Wendy Marcus – Craving Her Soldier's Touch (страница 8)

Ian lifted the bag and eased it down her arm, his touch gentle, his eyes concerned. “You okay?”

“What I’m feeling is nothing compared to what I’m sure Merlene is feeling this morning.” And thousands of other women.

Ian closed the door and held out his hand. “Come on. We don’t have time to argue. Your patient is waiting.”

“You can’t come with me.” As if she hadn’t spoken, he took her hand and guided her up a lawn and around the large root ball of the tree that’d fallen. “Patient privacy. Patient confidentiality.” The grass bubbled and squished under her feet. “And your leg.” She’d been too angry to care about his limp last night. But this morning … What’d happened to him?

Ian gripped her hand and walked faster, pulling her along, his expression fierce. Determined. “Okay, then.” Apparently he felt quite strong about accompanying her. “But only to the driveway.”

About halfway to their destination, a tall blond-haired man ran toward them. “Are you Jaci?” he yelled over the wind.

“Mr. Lewis?” she called back, holding on to her hood.

“You have to hurry. Laney’s chest feels tight and she can’t catch her breath.”

Jaci started to run. A sure-footed Ian took the lead, holding tightly to her hand.

“What if she needs to go to the hospital?” Mr. Lewis asked, keeping up beside them. “We’re surrounded by water. How the hell am I supposed to get her there?”

“If she needs to go to the hospital, we’ll transport her,” Jaci said, confident because Ian was there to help. They reached the driveway and ran up it. “But I’m hoping it’s an anxiety reaction, and once we calm her down she’ll be okay.”

Mr. Lewis opened the front door and Jaci entered into a small, dark foyer. “I’m here, Mrs. Lewis.” She took the bag from Ian, who remained on the porch.

“Please. Come inside,” Mr. Lewis said to Ian.

“I’m fine out here,” Ian said. “Go take care of your wife.”

Jaci removed her boots and coat.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mr. Lewis said. “I’m not going to leave you standing in the rain. If not for you, Jaci wouldn’t have made it out here.”

Ian laughed. “You don’t know her,” he said. “She’d have found a way.”

He’d grown to know her so well in such a short period of time. But rather than comment, Jaci left the men and approached her new patient, a dark-haired beauty in obvious distress, sitting at the edge of the couch, her fist clutched to her chest. Despite her rapid, deep, gasping breaths, her color—though pale—was without any signs of cyanosis.

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