Courting Passion by Elizabeth Lapthorne

you.”
    “You proposing to me, Kate?” Garth tried and failed to tease her. Katherine shot him an evil look, laced with humour and love.
    “Am I doing this wrong?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Should I be down on one knee? Offer you a ring? Gee, maybe I should call your dad and ask for his blessing, too. Take you out to dinner or something.”
    Garth laughed, then coughed as his side pained him.
    Katherine frowned. “Should I break the speed limit? How bad is it?”
    “I’m fine.”
    Katherine glared at him. Garth sighed, the tiniest smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
    “It hurts like a bitch, but a few good painkillers, getting the damn metal out of me and stitching me back together will have me good as new. Hillon will have some good Scotch sitting in a cupboard somewhere. A good slug of that, a handful of codeine and I’ll be back on board as if nothing’s happened.”
    “So stubborn,” she muttered, more to herself than him. Even in the close confines of the car he must have heard, for he laughed.
    The tension broken for the moment, a comfortable silence fell between them. Katherine grew lost in her thoughts as she skirted a few of the traffic laws to get them both at the good doctor’s home in near record time. She pulled into Hillon’s driveway and parked the car, not fussed that she blocked the doctor’s vehicle.
    Katherine unsnapped her seatbelt, opened the door and had half climbed out before she turned around to watch Garth. While he moved far more slowly than usual, he managed. The thought of offering him some help flitted across her mind, but then she remembered the man’s pride and stubbornness.
    Katherine climbed out of the car and waited until Garth was steady on his feet before she slammed the door shut and walked beside her lover up to the doctor’s home.
    “Next time you can get shot,” Garth muttered in complaint.
    Katherine rang the doorbell multiple times as she tossed her hair at him and sniffed in mock disdain.
    “If I were shot you’d have not only killed those two imbeciles, James and Robert, but you’d have carried me back to the car and sworn a blood oath of getting revenge and making their lives miserable,” she remarked. “I’d have put up a fight, but finally would’ve let your idiot masculine ego win. You’ll note I’m not coddling you, not weeping and wailing and having feminine hysterics. Frankly I think you should be grateful for small mercies.”
    “That’s a fair point,” he conceded, seeming to think it over.
    Before Katherine could speak further the front door opened. A short, round man with flyaway grey hair stood in the doorway. He glanced from Katherine to Garth, then lowered his gaze to the damp, stained shirt and Garth’s bloodied hand clenched around his side.
    “I’m glad I haven’t made breakfast yet,” the elderly man remarked. He stepped back and allowed them both entrance.
    Katherine entered, followed by Garth. They stood in the front hallway as Dr Hillon closed and locked the door.
    “Head on back, you know the surgery,” he said. Katherine turned and began to walk back as Dr Hillion spoke to Garth, an amused tone in his voice.
    “I’ll expect you’ll be grateful for a slug of my Scotch, young man? I’ll need you to answer a few questions and then, once I survey the damage, I’ll decide what I can give you.”
    “You mean this is one of those answer the question correctly and I’ll give you the good stuff?” Garth asked with a chuckle. Dr Hillon laughed in reply.
    “Heavens, no! If you lie to me I’ll find out soon enough from your reactions to the dose of antibiotics or painkillers I inject you with. Once a patient lies to me I refuse to treat them again. Too hazardous. No, my boy, what I meant was depending on the dose and style of shots I will need to administer, there are varying risks of you losing your breakfast as well as my Scotch. There’s no sense in my wasting the expensive drink if the chances are