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The Wife He Never Forgot
Anne Fraser
Dashing army medic Nick Casey’s whirlwind marriage to nurse Tiggy Williams, amid the heat of military combat, wasn’t built to last.Six years on, Nick is injured and discharged into the care of his estranged wife! He can’t give Tiggy what she’s always wanted, but the unforgettable passion they once shared spills over into one unexpected night… with consequences!
MEN OF HONOUR
Ex-army docs … finding love back home!
Gorgeous, brave and brooding, these ex-soldiers and army medics are back on Civvy Street. After everything they’ve seen, adjusting to life outside the war zone can be just as painful as the memories. But saving lives is what these men do best, and they always rise to the challenge. Their hearts, however, are on lockdown … until they meet the only women to break past their soldier’s defences …
Dear Reader
I have long been fascinated with the role men and women (particularly women) have played in war, wondering how I would have coped with the fear and horror.
A couple of years ago I heard a doctor speaking about his time in Iraq, when he accompanied soldiers on patrol, and found his talk riveting. A few months later I watched a documentary series about the men and women who care for the wounded at Camp Bastion, the main British military base in Afghanistan. One episode in particular, in which a nurse had to accompany the doctor into a firing zone in order to rescue a badly injured man, had me thinking. What kind of men and women would risk their lives in order to save the life of another?
So when my editor asked me if I wanted to write the first book in a military duo with a fellow author, the wonderful Tina Beckett, I leaped at the chance and Men of Honour was born.
Dr Nick Casey is an army doctor who feels responsible for the men and women under his care. Tiggy is a nurse in Afghanistan for a short tour. When they first meet, sparks fly.
But when Nick can’t stay away from Afghanistan it seems their love isn’t enough to keep them together.
I hope I have successfully conveyed the reality of a medic’s life in a war situation while keeping Nick and Tiggy’s love story at the forefront.
I would love to know what you think. You can find me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AnneFraserAuthor or on my blog at http://annefraserauthor.wordpress.com
Best wishes
Anne
ANNE FRASER was born in Scotland, but brought up in South Africa. After she left school she returned to the birthplace of her parents, the remote Western Islands of Scotland. She left there to train as a nurse, before going on to university to study English Literature. After the birth of her first child she and her doctor husband travelled the world, working in rural Africa, Australia and Northern Canada. Anne still works in the health sector. To relax, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, walking and travelling.
The Wife He Never Forgot
Anne Fraser
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dedication:
To my wonderful, encouraging and patient editor, Megan Haslam
Contents
PROLOGUE (#u364198c7-167c-5e03-90aa-3b77bc55ac0e)
CHAPTER ONE (#u9e8a65fb-82ce-5533-8cc5-629bcd9f6ad0)
CHAPTER TWO (#ua7fd8b12-4a85-5da1-9b23-145aad50dbbc)
CHAPTER THREE (#u881d59ef-5d19-589f-82d5-ac5f1f9e5271)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN. (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN. (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE
NICK HAD BEEN leaning against the wall of their temporary shelter, checking his rifle and thinking of nothing much, when all hell broke loose.
As the part of the troop that had remained behind exploded into action, he retrieved his Kevlar helmet and peered over the wall of the sangar.
‘Keep your head down, sir!’ one of the men shouted as he rushed past and took up his firing position immediately in front of Nick.
Nick did as he suggested, just as a bullet whizzed over the top of his head and landed in the wall behind him in an explosion of dust.
It was supposed to be a routine patrol where his platoon would join up with the Americans to decide how far north they should go before setting up a base.
‘Man down!’ The anguished cry came over the radio.
Nick glanced around. They’d arrived thirty minutes ago and there had only been time to set up a small receiving space in the overhang of the rock that they were using as the temporary forward operating base.
Adrenaline tore through him. This was what he’d trained for. He had to ignore what was going on below and concentrate on any casualties.
But damn, if he needed a medevac for any of them, it was going to be difficult. He would worry about that later. Right now he had to focus on the present.
The first casualty to be brought back to the relative safety of the sangar was the medic. Luckily, he had no more than a bullet graze to his arm and someone had already applied a temporary dressing.
‘I need to get back out there, sir,’ he yelled. ‘It’s only a graze.’
‘It might be only a graze but it’s going to keep you out of action for a few days,’ Nick responded firmly.
Quickly he examined the wound. The bullet had passed through the flesh of the medic’s upper arm. Right now there was little Nick could do except clean it again and rebandage it. When they got him back to camp he would do a more thorough job. Perhaps, with a bit of luck, they’d get out of this with only this one casualty.
But it wasn’t to be. The sound of gunfire increased, as did the noise on the radio.
‘Five men pinned down—Americans among them,’ Captain Forsythe muttered. ‘They’re holing up in one of the empty houses. My men can’t get to them.’
‘Injuries?’ Nick asked.
The captain nodded. ‘At least one down. That’s all I know.’
Nick risked another glance over the wall. Beneath him, about fifty metres away, was the deserted village the soldiers had been searching.
Nick picked up his bag and headed for the wall.
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ Captain Forsythe snapped.
Nick barely glanced at him. ‘There’s a man out there. If he’s not dead, he’s badly injured. I’m a doctor—and a soldier. Where the hell do you think I’m going?’
* * *
Nick, accompanied by several of the soldiers, zigzagged his way towards the house and the wounded soldier.
He had his own rifle slung over his shoulder. As part of the platoon he was obliged to carry a weapon but was only required to use it in self-defence. Whether he would was not a question he chose to ask himself.
As bullets spat into the ground he concentrated on one thing and one thing only: getting to the injured man, hopefully in one piece.
He leapt over a low wall and into the deserted house, conscious of two of the men from his own company following close behind him while the remainder of the soldiers continued to lay down covering fire.
The casualty was an American. Not that it mattered. His job was to treat the injured regardless of nationality, and that included the enemy.
The soldier was conscious but bleeding from a nasty wound to his shoulder. As Nick set about putting up a drip he asked one of the soldiers to call for a medevac.
‘You’ll be lucky, sir,’ Private Johnston muttered. ‘Don’t know how the ’copter can land with all this going on.’
‘Just let them know we’re going to need them whenever they can make it, Private, ‘ Nick said. ‘Hold onto the drip for me while I dress his wound.’
A shadow fell across the door as another American appeared at the doorway.
‘Have you got Brad?’ he demanded. ‘Is he all right?’
‘For God’s sake, get down!’ Nick yelled. Was the American crazy?
Just then there was an explosion that robbed Nick of his breath. He was flung backwards as debris rained through the narrow doorway.
It took him a few moments to catch his breath. He was lying on his back with something heavy on top of him. He spat dust from his mouth.
‘Johnston!’
‘Over here, sir. I’m all right.’
‘Our patient?’
‘He’s okay too. But don’t think I can say the same about the other one.’
Nick became aware that the weight pinning him down was the young American who only seconds before had been standing at the door. His body had probably shielded him and the others.
‘Help me here, Johnston.’ Gently he rolled the soldier from on top of him, feeling the sticky wetness of blood. Poor sod hadn’t stood a chance.
But as he sat up he became aware that the soldier was conscious.
‘My leg,’ he groaned.
Smoke clouded their small shelter and Nick used a torch to examine the young American. Blood was spurting from his groin, soaking into the dirt floor.
‘What’s your name, soldier?’ he asked.
‘Luke.’
‘Okay, Luke. Stay still while I have a look at your leg.’
But the blood pumping from Luke’s groin told Nick everything he needed to know. Shrapnel had pierced his femoral artery and the boy—because that was all he was—was bleeding to death in front of him. His pulse was thready and his skin had taken on the damp sheen of shock.
‘Is it bad?’ the wounded soldier asked.
The lad needed to be in hospital. He probably had twenty minutes at the most.
Not long enough, then.
Damn it.
Another explosion rent the air and it sounded as if the gunfire was getting closer.
‘We need to get the hell out of here,’ Johnston said.
Nick jammed his fist into the hole in the young soldier’s leg. ‘He can’t be moved.’
‘Go!’ Luke’s voice was faint. ‘You gotta leave me. I’m not going to make it.’ Every word was coming with increasing difficulty.
