‘So, Kara Stephens, it looks like we have just enough time to check out the sheets.’
‘What?’ Her pulse rocketed.
The smile he flashed her was nothing less than wicked. ‘Thread count?’
‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’ And she blushed again, because one mention of sheets and their thread count was the furthest thing from her mind.
‘I SAID, DON’T touch me.’ A pair of dark, frightened eyes, trying desperately hard to be brave, peered out through a face covered in bandages. ‘Go away.’
Kara leaned in to the bed and lowered her voice. This was getting precisely nowhere, but she could not and would not rush her patient. ‘I’m sorry, Safia, but we are going to have to remove the dressings sometime so we can see your burns and then treat them. We just want to help.’
‘What part of go away don’t you understand?’ Her muffled voice was thick with the tears the teenager steadfastly refused to allow. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Does it hurt? I can give you some more medicine to take the pain away. You must tell me if you need more.’
The girl shook her head.
‘I’ll do it slowly and carefully. I promise.’
But Safia raised a heavily bandaged arm and pulled the sheet over her head. The spaghetti of tubes reverberated at the swift move. An alarm rang out.
Kara took a moment to compose herself, checked the drips were patent, reset the machines and tried again. And she would continue trying until the poor girl agreed. However long it took. The theatre was booked from eight tomorrow morning. That gave her about eighteen hours. She hoped it would be enough. ‘Your Highness …’
‘Let me try.’ Sheikh El-Zayad of Aljahar, the girl’s father, stepped forward. ‘For goodness’ sake, Safia, do as you’re told. We’ve been waiting for twenty-five minutes for your bandages to come off and it’s getting past a joke. The doctors can’t do their job and you won’t get better.’
‘I’m never going to get better. This is it. Scarred for life. So get used to it.’
The Sheikh frowned. ‘Do as the doctor says. Stop behaving like a child.’
She is a child. Kara bit that thought back. He had just endured the worst thing any parent could live through—watching his child suffer—and no doubt wanted her full co-operation to get better. But seventeen was barely mature, and the ramifications of such injuries would surely make anyone scared and fractious.
She shot a look over to Declan as he finished his conversation with the Sheikh’s wife, psychologically prep-ping her for the forthcoming procedures and long-term treatment plan. Throughout the long thirty minutes of cajoling and waiting she’d felt Declan’s eyes on her, assessing, weighing her up, his playful teasing forgotten, cemented now into something much more serious.
‘So to recap—’ He leaned forward to speak to Safia’s parents. ‘We’re planning to do a series of operations over the next few weeks. Because Safia’s wounds are of differing severity and depth each one will be in its own individual recovery phase. Some wounds, I understand from her notes, are ready for closure or grafting tomorrow. Some will have to wait for closure because they need debriding. I’ll keep you fully informed as we proceed.’
Declan’s demeanour was one of total calm and efficiency, yet he commanded an authority that stood him apart as he spoke.
‘Now, it’s getting a bit hot in here. Perhaps Your Highnesses might like a tour of the facility? There’s a particularly nice view out over the river from the roof garden. It’s very private up there and shouldn’t be busy. In fact, I can make sure it isn’t. And I can organise some tea for you both.’
Safia’s mother nodded and wafted in front of her face with her hand. ‘Oh, please. Yes. I need some fresh air.’ Leaning in to her daughter, she whispered, ‘That is, of course, if you don’t mind, darling Safia? We won’t stay away for long.’
The sheets moved a little. ‘Go. All of you. Leave me here. Forever.’
A quick phone call later and Safia, Kara and Declan were alone.
But now what? Even without her parents in the room it was going to be tough convincing Safia to comply.
Kara was just about to broach the dressings conversation again when Declan laughed. ‘Well, would you look at that eejit.’
‘What? Where?’ Kara frowned as she looked over to him. His focus was on a pile of magazines on the table. The latest teen heart-throb was emblazoned on the front cover of BFF! magazine, which had been covered in pink glitter hand-drawn hearts. ‘Oh, that’s Liam from Oblivion.’
‘I don’t care where he’s from,’ he continued. ‘He looks like he needs a decent feed and a new belt. Are those his grandaddy’s trousers he’s wearing? Because they don’t seem to fit.’
Kara looked up again and noticed he was watching the sheet move down. Just a little.
She joined in. ‘How can you say that? Don’t break my heart. Liam is hot, hot, hot. And what do you know, Mr Fuddy-Duddy? Those baggy trousers are all the rage. Maybe you should get a pair.’
‘Maybe I should. D’you think all the girls would come screaming after me then?’ He gave a very poor rendition of Oblivion’s number one hit. ‘“That’s what makes me looooove you …”’
‘Screaming to get away from you, more like. Save our poor ears and stick to the day job.’ She leaned closer to the sheet that was now making little noises that sounded a lot like hesitant surprised laughter. ‘Great doctor, really, don’t let the singing put you off. I heard that Oblivion’s doing a tour soon—they’re playing in London in a few weeks.’ And going to see her favourite singer might well give Safia the motivation she needed to get better.
The girl sighed. ‘He played at my sixteenth birthday party. He said I was beautiful.’ Safia slowly pulled the sheet back. ‘But he wouldn’t say that now.’
Declan sat next to the bed and looked at her. Kara wondered what on earth he could say to make her feel better. ‘Don’t you know you’ve gorgeous eyes, Safia? Beautiful. A boy could lose himself in there.’
‘Once, maybe. But not now.’
‘Oh, definitely now.’
Safia met Declan’s gaze, still cautious, but she didn’t tell them to leave.
Seizing this moment of calm, Declan reached out and began to remove a dressing with painstaking care. When Safia put her hand out to stop him he gave her a quick shake of his head and a reassuring smile. The girl lay back and closed her eyes.
Kara opened another dressing pack and covered the bed as he kept his focus on his patient and smiled softly and gently, as if she was the most beautiful person in the world, the only person in the world. As if the horrendous discolouration and raw melted skin didn’t make his heart jerk or his professional eye wonder how in hell they could ever restore her back to her previous beauty.
She’d heard about his slick surgical skills and knew how well respected he was. Heck, the Sheikh had personally requested Declan did the surgery—and judging by his extensive client list both here and at the Hunter Clinic he was well sought after. So she hadn’t expected a doctor as talented as Declan to have such grounded humanity.
‘There. There. Nearly done now. You’re doing grand, sweetheart. Just grand. It’s not nearly so bad as I thought it’d be.’
He