Second Chance With Lord Branscombe. Joanna Neil

      It was a promise that never came to fruition. Shouts came from above them, shocking her system and acting like a dash of cold water to propel them away from one another.

      ‘Help, someone...come quickly—we need help here! Is Nate Branscombe still around? Is that his car in the car park?’

      Startled, Sophie looked up to where the sound came from, up on the restaurant’s terrace. She saw people getting to their feet, rushing towards the corner table, barely visible from this angle.

      A man came to lean over the balustrade, looking down at them, waving his arms urgently. ‘Nate, will you come up? It’s your father. He’s collapsed.’

      ‘Call for an ambulance,’ Nate shouted back. He was already taking the steps, racing to get to his father, but instead of following him Sophie hurried towards the car park. Her medical bag was in the boot of her car. Her instincts told her they might need it.

      When she reached the corner table a few minutes later, she could see that James Branscombe was sitting propped up against the balustrade. His skin looked clammy, ashen as he groaned in pain. Sophie guessed he was having a bad angina attack, which meant his heart wasn’t receiving enough oxygen and had to work harder to get what it needed.

      Nate had loosened his father’s shirt collar and was kneeling by him, talking to him quietly and trying to reassure him. ‘Is your nitro spray in your pocket?’ he asked, but James Branscombe was barely able to speak. Nate searched through his pockets until he found what he was looking for and then quickly sprayed the liquid under his father’s tongue. The medication would dilate the blood vessels, allowing blood to flow more easily and thereby lessening the heart’s workload.

      Nate glanced at Sophie as she came to kneel down beside him. His expression was grim; his fear for his father was etched on his face. He seemed relieved to see that Sophie was by his side, though. ‘You have your medical bag?’ he said. ‘That’s good. Do you have aspirin in there?’

      ‘I do—they’re chewable ones, or he can dissolve them on his tongue.’ She opened the case and handed him the tablets. They would thin the blood and hopefully would prevent blood clots from closing up the arteries.

      After a few minutes, though, it was clear that Lord Branscombe was still in a lot of pain. His features were grey, his lips taking on a bluish colour, and beads of cold sweat had broken out on his brow. Sophie guessed this was more than a bad angina attack. She was worried for Nate; this must be something he’d dreaded, the real reason he’d come home.

      ‘Morphine?’ Nate asked, and she nodded.

      ‘Yes, I have it. I’ll prepare a syringe.’

      ‘Thanks.’ He administered the pain medication and soon afterwards wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his father’s arm. ‘He’s becoming hypotensive,’ he said, frowning. ‘I’ll put in an intravenous line—as soon as the paramedics get here we can put him on a saline drip to stabilise his blood pressure.’

      They didn’t have to wait too long. The ambulance arrived shortly, siren blaring, and the two paramedics hurried on to the terrace. They nodded to Sophie, recognising her from her work at the hospital.

      Nate swiftly introduced himself and said, ‘I think my father’s having a heart attack. We need to get an ECG reading and send it to the Emergency department.’

      ‘Okay. We’ll make sure they’re kept informed.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      One of the paramedics set up the portable ECG machine, whilst the other man began to give the patient oxygen through a mask. Nate helped them to lift his father on to a stretcher, and then together they carried him down to the waiting ambulance.

      ‘His blood pressure’s dropping.’ The paramedic sounded the alarm and Nate reacted swiftly, setting up a saline drip and giving his father drugs to support his heart’s action. Sophie stood by as the three men worked on Lord Branscombe.

      ‘He’s gone into V-fib. Stand clear.’ Nate called out a warning as his father’s heart rhythm went awry and the defibrillator readied itself to give a shock to the heart. He checked his father’s vital signs. ‘And again, stand clear.’

      Her heart went out to him as he exhausted every effort to save his father’s life. She saw the worry etched on his face and suddenly wanted to put her arms around him and comfort him, but of course she couldn’t do anything of the sort.

      ‘All right,’ he said eventually. ‘He’s stable for now. I’ll go with him to the hospital.’

      The paramedic nodded. ‘Okay, we’re ready to go. The emergency team’s alerted and waiting for him.’

      ‘That’s good.’ Nate turned to Sophie, who was waiting by the ambulance doors. ‘I want to thank you for all your help,’ he said softly. He reached out and gently cupped her arms with his long fingers. ‘I owe you. I’ll make it up to you, Sophie, I promise.’

      She shook her head, making her soft curls quiver and dance. ‘There’s no need for you to do that. I was glad to help.’ No matter what bad feelings she might harbour about James Branscombe, she couldn’t have stood by and done nothing to save him. Working alongside Nate, though, had been another matter entirely. She hadn’t been prepared for that and the effect it had on her at all.

      The paramedic closed the doors of the ambulance and climbed into the driver’s seat. Sophie stood by the roadside and watched the vehicle pull away and it was as though the world was sliding from under her feet. She reached out to rest a hand on a nearby drystone wall.

      Nate had been back for only five minutes and already she felt as though she’d been hit by an electric storm. How on earth was she going to cope, knowing he meant to stay around and once more make his home at Branscombe Manor?