The Rebel Surgeon's Proposal (5 page)

Their meal finished, he helped her clear up, reluctantly declining her tentative offer of coffee. He wanted more than anything to stay, but he knew he had to leave early. Far better that she wanted more, was disappointed their time together was over for now, than he risk outstaying his welcome and rushing her.

‘Ma sent this specially for you,’ he told her, handing her the plain bag he had brought with him and left on the kitchen worktop. ‘Some of her almond shortbread, freshly baked this afternoon.’

‘Oh…’

To his horror, he saw the welling of tears in smoky grey eyes as she turned away from him. ‘Chessie, what is it?’ he demanded, cursing himself for unwittingly upsetting her.

‘Nothing.’ She shook her head, her back to him, but he saw her lift a hand to wipe across her cheeks. ‘Sorry.’

Resting his hands on her shoulders, he gently turned her round, tipping her face up with a thumb under her chin. ‘Ma thought you liked it.’

‘I do. It’s not that. I…’

Even white teeth worried the fullness of her lower lip igniting a storm of needy desire within him. He wanted to do
that…to taste her, nip her, kiss her. Cupping her face, focusing on her turmoil and not his own, he looked into the now dark pools of her eyes.

‘Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong,’ he whispered persuasively, revelling in the feel of silky soft skin beneath his palms.

‘It’s silly.’

He lightly pressed the pad of one thumb to her lips to halt her protest. ‘Not if it upset you. Why?’

‘Your mum gave me some once. It was my birthday and it was the only gift I had. I ran away from her because her warmth and the genuineness behind the giving made it priceless to me and I didn’t want her to see me cry,’ she admitted, a catch in her voice. ‘The shortbread smelled wonderful. And I remember it was still warm from the oven. I couldn’t resist it. My mother found me tucking into the first piece and she was furious with me for deviating from her regimented dietary plan.’ Luke’s throat hurt as Francesca tried to laugh, her chin lifting in defiance even as she was unable to look at him. ‘She snatched the bag away from me and crumbled all the rest of the shortbread into the dustbin. I was punished for days afterwards for eating any of it.’

Feeling the pain of the girl she had been, Luke pulled her close, wrapping his arms round her, needing the hug as much as she did. He felt furious rage at Francesca’s mother, a woman who had kept her daughter on such a tight leash, determined, it seemed, to live her own failed athletic dreams through Francesca, and making the girl’s life hell with strict rules and training and an obsessive regime, making her an outcast because of her difference. Something he knew all about from his own family circumstances and the reason he and Francesca had understood each other all those years ago.

She felt impossibly good resting against him as he stroked a hand up and down her back, the satin strands of her fiery
hair, still restrained in its braid, brushing against his skin. He wanted to hold her for all eternity but as his body reacted instinctively to her closeness, he drew back before she became aware of his arousal.

Knowing she was embarrassed, he lightened the moment, opening the bag and feeding her a piece of shortbread. ‘Go on, be a devil,’ he teased, smiling as she laughed and took a big bite.

Crumbs clung to her lips and chin, her tonguetip peeping out to try and catch them. His stomach in knots, Luke couldn’t resist brushing her skin clean with his fingers, trying to ignore the flare of surprise and awareness in Francesca’s eyes as he touched her.

‘Good?’ he asked, hearing the roughness in his own voice.

‘Amazing.’ She giggled endearingly as she talked with her mouth full, swallowing before she continued. ‘They’re even more delicious than I remembered. Please thank your mum for me.’

Luke wrapped up the rest of the almond shortbread and left it on the counter for her. ‘You can thank her yourself—she’d love to see you.’

‘OK,’ she agreed after a moment, her smile shy.

‘Right, I’d best go and leave you to get a good night’s sleep.’ Reluctantly, he walked back into the living area and picked up his leather jacket from the back of the sofa. ‘Thanks for the company. I’ve really enjoyed this evening.’

‘Me, too.’

At the front door, he hesitated. Somehow he resisted the urge to kiss her senseless, knowing he would never leave if he once tasted the sweetness of her mouth. Instead, he brushed his lips across her forehead and forced himself to move back.

‘I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’ He enjoyed one last lingering look at her before turning away. ‘Sweet dreams, Chessie.’

His steps carried him swiftly back to his mother’s house
where he collected his car and drove home—alone—hot and needy for Francesca. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. He thought of her, of all she had been through in the past with her controlling mother, and vowed to ensure that she always felt safe and secure and had everything she wanted to make her own decisions for her future.

He just hoped above all else that he could share that future with her.

F
RANCESCA
knew the instant that Luke stepped up behind her. Her whole body tingled, her pulse raced and heat percolated through her, pooling low in her belly. He let out a low whistle as he leaned in closer to look at the images on the screen. So close she could scent his earthy, musky fragrance and feel the heat of his body transferring to hers.

‘That is some break.’ His warm breath whispered across the skin of her neck as he spoke, stirring the loose strands of hair that had escaped her braid.

‘Nasty,’ she managed to murmur in agreement, fixing her gaze on the X-rays, struggling to maintain her professionalism. ‘What will you do?’

The motorcyclist had been knocked from his bike by a hit-and-run driver shortly after one on Friday morning. He had been rushed the ten miles from one of the outlying villages to Strathlochan Hospital by ambulance, the paramedics rightly concerned about haemorrhaging inside the thigh. The A and E team had stabilised the patient and paged Orthopaedics and Radiology—which had brought Luke and herself to the department as they were both on call for the night shift.

Despite the doctors immobilising the leg in a splint and
administering analgesics, the man was still in pain. Unsurprising, Francesca thought as she looked at the multiple breaks. His femur was fractured in two places high up the shaft, while the tibia was broken, with a sheared-off fragment, and the fibula had snapped, one end piercing the skin.

Luke brushed against her as he reached to change the images to view the fractures from another angle. ‘We’ll have to put a nail and screws in the femur and plates on the tib and fib.’

‘Looks like you’ll be in Theatre for a while.’

‘Sure does. Good thing I always liked Mechano kits and fixing things.’ Luke cast her a mischievous smile before turning back to linger a moment more, his expression serious as he studied the various digital X-rays she had taken. ‘I’ll call Maurice. He’ll want to come in for this one. And with so much bleeding, as well as all the dirt in the wound and the risk of infection with an open fracture, we won’t delay operating.’

As he moved away to talk with Robert Mowbray, the A and E consultant in charge of the patient, Francesca breathed out a sigh of relief and endeavoured to get her wayward responses back under control. This had been going on for nearly ten days now and, despite her regular assurances to herself that things would settle down, her awareness of Luke seemed to get stronger every day.

From the first moment of the first day working together in the fracture clinic, Francesca had been impressed by and in awe of Luke’s skill. He knew what he wanted and didn’t suffer fools gladly, but even in Theatre during a tense operation—where she had seen other surgeons lose their rag and take their temper out on assorted staff—Luke never lost his cool and always treated people with respect. She had quickly realised that Luke had cultivated a work persona, just as she had, reminding her once again just how much they had in common.

They had swiftly fallen into a pattern, with Luke walking her home after work, spending time with her, catching up on their lives without touching on anything too personal or relating to the past, talking mostly about work and their various experiences during their training. On one of their two days off between the change from day shifts to night shifts, she had gone with him to visit his mother. Sadie, recovered from her broken arm, had made her so welcome it had brought tears to Francesca’s eyes.

In all their time together, Luke had done nothing to suggest he saw her as anything other than a friend, leaving her on each occasion with a gentle kiss to her forehead. And that was what she wanted…friendship. So why did she feel disappointed? Why did she yearn for more? And why did the frisson of sexual chemistry increase every time she saw him?

Another question also nagged at her. What was with their shifts? She had no idea how or why it came to be, but their working hours always seemed to match. When she was on call to A and E, so was Luke. When she was asked to cover the fracture clinic, he was taking it. When she was on nights, so was Luke. When she was called to the operating theatre to take images to verify the placement of fixings after repairs to fractures, Luke was there. She didn’t want to ask if he had done something to arrange it, because she didn’t want to appear stupid or for him to get the wrong impression. Maybe it was just an innocent coincidence and nothing to do with Luke at all, but suspicion lingered.

Not that she minded working with him. He was not only a superb doctor, sharply intelligent and exceedingly thorough, spotting things she knew others would have missed, but his attitude to his patients was wonderful. He exuded professional authority mixed with casual charm, he was kind and unhurried, and he listened. He knew when to tease and lighten
the atmosphere, when to reassure and ease anxiety, and when to be firm and straightforward.

‘Maurice is on his way,’ Luke announced, appearing beside her and making her jump.

The sound of an ambulance siren cut through the night, its blue lights flashing in the darkness outside as it turned into the approach to the hospital. As the A and E staff swung into action to greet the new arrival, Luke caught her fingers and drew her aside, squeezing them gently before letting go.

‘I don’t know how long I’ll be in Theatre,’ he told her, the expression in his green eyes intent as he looked at her. ‘But hopefully I’ll catch up with you before breakfast and walk you home.’

‘OK.’

Francesca wanted to tell him not to worry, that they didn’t have to be joined at the hip and do everything together, but a worrying part of her wanted,
needed
, to see him.

His fingertips briefly skimmed her cheek. ‘You look tired. I think we can both use these days off. If I don’t see you before your shift ends, get home and have a good sleep. I’ll call you later and we can arrange to do something over the weekend.’

Before she had a chance to respond, he strode off across the department, heading for the lift that would take him up to the floor that housed the operating theatres. She felt bemused. Her skin still tingled from his feather-light touch, and despite knowing it wasn’t sensible to become so comfortable with him, to see him all the time, she was looking forward to it. She knew she was on dangerous ground, that she should be strong and keep more distance between them. Why hadn’t she told him she already had plans for Saturday? She vowed that she would the next time she spoke to him. She would. Definitely.

‘Francesca, good, you’re still here.’ A and E registrar Will Brown hurried up to her, reclaiming her attention. ‘We have
a collapsed man, aged seventy-two. Suspected abdominal aortic aneurysm with possible rupture. We’ve fast-bleeped the vascular surgeon, but we need chest and abdominal X-rays and an ultrasound scan.’

‘Of course,’ Francesca agreed, hurrying with him to Resus.

It was nearly half past two in the morning and things didn’t seem to be slowing down. Whilst she didn’t want anyone hurt or sick, having her attention focused on work and those who needed her meant she had less time to think disturbing thoughts about Luke.

The haemorrhaging under control and a femoral nail having been inserted in the motorcyclist’s thigh, held in place by screws, Luke prepared to work on the lower leg under the watchful eye of Maurice Goodwin. Other members of the team had already thoroughly cleaned the wounds of dirt and gravel and had debrided dead and contaminated tissue.

Things were fairly relaxed under Mr Goodwin’s regime, with classical music playing in the background and a lot of banter flowing back and forth between the staff…the kind his previous boss and mentor, Professor James Fielding-Smythe, would have hated.

Luke tuned out the chatter, and the relentless march of time, as he concentrated on his work, making an incision and sliding a metal plate under the muscles and along the tibia. After manoeuvring the fragment of bone that had splintered off back into place, he positioned the plate and attached it with several screws, bringing the pieces into alignment and holding them together, checking all the time on the X-ray display screen that everything was in the right place.

Next Luke turned his attention to the fibula and the jagged break that had pierced the skin. Here he used a smaller plate for the thinner bone, inserting screws and squeezing the frac
ture together, watching the screen again to ensure the correct alignment. Then all that remained was to suture the incisions closed and temporarily cover the wounds with sterile dressings to help guard against infection.

‘Good job, Luke,’ Maurice Goodwin praised when the operation finally ended and their patient was taken to Recovery before being moved to the intensive care unit. ‘He’ll have a long recovery ahead of him but he has a good chance of full use of the leg eventually after your repairs.’

‘Thank you, sir. Sorry we had to bring you in.’

The older man waved a dismissive hand before stripping off his protective clothing. ‘All part of the job. Interesting case. I’ll get back home for a couple more hours’ sleep. Call me if there are problems,’ he instructed before heading out.

Luke went to get cleaned up and change his clothes before going to ICU to check on the motorcyclist. All being well, he’d see him settled before his shift finished. Two of his colleagues were in the washroom when he entered. He’d kept himself pretty much to himself during his first ten days, interacting well on a professional level but resisting any social connections.

‘So, Luke, what have you got that we haven’t?’ one of the junior doctors teased.

Wary, Luke glanced up from scrubbing his hands at the sink. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You seem to be having more success than the rest of the male population around here in chipping away at the Ice Maiden’s chilly armour.’

Luke’s temper rose as the two men laughed. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Francesca Scott,’ the second doctor enlightened him with a salacious grin, apparently not reading the signs of Luke’s ire. ‘Many have tried and been frozen in the process, mate. Rumour is perhaps she’s only into women, you know? Be a waste,
though, right? I mean, she has a lush pair of breasts! Enough to make a man weep. If you have any luck warming her up, let me know. I wouldn’t be the only one who’d like a turn.’

His fists clenched instinctively and it was only with a supreme effort of will and an inbuilt reminder that he was not his father or his brothers, solving everything with violence, that kept Luke from landing a punch on both the younger men’s cocky, leering faces. No way would these creeps be touching Francesca. Neither would anyone else. If he ever caught them so much as looking at her breasts, they might discover there was more of the Devlin in him than he wanted there to be.

‘You know nothing about Francesca and I don’t appreciate you disrespecting her. I wouldn’t do it again,’ he advised curtly, walking away to the locker room, aware the two juniors were staring after him in surprise.

Once alone, Luke drew in a steadying breath. The comments from his colleagues made him wonder why Francesca had cultivated her reputation for coldness and unapproachability when he knew neither was true. A frown darkened his brow as he thought back, wondering what had happened to her in the ten years he had missed out on and if there were clues there he had yet to discover. He knew she’d had a rough time with that domineering, driven woman for a mother. Francesca had been so oppressed, pushed relentlessly to do something he wasn’t at all sure she had enjoyed. And she’d been kept on such a tight leash she had known no fun, no joy, had not been allowed friends or any freedom. He recalled what she had told him about the incident with his mother’s shortbread and renewed hurt for her tightened his gut.

His father and his brothers might have been bastards who belonged in the gutter, but at least he’d had his ma, had known some love and affection. How much of that had ever been in
Francesca’s life? Luke ran a hand through his hair. What else had happened to her? Was it just because of her mother that she shied away from relationships, from caring? Or had something else happened in the last decade that had hardened her resolution to remain alone? He needed her, badly, and he believed more and more that she needed him, too…needed to learn to love and be loved.

He changed scrubs, wrote up his notes and went to the ICU to check on his patient, all duties he had to perform before he was free to go in search of Francesca. With every day that passed, he was filled with renewed determination to stay close to her, to win her round, to show her how good things could be between them. Now they had some time off and he had plans for the weekend….

‘It’s only a few more weeks until Gina’s wedding and we’re going for the final fitting of dresses on Saturday,’ Holly Tait, a nurse from the children’s ward, explained to the small group gathered at a table in the canteen.

Francesca allowed the talk to wash over her. She’d sat with Holly because she liked her. Around the same age as herself, Holly was a great nurse…she was also shy and didn’t gossip. Unfortunately, several others had come to join them as night shifts drew to an end, and Francesca wished she had just gone home as she usually did rather than come up here for some breakfast first. She’d told herself it was because she was too tired to be bothered to eat anything when she got home, but she very much feared it was all down to weakness of will and a traitorous part of her was lingering in the hope of seeing Luke.

‘Are you coming to Gina’s hen party, Francesca?’ Holly asked, reclaiming her attention.

‘If I’m not working.’

It was a cagey answer, she knew. She didn’t enjoy social occasions and hen nights were usually the worst of the worst. But she liked Gina, and knowing that her celebrations were different from the norm made her reconsider. Instead of some wild, boozy night, Gina had planned a day of being pampered at a spa for a select group of friends, followed by an evening meal at a favoured restaurant. That she had been included on the guest list made Francesca feel both honoured and nervous.