shaken and she was here to work.
Fern put her hand out from the bedclothes and placed her fingers round her aunt’s wrist. This was better than any monitor Quinn Gallagher could devise-and she was a darned sight closer if Maud’s breathing faltered.
She was so close…
In her long years of training Fern had never felt so close to a patient.
Even with her aunt and uncle, Fern strove for distance. There was no distance here-not now.
Just soul-destroying grief if this heartbeat didn’t continue. Maud had to live…
The long hours of the night dragged on.
She should be sleepy, Fern thought, but she wasn’t anything of the kind. Her mind was whirling in a million different directions.
Muffled through the heavy walls she could hear intermittent sounds from the men’s ward. She heard Frank moan once or twice and grimaced. Let the metoclopramide work, she breathed silently. If Lizzy’s stunt caused permanent damage…
Fern was starting to feel horribly responsible herself. By agreeing to marry on the island she’d stirred up a hornet’s nest. Frank had to be OK.
Then she heard Sam’s voice raised in protest and Fern’s grimace deepened. If Sam was making a fuss…
Maybe she should go to him…
Sam had no priority at all.
Fern’s fingers tightened on Maud’s wrist. Maud’s pulse was strong and steady but it didn’t make Fern one bit more willing to go to Sam. Her place was here. If Quinn Gallagher was taken up with Frank then he couldn’t watch the monitors and Maud had to be monitored by machine or in person.
So Fern lay still, realising that she needed this time alone almost as much as Maud needed her. The darkened hospital was close to silent and the turmoil of the day seemed a bad dream.
The only thing of importance was the beat under Fern’s fingers-the steady throb of her aunt’s heart.
The monitors were linked to her aunt’s breast and they led to another room. Quinn’s office…Fern knew he’d still be checking from time to time. A conscientious doctor wouldn’t believe Fern’s assurance that she’d stay awake.
And Quinn was a conscientious doctor.
The thought was a vague but solid comfort. Maud was safe. With Fern beside her and Quinn in the next room nothing could happen.
Nothing could happen with Quinn Gallagher there.
That was crazy. What a stupid thing to think when she had known the man less than a day. What was it about the man that was so solid…so powerful…?
It was her emotional state, Fern told herself firmly. Nothing more. She’d been emotionally wrought for days in the build-up to the wedding, asking herself over and over whether she was doing the right thing. And, then, as she’d made the decision and the final preparations and made it almost to the altar-to have this happen…
Drat Lizzy, she thought miserably, but in her heart Fern knew her real emotion was one of relief.
‘So, maybe it was the wrong decision,’ she whispered into the dark, and winced again at the sound of Sam’s angry voice from the next room. Her beloved…
He was nothing of the sort!
There were footsteps down the corridor and another voice, softer but firm for all that. Quinn’s voice…
Then the footsteps returned, but not as far as they’d come. The steps stopped outside Fern’s door. The door opened a crack and then wider, allowing a slit of light to fall over Maud’s bed.
Quinn stepped silently into the room. Unlike the corridor where the floor was of polished wooden boards, the wards were carpeted-so Quinn’s feet made no sound. His body blocked the slit of light but as he came further into the room the slit widened and Fern could watch him as he approached.
He checked Maud with deft precision. Fern nodded silently to herself. This man didn’t leave anything to chance-or to the monitors. He felt Maud’s pulse and took her blood pressure, then checked each monitor lead. Then, almost as an afterthought, Quinn turned the pencil light torch he’d been holding to shine down at Fern.
‘I’m not asleep,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not completely untrustworthy.’
He smiled, then, his smile almost tender in the soft light of the torch.
‘I never thought you were, Dr Rycroft,’ he said gently. ‘But your aunt is my patient. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘I’d love one,’ Fern smiled. She pushed back the bedcovers and Quinn’s eyes widened as he saw her blouse and jeans.
‘What, no nightie, Dr Rycroft? Dressed for escape, then, are we?’
‘If you like.’ Fern’s voice tightened.
‘I wouldn’t worry about indecent advances by the night staff.’ Quinn smiled. ‘Your beloved’s only a scream away. In fact, I would have thought you’d know that. Has he been keeping you awake?’
‘He’s not my beloved,’ Fern said crossly. ‘I…Is he all right?’
‘No.’ Quinn shook his head. ‘He’s not all right. Mr Reid has been ill again and rude enough to disturb Mr Hubert’s sleep. Mr Hubert seems to think he’d like a private room-or at least have Mr Reid shifted out into the corridor. Very tetchy he’s been when I’ve suggested he take himself off to his own bed if he didn’t like it here.’
‘He’s…he’s upset,’ Fern said miserably. ‘Sam’s not always so unreasonable.’
‘I’d assumed that,’ Quinn nodded. ‘If he’s half as bad as I think he is then you’ve been granted a last-minute reprieve from death by boredom. Still, I have to assume you know what you’re doing, Dr Rycroft.’
‘Good.’ Fern gritted her teeth. ‘Look, forget the cup of tea…’ This wasn’t a big hospital with kitchen staff on call.
‘It’s already made,’ he smiled. ‘If you’re as awake as I think you are, come out on the verandah and drink it.’
‘But…’ Fern looked doubtfully down at her sleeping aunt.
‘Maud’s growing stronger by the minute,’ Quinn assured her. ‘You must be able to feel it yourself.’ He flicked a switch above the bed and a soft, dim light shone across Maud’s face. It wasn’t enough to disturb Maud’s deep sleep but it showed them both her improving colour. ‘Now, through those French windows is the verandah and it’s a lovely night. I’ll bring tea round there and we’ll leave the windows open and be able to watch Maud while we drink it.’
‘But…won’t we disturb S…Mr Reid?’
‘You mean, won’t your Sam hear us and demand to know what the heck’s going on?’ Quinn’s teeth flashed with laughter as he shook his head. ‘Their window’s round the corner and your Sam insisted it be closed because he’s allergic to draughts or some such nonsense. Which leaves us alone. An assignation with an engaged woman in the wee small hours…What could be better? What a pity I didn’t put the champagne on ice…’
‘But…’
‘No more buts.’ Quinn Gallagher put a finger on her lips and pressed her mouth firmly closed. ‘Meet me in five minutes below the window,’ he grinned. ‘Should I bring my ladder-or will you let down your hair?’
Despite herself, Fern heard herself give a low chuckle in response. This man was ridiculous.
This man was dangerous.
The thought flashed through her mind with the clarity of white light. It almost made her gasp.
‘No. I…’
It was too late. Quinn was already striding toward the door, his back turned to her.
‘Five minutes,’ he said over his shoulder as he reached the door. Five minutes to your date with doom…
This was ridiculous.
Fern pushed back the bedclothes completely and checked Maud once again. Her check was unnecessary. Quinn’s examination two minutes before had been thorough enough.
She didn’t want to sit on the verandah and drink tea with this unknown doctor. Why on earth should she?
Because she badly wanted a drink and she also wanted to stretch her legs. It made sense.
So?
‘So have a cup of tea with the man,’ she muttered angrily to herself. ‘It hardly means anything.’
If it hardly meant anything, why were her knees like jelly?
There was no need for her knees to shake.
