The Surgeon's Perfect Match. Alison Roberts

       CHAPTER ONE

      THE tremor was tiny.

      So slight it could only be felt, not seen, but it was enough to threaten her confidence.

      Could she manage this?

      The smallest slip could be catastrophic. A tiny heart lay carefully exposed beneath her fingertips. The defect causing a three-year-old boy’s heart failure was visible and ready to be covered by the small teardrop-shaped patch of Dacron caught between the teeth of the forceps that surgical registrar Holly Williams was holding.

      The tremor could be the result of first-time nerves, in which case Holly knew she could conquer it and succeed—as she had done countless times already on the totally focussed journey that had brought her to precisely this point in time.

      But it could also be the result of fatigue and, no matter how much practice Holly had had in battling the physical effects of exhaustion, she knew there were times when she simply couldn’t win. And the notion of a three-year-old child sharing the repercussions of losing that battle was absolutely unacceptable.

      Pushing herself this far might have been a huge mistake. What if…?

      ‘You can do this, Holly.’

      The quiet, deep voice was so close that Holly could feel the vibration of air as clearly as she’d felt that embryonic tremor. And the confidence that had cloaked the words didn’t stop at her ears. It seeped instantaneously into her brain and then swept further. The ache in Holly’s calves subsided, the knot in her stomach unravelled just enough and her fingers felt rock steady.

      She gave a single, decisive nod.

      Of course she could do it. She had worked far too hard for far too long to pass up the opportunity of actually touching her dream.

      Being more than an assistant, however vital that assistance might be.

      So what if this procedure was an almost routine repair of one of the most common types of a ‘hole in the heart’—a ventricular septal defect? Or that all the skilled preparation had already been done by one of the country’s foremost paediatric cardiac surgeons? It was still Holly holding the suture needle and patch. Doing an actual repair herself and not just the final closure for the open heart surgery. There weren’t many consultants in any field that would trust their registrars enough to provide such an opportunity so soon.

      She owed it to her mentor to justify that trust. As she had done on more than one occasion when Ryan Murphy’s confidence had deepened, if not actually engendered, an equal trust in herself.

      ‘Begin on the right side of the inferior rim.’ Ryan’s instruction was calm. ‘And carry it in a counter-clockwise direction to penetrate the septal leaflet.’

      Tiny stitches. Through the cardiac tissue and then through the edge of the patch. Again. And again.

      ‘Perfect.’

      The final suture was tied and cut. The rush of oxygen as Holly took a deep breath gave her momentary dizziness. How long had she been holding her breath?

      ‘Want to carry on?’

      Holly glanced up to catch a pair of hazel eyes regarding her over the edge of a surgical mask. Ryan’s tone was as calm as ever but Holly could see a gleam of pride that was bright enough to more than replace an emotion she couldn’t afford to indulge in just yet.

      ‘Yes—thanks.’

      ‘Don’t thank me. I’m getting a holiday here.’

      As if. Ryan was aware of every factor involved in this operation. Coaching and monitoring Holly’s work would require far more effort than doing it himself, and Ryan was also keeping tabs on all the parameters being measured on their small patient as the procedure was completed and preparation made to come off bypass.

      ‘Clamp coming off. Happy that you’ve removed all the air in the aorta, Holly?’

      ‘Yes.’