Hired: GP and Wife / The Playboy Doctor's Surprise Proposal by Judy Campbell / Anne Fraser Page B

after the injection.
    ‘How is it?’ she asked, her voice tense.
    Atholl closed his eyes to concentrate on the sounds Hamish’s heart was making, then after a few seconds he leaned back on his heels and puffed his cheeks out in relief. ‘Thank God, it’s beginning to get a more normal beat. I think he’s settling down now.’ He turned round to see what was happening behind him. ‘What the hell are we going to do about that ambulance?’ he said. ‘We’ve got to get Hamish to hospital pronto—he could still arrest and then we’re in deep trouble.’
    Terry bit her lip and looked at the men still struggling with the ambulance. ‘We’ve no other option—we’ll just have to take him in the Land Rover. If we clear the back, would the stretcher from the ambulance fit in?’
    ‘Could do. Look, I’ll go and do that with the lads. You stay with Hamish and monitor him.’
    Atholl ran over to the small crowd of men still trying to hold the dogs at bay. They were having a difficult job and suddenly one of the dogs bolted through and tore straight for his stricken master, despite the shouts of the men. Terry sensed that the dog was bearing down on them but she wasn’t about to leave Hamish. He needed to see her face and hear her talking to him, someone comforting to hang onto in the sea of pain he must be in.
    The dog took no notice of Terry but skidded to a halt in the mud and licked Hamish’s face, then dropped down by his side as if he were guarding him. That’s all the animal wanted, thought Terry, to be near the man he loved.
    ‘Leave him here,’ she said firmly to a man who had raced over to try and move the dog. ‘He’s doing no harm, and, who knows, it may be of comfort to Hamish to know that his dog’s near him.’
    And after that they couldn’t get the animal away from Hamish, although he seemed to sense that the people around his master were trying to help him, and didn’t actively interfere when Hamish was lifted onto the stretcher and carried to Atholl’s Land Rover. He growled ferociously when an attempt was made to shoo him off, but as long as he was allowed to trot by Hamish’s side he was quite calm.
    ‘We’ll have to let Brandy come with us—the daft animal’s not going to let us take Hamish away without him,’ said Atholl. He looked up at one of the paramedics. ‘Bill, you drive the vehicle and Terry and I will sit by Hamish and try and steady him. More haste, less speed is the byword and, for God’s sake, don’t go through any potholes.’
    Crouched in the back of the Land Rover with a wet dog practically on her lap and the patient and Atholl crushed beside her on the other side was a scenario she couldn’t possibly have envisaged when she’d left London a week or two ago, reflected Terry. She held Hamish’s hand and squeezed it, trying to communicate to him that he was not alone, there were people caring for him. She smiled grimly to herself. No doubt about it—she’d been thrown in at the deep end!
    She looked at Atholl, wet hair plastered like a seal’s over his bent head as he concentrated on monitoring the man’s heart, oblivious to everything else but keeping his patient stable. Occasionally he glanced out of the window to see how near the hospital they were, then nodded encouragingly at Terry as she tried her best to hold the stretcher steady over the rougher bits of road.
    Hamish’s eyes were open now, clouded with pain and fright. He moved his lips behind the oxygen mask, trying desperately to say something to his doctor. Atholl moved the mask slightly and leaned further forward to hear Hamish.
    ‘Get my son to bring the sheep down from the top meadow,’ the man whispered.
    Atholl patted his hand. ‘I will do, Hamish. Don’t worry, you’re doing fine.’
    ‘Thank you,’ whispered the man, closing his eyes, his face looking pinched and grey in the dim light of the vehicle.
    After a journey that must have seemed an age to the stricken man, they deposited Hamish