The Love Islands Collection. Jane Porter

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СКАЧАТЬ didn’t want her to come to any harm. No matter what else went on in this world. He couldn’t push aside his protective impulses towards her. He didn’t dare to think about anything happening to her.

      He’d just managed to see her for the first time in eight years. And, no matter how he felt about anything, he wasn’t ready for that to be over.

      Her bravado was obviously starting to crash. ‘He’s still unconscious. We’ll be able to assess him better when we get out.’

      Ron tapped him on the shoulder, standing in position with the bright yellow, tightly coiled inflatables in the crew’s hands.

      ‘Rach, hold on. Ron’s ready. Get yourself in position.’

      He couldn’t imagine what it must be like in there with the heavy barrels stacked all around. It took a good ten minutes for Ron and the rest of the crew to slowly edge the giant sausage-like inflatables into position and connect them to the air pressure machines.

      It was the first time in his life Nathan had ever cursed his muscular frame. He should be the one in there. Not her.

      He spoke in a low voice. ‘Are you sure the rest of the barrels will fall outwards? None are going to land on them?’

      Ron met his gaze; there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. ‘I’m as sure as you are.’

      Nathan glanced towards the crew member standing with his hand on the air pressure machine. ‘Get back,’ he yelled to the rest of the crew members, who scattered like leaves on a blustery day.

      Nathan couldn’t help himself. He rushed forward as he signalled to the crew guy. ‘Now, Rach,’ he shouted. ‘Get your head down!’

      Strong arms pulled him backwards just as the switches on the machine were thrown. It was only ten seconds. But it felt like so much longer.

      The giant sausages started to inflate, pushing everything around them outwards. The barrels teetering at the top started to rumble and fall, cascading like a champagne tower. Nathan couldn’t breathe. It was almost as if everything was happening in slow motion.

      One blue barrel after another thudded heavily to the ground, some landing on their side and rolling forwards, gathering momentum as the crew dived out of their path. From beneath the pile the thick yellow PVC was emerging, continuing to throw the blue barrels outwards as the air gathered inside.

      Relief. He didn’t even want to consider what might have happened. As the last barrel rolled past, Nathan sprinted towards the yellow PVC, crossing the ground quickly. He could hear the thuds behind him and knew that the rest of the crew were on his heels but it didn’t stop him bounding over the thick inflatable.

      Rachel was still crouched behind it; her body over the top of Jack’s, protecting him from any falling debris. Her head was leaning over his, with her hands over the top of her head. The other yellow inflatable had protected them from behind, creating the shelter that Nathan had hoped it would.

      Nathan landed beside her with a thud, dropping to his knees and gently touching her arms. ‘Rachel? Are you okay?’ He couldn’t stop the concern lacing his voice.

      Her arms were trembling and she lifted her head slowly, licking her dry lips. Her eyes flicked from side to side. ‘It’s done?’

      The wave of relief in her eyes was obvious. He had to hold back. He had to really hold back. It would be so easy just to wrap his arms around her and give her a quick hug of comfort and reassurance. But this was Rachel. This was Rachel.

      He’d already experienced the briefest contact with her skin and he’d no intention of doing it again. No matter how relieved he was to see she was okay.

      His black bag thumped down next to him again—the black bag he should have been carrying in his hand. Something shot through him. His first thought should have been for the patient but it hadn’t been. His first thought had been Rachel.

      She was still looking at him. Staring at him with those big brown eyes. As if she were still in shock after what had just happened.

      He had to focus. One of them had to do their job.

      He grabbed the stethoscope from her hands and bent over to sound Jack’s chest. Now that the barrels were out of the way he could get access quite easily. It only took a few minutes to hear the air entry in each lung. He pulled a pen torch from his back pocket and checked both of Jack’s pupils. Both reacted, although one was slightly sluggish. He grimaced. ‘We really need to get some neuro obs started on this guy.’

      His voice seemed to snap Rachel to attention. She jumped to her feet and held out her hands towards the crew members who were handing a stretcher towards them. It only took a few seconds to load Jack onto the stretcher, with plenty of willing hands to help them carry him back to the medical centre.

      If this accident had happened in the city Nathan would have a full A & E department at his disposal, with a whole host of other doctors. Here, on this island there was only him and Rachel. She’d always been a good, competent doctor. He hoped that nothing had changed.

      He didn’t even glance behind the stretcher as he walked alongside the patient. His brain was spinning furiously, trying to remember where all the emergency equipment was in the medical centre.

      Medical centre. It could barely even be called that. It had the basics, but was better designed for general consultations than emergency medicine. He’d expected to treat a few bites and stomach aches. Not a full scale head injury.

      The crew members carried Jack inside and helped Nathan slide him across onto one of the trolleys. He did the basics and hooked Jack up to the cardiac monitor and BP cuff; at least they had one of those.

      Rachel seemed to have gathered herself and was pulling Jack’s notes from the filing cabinet. ‘No significant medical history,’ she shouted as Nathan pulled an oxygen mask over Jack’s face and quickly inserted an IV cannula.

      ‘Do we have any Glasgow Coma Scales?’ It was unlikely. The Glasgow Coma Scale was used the world over to monitor unconscious patients. Rachel pulled open a few admin drawers and shook her head, passing him a recording sheet for pulse and BP, then taking a blank sheet of paper and making some quick scribbles.

      She walked over and handed it to him as she slid the pen torch from his back pocket as though she did it every day, lifting Jack’s eyelids and checking his pupils.

      Nathan glanced at the paper. It was Rachel’s attempt at an impromptu Glasgow Coma Scale. It had captured the basics—eye response, verbal response and motor response. Both of their heads snapped up as the monitor started alarming.

      He ran his fingers down Jack’s obviously broken arm. The colour of his fingertips was changing. They were beginning to look a little dusky, meaning that the blood supply was compromised. He swapped the oxygen saturation probe over to the other hand and watched as it came back up to ninety-eight per cent.

      He looked up and his gaze meshed with Rachel’s. He didn’t even need to speak; she could see the same things he could.

      ‘Nathan, do you have keys to the medicine fridge?’ He nodded and tossed them in her direction. For a doctor who didn’t routinely work in emergency medicine, she’d certainly remembered the basics. He finished his assessment of Jack, recording all the responses while she drew up some basic pain medication.

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