Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child - Plot & Excerpts
She trembled all over, her arms weak as jelly from exertion. Her pulse was still racing from shock and the fear she mightn’t be able to save him. After a quick check she’d decided to risk moving the stranger to her campsite. His temperature was dangerously high and a night on the exposed dune could prove fatal. But she hadn’t reckoned on the logistics of transporting a man well over six feet and at least a head taller than her. It had taken an hour of strained exertion and all her ingenuity to get him down, dragging him on a makeshift stretcher. Most frightening of all he’d been a dead weight, not stirring. ‘Don’t you die on me now,’ she threatened as she checked his weak pulse and began cleaning the wound on his temple. Head wounds bled prolifically. It probably wasn’t as bad as it looked, she told herself. Yet she found herself muttering a mix of prayer and exhortation in mingled Arabic, Danish and English, just as her dad had used to when faced with a hopeless case. The familiar words calmed her, made her feel slightly more in control, though she knew that was an illusion.
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