EXTRACT FROM THE REBEL SURGEON'S PROPOSAL

TAKEN FROM CHAPTER ONE

February

'Francesca?  My goodness, lass, is that you?'

After responding to a call from the A and E department to carry out a series of emergency X-rays on a road-accident victim, Francesca Scott was returning to the radiology unit when she heard someone call her name.  Glancing round, she saw an older woman sitting in a wheelchair at one side of the reception area, separate from the handful of other people who were awaiting attention.  Recognition dawned as Francesca observed the plump figure, her gaze travelling over a rounded face framed by short grey curls.  A familiar face that was kindly and surprisingly unlined by the ravages of a diffiicult life ... a face that now bore the signs of bruises that had Francesca's stomach twisting into knots and suspicion sending warning bells ringing in her mind.

Old memories flowed, fast and furious, nearly overwhelming her, making her feel hesitant, vulnerable, taking her back to the girl she had been ten years ago rather than the woman she had since fought to become.  Part of her wanted to run, to push the myriad of scary emotions away, but she could never turn her back on the woman who had recognised her and reached out to her.  Feeling as if she was crossing some unbridgeable chasm to an unknown destination rather than a few feet of floor space, Francesca closed the distance separating them.  As she sat on a chair beside the woman, she studied the bruising and noted the way she was cradling her right arm in a sling.

'Hello, Mrs Devlin.'

A smile bloomed, bringing a twinkle to faded green eyes that displayed pleasure and warmth, making her look much younger than her sixty-three years.  'It's wonderful to see you, Francesca!'    

'Thank you.  And you.  I wouldn't have wanted you to be here under these circumstances, though.'  Trying to keep barriers erected against anything personal, or anything related to the past, Francesca focused on Sadie Devlin's injuries and why she had been left alone.  'Have you been seen, or are you waiting for an X-ray?'

'I'm not sure what's happening.  The nurse who brought me here from Casualty went off to talk to a friend and hasn't come back.  She's a bit of a flighty one.'  The admission was made with a mix of wry amusement and a hint of frustration.

Francesca cursed under her breath, pretty sure who the culprit was.  'Do you know her name?'

'Olivia, I think.  Dyed blonde hair, lots of make-up.'

It figured.  She tried to hide her annoyance at wretched Olivia Barr, who had no doubt gone off after some man who had caught her fancy.  'Is that the X-ray request form?' she asked, gesturing to the slip the older woman held in her lap.

'Yes, that's right.  Shall I give it to you?'

'Please.'  Francesca stood up.  'I'll find out what's going on and get you booked in.'

Mrs Devlin's relief was obvious.  'Thanks, lass.'

A quick check at the reception desk with Kim, one of the unit's clerks, confirmed that Olivia had failed to organise the requested X-rays and had left her charge unattended for some time.  After a hectic morning in Radiology, things were beginning to wind down, but as her colleagues on duty were all busy with patients who had prebooked appointments, Francesca offered to handle Sadie Devlin's case herself.  

*

Francesca returned to Mrs Devlin and wheeled her to a vacant X-ray room.   

'I'm not jumping the queue am I?' the thoughtful lady fretted.

'Not at all.  I'm just sorry you had to wait this long.'

Francesca prepared things in readiness to take the required images.  As she turned to face the woman once more, dread filled her, a lump forming in her throat as she wondered how to voice her concerns about how she had been hurt. 

'What happened today, Mrs Devlin?  Did you have an accident or ... ?'  Her words trailed off and she cursed the tinge of colour that warmed her pale cheeks, betraying her discomfort and, no doubt, making the direction of her thoughts all too clear.

Mrs Devlin sent her an understanding smile as the unspoken question hung in the air between them.  'It's all right, Francesca.  Really.  Yours is a natural assumption to make, after all.  But on this occasion it was all my own fault.  I climbed onto a chair to change a lightbulb.  So silly of me', she sighed, shaking her head.  'It was more rickety than I thought, and when it gave way, I overbalanced.  The next moment I was on the floor.  Instinct had me putting my hand out to save myself.  I knew right away that my arm was broken.' 

'Did you hit your head at all?'

'No, but I grazed my face on the chair as I fell ... hence the bruises.  The nice doctor in Casualty was very thorough checking me over and my arm seems to be the only worry.'

'That's good news.'  She smiled, relieved there was nothing more serious going on.  'Let's get these X-rays taken, then.'

'Francesca ... '

A change in the tone of voice alerted her and she looked up, seeing both determination and the shadows of past pain in the older woman's green eyes.  'Yes?

'Mick, my husband, died five years ago.'  The announcement was delivered after a short pause and without emotion, but a welter of meaning resonated in those seven words.

Francesca bit her lip, unsure what to say.  She couldn't express sorrow for the loss of a man who had been brutal and cruel, at whose hands Mrs Devlin and her three children had suffered for years and whose often violent crimes had led to several spells in prison. 

The woman reached out with her uninjured hand to pat Francesca's arm.  'You don't have to say anything, lass.  I know what people thought of him – of us as a family.  Many wondered why I stayed, but it was for the children.  I couldn't abandon them and Mick would never have let me take them away from him.  My being there gave them some protection.'

Only at the expense of her own, Francesca wanted to protest, but held her tongue.  She was angry on Mrs Devlin's behalf, she always had been, but even through the impotence of youthful rage, she had also long admired her courage and her love for her children.  Not that all of them had deserved her selflessness.  It was true that everyone in Strathlochan had known the history of the Devlin family and had spoken of them – the men, at least – with disgust and wariness.  Rumours and prejudices had been rife about them and Francesca had grown up fearing Mr Devlin and the two older boys, Jon and Pete, who had shown all the signs of following in their father's unsavoury footsteps. 

Her own home life had been nothing to write home about but for all the problems surrounding the Devlins, Francesca had always envied them Sadie.  Her care for her children had been obvious, even for Jon and Pete who had repaid her dedication so shabbily.  To Francesca, Sadie Devlin was all a mother should be ... the kind of mother she herself had always longed for.  So many times growing up she had admired her from afar, had played make-believe in her mind, pretending Sadie was her mother and that someone loved her for herself, always had a kind word for her, a ready hug.  Reality had always intruded – a reality without the love and cuddles and kind words she had so craved.

Pushing aside unwanted memories, thoughts of things she had long since tried to banish and shut away in a dark, secret part of her mind, Francesca focused on her task, being as gentle as she could as she positioned the injured arm so she could capture the clearest picture of the suspected fracture. 

*

Francesca worked swiftly to minimise any discomfort and, once she had completed the X-rays, she resettled Mrs Devlin's arm in the supportive sling.  The images were soon ready to send to the A and E department but there was still no sign of Olivia Barr.  Angry that the nurse had deserted her patient, Francesca decided to return Mrs Devlin to Casualty herself.

'How long have you been back in Strathlochan, lass?'

The question caught Francesca by surprise, once more reawakening things she wished to keep dormant and in permanent hibernation.  'Nearly three years now,' she confided as she guided the wheelchair down the maze of corridors that were so familiar to her but could easily confuse the unwary.

'And you like it here at the hospital?' Sadie Devlin probed.

'I do.  I love my job.'

Saying the words out loud confirmed the truth of them.  For the first time in her life she felt she fitted somewhere, Francesca admitted.  She relished the variety of the work she did, both within the radiological unit itself and when she was on call to A and E.  The buzz and uncertainty of the emergency work appealed to her, being quite different from the order and organisation of the unit and set appointments. 

As a rule, she wasn't good with people, but she enjoyed the interaction with her patients, devoting herself to their care and doing her best for them while they were in her charge.  Outside her professional life, once she shed her work persona, she avoided people as much as possible.  She knew that her nickname around the hospital was the Ice Maiden but it didn't bother her.  The people who dubbed her that knew nothing about her or her life.  She got on all right with most of her colleagues in the work environment, but any kind of social interaction made her uncomfortable. 

*

'It was a shock to discover you and your mother had left Strathlochan.  We had no clue where you had gone,' Sadie Devlin continued, startling Francesca from her wayward thoughts and surprising her even more that her absence had been noted at all.  'And I'm so glad I've seen you today, lass.  I had no idea you were home.' 

Home.  Francesca was relieved that she was behind the older woman so Sadie could not see her reaction to that word.  She didn't want to think of home, of childhood and all that meant. 

*

With her charge settled in the cubicle, Francesca lingered a moment longer, feeling the pull of the past and stirrings of her childhood affection for this woman.

'Are you going to be all right?'  A frown of concern creased her brow.  The nature of her job meant she usually had only a brief connection with each patient, but she always did her best for those in her care.  'Will you be able to get home?'

'My next-door neighbour brought me in and is waiting for me.'

Partially reassured, Francesca smiled.  'And will you be able to manage while your arm is in plaster?  Is there anything I can do to help?  Any shopping you need picked up?'  The offer was out before she could retract it, but the woman was shaking her head, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

'It's kind of you to worry about me, lass, and I much appreciate your thoughtfulness.  But as soon as Luke hears what I have done he'll be insisting I go to stay with him so he can take care of me.  That boy would wrap me in cotton wool given half a chance,' Mrs Devlin confided with a laugh.

Luke. 

Francesca closed her eyes.  Her heart lurched and she suddenly found it hard to breathe.  Luke ... the youngest son.  So different from his scary, no-good father and bullying, troublesome brothers.  Just hearing his name brought an overwhelming welter of emotions.  To say she'd not thought of Luke in ages would be a lie.  He had invaded her thoughts and her dreams with worrying regularity during the last decade.  Seeing his mother again had opened up thoughts and feelings she had long tried to lock away because there was too much pain and longing and confusion.  Luke, who had left town ten years ago when he had been eighteen.  They'd had an unusual friendship.  Nothing more.  Yet she had built Luke up in her lonely teenage mind as her hero, had looked to him as her protector.  Which was why her sixteen-year-old heart had been so broken, and why she had felt so betrayed when he had gone without a word, without so much as a backward glance.

Unsettled by the the tidal wave of disturbing memories, she said a hasty goodbye to Sadie, wishing her a speedy recovery.  And then she fled.  She didn't want to think about Luke.  Not after all this time.  But however much she tried to fool herself to the contrary, she had never forgotten him.  He was in her head far too frequently, a hazy shadow on the edge of her consciousness, giving her no rest. 

Francesca squared her shoulders and gave herself a stern talking to as she walked back to the radiology unit, any thought of a hasty lunch forgotten in the need to bury herself in work to block out old hurts and disturbing memories.

She had been nothing to Luke.  He hadn't even known she existed and had likely never thought about her again after he had left town.  Growing up and forgetting all about him was long overdue. 

Luke Devlin was in the past ... and that was where he was going to stay.

*

The phone was ringing as Luke Devlin let himself into his soulless London flat. 

Shrugging off his well-worn leather jacket and leaving it draped haphazardly over the back of the sofa, he flopped into an armchair, picked up the cordless handset and barked his name.

'Devlin.'

'Hello, love.'

A smile came unbidden in response to the familiar voice.  God, he missed her.  The one constant in his life.  'How are you?'  A too-long pause had his instincts on red alert.  'Ma?  What's happened?'

The answering chuckle eased some of his tension.  'I have good news and bad news.'

'Tell me the bad news first.'  Leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out, he tried to relax muscles that were stiff and aching after long hours standing at the operating table assisting his boss in a complicated spinal surgery.

'Don't be cross with me, Luke, I'm absolutely fine,' his mother began, immediately warning him that she was far from all right.  'I had a little accident and broke my arm.'

'Ma!'

She tutted soothingly.  'Now, then, don't take on, Luke.  The nice doctor at Strathlochan Hospital told me that it's a clean and simple break and it should heal without problems.'

*

'You said there was good news as well,' he reminded her, allowing himself the luxury of relaxing again.

'I did.  And there is!  You'll never guess who took my X-rays.'

Luke rolled his eyes as his mother, ever the one for spinning out a good yarn, paused for effect.  'I hope this person was kind to you.'

'Oh, she was wonderful,' his mother gushed, clearly smitten.  'She was very gentle and very kind, and she looked after me so well.'

'And what is the name of this paragon?' he asked.

'Francesca Scott.'

Luke forgot how to breathe.  A knot tightened in his chest and it felt as if his heart had stopped beating.  He sucked a ragged breath into parched lungs.  Gripping the phone so hard his knuckles were stark white, he sat up straight in the chair, every part of him at full attention.

'What did you say?'  He demanded clarification, knowing he must have been hearing things.

'It's true, Luke.'  His mother's voice softened with the confirmation, filling with awareness of the importance of her words.

It took a few moments for the rest of the information to register over the roaring in his ears and the rushing of blood through his veins.  One vital fact took precedence.  Francesca was back.

The Rebel Surgeon's Proposal
Margaret McDonagh
Mills & Boon Medical Romance
UK Hardback – April 2009
ISBN:   978026320921-1
UK Paperback – June 2009
ISBN:
Copyright © 2009
Margaret McDonagh
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Cover copyright © 2009 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Artwork by Jim Wylie