Once Upon a Christmas (19 page)

It was distraction therapy at its most bizarre.

‘Do you want to put a tube in here?’

Oliver adjusted the oxygen mask over Michelle’s mouth and nose, his hands steady and reassuring.

‘No. It’s too cold. I want to ship her and the baby out as fast as possible, Steve—’ He glanced over his shoulder at the paramedic, who was hovering. ‘You can be in the hospital in ten minutes if you don’t skid off the road.’

Steve grinned. ‘I’ll let that one pass because I know you’re baiting me.’

‘Would I?’ Oliver adjusted his position. ‘I’m just going to check her over and then we’ll get her out.’

Ten minutes later Michelle was safely in the ambulance.

Steve looked at Oliver. ‘Are you coming?’

Oliver hesitated. He really had no choice. Michelle’s condition could deteriorate again on the journey. On the other hand, it would mean taking Helen too because there was no way he was leaving her by the side of the road.

Before he could answer they saw headlights approaching and a car slowed down as it approached them.

‘What’s going on?’ Ben MacAllister, one of the A and E consultants who had been at the wedding, wound down his window. ‘I’m on my way to work because they just rang me in desperation. Just dropped off Ellie and the baby. Looks like they’re getting another customer. Do you need help?’

Oliver nodded and quickly told him what had happened. ‘You could go in the ambulance just in case she needs attention. I should get Helen home. She’s not exactly dressed for the hills and I don’t want to have to treat her for hypothermia.’

Ben parked his car next to Oliver’s and climbed into the ambulance without discussion.

Satisfied that his part in the drama had ended, Oliver grabbed Helen by the wrist and guided her across the slippery road and back to the car.

T
HE
cottage was down a narrow country lane but Helen was shivering so violently that she barely noticed where they were going. Now that the emergency was over, she suddenly realised that she was desperately cold.

Oliver pulled up outside the cottage and bundled her inside, flicking on lights as he went and kicking the front door shut behind him.

‘Upstairs, straight away.’ His expression grim, he hurried her up the staircase into a warm, cosy bathroom. ‘Strip.’

Helen stared at him, her teeth chattering. ‘Pardon?’

He sighed and raked a hand through his soaked hair. ‘Sorry—that didn’t come out quite the way I intended it to. You’re soaking wet, sweetheart, and we need to get you warmed up. Get in the shower.’

Helen was shivering so violently she couldn’t make her fingers move. ‘You go downstairs first.’

‘No way. This is no time for modesty.’ Oliver took a step towards her, strong hands reaching forward and stripping
off the jacket that the paramedic had lent her. ‘I’m not leaving you until I’m sure you’re OK.’

‘I’m OK,’ Helen protested weakly, wondering if she’d ever feel warm again.

‘You will be once you’re in that shower and I’ve made you a hot drink.’ He dropped the jacket on the bathroom floor and frowned. ‘You’re totally soaked through.’

He removed her suit jacket and then started to unbutton her blouse but she covered his hands with hers.

‘Stop it! I can’t undress with you here.’

Oliver muttered something under his breath. ‘I’m a doctor, for goodness’ sake.’

He might be a doctor but he was also a man. Six feet two of broad-shouldered, attractive man. There was no way she could undress in front of him.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she muttered, but he ignored her and unzipped her skirt and removed her blouse in a deft movement.

Left standing only in her underwear, she gave a gasp of embarrassment and protest.

‘Close your eyes!’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ He glanced at her impatiently. ‘How many naked women do you think I’ve seen in my time?’

‘Millions probably.’ She shivered. ‘But you’ve never seen me.’

Muttering under his breath, he tugged the clip out of her damp hair and pushed her towards the shower. ‘Move.’ His tone was wry. ‘I never seduce frozen women. Believe it or not, I prefer them thawed.’

Left with little choice, she stepped into the shower and
closed her eyes with a gasp as the hot water sluiced over her frozen skin, the warmth delicious after the bitter cold of the snow and ice.

‘Oh, that’s bliss.’ She kept her eyes closed as the feeling gradually returned to her toes and her legs and her numb hands.

When she finally opened her eyes and scraped her soaked hair away from her face, the first thing she saw was Oliver standing there, holding a huge fluffy towel.

‘Dry yourself off and then get dressed. I’ve put some clothes on the radiator to warm.’

She switched off the shower and grabbed the towel. ‘What about you? You’re wet, too.’

He gave a wry smile. ‘My jacket was waterproof and I wasn’t virtually barefoot. Let’s sort you out first.’

She wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out of the shower cubicle but the shivering immediately started again.

‘Damn.’ Oliver cursed softly and dragged her against him, rubbing her skin with the towel until she gasped.

Then he reached and grabbed some clothes from the towel rail, thrusting them into her arms. ‘Here we are. Take off your wet underwear and get dressed in these. They’re Bryony’s so they should fit. Wear them until you have a chance to sort your own stuff out. There’s a hair-dryer on the landing. I’ll go and make a hot drink.’

Oliver boiled some milk and reviewed his options.

He’d been expecting to go home after the reception, but he didn’t want to leave Helen in this isolated cottage on her own.

The adrenaline rush of dealing with the emergency may have driven her out of her depressed state, but he had little doubt that the recovery was only temporary and there was no way he was leaving her to fester.

He grabbed two mugs from Bryony’s cupboard and located the hot chocolate.

Tomorrow was Sunday and technically he wasn’t working, although he did plan to make a few impromptu visits on patients who were worrying him.

Like Hilda.

‘Hi, there.’ Helen stepped up behind him, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the shower, her dark hair falling soft and loose around her shoulders.

Oliver felt his gut clench as he looked at her.

Without the ridiculous heels she barely reached his shoulder, and now that she was wearing a pair of his sister’s thermal pyjamas and a fluffy dressing-gown she looked younger and more vulnerable than ever. Seeing her in proper light for the first time, he detected dark smudges under her blue eyes and lines of tiredness that suggested that she hadn’t slept properly for weeks.

He gritted his teeth and resisted the temptation to pull her into his arms.

‘Here …’ Instead, he handed her a hot-water bottle and pulled out one of the kitchen chairs. ‘Sit there and warm up while I finish making us both a drink.’

She sat without argument and Oliver spooned chocolate powder into the mugs and added the milk.

‘So you knew that woman in the car? Michelle?’ She cuddled the bottle close and hooked her feet around the legs of the chair. ‘Is she one of your patients?’

Oliver settled himself opposite her and handed her a mug of chocolate. ‘Yes. I look after the whole family. Her baby, her brother and both her parents. Tom delivered Lauren.’

Helen slipped her hands around the mug. ‘Bryony has told me about Tom. He’s a consultant obstetrician, isn’t he?’ She took a tentative sip and smiled at him gratefully. ‘This is delicious.’

‘Didn’t you meet Tom at the wedding?’

Helen stared into her mug, her smile fading. ‘I didn’t meet anyone at the wedding. I spent most of the time avoiding people,’ she confessed and then nibbled her lip. ‘I was probably horribly rude.’

Oliver cursed himself for bringing up the subject of the wedding. ‘You weren’t rude, Helen,’ he said gruffly, ‘you were upset.’

She was silent for a moment and then she put her mug down on the table and looked at him. ‘You must be wondering what I’m making all this fuss about.’ Her blue eyes were huge in her pale face. ‘Bryony didn’t tell you, did she?’

‘Bryony is a very loyal friend,’ Oliver said immediately, ‘and you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Only if you think it might help.’

‘Nothing is going to help.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘Except maybe extreme violence.’

He laughed, remembering how gentle she’d been with the baby. How she’d ignored the freezing temperatures in order to keep the little scrap warm.

‘You don’t strike me as a violent person.’

She looked at him, her expression serious. ‘Actually, I felt violent,’ she confessed, a slight shake in her voice.
‘For the first time in my life I really felt like being violent. Isn’t that awful?’

‘No.’ Oliver frowned slightly. ‘I expect you had provocation.’

‘I think so.’ She took a deep breath. ‘My fiancé called me from the airport to say that he was on his way to Singapore and that he wouldn’t be able to make our wedding after all.’ Her tone was light but she was gripping the mug so tightly that her knuckles were white. ‘We were due to go to Singapore together after the wedding, you see, first as our honeymoon and then as part of his new promotion. I gave up my job and he rented out his house where I just happened to be living, too.’

Oliver saw the pain and panic in her eyes and suddenly felt pretty violent himself. ‘Well, he’s obviously a bloody idiot,’ he said calmly, pushing her mug towards her. ‘Finish it. It will warm you up.’

‘That’s not all.’ She took the mug but she didn’t lift it to her lips. ‘He took a girl with him. Some young hotshot lawyer he’d been working with. He said that he’d suddenly realised that things weren’t going to work out between us. And then he hung up.’ She shook her head as if she was still trying to make sense of it. ‘That was it. I didn’t even get the chance to see him in person.’ She looked at him blankly. ‘There was so much I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know how long he’d felt like that. It couldn’t have been a sudden thing and yet he chose to wait until the day before our wedding.’ She lifted a hand and rubbed her forehead. ‘I should have spotted something.’

‘Stop blaming yourself for his deficiencies.’ Oliver
lounged back in his chair and let out a long breath. ‘No wonder you found Bry’s wedding difficult.’

She gave a wan smile. ‘Technically I shouldn’t even have been there. I should have been on my own honeymoon.’

Oliver winced slightly, hardly able to imagine how difficult it must have been for her. ‘So that’s why Bry lent you the cottage.’

‘I didn’t have anywhere else to go,’ she said simply, finally finishing her chocolate and toying with the mug. ‘I no longer have a home or a job. When I called Bryony she immediately said that I should come up here, and I have to confess that I jumped at the chance, even though it’s the coward’s way out. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing all my colleagues in London or facing my relatives.’

Oliver saw the traces of colour leave her pretty face as she contemplated her situation.

‘Well, this is a pretty good place to recover,’ he said softly, reaching across the table and removing the mug from her fingers. She was gripping it so hard he was afraid she might shatter the china. ‘It will work out, Helen. Trust me.’

She gave him a brave, lopsided smile. ‘Is that your professional judgement, Dr Hunter?’

‘Absolutely.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘And first thing tomorrow I’m going to sort out your recovery programme. But for now you need sleep.’

‘I’m not that great at sleep.’

‘You will be tonight,’ he assured her. ‘Mountain air does it for everyone. Go on up, you look shattered. You’re in the bedroom at the front.’

She frowned at him, clearly puzzled. ‘What do you mean, I’m in the bedroom at the front?’

‘I’ll take the spare room,’ Oliver said calmly, coming to an instant decision. There was no way he was leaving her. He decided that she needed distraction. ‘Or I can sleep with you in yours if you prefer.’

Just as he’d planned, the colour flooded back into her cheeks and she gave a shocked gasp. ‘Is that another professional suggestion?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Oliver gave her a sexy wink. ‘It was an extremely
unprofessional
suggestion.’

She gave a hesitant laugh, but her blue eyes were suddenly wary. ‘You’re staying here? Seriously?’

‘Didn’t Bry tell you?’ Oliver’s expression was innocent and he reassured himself that the slight deception was more than justified by the circumstances. ‘I’m having some work done on my house and I needed somewhere to live.’

‘Oh …’ She looked startled. ‘What work?’

‘I … er … roof,’ Oliver said, and then kicked himself. Only an idiot would have their roof done in the middle of a freezing January. He tensed, waiting for her to see through his feeble excuse, but Helen didn’t seem at all suspicious and he reminded himself that she was used to London. When did they last see real snow in London? She probably couldn’t begin to imagine what a Lake District winter could be like. He exhaled slowly. ‘So, actually, I’ll probably be here for most of January, too.’

‘What—living here?’ She frowned slightly and he rose to his feet and scooped up both mugs.

‘Sure.’ He turned his back on her and kept his tone casual.

‘What’s wrong with that? I won’t get in your way.’
Well, not much.
‘And I don’t suppose you’ll get in mine.’

He stacked the mugs in the dishwasher, pressed the rinse button and turned to face her, his expression neutral.

‘Right.’ Her smile faltered slightly, as if she wasn’t quite sure how she should be reacting. ‘I’m not sure which bedroom is Bryony’s …’

‘I’ll show you.’

He took her upstairs and pushed open a door. ‘This is it. You should be comfy in here. You know where the bathroom is. My room is across the landing and this …’ he flung open another door ‘… is Lizzie’s room. On second thoughts, maybe I’ll sleep in here.’ He studied the room thoughtfully and Helen burst into laughter.

‘You wouldn’t fit in the bed and somehow I can’t see you sleeping surrounded by pink.’

‘Pink has always been my favourite colour,’ Oliver said solemnly, and she leaned against the wall, still laughing.

‘Don’t tell me—you can’t get to sleep without a bedroom full of stuffed toys.’

Oliver decided that he’d endure any amount of pink and stuffed toys if it meant that he could see Helen laugh. For a brief moment her eyes sparkled, a sweet dimple appeared in her cheek and she looked so adorable that he caught his breath, pierced by a sudden need to kiss that soft mouth.

Desire shot through him and he struggled to keep it under control, reminding himself that this woman was seriously on the rebound.

Not a good prospect whichever way you looked at it.

‘Oliver?’ Her smile faltered. ‘You’re looking at me oddly.’

‘Sorry.’ He made a monumental effort to pull himself together. ‘Well, I hope you sleep well. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’ Her reply was soft. ‘And thank you for everything tonight.’

He frowned slightly. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘You got me through the second most difficult day of my life,’ she said simply, and then stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. ‘And I’m very grateful.’

And with that she melted away into Bryony’s bedroom, leaving Oliver suffering from a severe attack of lust.

Helen was woken by the delicious smell of fresh coffee and the sound of male voices in the kitchen.

Struggling to shake off the remains of a deep sleep, she glanced at the clock by the bed and realised to her surprise that it was already nine o’clock.

How could she possibly have slept so late?

For the last two weeks she hadn’t been able to sleep at all. So why, last night, had she managed to sleep right the way through? Maybe Oliver was right about Lake District air.

She lay there for a moment, warm and snug under the soft duvet, a shaft of light peeping through the curtains as she hovered between sleep and wakefulness.