And something twisted inside Ryan that hadn’t been twisted in a long time. Something deep and strong and urgent.

It was only that he felt sorry for her, he told himself harshly, but he found his hand wandering to touch Abbey’s dusky curls.

‘You’re hurting.’

‘Just take me home, Ryan,’ Abbey said. ‘Ted can’t drive or I’d ask him to take me.’

‘Stay here,’ he said.

‘I can’t.’

‘You should be in hospital yourself.’ Ryan let his fingers drift though her curls. Absently. Almost as if he wasn’t noticing what he was doing. But he was noticing. He was very definitely noticing. The touch was doing strange things to his insides.

‘And where would that leave Jack and Janet?’ Abbey demanded, ignoring the feel of Ryan’s fingers. Or trying to ignore them. ‘I have to milk in the morning.’

‘I’ll do that.’

‘You can’t.’

‘If you can do it,’ Ryan said gently, ‘so can I. You just said that your life is mine for a week. That includes your cows.’

‘It’s not necessary.’

‘It is.’

‘Ryan…’

‘Look, I’m a country boy from way back,’ Ryan told her, exasperated. ‘I can milk a cow and I have your medical training. This is my honeymoon you’re supposed to be on, Dr Wittner. I don’t offer every girl a honeymoon. So I suggest you just take yourself to bed and get on with it.’

If only she could.

Abbey looked up into Ryan’s face and thought of the impossibility of doing what he’d suggested. Taking a honeymoon.

Taking a holiday.

‘Work never stops,’ she said wearily. ‘Never. Don’t you know that, Ryan Henry?’

‘It does, Abbey,’ he said gently. ‘It must.’

Only it didn’t. It hadn’t even now. Before Ryan finished speaking there was an urgent screech of brakes outside the casualty entrance. Three seconds later the glass doors opened and a young man burst in. He looked wildly around, dishevelled and frantic, and his eyes focussed on Ryan.