The Doctor And The Princess. Scarlet Wilson
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leader looked annoyed for a few seconds and tried to answer back. But he was stopped by the palm of Sullivan’s hand held inches from his face.
Sullivan’s voice lowered. The tone changed. Became threatening. A kind of don’t-even-think-about-it message emanating from every pore in his body. She could feel the vibrations coming from his chest, shoulders and arms. But Sullivan wasn’t shaking through fear or intimidation. She knew straight away he was shaking with rage.
It was a whole new side of him. She’d seen the cheeky side. She’d even seen the flirtatious side. She’d seen the professional side, his willingness to adapt to a situation outside his normal expertise and practise effectively.
Now she was seeing something else entirely. This was the man who’d served in the military. This was the man who left her in no doubt about how vested he was in protecting the people he worked with. Part of her had felt a little resentful when Gibbs had told her he was sending a man to work with them. Right now, she’d never been so glad that Sullivan Darcy was right by her side.
The palm of Sullivan’s hand hadn’t moved. He was still speaking in his low, dangerously controlled voice.
The men exchanged nervous glances. It didn’t seem to matter that Sullivan was outnumbered. His tall, muscular frame and no-nonsense approach left no one in doubt about his potential.
The tribal leader shook his head and muttered, casting a sideways glance at Gabrielle again. After what seemed like an endless silence—but must only have been a few seconds—he spun around, his cloak wide as he stamped back off into the scrub.
Her chest was tight. She hadn’t even realised she was holding her breath until Sullivan released the firm grip on her shoulders and blocked her line of vision.
She jolted and gave a shudder. Sullivan crouched down, his face parallel with hers. ‘Gabrielle, are you okay? Did they hurt you?’
His hands were on her, pushing up the sleeve of her shirt, checking first one arm and then the other. He knelt down, reaching for her trouser leg.
She grabbed his hand. ‘Stop it. Don’t.’
Every muscle in her body was tense, every hair on her skin standing on end.
His dark green eyes met hers and she saw a flash of understanding. She was still gripping him tightly, her knuckles turning white.
He put his other hand over hers and rubbed gently. It was comforting—reassuring. The thud of other footsteps sounded. It was Estelle, quickly followed by Lucy and Gretchen. ‘Gabrielle? What happened? Did they hurt you?’
She could hear the panic in their voices.
Her eyes were fixed on Sullivan’s hand rubbing hers. A warm feeling was starting to spread up her arm. She sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs and trying to clear her head.
Sullivan seemed to sense the tension leaving her body. He kept hold of her hand but straightened up, glancing around at the other women.
‘Have you finished packing up? I think it would be a good idea to make the journey back to camp now. It was a misunderstanding. A language thing. He misunderstood something that Gabrielle had told his wife. He was unhappy and was angry when he realised she couldn’t speak Narumbi. We’ve done all we can do here today. I’ll need to file a report.’
Gabrielle licked her dry lips. She was the leader of this expedition. The decision when to pack up and go back to camp had always been hers. Normally, she would be offended but this time she didn’t feel slighted at all. She just wanted a chance to get back to camp and take stock.
‘We’re ready,’ said Gretchen quickly. ‘I’ll drive.’
She was decisive. Gabrielle gave a nod and walked over to where her backpack and laptop were. The rest of the staff spoke quietly to each other as she climbed into the back seat of their custom jeep. She wasn’t surprised when Sullivan climbed in next to her.
She waited until the engine had been started and the barren countryside started to rush past. ‘What did you say to them? What had I done to upset him? What did I say to his wife?’ she asked quietly. She wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t sure that she could. She fixed her eyes on the horizon. Thoughts of the language barrier were spinning around in her head. She hated it that she hadn’t understood a single word out there. It had made her feel like a complete and utter failure.
Sullivan reached over and put his hand on her leg. Some people might think it was too forward an action but somehow she knew it was only an act of reassurance. ‘He was unhappy because his wife had told him you’d given her a different medicine for the wound on her leg. She’d been using something that his mother made—some kind of paste. You said she had an infection and needed antibiotics.’
‘That was it?’ She was frustrated beyond belief. ‘That woman had a serious infection in her lower leg. If I hadn’t treated it, there’s a chance she could lose her leg.’ She replayed events over in her head. The consultation with the woman. The altercation between Sullivan and the tribal leader.
He pressed his lips together. ‘I said exactly what I should say. I told them their behaviour was shameful. We were there to help them and everyone in their tribe. I told them if the women around me didn’t feel safe, we wouldn’t be back.’
This time she did turn her head and narrow her gaze. He looked her straight in the eye.
‘Is that your poker face?’
He frowned. ‘What?’
‘Is that your poker face? I might not speak Narumbi, but I don’t think that’s exactly what you said,’ she replied carefully.
His steady gaze hadn’t wavered. He was good at this. She’d have to remember that.
He licked his lips, his first tiny sign of a release of tension.
‘Then it’s just as well you aren’t fluent in Narumbi,’ he said promptly.
He lowered his voice. ‘I won’t allow you—any of you—to be treated like that.’ He sighed. ‘I understand that we’re in a different country. A different culture means different people. I respect their views. But if they’re hostile towards you, or threaten you...’ He squeezed her thigh and looked her straight in the eye. Last time she’d been this close they’d been alone in the tent when he’d arrived. The light had been much dimmer. This time she could see the intensity of the deep green of his eyes dotted with tiny flecks of gold. ‘...I’d fight to the death,’ he finished.
She gulped. He meant it. She didn’t doubt for a second that he absolutely meant it. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered as she shifted in her seat. How come he could look at her unflinchingly one second and tell her only a version of the truth, then the next the sincerity in his eyes could take her breath away?
She looked down at her hands. ‘I hate not being in control,’ she said quietly. ‘I hate the fact that things can slip so fast, so quickly.’ She shook her head. ‘If I could have spoken the language I could have explained.’ She tugged at her shirt. ‘Or maybe he didn’t like my clothes.’
‘Stop it.’ His voice was firm. ‘Gabrielle, you and the rest of the women in the team are appropriately dressed. His mother is the head woman in their tribe. He thinks you insulted her expertise.’ He put his hand on his chest. ‘It’s a different culture. Women in their tribe aren’t really treated with much respect. Maybe that bothers him? Maybe he’s more modern than he seems—so the thought that someone questions the respect his mother holds made him angry.’
He leaned forward and touched her cheek. ‘You made a clinical decision. You’re a good doctor, Gabrielle. If you hadn’t given his wife antibiotics it’s likely she would lose her leg. And I’ve told him that. In no uncertain terms. Give yourself a break. Their behaviour was unreasonable.’
He settled back into his seat and folded his arms. ‘And I told them that too.’
For the first time since it had happened she gave a small