the woman’s abdomen. ‘I want to mark the height of her uterus.’
Stella swiftly provided him with a pen, wishing she’d never accepted Patrick’s offer of accommodation. It was going to cause problems, just as she’d feared. She should have stayed somewhere else.
Then she frowned, cross with herself. The stable was lovely. And she could live anywhere she chose to live. It was none of Daniel’s business.
And if it was difficult for him—well, tough.
He didn’t care, did he?
‘Why are you drawing on me?’ Fiona looked at Patrick anxiously and he slipped the pen into his pocket.
‘You’ve had some blood loss. It’s possible for some of the blood loss to be concealed, trapped behind the uterus. I want to make sure your uterus isn’t bigger than it should be. Dan, is there anything else I should know about? Any neck injury? Spine?’
‘No.’
‘Then I want her nursed in the left lateral position.’
‘Fine. I’m nearly done here.’ Daniel filled the necessary bottles and dropped them on the tray.
Stella stepped forward and helped him connect the IV, the casual brush of his arm against hers sending a shower of sparks over her.
And he noticed her reaction.
His eyes shifted to her face. As a doctor, he was trained to detect changes in the human body and he was a man who knew women. A man who knew her.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Everything is fine,’ she said sweetly, wishing he wasn’t quite so astute. Nothing passed him by. Nothing. And as much as she’d hoped that working together would be smooth and easy, it was turning out to be anything but.
Focusing on the pain that went alongside loving Daniel Buchannan, Stella murmured words of comfort to Fiona and helped her turn on her side.
‘Why do I have to lie like this?’
‘Because lying flat on your back puts pressure on one of your major blood vessels and that’s not good for the baby.’ Patrick checked the baby’s heart rate. ‘That’s better. Thanks, Stella. That’s great.’
Daniel shot him a look. ‘It’s good to have Stella back, isn’t it?’ There was an edge to his tone that wasn’t lost on his brother.
‘Definitely.’ Playing with fire, Patrick smiled. ‘I was so pleased when she called me to talk through her plans.’
Stella threw him an incredulous glance. What was he doing? He appeared to be asking for a black eye for Christmas.
‘You didn’t mention it.’ Daniel adjusted the IV. ‘It must have slipped your mind.’
‘Nothing slips my mind. I just didn’t think you’d be interested.’ Calmly, Patrick checked the monitor. ‘What bloods have you taken?’
‘U&Es, FBC, cross-match, BMG, coagulation screen, rhesus and antibody status and Kleihauer—why? Did I miss something?’
‘No.’ Ignoring the snap in his brother’s tone, Patrick winked at the patient. ‘Now he’ll be unbearable.’
Fiona shifted the oxygen mask slightly. ‘Twins, both of you doctors.’ She sounded amazed. ‘One of you is an emergency specialist and one of you is an obstetrician?’
‘That’s right. My brother is the emergency specialist.’ Patrick looked at Daniel. ‘The work suits his personality. Quick and dirty. All superficial, no depth or emotion.’
Daniel’s firm mouth flickered into a smile. ‘That’s how I prefer it.’
While they bantered, the two brothers worked together seamlessly, exchanging information, conducting tests. Then Patrick moved to the side of the trolley and put his hand on Fiona’s shoulder.
‘Fiona, I think there could be some concealed bleeding behind your uterus.’ He spoke gently, knowing that the news he was giving wasn’t going to be well received. ‘At the moment everything is fine and I’m not going to interfere, but I want to transfer you to the labour ward, just to be safe. We can monitor you there and if we need to intervene, we can.’
Fiona shifted on the trolley. ‘What’s causing the bleeding?’
‘It’s possible that a small part of the placenta has come away from the uterus—we call it an abruption. I want to keep you in hospital for now, see how things develop.’
Fiona swallowed. ‘And if it gets worse?’
‘Then I will deliver your baby.’
‘But the baby isn’t due until January.’ Panic drove her voice up a pitch. ‘I have another six weeks to go.’
‘All the indications are that the baby is fine,’ Patrick said calmly. ‘And thirty-four weeks is early, that’s true, but not so early that I’d be worried. We have an excellent special care baby unit here—we call it the SCBU—but at thirty-four weeks your baby might not need any extra help. Let’s see how you go. My plan is to keep him inside you as long as possible.’
Fiona’s face crumpled and she started to cry again. ‘But this wasn’t my plan. I’ve been reading all the books—I’ve gone to all the classes—I know exactly how I want my labour to be.’
Stella picked up a box of tissues, about to intervene, but Patrick took Fiona’s hand in his. ‘It’s hard when things don’t go according to plan,’ he said gruffly. ‘I really understand that. It happened with Posy, my youngest, and it shook me up. Nightmare. Nature has a way of keeping us all on our toes, but all that really matters is that the baby is safe, Fiona. Remember that.’
‘Babies can die if they’re premature.’
‘There is no evidence that your baby is in trouble. And from now on I’m going to be watching you.’ Patrick pulled a couple of tissues from the box Stella was holding and handed them to Fiona. ‘Once you have kids, life rarely goes according to plan. Chaos is part of the fun. Or that’s what I tell myself when I’m tripping over children, kittens and unwrapped Christmas presents.’
Stella felt a lump in her throat. Tripping over children, kittens and unwrapped Christmas presents sounded like paradise to her. ‘Is there anyone else I can call for you, Fiona?’ Stella yanked her mind back from its fruitless journey towards a dead end. ‘Your husband is just having a few stitches in his head and then I’ll bring him to wherever you are.’
‘I keep thinking that this is all my fault. Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn the seat belt—’
‘Wearing a seat belt is the right thing to do,’ Daniel said firmly. ‘Contrary to popular opinion, wearing a seat belt does lower the risk of serious injury. Fiona, just relax and trust us. Patrick will make whatever decision needs to be made and it will be the right one, believe me.’
Patrick lifted his eyebrow. ‘You’re saying I’m always right?’
Despite
