In Dr Darling's Care. Marion Lennox

a hard call. You help me haul myself into your car or…or what?’

      ‘I’ll think of something.’

      ‘Fine. Let’s get me into the car first.’

      ‘And if you’ve broken your back?’

      ‘I haven’t.’

      ‘How do you know?’

      ‘It’s my back. I’d know.’

      ‘Like you’ve got an X-ray machine.’ Her panic must have shown through, because suddenly the roles changed. He reached out and grasped her hand.

      ‘Lizzie, I don’t have a broken back,’ he told her in a voice that was suddenly stronger than hers was. ‘You’ve splinted my leg. I have nerve endings tingling all over the place, which tells me I’m fine. But bruised. I’m feeling sleepy already, which will be the morphine taking effect. If you wait any longer the morphine is going to put me to sleep and there’s no way a runt of a little thing like you can drag me unconscious into the car.’

      ‘I’m not a runt of a thing.’ She was running her spare hand along the side of his neck, checking, checking…

      But he was staring up into her face, and he was still gripping her hand, and she was suddenly absurdly aware of how close they were. Which was ridiculous. She was a doctor. He was a patient.

      ‘Lizzie…’ His voice was starting to slur a little and his other hand came up and grasped her fingers. Which made her even more aware of his closeness. His maleness.

      His…need?

      ‘You can’t do any more for me here in the mud,’ he said softly. ‘This is going to hurt me more than it is you.’

      ‘I know. That’s why—’

      ‘Let’s just do it and talk about it later.’

      It was a nightmare. Her car was way too small. She reversed it so her rear car door was right beside him but every movement must have sent shards of pain shooting down his injured leg.

      She saw his agony but there was nothing she could do about it. Somehow they managed to haul him up into a sitting position on the end of the back seat. Then she supported the leg as best she could while he dragged himself backwards right in. By the time he was safely in, his face was so drained of colour she was afraid he’d pass out.

      ‘Just don’t let the dog near me,’ he muttered as she hauled the seat belt around him. Phoebe was in the front passenger seat, her great nose drooping over the back support as if she was incredibly concerned with all that was going on. And shocked. And sad.

      That just about summed Phoebe up, Lizzie thought bitterly. Concerned, shocked and sad. That’s what her eyes said, but in reality what was going on was a deep internal pondering as to when dinner could be expected to appear. As this deep pondering started approximately two seconds after she’d finished last night’s dinner, it didn’t leave much brain room for anything else.

      ‘Phoebe won’t jump on you,’ Lizzie told him. ‘She doesn’t do jumping. I don’t think she knows what it is. Are you OK?’

      ‘No. I have a broken leg. Can I have some more morphine?’

      ‘You know very well you can’t.’ She cast him a really worried glance. ‘It must really hurt.’

      ‘You’re not supposed to say that,’ he said faintly, and there was that amazing trace of laughter in those amazing eyes. ‘It should be, “Come on, lad, pull yourself together. You’ll be right by morning. Take an aspirin and have a nice lie-down and give me a call…” Are you sure I can’t have any more morphine?’

      ‘I’ll get you to hospital and get you settled first.’

      ‘So if I go into cardiac arrest you can resuscitate me.’

      ‘That’s the ticket.’

      ‘Maybe I could just cardiac arrest for the next few minutes so I could pass out on the way.’

      ‘I’m sure you don’t mean that.’ The seat belt clicked into place, but she was still leaning across him, staring worriedly into his face. ‘I’ll drive really, really carefully.’ She took a deep breath and straightened away from him. ‘Besides, you can’t go into cardiac arrest. Don’t you have a wedding to go to?’

      ‘Tomorrow?’

      ‘Maybe not.’

      ‘Emily will have kittens.’

      ‘Emily being your fiancée?’

      ‘That’s the one.’

      ‘Well, she can have kittens and Phoebe will have puppies and they’ll all live happily ever after. Meanwhile…I’m sorry, Dr McKay, but there’s no easy way to do this. Let’s get you to hospital.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      Memo:

      I will not scream.

      I will not panic.

      I will not tell this crazy woman and her crazy dog to get out of my town this minute.

      I will remember that I might just need them…

      BY THE time they reached the tiny township hospital Harry was grey. His face was etched with pain and he was holding himself rigid. Lizzie steered her car into the entrance of the tiny emergency department, switched off the engine and put her hand on the hooter.

      ‘Don’t do that,’ he told her. ‘They’ll think I’m an emergency.’

      ‘You are an emergency.’

      ‘I’m fine.’

      Ha! She was past arguing. ‘You might be fine, but I’m not,’ she told him. ‘I’m wrecked. Is the duty doctor here now or will he or she have to be called in?’

      ‘Duty doctor?’

      ‘Duty doctor.’ She was suffering from reaction here. Why didn’t a whole medical team burst from the doors, ready to take over?

      ‘There’s no duty doctor. There’s only me, and I’m decidedly off duty.’ Harry’s voice was strained to breaking point and Lizzie stared at him in horror.

      ‘What?’

      ‘You heard.’

      ‘You mean…’ She caught her breath, appalled. ‘You mean this is a one-horse town?’

      ‘A one-doctor town. Yes. That’s why I need a locum.’

      ‘They didn’t tell me it was a one-doctor town.’ The doors were finally opening now, and a uniformed nurse was hurrying toward them. The nurse was eye-catchingly lovely, in her early thirties maybe, trim, and elegant and…well, just plain beautiful. Her long black hair was braided into a severe rope hanging over her shoulder almost to her waist. Her hair would be gorgeous unbraided, Lizzie thought inconsequentially. More gorgeous. The woman herself would be even more gorgeous if she didn’t look so worried.

      She wasn’t the only one worrying. Lizzie was distracted enough not to be worrying about someone else’s worry. She should be worried about the man on the back seat—she was—but she was also appalled at the thought of not having help.

      ‘The people at the locum agency told me one of the doctors was getting married and needed a fill-in,’ she said slowly, thinking it through. ‘One of the doctors. Implying several.’

      Harry closed his eyes, an unmistakable wash of pain sweeping through. ‘If they said one of the doctors then they lied.’

      ‘But… I would never have come if…’ Her voice rose in panic. ‘I don’t do this. Not alone. I can’t.’

      ‘Welcome to Birrini, Dr Darling,’ Harry muttered, his face grim. ‘I think you’ll find