The Royal Doctor's Bride. Jessica Matthews

for the reminder.”

      He didn’t sound upset and wasn’t yelling at the nurses for not providing the proper supplies at the exact moment he wanted them, which was a one-eighty-degree change from working alongside Bill. Her fears that he was simply a more polished version of their previous director slowly faded as she listened to his calm voice ask questions and give directions. No, it was obvious she didn’t need to review his curriculum vitae—his actions spoke of his abilities far better than a list of positions held ever would. If he could handle his current patient’s condition, he was a colleague she could trust.

      Within seconds, Ruark’s patient’s audible symptoms of respiratory stridor disappeared, and with it all of her fears about his medical skills. Suddenly, a burden she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying lifted.

      “Airway’s in,” he said, sounding quite pleased. “His pneumothorax is next on the agenda.”

      The activity on the other side of the room faded into the background as the nurse at her side interrupted with a terse “BP is falling”.

      Gina immediately noticed her patient’s visibly distended jugular veins and muffled heart sounds—Beck’s triad—and knew the man’s heart was failing. “His pericardium or coronary artery must have been nicked,” she said aloud. “He needs his chest opened, but…”

      “But what?” Ruark asked from across the room. Apparently he also had the ability to listen in on two conversations at once.

      “But I’m not qualified to perform the procedure,” she admitted. “He needs a surgeon. We belong upstairs, now!”

      Dr Horton suddenly nudged her aside. “He won’t make it as far as the elevator. Move over.”

      “Nice of you to join us, Frank,” she replied caustically as she traded places with the tardy surgeon.

      “Hey, I’m here now.” He turned to Candy. “It’ll ruin his tattoos, but get ready for a thoracotomy.”

      “At least he’ll be alive to complain,” Gina muttered.

      “Only if we stop the bleeding before he goes into cardiac arrest. Scalpel.”

      While Frank began to work, Gina glanced at the paramedics hovering nearby. “Do we have names for these two yet?”

      “I’ll check.” Andy slipped from the room.

      Intent on assisting Frank and urging her patient to hang on, Gina didn’t notice Ruark until he stood at the foot of the bed. “How’s your fellow?” she asked.

      “Better than yours,” he answered. “He’s on his way to an operating room as we speak. They’re also holding a suite open for your patient.”

      “And here we have it,” Frank announced with distinct arrogance at discovering the problem. “His coronary artery is nicked. I’m cross-clamping the aorta and then we’re out of here.”

      A few minutes later, Frank and the John Doe were gone. Lucy and Candy immediately began the unenviable task of dealing with the mess and, oh, what a mess it was. Instruments littered every available surface, paper wrappers and used gloves covered the blood-slickened floor.

      Gina tiredly stripped off her face shield and blood-stained gown before removing her gloves, conscious of Ruark doing the same. She started to slip out of the room with the other extraneous personnel, but the sound of his voice stopped her, and everyone else, in their tracks.

      “Nobody move,” he commanded.