MEN OF HONOUR

Ex-army docs … finding love back home!

Gorgeous, brave and brooding, these ex-soldiers and army medics are back on Civvy Street. After everything they’ve seen, adjusting to life outside the war zone can be just as painful as the memories. But saving lives is what these men do best, and they always rise to the challenge. Their hearts, however, are on lockdown … until they meet the only women to break past their soldier’s defences …

Dear Reader

I have long been fascinated with the role men and women (particularly women) have played in war, wondering how I would have coped with the fear and horror.

A couple of years ago I heard a doctor speaking about his time in Iraq, when he accompanied soldiers on patrol, and found his talk riveting. A few months later I watched a documentary series about the men and women who care for the wounded at Camp Bastion, the main British military base in Afghanistan. One episode in particular, in which a nurse had to accompany the doctor into a firing zone in order to rescue a badly injured man, had me thinking. What kind of men and women would risk their lives in order to save the life of another?

So when my editor asked me if I wanted to write the first book in a military duo with a fellow author, the wonderful Tina Beckett, I leaped at the chance and Men of Honour was born.

Dr Nick Casey is an army doctor who feels responsible for the men and women under his care. Tiggy is a nurse in Afghanistan for a short tour. When they first meet, sparks fly.

But when Nick can’t stay away from Afghanistan it seems their love isn’t enough to keep them together.

I hope I have successfully conveyed the reality of a medic’s life in a war situation while keeping Nick and Tiggy’s love story at the forefront.

I would love to know what you think. You can find me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AnneFraserAuthor or on my blog at http://annefraserauthor.wordpress.com

Best wishes

Anne

ANNE FRASER was born in Scotland, but brought up in South Africa. After she left school she returned to the birthplace of her parents, the remote Western Islands of Scotland. She left there to train as a nurse, before going on to university to study English Literature. After the birth of her first child she and her doctor husband travelled the world, working in rural Africa, Australia and Northern Canada. Anne still works in the health sector. To relax, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, walking and travelling.

The Wife He Never Forgot
Anne Fraser

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication:

To my wonderful, encouraging and patient editor, Megan Haslam

Contents

PROLOGUE

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

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

PROLOGUE

NICK HAD BEEN leaning against the wall of their temporary shelter, checking his rifle and thinking of nothing much, when all hell broke loose.

As the part of the troop that had remained behind exploded into action, he retrieved his Kevlar helmet and peered over the wall of the sangar.

‘Keep your head down, sir!’ one of the men shouted as he rushed past and took up his firing position immediately in front of Nick.

Nick did as he suggested, just as a bullet whizzed over the top of his head and landed in the wall behind him in an explosion of dust.

It was supposed to be a routine patrol where his platoon would join up with the Americans to decide how far north they should go before setting up a base.

‘Man down!’ The anguished cry came over the radio.

Nick glanced around. They’d arrived thirty minutes ago and there had only been time to set up a small receiving space in the overhang of the rock that they were using as the temporary forward operating base.

Adrenaline tore through him. This was what he’d trained for. He had to ignore what was going on below and concentrate on any casualties.

But damn, if he needed a medevac for any of them, it was going to be difficult. He would worry about that later. Right now he had to focus on the present.

The first casualty to be brought back to the relative safety of the sangar was the medic. Luckily, he had no more than a bullet graze to his arm and someone had already applied a temporary dressing.

‘I need to get back out there, sir,’ he yelled. ‘It’s only a graze.’

‘It might be only a graze but it’s going to keep you out of action for a few days,’ Nick responded firmly.

Quickly he examined the wound. The bullet had passed through the flesh of the medic’s upper arm. Right now there was little Nick could do except clean it again and rebandage it. When they got him back to camp he would do a more thorough job. Perhaps, with a bit of luck, they’d get out of this with only this one casualty.

But it wasn’t to be. The sound of gunfire increased, as did the noise on the radio.

‘Five men pinned down—Americans among them,’ Captain Forsythe muttered. ‘They’re holing up in one of the empty houses. My men can’t get to them.’

‘Injuries?’ Nick asked.

The captain nodded. ‘At least one down. That’s all I know.’

Nick risked another glance over the wall. Beneath him, about fifty metres away, was the deserted village the soldiers had been searching.

Nick picked up his bag and headed for the wall.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ Captain Forsythe snapped.

Nick barely glanced at him. ‘There’s a man out there. If he’s not dead, he’s badly injured. I’m a doctor—and a soldier. Where the hell do you think I’m going?’

* * *

Nick, accompanied by several of the soldiers, zigzagged his way towards the house and the wounded soldier.

He had his own rifle slung over his shoulder. As part of the platoon he was obliged to carry a weapon but was only required to use it in self-defence. Whether he would was not a question he chose to ask himself.

As bullets spat into the ground he concentrated on one thing and one thing only: getting to the injured man, hopefully in one piece.

He leapt over a low wall and into the deserted house, conscious of two of the men from his own company following close behind him while the remainder of the soldiers continued to lay down covering fire.

The casualty was an American. Not that it mattered. His job was to treat the injured regardless of nationality, and that included the enemy.

The soldier was conscious but bleeding from a nasty wound to his shoulder. As Nick set about putting up a drip he asked one of the soldiers to call for a medevac.

‘You’ll be lucky, sir,’ Private Johnston muttered. ‘Don’t know how the ’copter can land with all this going on.’

‘Just let them know we’re going to need them whenever they can make it, Private, ‘ Nick said. ‘Hold onto the drip for me while I dress his wound.’

A shadow fell across the door as another American appeared at the doorway.

‘Have you got Brad?’ he demanded. ‘Is he all right?’

‘For God’s sake, get down!’ Nick yelled. Was the American crazy?

Just then there was an explosion that robbed Nick of his breath. He was flung backwards as debris rained through the narrow doorway.

It took him a few moments to catch his breath. He was lying on his back with something heavy on top of him. He spat dust from his mouth.

‘Johnston!’

‘Over here, sir. I’m all right.’

‘Our patient?’

‘He’s okay too. But don’t think I can say the same about the other one.’

Nick became aware that the weight pinning him down was the young American who only seconds before had been standing at the door. His body had probably shielded him and the others.

‘Help me here, Johnston.’ Gently he rolled the soldier from on top of him, feeling the sticky wetness of blood. Poor sod hadn’t stood a chance.

But as he sat up he became aware that the soldier was conscious.

‘My leg,’ he groaned.

Smoke clouded their small shelter and Nick used a torch to examine the young American. Blood was spurting from his groin, soaking into the dirt floor.

‘What’s your name, soldier?’ he asked.

‘Luke.’

‘Okay, Luke. Stay still while I have a look at your leg.’

But the blood pumping from Luke’s groin told Nick everything he needed to know. Shrapnel had pierced his femoral artery and the boy—because that was all he was—was bleeding to death in front of him. His pulse was thready and his skin had taken on the damp sheen of shock.

‘Is it bad?’ the wounded soldier asked.

The lad needed to be in hospital. He probably had twenty minutes at the most.

Not long enough, then.

Damn it.

Another explosion rent the air and it sounded as if the gunfire was getting closer.

‘We need to get the hell out of here,’ Johnston said.

Nick jammed his fist into the hole in the young soldier’s leg. ‘He can’t be moved.’

‘Go!’ Luke’s voice was faint. ‘You gotta leave me. I’m not going to make it.’ Every word was coming with increasing difficulty.

He would almost certainly bleed to death before they got him back to the sangar and Nick couldn’t leave him here on his own—even if he knew there was almost no chance of saving his life. Nick made up his mind.

‘Johnston, get two men to take the other man back to the sangar. Tell them to let Captain Forsythe know I need the medevac. Now!’

‘I’ll stay with you.’

‘No. Get the hell out of here. This man and I will be fine.’

‘But, sir!’

Nick cursed. ‘That’s an order, Johnston.’

The soldier hesitated. ‘I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.’

As Nick turned his attention again to the wounded American he was only dimly aware of Johnston and another soldier taking Brad, the other casualty, from the room.

‘Get out of here,’ Luke murmured. ‘Save yourself. I don’t want someone to die because of me.’

‘I’m not going anywhere, son.’ Nick cut the soldier’s combat trousers away, struggling to see the wound for the blood. He did the same with his jacket and shirt. He needed to make sure Luke wasn’t bleeding anywhere else. Look beyond the obvious was the mantra for an A and E surgeon. It was the ignored and uninvestigated that often killed.

As he worked he noted that Luke had an eagle tattooed on his right biceps. That wasn’t unusual—for a soldier not to have a tattoo would have been noteworthy—but the soldier also had a scar that ran diagonally across his chest. This was no aftermath of surgery.

However, Nick had no time to wonder about past wounds. He inserted the venflon into a vein and, mercifully, Luke lost consciousness. Now he could get fluids into him, but he had to stop the bleeding. It was the only way to save the boy’s life. Pressure wouldn’t be enough. He would have to find the artery and clamp it—a procedure that was tricky enough in the luxury of a fully equipped theatre and with the help of experienced staff. But here? Almost no chance.

Nevertheless, he had to try. Even if he managed to stop him from bleeding to death, it was likely that Luke would lose his leg. But better a limb than his life.

The impact of the shrapnel had blown part of Luke’s trousers into the wound, obscuring Nick’s view even further. He took the clamp from his bag and took a deep breath as he tried to find the bleeder. It was almost impossible in the dim light of the house, without the blood and pieces of uniform further obscuring his view.

Working more by instinct than anything else, Nick clamped down on what he hoped was the right place. To his relief, almost immediately the blood stopped pumping from the wound.

Nick sat back on his haunches and wiped the sweat from his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

He’d stopped the bleeding, but if there was to be a hope in hell of saving Luke’s life, he needed to get him back to the hospital at the camp.

He became aware that the gunfire was more sporadic now and in the distance he could hear the powerful blades of a Chinook.

There was still a chance.

CHAPTER ONE

A year later

IT WAS HOT. Forty degrees Celsius and it was only just after six in the morning. The dust was everywhere, swirling around like dirty talcum powder coating the inside of her mouth and settling on every inch of her exposed skin.

Tiggy swigged from the water in her bottle, which was already turning tepid in the heat, brushed a damp curl from her forehead and sighed. The shower she’d had ten minutes before had been a complete waste of time.

She bent her head against a sudden dust ball. Everything was the same dun colour: the tents; her uniform; the Jeeps—there were even dust-coloured tanks parked along the high walls surrounding the compound. Tiggy didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

She must have been crazy to come. Although back in the UK they had been thoroughly briefed as to what to expect—down to practising what medical emergencies they might encounter in a mock-up of a building with soldiers acting the part of casualties—nothing had really prepared her for the reality of living in a war zone. And nothing had prepared her for the sheer terror she felt.

Coming in to land last night on the Hercules, the pilot had dimmed the cabin lights in case they attracted enemy fire. When his words had come over the intercom, Tiggy had almost lost it.

Enemy fire? She hadn’t signed up for that. She’d signed up to be looking after soldiers miles away from danger in a camp protected by soldiers.

She’d squeezed her eyes shut, not even able to force them open when she’d felt someone sit next to her. She had become aware of a faint scent of citrus.

‘You can open your eyes, you know.’ The laughter in his voice bugged her.

She’d opened one eye and squinted. In the dim light of the cabin all she had been able to make out had been a powerful frame in uniform and the flash of even, white teeth.

Whoever it was had been studying her frankly in return.

‘For all you know, I’m having a nap,’ she’d said through clenched teeth.

‘I’ve never seen anyone nap while holding on to their seat so tight their knuckles were white.’

‘God!’ She gave up all pretence. ‘What if they hit the plane? I’m scared to death of flying as it is.’

‘Hey, relax. It will be okay. The pilots have done it scores of times and no one has shot them down yet. They just say what they do to make all the newbies cra— Apologies, ma’am. To scare the newbies.’

She hadn’t been sure she’d entirely believed him, but she had felt a little better.

‘How much longer until we’re on the ground?’

‘Another twenty minutes or so.’

‘Twenty bloody minutes!’ she groaned.

‘Why don’t you tell me all about yourself? It’ll help distract you.’ He held out a hand. ‘I’m Nick, one of the army doctors. You?’

‘Tiggy. Casualty nurse.’

‘Then we’ll be working together,’ he said with a sideways grin. ‘You with anyone? Married? Engaged?’

This was not exactly the sort of route Tiggy wanted to go down. Men didn’t exactly queue up at her door. Might have been something to do with the fact that her brothers appeared to think it was their duty to guard her honour as if she were some early-twentieth-century maiden, or it might—and this was more likely—have to do with the fact that she wasn’t particularly pretty or vivacious.

‘No. You?’

‘God, no!’ He laughed.

The sound of sniggering came from the seats behind them.

‘Major Casey married?’ A soldier leant over the top of her seat. ‘You have got to be kidding. The major barely stays with a woman long enough to—’

‘That’s enough, Corporal.’ The words were quietly spoken but stopped the soldier from finishing his sentence.

Stay with a woman long enough to what?

The plane lurched to the right and Tiggy yelped.

‘You have a strong grip for such a little thing,’ Nick drawled.

She hadn’t realised that she’d grabbed his hand, but when she tried to pull away he curled his fingers around hers.

It was easier to leave her hand where it was. Especially when it felt so reassuring—or would have if it weren’t for the millions of little sparks, enough to ignite the whole plane, shooting up the side of her arm.

Adrenaline made you over-sensitive, didn’t it?

‘So, tell me, what made you come out here?’ Nick asked.

Anyone would have thought they were on a day trip to the seaside.

‘Brothers. One in Engineers, the other an Apache pilot. Thought I’d better come and check up on them.’

‘I’m surprised they let you come out.’

‘Let me? You mean you think I should have asked their permission?’ Actually, if they had known she was planning to head out after them to a war zone, she had no doubt they would have stopped her—forcibly if necessary.

They might all be adults now, but her two brothers continued to protect their little sister as they had all their lives. Although they liked to spoil her, there were disadvantages to having older brothers.

‘If I had a sister I wouldn’t let her come out here,’ Nick continued. ‘No way. Women have no place in a war.’

Even if that was almost exactly what her family thought, Tiggy wasn’t prepared to let it pass. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! This is the twenty-first century.’

‘Doesn’t matter. Women should be safe.’

‘Barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen? Please!’ She had only just got started on putting him right when the plane lurched once more. She yelped again.

The I-told-you-so look he gave her was enough to make her decide that even if the plane went into a spiral she’d rather die than let him hear her scream.

Die? God, don’t let her mind go there.

She took a deep breath. ‘Just because I’m a little frightened of flying, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have come here.’ She lifted her chin and stared at him. ‘I’ll be fine once we’re on the ground.’ At least her voice sounded reasonably steady.

He laughed. ‘Good on you. Now, why don’t you tell me about those brothers of yours?’

When the plane touched down with a skipping bounce, Tiggy was surprised. Despite her terror, the last twenty minutes or so had flown past. She realised that she’d told Nick about her brothers, her parents, every place her father had been posted and even the family’s pet dog, Hannibal.

God, she’d been babbling so much Nick knew almost everything about her life. On the other hand, she knew nothing about him. Probably because she hadn’t let him get a word in edgeways.

Her companion returned her hand—she hadn’t even realised she was still holding onto it—and eased out of his seat.

He touched his cap in a mock salute. ‘See you around, Lieutenant.’

Tired and disoriented, Tiggy had only a vague recollection of being shown to her quarters by a friendly nurse in army uniform who had greeted her sleepily, shown her to her bunk and then, with a yawn, excused herself with a ‘Catch you at breakfast’.

Even if the bed had been comfortable, Tiggy doubted she would have slept anyway. The adrenaline that was still making her heart hammer would have kept her awake even if she’d had a feather mattress to sleep on. And as for the heat! She couldn’t remember being as hot during the day as she had been last night. Plus she was sure her foot had been chomped to bits by some horrible insect through the night.

How the hell was she going to manage six weeks of this? She’d have to. She doubted if the British Army would put on a special plane to fly her back out.

She straightened the collar of her uniform and took a deep breath. Courage, girl, she told herself. You can do this.

* * *

The mess tent was a hive of activity and noise as soldiers and medics helped themselves to breakfast. Tiggy looked around, unsure of what the correct protocol was. She didn’t want to make more of an idiot of herself than she’d done on the flight. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. She had never felt so lonely, or so out of her depth.

A familiar smell drifted on the air. Coffee! That would make it better. She’d never be able to force solid food down her constricted throat but she’d kill for a cup of coffee. Wrong choice of words. She felt the tension in her limbs ease as a bubble of nervous laughter rose to the surface.

Someone came from behind and touched her on the elbow, and Tiggy jumped.

‘You look lost.’ It was Sue, the nurse from last night who’d showed her to her accommodation. Sue lowered her voice ‘And absolutely terrified. Don’t worry, we all felt the same way when we first arrived. In a day or two everything will seem as familiar as the good old NHS.’

Tiggy managed a smile. ‘I doubt that.’

‘You’ll see, I’m never wrong.’ Sue pressed a mug of coffee into her hands. ‘Get that down you. You’ll feel better. If you want breakfast, help yourself from over there.’ She nodded in the direction of a counter where cheerful men in army fatigues were piling plates high with what looked like a full English breakfast. ‘But I’d stay away from the scrambled eggs. They’re powdered. Yuck.’

Tiggy shook her head. ‘I think I’ll give breakfast a miss, thanks all the same.’

Sue smiled. ‘Can’t say I blame you. But you’ll get used to the food in the same way you’ll get used to everything else. Finish your coffee and I’ll take you across to the hospital and show you around. We’ve fifteen minutes before rounds.’

Tiggy took a grateful swig of coffee and almost spat it out. It was the worst she had ever tasted. And if Sue thought the eggs were bad... She gave herself a mental shake. Where was her usual optimism? Okay, the food might be rubbish, but she was always meaning to go on a diet—so what better way to give it a kick start? And if the coffee was hot, she would get used to that too.

Her mood improved further when she saw the hospital. Divided into separate sections, it had two well-equipped theatres, a resus area as well as a couple of wards and three intensive-care beds.

Looking at the facilities, she felt reassured. She could almost forget she was in the desert on the edge of a war zone—until the low rumble of an explosion made the building shudder. When no one else even flinched, she forced herself to concentrate on what Sue was saying

‘You’ll have been briefed before you came out, but it’s different once you actually come here. I’m a full-time army nurse and this is my third tour. Don’t worry, we’re perfectly safe here. The hospital has never come under attack and even if it did, we’re well protected. We nurses all take turns working between Resus, ITU and the wards. Your background is casualty, if I’m not mistaken?’

Tiggy nodded. ‘Eight years in a busy city-centre A and E. I’ve seen most things.’

Sue smiled wryly. ‘But not, I’m afraid, anything like you’ll see here. And it’s not just the soldiers, we get civilians too. Anyone who needs us, we patch ’em up before sending them on. The soldiers go to a military hospital in Germany or the UK; civilians we transfer to their local hospital.’

Tiggy’s head was beginning to reel. Not for the first time, she wondered if she’d cope. What if one of her brothers was brought in? But then, that was why she was here. Even if, pray God, they didn’t get injured, she would be able to help someone else’s brother.

Sue paused in front of an open door. Inside, a group of men and women sat around joking and drinking tea and coffee.

‘That’s the team,’ Sue said, ‘a mixture of lifers, like me, and volunteers.’

Tiggy’s eyes were immediately drawn to a man sitting in the centre of the group. Nick. He was laughing at something someone had said. Then he looked up and caught her eye. He pursed his lips in a soundless whistle and let his eyes roam over her body before dropping one eyelid in a wink. Whether it was the weather or something else, Tiggy felt heat race across her skin. In the dim light of the descending plane last night, she hadn’t noticed just how gorgeous he was with his toffee-coloured eyes, weatherbeaten face and high sharp cheekbones.

There was something about him that was sending warning signals to Tiggy’s overheated brain. Danger and excitement radiated from him—along with a casual self-assurance, as if he was used to women gawping at him and almost expected it.

She tore her eyes away. Men like him were so out of her league. And even if he wasn’t, he wasn’t her type. When she fell in love it would be with a decent, steady, one-hundred-per-cent monogamous man. The only type who asked her out. Not that she had managed to fall for one of those, come to think of it.

Sue tapped her on the arm and grinned at her. ‘Major Nick Casey—our very own playboy doctor.’ She dropped her voice. ‘Let me give you a word of warning. He eats woman like you for breakfast. If you want to survive with your heart intact, keep away from him. Trust me.’ Her lips twitched. ‘I’ve known Nick for a while and picked up the pieces of his conquests’ broken hearts too often to count.’ Sue’s grin widened. ‘Thankfully I’m married and immune to his charms.’

Nick stood and held out a chair, indicating with a tilt of his head that Tiggy should take it. Acutely conscious of his eyes on her, every step of the dozen or so required felt like a mile.

‘Everyone, this is our latest, crazy volunteer, Lieutenant Tiggy Williams—otherwise known as Casualty Nurse Extraordinaire,’ Sue introduced her with a flourish.

Tiggy knew she would no more get used to being called ‘Lieutenant’ than she would get used to the army revolver she had in her possession. It was beyond her why they had issued her with one. There wasn’t the remotest chance of her ever firing it. She was more likely to shoot herself in the foot.

‘Good to have you with us.’ Nick grinned at her. His accent, like Sue’s, was an unusual mixture of Irish and Scottish.

Her heart did a crazy pirouette and it took all her willpower not to whimper. She managed a cool smile—at least, she hoped it was a cool smile and not a grimace—in his direction before turning to hear the names of the folk with whom she’d be working closely over the coming months.

Apart from the surgeons, there were nurses, radiographers, physios and several other professionals all involved in making sure casualties had access to the best care. The names were too many for Tiggy to remember, but she felt reassured by the warmth of her colleagues’ welcome.

‘If you need anything, let us know,’ an older nurse called Pat said. ‘There’s hardly any of us women so we have to stick together. Don’t mind this lot, I keep them in order.’

Nick detached himself from the desk he’d been leaning on and loped towards Tiggy. Everyone was too busy catching up with one another to notice him bending his head and whispering in her ear.

‘You recovered from the flight to hell yet?’ His warm breath fanned her neck causing goose-bumps to spring up alarmingly all over her body. She much preferred it when he was way over on the other side of the room.

‘Completely.’

‘Good. You may have to go out in the ’copter sometimes, though, on a retrieval. You do know that?’

Although Tiggy had heard it might be a possibility that she’d be asked to accompany the medical emergency response team, she hoped to hell it wouldn’t happen. If last night’s flight had been scary, how much worse would it be going into an actual hot zone? She lifted her chin. ‘If I’m needed, of course I’ll go. I’m here to do my bit, the same as everyone else.’

‘Good girl.’ He straightened and once again Tiggy was aware of his eyes sweeping over her body.

‘Hey, do you play poker?’ one of the male nurses asked. ‘I need someone new to take some money from. With the exception of Nick here, no one else will play with me any more.’

As everyone laughed, Nick turned towards them. ‘Time for ward rounds. Let’s go.’

They all started to troop away, leaving Tiggy feeling like a spare part. Nick fell back and touched her elbow.

‘What’s up, Red?’

If there was one thing Tiggy didn’t like it was being teased about her hair. She had put up with twenty-six years of it from her brothers and she was damned if she would put up with it from him.

‘The name’s Tiggy,’ she said through clenched teeth.

As Nick’s grin widened, dimples appeared on either side of his mouth and her overactive heart skipped another beat. Why did he have to be so damned sexy?

‘You’ll find out everyone here has a nickname,’ he drawled, and ruffled the hair on top of her head. ‘Come on, follow me.’

Had he actually done that? Ruffled her hair? Like she was his kid sister?

She raised her hand to her curls in a vain attempt to restore some order. She had cut her hair into its current pixie style hoping it would make it more manageable, but the heat of the desert had its own ideas and she knew her fringe was curling.

She nibbled her lip. Why the hell was she fretting about how she looked? Just because she’d be working with a hunk it was no reason to be fretting about a curling fringe. And hunk or not, he clearly thought he was God’s gift to women and, by the looks of it, probably tried it on with every new arrival. On the other hand, what did she have to worry about? Someone like him was bound to go after tall blondes with sylph-like figures—not curvy redheads with freckles.

She stared after his retreating back. Why, then, did the realisation give her no pleasure?

* * *

There were four patients between the two wards. In the first were three soldiers who, Sue explained, were in for observation and rehydration after a nasty bout of gastroenteritis. ‘We don’t keep the injured men here for long. We patch them up, operate if we have to, then we pack them off to the Queen Elizabeth in Birmingham as soon as they’re stable. You’ll find that nursing here is a mixture of frenzied activity followed by hours of boredom.’

Sue introduced her to the patients while Nick read their notes. After he’d ordered more tests he spent a few minutes chatting with them, teasing them a little for shirking. Then they moved to the next ward.

Its only occupant was a little Afghan girl with masses of dark curls and round brown eyes who was sitting up in bed looking lost and scared. Her body, from her forehead to the top of her pyjama bottoms, was covered in red angry welts and her right arm was heavily bandaged.

‘This is Hadiya,’ Sue said with a smile at the little girl. ‘She knocked over the family’s paraffin heater a few days ago and sustained severe burns to her face, neck, chest and arm. We managed to save the arm, but she’s going to require extensive reconstructive surgery if she’s to regain full use of it.’

Nick said something in Pashto and the little girl giggled. All at once some of the fear left her eyes and she looked up at Nick with adoration.

‘The surgeons had to remove a great deal of tissue from her hand and arm,’ Sue continued, ‘but she needs grafts.’

‘The problem is,’ Nick said slowly, ‘we can’t do it for her. Now she’s stabilised she has to go to a local hospital and it’s highly unlikely she’ll get the surgery she needs there.’

‘Why can’t we do it here?’ Tiggy asked.

‘Because this is a military hospital and the reality is, if we make an exception for one civilian, how do we say no to others? Our resources would soon be overwhelmed. As difficult as it is, we have to transfer non-combative cases once they have stabilised.’

‘But that’s not right!’

Nick raised an eyebrow. ‘What would you have us do?’

‘I don’t know! Something.’

He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘I haven’t given up on her if that’s what you’re thinking. In the meantime, however, we have other patients to see.’

CHAPTER TWO

HOW ANYONE COULD expect her to run around the perimeter of the camp in this heat while carrying a rucksack that weighed more than her own body weight, Tiggy couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t as if she was ever going to go out on patrol. That was left to the regular army doctors and the medics.

Although it was only just after six, the sun was already beating down and making her skin sizzle. She gasped for breath. If they didn’t let her stop soon she was going to have a heart attack.

‘Okay. Drop to the ground and give me twenty press-ups,’ the sadistic sergeant shouted. Twenty! She doubted she could manage more than five. If that.

She didn’t so much drop to her knees as collapse in a heap.

She had just finished her fourth press-up and was lying face down with her forehead resting on her hands when someone grabbed the back of her trousers and lifted her six inches off the ground.

‘I believe you have a few more to go,’ a familiar voice said. She didn’t have to turn her head to know it was Nick, and that he was laughing.

She tried to wriggle out of his grasp but it was no use. The grip he had on the waistband of her trousers was such that she couldn’t even turn far enough to see his face. ‘Let me go,’ she hissed.

‘The sergeant isn’t going to let up until you finish.’

As she was bobbed up and down she turned her head to the side. Sure enough, everyone else had finished and were all, including the traitorous Sue, sitting back on their haunches, taking long swigs from their water bottles and watching the scene with evident glee.

‘Sixteen, seventeen,’ Nick called out, and to Tiggy’s added chagrin he was joined by several voices.

‘Eighteen!’

Was this nightmare ever going to end? She took her mind off what was happening by imagining what she would do to Nick when she got the chance. Diuretics in his coffee? No, this needed something worse.

‘Nineteen! Twenty!’ He let her go so unexpectedly she sprawled face down in the dust. She staggered to her feet and furiously patted the dust from her front.

Nick held out his water bottle. ‘You might need a drink.’

‘If you ever—and I mean ever—do that to me again,’ she snarled, ‘I’ll...’

He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. ‘Do what?’

She drew herself up to her full height and pushed away the water bottle. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. ‘Try it again, and you’ll see.’ God! Was that the best she could manage?

Then, unbearably conscious of everyone’s eyes on her, she stalked away with as much dignity as she could muster.

* * *

Later, after she rinsed as much of the sand from her hair as she could in the dribble that passed for a shower, she went to report for duty, pausing only to pick up a banana from the mess.

She was still livid with Nick. Okay, so she might have poured out her life story—or at least the first half of it—to him while they had been on the plane, but that was no reason for him to treat her like an annoying kid sister. Hell, she was twenty-six.

And she didn’t want Nick to treat her like a kid sister.

The thought brought her up short. Damn, she was no better than the rest of Nick’s admirers. But she had one card up her sleeve. At least she knew he couldn’t be taken seriously. Her brother Charlie had been just like Nick. He too had thought he was God’s gift to women, having had a seemingly endless series of short-term girlfriends until he’d met and married Alice. Her other brother, Alan, was still working his way through the female population of the UK.

To her dismay, Nick was standing outside the main tent when she arrived, almost as if he’d been waiting for her. He had a cup of coffee in his hand.

‘Recovered?’ he asked.

‘Very amusing. You’ve had your fun, now why don’t you go...’ she waved her hands vaguely in the direction of the camp ‘...and do some weightlifting or something?’

Dark eyes studied her and a small smile played on his lips. ‘Don’t be mad,’ he said softly.

‘I don’t get mad. I get even.’

She groaned inwardly. Couldn’t she have thought of a retort that was a little less clichéd? She was becoming more inarticulate by the minute. At least it was better than blushing.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘I know you’re a major and I’m only a lieutenant, but I won’t be made a fool of.’

That was better! Now she was showing some backbone.

He lost the smile, although there was still a suspicious glint in his eyes. ‘You’re right.’ He raised his hand to his head in a mock salute. ‘I apologise. Unreservedly.’

Flustered by his unexpected apology, she looked at her watch. Seven-thirty. ‘Don’t you have work to do?’

He tossed the dregs of his coffee onto the ground. ‘Actually, I don’t. I’ve finished rounds and it’s all quiet.’ He eyed her speculatively. ‘Don’t suppose you play poker?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do. However, unlike you, I have work to do.’ She swept past him, aware that he was following her. Every hair on her body stood to attention.

‘What about tomorrow? When you’re finished for the day? Come over to the bar—the NCOs’, that is. It has, let’s just say, a more relaxed atmosphere there.’

Why was he so interested in what she did in her spare time? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? If he wanted someone to amuse him there were bound to be plenty of others happy to fill that role. However, a plan was forming in her mind. She turned around and smiled. ‘Sure. Why not? Let’s say six.’

* * *

Determined never to have a repeat of the fiasco with the press-ups, Tiggy decided to run around the camp perimeter every morning before breakfast. Despite the humiliation of having hundreds of men calling out encouragement as she wheezed and puffed her way around the track, she gritted her teeth and kept telling herself that she could do it. Anything was better than yesterday’s embarrassment of having Nick’s hands on the waistband of her trousers when he’d helped her complete her press-ups.

But once again, damn the man, he appeared like the devil from hell beside her. He shortened his strides to keep pace with her.

‘Hello, Red. Turned over a new leaf, have you?’

‘If you call me Red again,’ she wheezed, ‘so help me, I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

A slow smile crossed his face. He held up his hands with his fingers crossed. ‘I promise never to call you Red again. If I do, you can have all my poker matches and that’s a promise.’

She hid a smile. She hadn’t known she could smile and run at the same time. He turned round so that he was running backwards. He was shirtless and his combat trousers were so low on his hips she couldn’t help but notice his six-pack. She averted her eyes, pretending an interest in a passing Jeep.

‘How many circuits?’ he asked.

‘This is my last.’ She wasn’t about to tell him it was also her first. One circuit was torture enough and she was determined to wait until she got to the safety of her quarters before she collapsed.

‘I’m impressed.’ His toffee-coloured eyes crinkled at the corners.

‘Don’t you have lives to save or something?’ She indicated the hospital tent with her arm.

‘Not right at the moment.’ Even running backwards, he managed to look her up and down. ‘I saw you come out for your run and the thought struck me that I might have to save yours. Looks like exercise hasn’t exactly been high on your agenda until now.’

Was he implying she looked like a couch potato?

‘Although you clearly do something to keep in shape,’ he added.

Oh, please. Despite everything, the look of frank admiration in his eyes made her heart skip a beat.

Come on, Tiggy. Get a grip. This man is out of bounds and even if he wasn’t, he is so not your type.

But it was as if her mouth had a mind of its own. ‘Been watching me, huh?’ A stitch had started somewhere below her ribs and the last word came out more as a cry of anguish than the casual reference she’d meant it to be. How long could one kilometre be? It could be the damned end of the world as far as she was concerned.

She gasped for air, trying to ignore the increasing pain in her side.

His eyes flickered over her and he frowned. ‘You all right?’

‘Never been better—or at least I will be when you leave...me...alone...’ She managed another couple of strides and then had to stop. She bent over, clutching her knees, as a wave of pain slammed into her. Dear God, was she having a heart attack?

Before she knew it she was being lifted over his shoulder.

‘Put me down,’ she yelled into his back—a back that she couldn’t help noticing, even from her upside-down position, was ridged with muscle.

‘I will as soon as I find some shade. Don’t you know better than to exercise in this heat? Are you crazy, woman? You should have started earlier, or there’s a decent air-conditioned gym on the other side of the camp that’s better suited for someone who’s not used to exercise.’

There was a gym? An air-conditioned gym? Why on earth had no one told her? Why hadn’t she asked?

Then she was inside her tent and he was laying her on the bed. Sue rushed over, concern furrowing her brow. ‘What happened? Is she okay? Tiggy, speak to me.’

‘I’m fine. Just need some water.’ Sue held a bottle to her lips and she gulped thirstily.

‘What have you been doing to the poor girl, Nick?’ Sue demanded.

‘Hey, don’t blame me. I was just an innocent bystander.’

‘Come off it! You’ve never been innocent or a bystander in your life!’

Nick laughed. ‘Make sure she cools down before she goes on duty.’ He leaned over and ruffled her hair. ‘Stick to the gym in future.’

* * *

Later that afternoon, Tiggy studied the cards in her hand and suppressed a smile. Although every muscle ached, including some she hadn’t known she had, her mood was improving.

She tossed a matchstick onto those already on the table. ‘I’ll raise you ten.’

Nick lifted an eyebrow. He counted out some matchsticks from his pile and added them to hers. They’d no casualties that day and Tiggy had spent most of her day with Hadiya, re-dressing her burns and being taught some words of Pashto by the little girl and her giggling mother. When the patients had all been seen to they’d set up a temporary poker table, at Nick’s suggestion, in an empty cubicle. Some of the nurses and technicians had started off playing, too, but after two hours Nick and Tiggy were the only ones left in the game.

The rest of the team was either watching them play, flicking through magazines or answering the occasional call from the patients.

Nick wasn’t to know, of course, that she played most nights with her father and her brothers whenever they were at home.

‘Twenty and I’ll see you.’

Nick leaned back in his chair and grinned. He placed his hand face up on the table. ‘A flush! Beat that!’

Tiggy pretended to look dismayed, studying his cards as if she couldn’t quite believe her bad luck. Then she allowed herself a small smile before laying hers down. ‘Think my four aces beats your flush.’

Nick laughed. ‘Beaten by a girl! Who would have thought? You have some poker face there, Red.’

She glared at him but before she could say anything he smiled and corrected himself. ‘Apologies. Not Red, Tiggy.’

She blushed. She wished she managed her poker face as well in her private life.

At that moment the siren sounded.

‘Two men down and possibly civilian injuries forty klicks away,’ Sue interpreted the cackle from the radio. ‘They’re requesting a rapid medical response team to go in and bring them out.’

Nick had stood and was shrugging himself into his flak jacket. ‘I need a nurse—any volunteers?’

‘I’ll go,’ Tiggy said.

‘No way,’ Nick replied tersely. ‘Anyone else?’

Irritated and relieved in equal measure, Tiggy glared at him. He didn’t even seem to notice.

There was a show of hands and Nick picked an older man. ‘Okay, Scotty, you’re with me. The rest of you prepare to receive the casualties. I’ll let you know what to expect as soon as I’ve made an assessment. Those who aren’t needed and haven’t donated recently, please give blood—just in case. Sue, turf out anyone from the wards who doesn’t absolutely have to be there.’ He grabbed his helmet and strode out of the room.

Instantaneously, everyone exploded into action. Sue, remembering Tiggy was there, propelled her towards the resus room. ‘We need to make sure we have everything ready. At this stage we don’t know what to expect or how much blood we’ll need. What group are you?’

‘O positive.’

‘Perfect. One of the medics will get you started on a line.’

‘Can’t I help prepare for the casualties?’

Sue hesitated. ‘We need your blood more than we need you right now. Don’t worry, you’ll get your fair share of action before your time here is up. In the meantime, watch and learn.’

When Sue was satisfied everything was ready for the incoming casualties, she came to check up on Tiggy.

She eyed the bag of blood. ‘Another ten minutes max.’

While she’d been waiting for the bag to fill with her blood, Tiggy had been thinking about the little Afghan girl. She hoped Nick hadn’t included her in his instructions to clear the ward.

‘What about Hadiya?’ she asked Sue. ‘We’re not going to discharge her too?’

Sue shook her head. ‘Nick wants to keep her in for a bit.’

‘But are we really going to send her away without further surgery?’

‘It can’t be helped.’

‘Surely Nick can make an exception?’

Sue sighed. ‘Believe me, if he could he would. And I haven’t given up hope that he won’t. If anyone can make a miracle happen, it’s Nick. Now, I’d better get on. You just relax.’

* * *

Tiggy had finished giving blood, although Sue had insisted that she stay lying down afterwards. Frustrated, she watched as everyone double-checked that everything was ready. The radio crackled again and the staff paused to listen.

‘We have two soldiers with shrapnel wounds. One has an injury to his left arm, the other abdominal wounds.’ Nick’s voice was calm over the roar of the helicopter’s engines. ‘ETA five minutes.’

The surgeon in charge of receiving the casualties turned to his team. ‘It sounds as if we’ll need both theatres. Everyone to your stations.’

Tiggy eased herself up from the gurney and grabbed a leftover biscuit from the coffee table where everyone had been sitting. Although she still wasn’t hungry, she knew she had to eat something. She was damned if she was going to stand by while everyone else around her worked, and fainting wouldn’t endear her to anyone. Slipping into the changing room, she found a clean pair of scrubs and changed quickly. Her throat was still dry but she knew it wasn’t from dust this time.

Before she could find Sue, the doors burst open and Nick entered, along with a couple of soldiers pushing a trolley. Nick was kneeling on top of his patient, doing chest compressions.

‘He stopped breathing in the ’copter, but CPR has been given continuously. We’ve given him two units of red cells and two litres of colloid en route. We need to get him to Theatre stat.’

Willing hands stepped forward and rushed the patient through to Resus. Moments later, Scotty and more soldiers burst through the swing doors with the other stretcher.

‘This man has shrapnel wounds to his arm,’ Scotty called out. ‘I’ve applied a temporary dressing and started a drip. Vital signs all okay.’

The injury to the second soldier’s hand was such that for a moment Tiggy couldn’t move.

As he too was wheeled into Resus, her training kicked in. She grabbed a pair of scissors and started cutting away the soldier’s uniform, only vaguely aware of the staff crowded around the other patient, shouting orders.

Sue wheeled the portable X-ray over to Tiggy’s patient. There was another flurry of activity as the soldier with the abdominal wound was taken into Theatre.

Nick crossed over to them, peeling off his gloves. Tiggy handed him a fresh pair. The soldier’s vitals were getting worse. His blood pressure was dropping and his pulse becoming increasingly rapid and weak.

‘We need to get his arm off. It’s the only way to stop the bleeding,’ the orthopaedic surgeon said, examining the wound.

‘Let’s try and stop the bleeding first, shall we?’ Nick said quietly. ‘The hand might not be salvageable, but we might be able to save his lower arm.’

‘You have five minutes,’ the orthopod said. ‘After that, he’s going to Theatre.’

They did everything they could to stop the bleeding, pumping the soldier with blood, but when Nick, along with the other surgeon, looked at the X-ray of the soldier’s injury, he sighed, his eyes bleak. ‘The damage is too bad,’ he said. ‘You’re right, Simon. Amputation is the only way to go.’

Before she could help herself, a small cry escaped from Tiggy’s lips. ‘Are you sure? Isn’t there anything we can do?’

Nick and Sue were already preparing the casualty for Theatre. ‘If there was, we would do it,’ Nick said tightly.

Tiggy swallowed hard. The boy was so young. But she knew Nick was right. The X-ray was there for them all to see, and Nick had already taken a chance by not sending the lad to Theatre straight away.

Nick looked at Tiggy and if she had any doubts as to how much he’d hoped to save the soldier’s arm they vanished when she saw the anguish in his eyes. ‘I promised these boys we would get them home and that’s what we’re going to do. I’ll assist, Simon.’

Moments later, the resus room was empty.

* * *

Much later, when Dave, the soldier whose arm had been amputated, was settled on the ward, Tiggy escaped outside. She tried to control the tremors that kept running through her body.

‘You okay?’ Nick’s voice came from behind her.

‘No. Yes. I will be.’ She took another deep breath. ‘He’s so young to lose an arm.’

‘He’ll learn to live without it.’

She whirled around. ‘How can you say that? You don’t have the remotest idea what it will be like for him.’

Nick’s expression didn’t change. ‘No, you’re right. I don’t. If I lost my arm or the use of any of my limbs, I don’t know what I’d do. But at least he’s alive. At least he won’t be going home in a body bag. Not like his colleague.’

They had been unable to save the other casualty. They all felt his loss as if he’d been their brother, their husband. When Nick had told them, his expression hadn’t changed, and Tiggy wondered if she’d imagined his anguish earlier.

‘How can you be so...’ she sought for the right word ‘...unaffected?’

‘Because they need me to be professional. They need us all to be professional.’ Nick’s voice was flat.

Tiggy slumped against the wall and wiped a hand across her perspiring brow. He was right, of course he was. If he could have saved the soldier’s arm, he would have. Wishing otherwise wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Dave.

She thought about her brothers. God help them all if either didn’t make it. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how her own mother would react. She loved her children with a tiger-like ferocity. Without warning, tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked furiously. She just couldn’t help herself. It was too awful.

‘Hey, Tiggy. Don’t do that. Dave will be okay.’ It was the first time outside work she’d seen him look serious. ‘We make it our job to get these boys back home alive, and mostly we do.’ His eyes darkened. ‘God, don’t you think I hate not being able to send that boy home in one piece?’

‘It’s not just him—or the man who died. It’s all of them. They’re so young. And my brothers—they’re out there, too.’

‘There will be another team doing the same for them if they ever need help.’

Tiggy dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. ‘I can’t bear to think of them hurt.’

Nick reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. ‘Most soldiers make it home, Tiggy,’ he said. ‘You have to hold on to that.’

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He took her by the arm and steered her across the dusty strip of land in front of the hospital. ‘Let’s walk.’

‘I’m not sure I can after this morning,’ she said. Nevertheless, she allowed him to lead her across to the far side of the camp. A gentle breeze stirred the dust of the camp, cooling the intense night air. Above them a thousand stars studded the crystal clear sky. How could a place so beautiful hold so much heartache? When they reached a flat rock, Nick indicated with a nod of his head that they should sit. For a while they remained silent. Eventually Nick turned to her and grinned.

‘So, Tiggy, the last I recall we were up to when you were thirteen. Why don’t you tell me the rest?’

* * *

Later that week Tiggy was sitting outside her tent, drinking coffee with Sue. Across the camp men, most stripped to their combat trousers, were playing football or working out. Thankfully there had been no more life-threatening injuries to deal with. Dave had been transferred to the military hospital in Birmingham.

As a bare-chested soldier jogged past them, Sue grinned.

‘You see? It’s not all bad out here. Where else would you get the chance to ogle so many fit guys?’

‘I can almost see the testosterone,’ Tiggy admitted. Her eyes drifted over to Nick, who was pulling himself up on a bar suspended between two walls. He too was stripped to his combat trousers and the muscles in his naked back bunched every time he raised himself. Some soldiers sat in a circle, counting off every time he pulled himself up.

Sue followed the line of her gaze. ‘As I said, forget him. He might be a hero but he’s a woman’s worst nightmare. As soon as he gets the girl he’s been chasing, he loses interest. There’s hardly a female on the camp—or off it for that matter—who hasn’t had her heart broken by him.’

‘You don’t have to worry on that score. Nick might be a fine doctor, but his type has never appealed to me.’

Sue groaned. ‘Don’t say that! If he sees you’re not interested, that will only make him worse.’

‘I doubt I’m any more his type than he is mine, so you can rest easy.’

Sue eyed her speculatively. ‘I would say you’re just his type.’ She drained her coffee mug.

Something Sue had said was niggling at the back of Tiggy’s mind. ‘Hey, before you go, what do you mean about Nick being a hero?’

Sue hesitated before sitting back down. ‘Well, I guess I should tell you, although I’m surprised you haven’t heard the story already.’ Sue looked across at Nick. ‘It was last year. Nick was out on an op with the men. They were making sure that a deserted village wasn’t being used as a base for insurgents. It was a joint op with the Americans.

‘Anyway, they got to the place—they call it a sangar—where they were going to base themselves for the couple of weeks they expected the mission to last when fighting broke out. To cut a long story short, Nick left the safety of the sangar and, despite being fired on, ran to the aid of an injured man who had been dragged into one of the houses.’

‘Good God!’ Tiggy glanced across at Nick with new respect. So he wasn’t just a playboy? Of course she already knew he was a great doctor but this latest revelation was making her assess him all over again.

Sue half smiled. ‘That wasn’t the end of it, though. While he was treating the American, one of his fellow soldiers came looking for him and took shrapnel to his upper thigh—straight into his femoral artery.’

Tiggy knew what that meant. The soldier wouldn’t have stood a chance so far away from a proper medical facility.

‘Poor sod.’

Sue rolled her empty mug between her hands. ‘That’s just it. He made it. And all because of Nick. Incredibly, Nick managed, while under fire and with the enemy practically at the door, to clamp off the artery. Thankfully he’d called in the medevac ’copter and God knows how but they managed to land close enough to get Nick and the injured man on board. Nick kept him alive until they made it back to camp. You can imagine how slim the soldier’s chances of survival were—never mind keeping his leg—but Nick refused to give up. Somehow, he and the rest of the team were able to save the soldier’s life and also salvage his leg.

‘Since that day he’s become a bit of a hero around here—and, believe me, there are no shortage of heroes in a place like this—as well as a talisman. The men believe that as long as Nick is with them, or as long as he’s here on camp, they’ll be all right. Sometimes I think they’ve invested him with supernatural powers.’

Perhaps that went some way to explaining Nick’s arrogance, the air of total confidence surrounding him like an aura. She only hoped to hell there would be someone like him around if ever her brothers needed help.

‘I had no idea,’ Tiggy said softly.

‘It’s not something he goes around telling people.’ Sue glanced at her watch. ‘Time to get to bed.’ When she looked back at Tiggy, her eyes were bleak. ‘He might be a hero to the men but I think it’s also a burden. Nick isn’t a miracle-worker. He’s human. I sometimes wonder if he hasn’t started to believe his own legend.’

‘And what’s that?’ Tiggy asked, rising too.

‘Believing he’s indestructible. And that as long as he’s here, he can save everyone who has a chance.’

Tiggy’s eyes strayed back to Nick. He had finished showing off and had picked up a towel and was wiping the sweat from his chest. Some six-pack, Tiggy thought distractedly. At that moment he looked up, and catching her staring at him, winked.

Tiggy blushed.

‘Oh, dear,’ Sue said. She picked up her mug again. ‘Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you. See you at six.’

CHAPTER THREE

Nine years later

TIGGY RAN DOWN the hospital corridor with her heart in her mouth. A woman pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair flattened herself against the wall to make room for her to pass while a doctor, talking into her mobile phone, looked at her with sympathy.

Had a corridor ever seemed so long? Would she make it in time? What if his condition had deteriorated while she’d been on her way? What if he died before she had a chance to see him? A sob caught in her throat.

She skidded to a halt in front of the triage desk. Damn, damn, damn, there was a queue. She spun around, wondering whether she should risk slipping into Resus uninvited, but just then a doctor spotted her and came over.

‘Mrs Casey?’ he asked. ‘I’m Dr Luke Blackman. It was me who called you.’ She had already guessed that as soon as he’d started to speak. She recognised his voice straight away.

Today had started like any other day. She’d been off duty when the phone had rung. At first the American accent on the other end of the line had thrown her. Then, when the male voice had identified himself as a doctor from the Royal London, her first panicked thought had been that something had happened to Alan, who was still flying Apaches in Afghanistan. But it was Nick he was calling about. Nick had been brought into the hospital with a head wound and was asking for her.

Without waiting to hear any more, she’d dropped the phone and bolted for her car.

She searched Dr Blackman’s face, trying to read his expression for clues, but his calm exterior gave nothing away. ‘Why don’t we go into the relatives’ room? It will give us some privacy.’

She felt sick. People were usually invited into the relatives’ room so they could be given bad news.

‘Just tell me.’ Her lips were so numb she could barely articulate the words. ‘Is he dead?’

‘Dead?’ Dr Blackman’s mouth relaxed into a smile. ‘No the lieutenant colonel is very much alive. He was drifting in and out of consciousness for a while but he’s going to be just fine.’

Relief buckled her knees. Still, she had to see Nick for herself.

‘Take me to him,’ she said.

‘I think we should talk first.’

Tiggy straightened to her full five feet five. Whatever Dr Blackman had to tell her could wait. ‘Please, Doctor, I need to see him. Now.’

The doctor clearly realised she was in no mood to be thwarted. ‘Very well. If you’ll follow me?’

Nick was lying on his bed, as still and as white as a corpse. His head was bandaged and there was a dark bruise on his left cheekbone only partly hidden by the stubble of his unshaven face.

But it was still Nick. Her husband. The man she hadn’t seen for six years.

* * *

Nick’s head was filled with images. Bombs were exploding, helicopter blades whirled incessantly, scattering dust everywhere. There was blood, so much blood, and soldiers and civilians running in panic. Then someone was sticking something into his arm.

Slowly the nightmare scenes began to fade and a strange sense of calm filled him as Tiggy’s face appeared before him; her blue eyes were wide, her red hair a sharp contrast to the paleness of her skin. The vision shifted and he was holding her, kissing her——she was in his bed, in his arms, laughing up at him, giggling at something he’d said.

He liked it when he dreamt of her.

‘I’m here, Nick,’ he heard her saying in that quiet, determined way she had. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’ Her voice was like cool rain on a hot night. Even in his nightmares the memory of her voice, her touch, always soothed him. It was when he was awake that the memory of her tormented him.

‘Can you hear me, Nick?’ a different voice said. An American, by the sound of him.

‘Come on, Nick. You need to open your eyes.’ It was Tiggy speaking again. Much better. He far preferred her voice to the American’s. But he was damned if he was going to wake up. The dream was so much better.

‘Nick, for God’s sake, say something!’

If he hadn’t known he was dreaming, he would have sworn it was Tiggy. But that was impossible. Tiggy was lost to him. Well and truly lost, as he was damn well going to tell that nagging voice.

He shifted slightly, trying to force his limbs to move. God, his body was aching. It was as if he’d been driven over by a Humvee. But he hadn’t been run over by a military vehicle or anything else. He hadn’t been in Afghanistan. He’d been in London. Other fragmented memories flooded back. The last thing he remembered was that he had been walking down a street. Which one he couldn’t for the life of him recall. A man had been on the ground. Someone had been kicking him. He’d moved in to stop the fight. He’d taken a blow to his stomach, but not before he’d landed one of his own. After that? Nothing. Except an exploding pain in his head.

Using every ounce of willpower he could muster, he reluctantly opened his eyes.

He had to be still dreaming. Tiggy was bending over him, her beautiful eyes awash with tears. It couldn’t be her. Not after all this time, and not after what he’d put her through. He closed his eyes again. Now, if only he could get back to the dream where she was lying in his arms, laughing up at him. He didn’t like Tiggy being sad.

But damn. He was awake now. He opened one eye. The image of Tiggy was still there. He closed his eyes and opened them again. No, it was no hallucination. No dream. It was her.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he growled.

* * *

Tiggy reeled as if she’d been slapped. But what had she expected? That Nick would be pleased to see her? Considering the way they’d parted, it was as likely as a snowstorm in the desert. Yet when he’d first opened his eyes she could have sworn it had been hunger—and pleasure—she’d read in their brown depths. She had been wrong.

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