The Outback Doctor's Surprise Bride

‘It’s fine. What’s up?’

‘The new doctor still hasn’t shown. Have there been any accident reports?’

‘Not that I know of. Do you think something’s happened?’

‘Not sure.’

‘I’m sure he’s fine, Helen. Like I said last night, he’s probably just been delayed.’

‘Probably,’ she agreed, thinking dark thoughts about their new locum.

‘He’d have to be missing for at least twenty-four hours before we could mount an official investigation.’

‘I know.’

‘But if you’re worried I can start making some enquiries straight away. I can take the patrol car down the highway a bit.’

Helen pursed her lips, unsure. She knew Reg was probably right but she couldn’t shake a nagging sense of unease. ‘No, it’s OK. I’m off to Elsie’s now. Some of their stock broke through a fence last night and she’s all het up. I’ll keep my eyes peeled. I’ll ring later if I still haven’t heard from him.’

She rang off and looked around the empty house. You’d better be in a ditch or laid low by a severe illness, James Remington, because this is just plain rude.

James grunted as he inched himself slowly closer on his bottom. His movements were awkward, like a dyslexic crab. His arms were behind him, his left leg, bent at the knee, was used to push himself backward as his right leg slowly dragged against the ground as it followed.

The morning sun wasn’t even high in the sky yet and he was sweating profusely. Although his leathers contributed, it was pain that caused moisture to bead above his lip and on his forehead. Every movement was agony, his leg protesting the slightest advance. He’d have given anything for a painkiller.

At just about halfway there he lay back to rest for a moment, the road now in sight. A silver car flashed by and he raised his hand and yelled out in the vain hope that he was spotted. Of course, it was futile—he was still that little bit too far away to be detected.

But he was slightly cheered by the presence of traffic. All he had to do was get the rest of the way and wait for the next car to come along.

Helen left Elsie’s still distracted by their missing locum. The Desmond farm was on the outskirts of Skye and her little silver car knew the way intimately. Helen had lived with Elsie and her family on and off most of her life, permanently from the age of twelve after her mother’s death.

Her mother’s mental health had always been fragile, necessitating numerous hospital admissions, and her gypsy father, overwhelmed by his wife’s problems and gutted by her eventual demise, had been ill equipped to care for his daughter. He’d flitted in and out of Skye as the whim had taken him, leaving Elsie to raise her.

And she had, providing stability and a much-needed loving home despite the fact that she had also been raising Duncan and Rodney, her grandsons, after their father—Elsie’s son—and mother had been killed in a car accident. Duncan, who had stayed in Skye to run the farm, was the same age as Helen and they were still close.

At eighty, Elsie was a much-loved part of the family. She still lived at the homestead and now Duncan’s children were benefiting from Elsie’s love and eternal patience. Unfortunately in the last couple of years Elsie’s health had started to fail and things that once would never have bothered her now weighed on her mind.

More often than not, when she was in a state, it was Helen she phoned. Duncan was busy with the farm and Denise with the kids and Helen never minded. It was the least she could do for a woman who had helped her through some of the darkest times of her life.

She knew that half an hour of chit-chat and a good cup of tea soon put Elsie right. How often had Elsie taken the time to allay Helen’s own fears as she’d lain awake at night, scared about the future? Elsie’s hugs and calm, crackly voice had soothed her anxieties and had always loosened the knot that had seemed to be permanently present in her stomach. Easing the old woman’s own fears now was never a hardship.

Helen put thoughts of Elsie aside as she concentrated on the road. Her eyes scanned either side and checked the rear-view mirror frequently. Just in case.

James mopped at his face with his bandana. He was nearly there. So close. He could hear a car approaching from a good distance away and he tried to move the last few metres quickly. Pain tore through his leg and halted his desperate movements. He swore out loud as he realised by the sound of the rapidly approaching engine he wasn’t going to make it in time for this car.

In a final act of desperation he stuck up his arm and frantically waved the red bandana, even though he could tell the car had already passed. He lay back and bellowed in frustration.

Helen’s gaze flicked to her rear-view mirror. Her eyes caught a blur of movement. Something red. She took her foot off the accelerator. She didn’t know why. It was probably nothing. She searched the mirror again. Nothing. It was gone. But the same feeling of unease she’d had since last night was gnawing at her gut. The car had slowed right down and acting purely on instinct she pulled over and performed a quick U-turn.

She drove back slowly towards where she had seen the flicker of red. Her green eyes searched the side of the road. Nothing but red dirt and brown bush greeted her. She’d almost given up when she saw him. A figure lying just off the edge of the road.

‘Hell!’ She braked and sprang out of the car, giving the highway only a cursory glance as she crossed it to get to him.

James could see a woman’s legs as she strode towards him. She was in long baggy navy shorts that fell to just above her well-defined knees. They were nice legs. Tanned. Smooth. In fact, they were the best damn set of legs he’d ever seen. He’d never been so happy to see a set of legs ever in his life.

If he hadn’t been in so much pain he would have laughed. James Remington, gypsy loner, who prided himself on being beholden to no one, was so grateful to this set of legs he’d have traded his bike for them. He shut his eyes and rubbed his St Christopher medallion thankfully.

Helen threw herself down in the dirt beside him. Was this her locum? He looked younger than she’d expected. ‘Are you OK?’ she demanded, clutching at his jacket.

James opened his eyes and found himself staring into her worried green gaze. Her eyes looked like cool chips of jade. Amber flecks added a touch of heat. It was the only time a demanding woman hadn’t scared the hell out of him. In fact, had he not been practically incapacitated with pain, he would have kissed her.

‘I am now.’ He struggled to sit up.

‘No, don’t move,’ Helen said, pushing him back against the ground. ‘Are you James Remington?’ she asked as she ran her hands methodically over his body, searching for injuries. Her hands moved dispassionately through his thick wavy hair, feeling for any irregularities or head injuries. Down his neck. Along his collar bones to his shoulders.

He wasn’t surprised that she knew who he was. Maybe he should have been but the pain was all-encompassing. As her hands moved lower to feel his chest, push around his rib cage and palpate his abdomen he absently realised he would normally have cracked a joke by now. The pain was obviously altering his persona.

He was pretty suave with the ladies but he’d never had one become so intimately acquainted with his body so quickly. She had a nice face and a distracting prim ponytail that swished from side to side as she assessed his injuries.

‘Yes, I am,’ he said as her hands gripped his hip bones and she applied pressure down through them, glancing at him with a cocked eyebrow in a silent query. He shook his head.

‘We’ve been worried about you,’ she said. ‘What happened?’ Helen felt methodically down his left leg from groin to toes.

As her fingers brushed his inner thigh James felt his body react despite the pain in his other leg. ‘Came off my bike. Cows on the road.’ He grimaced.

‘Ah. Elsie’s,’ she said absently as she concentrated on his other leg, starting again in his right groin. ‘You been out here all night?’

‘Yup. Look, I’m fine,’ James said, batting her hand away. ‘It’s just my right leg. The tibia’s broken.’

Helen sat back on her haunches and surveyed the crude but effective splint. She didn’t want to disturb it if she didn’t have to. ‘Is it closed or open?’

‘Closed,’ he confirmed. He’d cut open his jeans to investigate the damage by torchlight last night.

‘Were you knocked out?’

‘No. Conscious the whole time.’

She nodded, grateful to discover that he didn’t appear to be too injured at all and trying not to dwell on the fact that their desperately needed locum was now totally useless to them. Helen made a mental note to get onto the agency as soon as she could to organise a replacement.

‘Well, we’d better get you to Skye. Do you think between us we can manage to get you into my car? It’ll be quicker than calling the ambulance.’

James ran assessing eyes over her. He doubted she’d be much help at all, there wasn’t much to her. But he was strong and at the moment he’d go with any option that got him to medical attention as fast as possible. ‘Sure.’

Helen nodded and left him to bring her car closer. She performed another U-turn and pulled it up as close to James as possible. She opened the back door.

‘You might as well lie along the back seat.’

Helen hoped she’d sounded more confident than she felt. Looking down at him, she wondered how they were going to manage it. There was a lot of him. He was a tall, beefy guy, his build evident despite his recumbent posture.