined over their heads. Her voice was muffled as she continued. ‘We only have one criterion when it comes to a vehicle: does it work?’

‘In that case, we have the prince of trucks at our disposal. It works, although I can’t guarantee how fast it goes.’ He ducked as another bullet hit the truck then scrambled to his feet. ‘I’m going to get the driver into the cab.’

‘I’ll help you.’

‘No, you won’t. You stay there and keep your head down. I don’t want to have to rescue two casualties, thank you very much.’

Claire fumed as he scuttled on all fours to the cab and wrenched open the door. As the newbie member of the team, he seemed rather too keen to hand out orders. She started to get up then dropped back onto her stomach as another hail of shots pierced the side of the truck just above her head. She could only watch as Jude dragged the driver to the cab and somehow managed to bundle him inside. Sweat was streaming down his face by the time he had finished and there were damp patches on his shirt but he still managed to grin infuriatingly at her.

‘So, are you coming, then? Or are you going to stay there and enjoy the scenery?’

Claire gritted her teeth as she belly-crawled to the cab. She wasn’t going to fall into the unseemly habit of trading insults with him. Fortunately their attackers didn’t appear to know that they had moved because they were still firing at the rear of the truck. It meant they would have surprise on their side when they set off.

Jude gripped her arm as she went to climb into the cab. ‘I want you to get into the footwell and stay there. Understand?’

Claire did understand and she wasn’t happy about it, either. ‘So you can play the all-action hero and get us out of here?’

‘Yes.’ He grinned at her, a lazy, sexy grin that managed to slip past her defences before she realised it. ‘There’s no bigger boost to a guy’s ego than being able to save a damsel in distress, so don’t spoil this for me, sweetheart.’

‘I am not and never shall be your sweetheart,’ she shot back, hunching down so she could scramble aboard the truck without giving the gunmen an easy target.

‘“Never say never” is my motto,’ he replied, putting his hand under her backside to give her a boost up.

Claire would have slapped his face if the situation hadn’t been so dire. Not just for the cocky remark but for manhandling her as well. She shot into the cab, rolling herself into a ball so she could squeeze into the footwell. The driver was slumped in the passenger seat, mercifully unconscious. That was the one and only good point she could find about the situation, in fact; they wouldn’t have to deal with a hysterical patient when they beat a retreat. How they were going to outrun the rebels in this clapped-out old truck was anyone’s guess but they didn’t have a choice. Handing themselves over to the rebels was a definite non-starter and there was no point trying to fight when...

‘I’ll take that.’ Jude leant down and took the pistol out of her hand. He placed it on the seat then put the truck into gear, swearing colourfully when it failed to engage at the first attempt. There was a hail of shots and the windscreen exploded, showering glass all over the cab, but by that time he had managed to get the truck moving.

They shot out of the trees and careered towards the road as Claire desperately tried to wedge herself into the footwell and hold on to the driver to stop him falling off the seat. They hit a rut and she yelped when her head connected painfully with the underside of the dashboard but Jude didn’t even spare her a glance. His face was set as he steered the truck across the rutted ground and she shivered. He reminded her of how Andrew had looked that night when he had forced himself on her; he too had been determined to get his own way. It was an effort to push the memory aside as they reached the road and Jude glanced down at her.

‘How far is it from here?’

‘Five miles, give or take,’ she told him, trying to subdue the sickness that had welled up inside her. He wasn’t Andrew, she reminded herself sharply because she couldn’t afford to fall apart.

‘Let’s hope it’s more give than take,’ he muttered, jamming his foot down on the accelerator. The rear end of the truck fishtailed before the tyres got a grip and Claire bit her lip. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself by letting him see how scared she was...

‘It’s going to be OK.’ Jude took his hand off the steering wheel and touched her shoulder, and there was a wealth of understanding in his eyes when she looked at him in surprise. He grinned down at her, his handsome face lighting up in a way that made her breath catch but for an entirely different reason this time. ‘We’re going to make it, Claire. Cross my heart and hope not to die!’

He laughed as he made a cross on his chest then put his hand back on the steering wheel, but Claire didn’t say a word. She didn’t dare. If she said anything then she was afraid it would be far too revealing.

Her stomach rolled and she had to force down the wave of panic that rushed up at her. For the past two years, she had felt quite comfortable around the male members of the team. They were simply colleagues and she’d never had a problem working with any of them. However, she knew that state of affairs was about to change. There was just something about Jude Slater that made her feel more aware of him than she’d felt about any man in a very long time. He might not be anything like Andrew but he could prove to be just as dangerous.

* * *

Jude could feel the sweat trickling between his shoulder blades. He was scared witless although he had done his best not to let Claire see how he felt. Maybe it was ego which demanded that he mustn’t let her know how terrified he was, but he’d be damned if he would start whimpering like a craven coward even though it was what he felt like doing.

He glanced in the wing mirror and felt his stomach try to escape through his boots when he discovered that they were being followed. There were three vehicles behind them and they were gaining on them, too. He jammed his foot down so hard on the accelerator that the engine screeched but he ignored the sound of ancient pistons being put to the ultimate test. If those guys got hold of them then he didn’t rate their chances!

‘Are they following us?’

He glanced down when she spoke, seeing the fear in her soft grey eyes. He had a better view of her face from this angle and he realised in surprise that she was younger than he had thought, somewhere in her late twenties, perhaps. The cap had been pushed back and he could see strands of honey-gold hair peeking out from under its brim. He’d always had a thing about blondes and he would bet his last pound that she was a natural blonde, too. He would also bet that she had a great figure once she was out of those appalling clothes, although if he didn’t keep his mind on the job, he might not get the chance to prove that theory.

‘Yep,’ he replied laconically, determined not to let her know what he was thinking.

‘In that case then can’t you make this thing go any faster?’ she demanded, glaring up at him.

‘If I press down any harder on this pedal, my foot’s going to go through the floor,’ he retorted, not sure that he appreciated having her demean his efforts to save them. ‘It’s not my fault if this outfit of yours is too damned mean to buy itself any decent transport, is it?’

‘If you mean Worlds Together then it’s not my outfit,’ she snapped back, bracing herself as they hit another pothole.

Jude grimaced when he heard the crunch of metal because the last thing they needed was a broken axle. He kept his attention on the road although her comment had intrigued him. ‘So you don’t work for the agency?’

‘No. I work with them but not for them.’

He wasn’t sure he understood the subtleties of that distinction but it didn’t seem the most propitious moment to ask her to explain. The rebels were gaining on them and he grimaced when he heard shots being fired. ‘How much further is it now?’

‘About a mile, maybe less,’ she told him, peering over the edge of the dashboard.

‘Get down!’ He pushed her head down as a bullet whined through the cab. He could hear more shots pinging off the chassis and hunched over the steering wheel, hoping that none of them would hit him. He groaned. Yesterday he had been sitting in an upscale London restaurant, enjoying dinner, and today he was in a beat-up old truck about to get fried. Talk about the difference a day made!

‘Will you stop ordering me about! I’ve been here a lot longer than you and I know the drill.’

He risked another glance at her when he heard the anger in her voice and felt his heart give an almighty lurch. Her cap must have been dislodged when he had shoved her head down and now all that honey-gold hair was spilling over her shoulders. It was so thick and shiny that he physically ached to run his fingers through it. It was only the thought of them careering off the road if he gave in to the urge that kept his hands on the wheel.

‘In that case, what do you suggest?’ He raised a mocking black brow, not sure if he appreciated feeling so ridiculously aware of her when the sentiment obviously wasn’t reciprocated. ‘I could stop the truck and ask them nicely not to shoot at us any more, but somehow I don’t think they would be keen to cooperate, do you?’

‘Oh, ha-ha, very funny. It must be wonderful to have such a highly developed sense of humour, Dr Slater.’

‘I’ve found it very useful at times,’ he replied blandly, then ducked when another volley of shots rained over the cab. The rebels were just yards behind them now and they were gaining fast. He had to do something although his options were seriously limited.

‘Here, grab hold of the steering wheel and hold it steady,’ he instructed. ‘The road’s relatively straight from here on, so all you need to do is hang on to it.’ He grabbed her hand and clamped it around the base of the steering wheel then picked up the gun.

‘But I can’t see where we’re going!’

‘Just hold it steady—that’s all you need to do,’ Jude said shortly, leaning over so he could see out of the window. He had a clear view of the vehicles that were pursuing them and smiled grimly. Raising the pistol, he took aim and squeezed the trigger—

Nothing happened.

‘There aren’t any bullets in it.’

It took a whole second for the words to sink in. Jude pulled his head back into the cab and stared, open-mouthed, at the woman in the footwell. ‘What did you say?’

‘The gun’s empty.’ She glared up at him, her previously soft grey eyes like shards of flint. ‘We’re in the business of saving lives, Dr Slater, not taking them. That’s why there are no bullets in the gun.’

A dozen different retorts flew into his head and flew back out again. There was no point asking how or why or even giving vent to his frustration. Jude took the wheel from her and rammed his foot flat on the accelerator, forcing the truck to formerly undiscovered speeds. They rounded a bend and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw the town up ahead. There was an army patrol stationed just outside it and he stamped on the brakes when the soldiers flagged him down. The woman scrambled out of the footwell as the soldiers approached them with their rifles raised.

‘We’ve an injured man on board!’ she shouted out of the window. ‘We need to get him to hospital.’

The soldiers obviously recognised her because they immediately raised the barrier and waved them through. Jude felt his spirits start to revive a little as he drove along the road. Not only had he managed to outrun the rebel faction, but he would get their patient to hospital as well. Not bad going for his first day in the country, all things considered.

‘Take a right at the end of the road and drive straight across when you reach the crossroads. Sound your horn in case anything’s coming but don’t stop.’

Jude frowned as he glanced over at her. He would have expected her to be pleased at having got back to the town but she looked almost as edgy now as she had done when they were being pursued.

‘You can relax,’ he said, injecting an extra-large dollop of honey-coated reassurance into his voice. It was a trick he employed when dealing with particularly nervous patients and it always worked. He was confident that it would work just as well now too. ‘We’re perfectly safe now.’

‘I hate to disillusion you, Dr Slater, but we won’t be safe until we’re at the hospital.’ She smiled thinly as she pointed to a gang of men standing on the corner of the road. ‘See those guys over there? They’re just waiting for someone like you to come along.’

‘Someone like me?’ Jude repeated, unconsciously slowing down.

‘Keep moving!’ She tapped him sharply on the knee so that his foot hit the accelerator and sent them shooting forward. ‘You never, ever slow down when you’re driving through the town. And it goes without saying that you never stop. Those guys will have this truck off you before you can blink.’

‘Oh, come on! You really think I’m just going to hand it over to them?’ he scoffed.

‘If they hold a gun to your head then yes I do. You’d be a fool not to.’ She looked him straight in the eyes and he could tell immediately that she wasn’t simply trying to alarm him. ‘Vehicles of any description are worth a fortune here. They’re far more valuable than a human life and I suggest you remember that.’

She didn’t say anything else but she didn’t need to; she had said more than enough. Jude’s heart plummeted as he drove through the town. He had known it wouldn’t be a picnic working here, but he had never imagined it would be this bad. By the time he pulled up in front of the hospital, he was beginning to wonder if he should have got onto the plane twelve hours or so ago.

‘Stay here while I find a porter,’ the woman instructed, jumping down from the cab.

Jude took a deep breath as she disappeared inside, determined to get himself back on even keel. Maybe the situation was far worse than he had expected but he would cope. He had to. Quite apart from the fact that he had been warned at his interview that there was only one flight per month in and out of Mwuranda, he had a lot to prove, didn’t he?

When he had left the NHS he had been completely burnt out. The pressure of working the kind of hours he had done, added to the daily struggle to find sufficient qualified staff to allow a scheduled surgery to go ahead, had ground him down. Every time he’d had to explain to a patient that an operation couldn’t take place, it had taken its toll on him. It had seemed nothing short of cruel to raise someone’s hopes only to dash them.

He’d had such high expectations when he had gone into surgery, too, a genuine desire to help those who had needed it most, but he had become disillusioned. Nevertheless, he would have carried on if it weren’t for Maddie, but her death had been the final straw. He had left the NHS and gone into the private sector. It had been either that or give up medicine altogether which he couldn’t quite bring himself to do. He had always believed that he had made the right decision, so why did he feel this need to vindicate his actions?

‘Right, let’s get him out of there.’

Jude swung round when the woman opened the cab door and felt his heart jerk like a puppet having its strings pulled. In that second he realised what was happening and bit back his groan of dismay. It was no longer enough that he proved his worth to his old mentor. Neither was it enough that he proved to himself that he could still hack it. For some inexplicable reason he needed to prove to her that he was a damned good surgeon!

CHAPTER THREE

‘WE’LL HAVE TO use the triage bay. Resus is full.’

Claire guided the trolley past the queue of people waiting to be seen and elbowed open the door to the triage room. Myrtle, one of the cleaning staff, had just finished mopping the floor and Claire smiled at her. ‘Thanks, Myrtle. Can you see if Dr Arnold is anywhere about? We could use his help in here if he’s free.’

‘I will go and find him for you, Sister.’

Myrtle left the room at her usual sedate pace. None of the local staff ever hurried and they seemed to find it highly amusing when they saw the foreign doctors and nurses rushing around. Claire had found their attitude frustrating when she had first arrived in the country, but she had grown used to it by now. She didn’t turn a hair when Benjamin, the porter, took his time positioning the trolley beside the bed although she could tell that Dr Slater was impatient to get on with the job.

‘On my count,’ she said quietly, determined not to let him know how unsettled she felt by his presence. She grasped hold of a piece of the blanket then checked that he and Benjamin had hold as well. ‘One. Two. Three.’

They transferred the injured driver onto the bed and then Bill Arnold arrived.

‘You were supposed to be fetching us back a new surgeon not another patient,’ he grumbled as he came into the room.

‘Stop complaining,’ Claire retorted, well used to the middle-aged Yorkshireman’s dry sense of humour. ‘I could have left the surgeon and just brought you the patient!’

‘In other words, count my blessings, eh?’ Bill laughed as he came over to the bed and held out his hand. ‘Bill Arnold. Nice to have you on board, Dr Slater. What have we got here?’

The two men shook hands before Jude briefly outlined the man’s injuries. ‘He’ll need a CT scan for starters,’ he concluded. ‘Once I have a better idea what I’m dealing with, I’ll want an MRI scan doing as well to check the full extent of soft tissue damage...’

‘Whoa! Steady on.’

Bill held up his hand and Jude immediately stopped speaking, although Claire could tell that he wasn’t pleased about being interrupted. He was probably more used to people hanging on to his every word, she thought cynically as she began to remove the patient’s clothes. Some surgeons seemed to think they ranked second only to God in the pecking order and if that were the case, Jude was in for a nasty shock. The surgeons on the team were treated exactly the same as everyone else, i.e. they were expected to knuckle down and get the job done without a fanfare.

‘Is there a problem, Dr Arnold?’ Jude asked coolly.

‘It’s Bill. I dispensed with the formalities a couple of years ago when I retired,’ the older man told him. ‘And yes, I’m afraid there could be a problem in so far as we don’t have access to the equipment you mentioned.’

‘What do you mean that you don’t have access to it?’ Jude demanded. ‘Is the radiographer not on duty today?’

‘Oh, the radiographer’s here all right,’ Bill explained easily. ‘The problem is the equipment. We don’t have a CT scanner or a Magnetic Resonance Imager in the hospital.’

‘You don’t have them,’ Jude repeated, looking so stunned by the news that Claire almost felt sorry for him. Obviously it had come as a shock to him to learn that the hospital wasn’t equipped with all the usual technology, but had he really expected that it would have been? Deliberately, she whipped up her indignation, not wanting to fall into the trap of sympathising with him.

‘No. We don’t have a CT scanner or access to MRI or PET scanning either, Dr Slater,’ she repeated coolly. ‘Mwuranda has undergone years of civil unrest and there’s no money available for equipment like that. It’s difficult enough to maintain an adequate supply of basic drugs, in fact.’

‘Then how do you suggest we do our jobs?’ he snapped, glaring at her as though he held her personally responsible for the state of the country’s medical facilities.

Claire made herself return his stare but the chill in his eyes was unnerving. She couldn’t stop her mind darting back to the way Andrew had looked at her whenever she had done something to annoy him. She had to make a determined effort to focus on the present moment. ‘The old-fashioned way—through good diagnosis. Isn’t that right, Bill?’

‘Harrumph, well, yes.’ Bill looked uncomfortable about being drawn into the decidedly frosty discussion. He sighed when Jude looked sharply at him. ‘I understand your concerns, of course, but in the absence of any modern technology, we just have to do the best we can.’

‘I see.’ Jude turned and glared at Claire again. ‘Well, I want it putting on record that I’m not happy with the situation. Is that clear?’

‘As crystal. I shall make a note of your comments in triplicate, Dr Slater, and ensure that the appropriate authorities are informed forthwith.’

Bill looked even more uncomfortable when he heard the sarcasm in Claire’s voice but Jude ignored it as he plucked a pair of gloves out of the box. He bent over the patient, his hands moving over the injured man’s skull with the same skill and dexterity which Claire had admired earlier. Maybe he was upset about the lack of modern aids, but he was able to contain his emotions while he got on with the job. And it was a salutary reminder of the way her former boyfriend had been able to emotionally detach himself as well.

Claire quickly excused herself and left. She knew it was unprofessional to leave in the middle of an examination but she simply had to get away. Fortunately one of the local nurses was standing in Reception, so Claire asked her if she would assist in triage then made her way to the office to sign in. Every member of staff had to sign in and out whenever they entered or left the building. Although it was a bit of a bind, they all understood how important it was to know where everyone was in case of an emergency. Now Claire sighed as she realised that she hadn’t explained the procedure to Dr Slater. It meant that she would have to speak to him again and that was something she had been hoping to avoid. She’d had more than enough of the man for one day!

Lola was sitting behind her desk when Claire opened the office door and she grinned at her. ‘I see you made it back safely, then, hon.’

‘Only just.’ Claire scrawled her name on the sheet then poured herself a cup of coffee. Walking over to the one and only easy chair, she flopped down onto its lumpy cushions. ‘We found the truck on our way back. And the driver.’

‘And?’ Lola prompted when she paused to sip some of the muddy brown brew that passed for coffee.

‘And we ended up starring in our very own version of the shoot-out at the OK Corral.’ She grimaced as she put the cup on a pile of medical journals which served as a coffee table in the absence of anything else. ‘That coffee is disgusting! How long has it been stewing in the pot?’

‘Who knows?’ Lola dismissed the coffee’s pedigree with a wave of her hand. Anxiety was etched all over her face as she looked at Claire in concern. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? It must have been real scary for you, so don’t think you have to pull that stiff-upper-lip routine you Brits are famous for. If you want to bawl your eyes out then go right ahead.’

‘I’m fine. Really,’ Claire assured her. ‘OK, so it was a bit hairy at the time, but I was too angry to be really scared.’

‘Angry?’ Lola repeated. ‘You mean with the guys who were shooting at you?’

‘No. With Dr Jude Tobias Slater!’

Claire stood up and started to pace the room, her temper rocketing as she thought about all the things he had done that day. Ignoring her instructions to stay with the motorbike had been his first offence and his second had been the high-handed way he had taken charge. Maybe they were only minor misdemeanours in most people’s eyes but they were far more than that to her. Jude Slater had tried his best to undermine her at every turn and she had too much experience of the harm it could cause to allow that to happen to her again.

She turned and glowered at Lola. ‘The guy is a liability! He’s pushy and overbearing and, what’s more, he seems to think that he knows everything about what it takes to survive out here when he knows nothing at all. Would you believe that he actually expected there would be an MRI scanner in the hospital?’

‘It’s his first mission, though, hon.’

Lola shrugged, obviously trying to defuse the situation, but Claire didn’t want it to be defused. She wanted there to be tension between her and Jude, and lots of it, too, because it would help to blot out everything else. The one thing she mustn’t allow herself to do was to like him.

‘So?’ she scoffed. ‘I remember when you arrived, Lola. It was your first mission as well, but you didn’t expect there to be all kinds of fancy equipment here, did you?’

‘Ah, but I came straight from an inner-city public hospital, so my expectations were already fairly low.’

‘I suppose so.’ Claire gave a grudging smile. ‘From what you’ve told me, conditions there weren’t all that much better than they are here.’

‘You got that right, hon.’

Lola laughed. However, Claire knew that her friend was wondering why she had taken such an obvious dislike to the newest member of their team. There was no way she could explain that Jude reminded her of Andrew, not when she had told nobody about her former partner, so she remained silent and, after a moment, Lola carried on.

‘Dr Slater doesn’t have my kind of background, Claire. I checked his file while you were out and discovered that he’s been working in some fancy private hospital in London for the past five years. How’s he going to have any experience of real life when he’s been mixing with rich folks like that?’

‘In other words, I should cut him some slack—is that what you’re saying?’

‘I guess so. OK, so maybe you two didn’t hit it off, but don’t let first impressions colour your judgement. You guys are going to have to work together and it’s going to make life extremely difficult if you’re at each other’s throats all the time.’

Claire knew that Lola was right. However, the thought of having to work with him was too disturbing to deal with right then. She bolted down the rest of her coffee, fixing a smile into place when Lola looked at her in concern.

‘Don’t worry. I’m not about to do anything rash. I forgot to tell Dr Slater that he needs to sign in, so I’d better go and do it before I forget.’

‘You do that, hon. And I bet you find that he isn’t nearly as bad as you thought he was.’

Claire didn’t say anything. It would serve no purpose to argue with Lola. However, as she left the office, she knew that the one thing she wouldn’t do was try to improve her opinion of Jude Slater. She intended to keep him at arm’s length and the more things she could find to dislike about him, the easier it would be.

* * *

‘I’ll remove this section of bone. Then we can see how extensive the bleeding is.’

Jude bent over the operating table as he carefully eased the shattered section of bone from the man’s skull. It was delicate work and even the tiniest slip could have the most horrendous consequences for the patient but he knew that he possessed the necessary skills. He was a first-rate surgeon despite the fact that he spent most of his time these days stripping out varicose veins.

The thought that he wasn’t utilising his talent as he should be doing was unsettling. He had always believed that opting for the private sector had been the right decision. The perks which came with the job were all too obvious: an excellent salary; working hours which allowed him a healthy social life; an environment in which to work where the very best facilities were always available. However, he had to admit that he had become increasingly bored of late. Most of the work he did was purely routine and there was very little that stretched him. An operation like this was completely different. One slip and the patient could be left severely incapacitated and the thought put him on his mettle. As he suctioned away the massive haematoma that had formed inside the man’s skull, Jude realised in surprise that he was enjoying himself.

‘Clamp.’ He rapped out the instruction, nodding when the nurse at his side slapped the instrument into his palm. He clamped the damaged blood vessel then carefully removed two minute splinters of bone. Fortunately the meninges—the protective membranes which covered the brain—hadn’t been pierced, so once he had cauterised the vein, the bleeding stopped. Nevertheless, it was another hour before he was satisfied that he had done all he could. It was out of his hands now and up to nature to run its course.

Jude glanced at Bill Arnold, who was acting as his anaesthetist. ‘I’m going to call it a day. There’s not much more I can do for him.’

‘From what I saw, you did more than most would have attempted,’ Bill replied as he began to reverse the anaesthetic. ‘Good work, son.’

Normally, Jude would have bridled if anyone had called him son but for some reason he was touched by the compliment. ‘Thanks,’ he said lightly, not wanting the older man to guess that it meant anything to him.

He left Theatre, dropping his disposable cap into the bin on his way out before making his way to the changing room only to stop short when he opened the door and found Claire sitting on one of the benches. She immediately sprang to her feet when she saw him and he couldn’t help noticing how defensive she looked.

‘I forgot to tell you about signing in,’ she said quickly, and he winced when he heard the hostility in her voice.

It had been obvious when they were in Triage that he wasn’t exactly flavour of the month and he could only conclude that it was because of what had happened earlier in the day. Maybe he should have deferred to her instead of taking over like that, but in his own defence, he had been more concerned about their safety than her injured feelings. He had been right, too, he assured himself, so he would be damned if he would apologise when he had got them safely back to the hospital.

‘So tell me now,’ he said flatly, stripping off the top of his scrub suit and tossing it into the dirty-linen hamper. There was a stack of clean towels on a shelf, so he picked one up and flung it over his shoulder then glanced round when she didn’t reply. ‘Look, I don’t want to rush you but I would like to take a shower this side of Christmas, if it’s all right with you.’

‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’ A rush of colour swept up her face as she hurried on. ‘You need to sign in every time you come into work and sign out again each time you leave. The sheets are kept in the office, so if you could sign out after you finish up here that would be great.’

‘And what do I do after that?’ He shrugged when she looked blankly at him. ‘Am I supposed to stay in the hospital, or what? I’ve no idea about our living arrangements.’

‘Oh, I see. I should have explained it all to you before, but things got a bit hectic after we found the truck—’ She broke off, obviously reluctant to talk about what had gone on earlier.

Jude sighed as he realised that his assessment had been spot on. She did harbour a grudge about the way he had railroaded her and it was going to make life extremely stressful in the coming weeks if she didn’t get over it. He was just debating whether he should rustle up some sort of apology when she continued.

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