by Erica Nyden
“My love, you are beautiful.”
He kissed her.
But instead of melting in his arms like she normally did, she remained rigid.
“Olivia, what is it?”
“A part of me always wondered if you’d be disappointed when you first saw me, and I’ve just ridden a bicycle over four miles in a rainstorm and I’m feel rather … ugly.”
William threw his head back and laughed, hard. Before she could list more flaws, he scooped up her wet form and strode to the door. A swift kick slammed it shut before he deposited her emphatically on the bed.
“You are a stunning example of perfection, Olivia Talbot.”
“Willi—”
He hushed her complaint with a kiss. His hands went to the buttons at her throat. Despite her protests, he would unwrap this package that he could finally see, and he would take his time doing it. Her uniform, saturated to pliancy, came away easily. After releasing the top three buttons, he pushed back the scratchy fabric to reveal her light pink brassiere, practical yet feminine. Modestly tucked away, her breasts took away his breath, and suddenly he was no longer intent on lingering.
“You’ll pop the buttons off my uniform,” she whispered, arching her back.
“Would that be a problem?”
“Not if you can sew them back on by Monday.”
“I have my sight,” he said in between devouring her supple skin. “I can do anything.”
He sat up and tore open her uniform down to her navel. Her graceful curves, symmetrical and flawless, sent a ripple of urgency through his core. He pulled her uniform down over her hips.
“What the devil are these?” he asked, fingering the cream-colored lace hugging her waist.
“My knickers,” she replied, red-faced.
“I’d no idea nurses wore such racy undergarments.”
Each hipbone received a kiss before his lips moved to the hollow of her abdomen.
She inhaled sharply as his tongue traced a ring around her belly button, then propped herself up on her elbows. “Tell me what happened, in the meadow. The ground is shredded. Were you hurt?”
He lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No.” Her guilt was plain as the lovely swell of her lips. “I want to know what happened. Was Jasper with you?”
He crawled forward on his elbows and brought his face close to hers. “He was. And he was scared, but he’ll recover, as will Mrs. Pollard. I’ll happily relay all the details to you—later. But right now, will you allow me to indulge myself? Would you not agree that after all this time, I deserve it?” He tenderly removed a band of wet hair from her forehead. “Unless you really want me to stop. Then I will.”
“I’m not used to you seeing me—”
What had happened to his seductress, the woman who taunted him with her body until he was at her mercy? She’d taken advantage of him, and by God, he wanted to tease her about it.
But not now.
“You’re studying me.” Her eyes sparkled like imperial topaz. “And despite the dark day, it’s awfully bright in here—”
Yet again, he silenced her with his lips whilst he continued the job of removing her blasted uniform. Once she lay bare, he savored her the way a thirsty man drinks a pint of lager: in gulps. His hands already knew the curves of her hips, the topography of her breasts, and the angle of her jaw. His eyes were learning the shades of her skin, the light hairs on her arms, and the small asymmetrical birthmark above her left hip.
He prized her legs apart, finally releasing her inner temptress. She pitched her head back. Did she always look this sensual when he made love to her? This aroused him more than anything his imagination had ever marshaled. Christ, he’d missed out on so much.
He undid his trousers. He hoped she was prepared to help him make up for it.
Chapter 23
“Mr. William?” Mrs. Pollard asked, pushing the library doors open an hour after Olivia had left for Plymouth. “A parcel has arrived for you.”
William sat at his large desk diligently pecking away at his father’s typewriter. The fact that his sight had returned had done nothing to improve his typing.
He stood. “It’s about time! Bring it here, will you, Polly?”
He grabbed a pair of scissors and jabbed at its taped seams. Tucked inside the package was a cylindrical leather box fastened by a dull brass hook. He opened it to reveal a diamond ring nestled in blue velvet.
“What do you think?”
“As beautiful as ever,” she said, taking it from him. “Just stunning.”
She held the ring up to the window before placing it into his open palm. He smiled, recalling the kind face and gentle hands he associated with it.
“Do you think she’ll like it?”
She chortled. “She’d be happy with a rubber ring.”
He traced a fingertip around the ridges of platinum safeguarding a circle of small, twinkling stones. At their center, a larger diamond sparkled in the light, celebrating its escape from decades of darkness in the family vault.
He smoothed over the bigger stone with his thumb. “Will it fit her?”
“Your mother had small fingers, as does your future wife. Looks like a perfect fit.”
“Excellent. I can call Olivia’s father and ask for his daughter’s hand.” He looked up at Mrs. Pollard frankly. “I understand it’s taken some time to get to this point, Polly, and we haven’t been necessarily above board when it comes to our behavior. But we’ll be married soon, and you’ll sleep more soundly because of it. I hope.”
She smoothed her apron. “Well, thank heavens for that.”
“Dr. Talbot here.”
“Dr. Talbot, hello. This is William Morgan. Your daughter, Olivia, is my nurse.”
“Yes—Major Morgan, isn’t it? Is everything all right? I thought Olivia was in Plymouth with her mother.”
Despite his confusion, the man at the other end of the line sounded reasonable. This might be less torturous than William had feared.
“Yes, sir, she is indeed in Plymouth.” He’d never experienced this brand of nervousness. His dry mouth was already thirsty for another cup of tea. He couldn’t pause too long. “She left this morning, and all is well. I’m calling you, sir, to ask for Olivia’s hand in marriage.”
The line fell silent. William imagined all sorts of rejoinders: To Olivia? But she’s my little girl, my only daughter—my only child, for heaven’s sake. Who are you that I should give my daughter? William’s life suddenly depended upon convincing a complete stranger that he wasn’t a rake set on defiling the man’s pride and joy.
“Sir?”
“Major, I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He drew the last word out, as if William might be playing a practical joke he didn’t want to fall for.
“No, sir, I imagine you wouldn’t, and I apologize. I hold your daughter in the highest regard. In fact, I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for her, sir. Despite this dark war, Olivia has illuminated my world—and for a man who can’t see, that’s saying a lot.” He forced an uncertain chuckle at the bit he’d worked out weeks ago. “She’s brought joy into my life, Dr. Talbot, an emotion I’d considered lost forever, and I love her for it. I wish to spend the rest of my life with her—with your blessing, of course.”
As a soldier, he’d avoided mortar shells and bombs. As a spy, he’d escaped torture and death. He could overcome this, couldn’t he?
“Well, this is rather sudden, isn’t it? I mean, marriage?”
“Sir—”
“Major, please, take no offense, but have you any idea of how she’ll respond to this proposal? I haven’t spent time with her recently, as you’re well aware, but had you known her a year ago, you’d realize the last thing on her mind was a relationship of any sort, let alone marriage. She’s always been career-minded, dedicated to purposes far beyond her own.”
William gripped the telephone cord and leaned forward. “And that’s why I love her,
sir. She’s committed herself to my well-being since she’s been here, and I intend to spend the rest of my days doing the same for her. I’m certain she’ll say yes. We’re in love, Dr. Talbot, and we’ve discussed spending our lives together. Nothing official, of course. I wanted to ask you first.”
Hope sprang up within him, and thoughts of Olivia swarmed his mind: how she’d lain by his side that morning, nude and fetching, her lips so close to his, begging for another kiss. Christ, the man on the other end of the line would kill him if he knew.
“Well, it wouldn’t be like Olivia to broadcast your shared affections, and I suppose you’ve had a decent amount of time to get to know one another.”
“Yes, sir,” William replied, imagining Olivia’s smooth skin quivering beneath his fingertips. He swallowed, powerless against the guilt enveloping him like fog creeping over Bodmin Moor. “I assure you, my priority is your daughter’s happiness. I love her, Dr. Talbot, more than I’ve loved anyone in my entire life.”
As though digesting William’s outpouring, the doctor took his time before replying. “Well then, Major, I by all means give you my blessing. What a nice surprise, truly.”
“Thank you, sir. I plan on asking her as soon as she returns from Plymouth, so if you wouldn’t mind not—”
“Rest assured I’ll not share our conversation with Mrs. Talbot whilst she’s away. I trust that close to the time she returns home, you’ll have proposed properly and she can share the news with her mother on the telephone or what have you.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“Good man. Now, I’m due back for a night shift. I look forward to meeting you, Major, and to that phone call from Livvy regarding the happy news. Congratulations.”
Not thirty seconds after Dr. Talbot rang off, Olivia phoned. Overjoyed at hearing her voice, he smiled despite her complaints that the line had been busy. She accepted his lie that Mrs. Pollard had been speaking with her sister and proceeded to describe her trip so far. Leaning back in his chair, he rotated her ring in his fingers and focused on her anecdotes about her aging aunt and overprotective mother.
“Mother’s brought clothes for me to take back to Keldor, as well as some books. I’ll see Katie Thursday, but until then, I’m helping Mother pack up Aunt Hilda. The old bird hasn’t changed. She’s still as chatty as ever. She’ll drive my poor aunt and uncle crazy in London.”
She paused to yawn.
“Is she overworking you? You sound exhausted.”
“I suppose I am. I’ve been on my feet since I arrived. I’d sit, if I could find a free space.” She laughed.
He enjoyed her rambling and wished she were here telling her stories in person. He pictured her leaning against the wall of an old woman’s stuffy house, surrounded by half-filled boxes. Her blond hair would be parted on the side, hanging straight save for the subtle curls surrounding her face. Her orange scarf, the one that brought out the small flowers in her blue skirt, would still be wrapped around her neck, offsetting her white blouse.
“And how are things there?” she asked. “Are you still following the plan?”
“What plan?”
She lowered her voice. “Your blindness. Please tell me Mrs. Pollard is still the only one who knows.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” he said uncomfortably.
The truth was that the day William’s eyesight returned, his desire to fight had, too. Fear had buried his courage for far too long. The intruder had awakened William’s true self—a soldier who’d see rights wronged until the day he died. He’d soon seek to return to active duty, though he had yet to determine how to tell Olivia.
“Be careful, will you? Don’t do anything rash whilst I’m away. Have you your journal handy, in case of nightmares?”
“Yes, and Jasper’s promised to keep your side of the bed warm whilst you’re away.”
“You’re lucky my mother isn’t on the line to hear that.”
“In that case, I’d say you’re the lucky one.”
“You have a point there. Oh! Thank you, Mother. Mother’s handed me a nightcap.”
Mrs. Talbot’s voice hummed through the line. “Tell the major how grateful we are for his letting you escape for a few days.”
“Tell your mother she’s welcome, though I’m not too keen on sleeping without you these next four nights.”
“He says you’re welcome, Mother, and it wasn’t a problem.” He could almost see the wicked smile lacing every word. “All right,” she whispered. “I’ll ring off. Sleep tight and think of me. I love you.”
A taxi brought Katie to Aunt Hilda’s at seven o’clock. From there, the girls walked to The Mast and Anchor to catch up and enjoy a half-pint. The pub was crowded for a Thursday night, and they were lucky to get a table away from the noisy revelers celebrating the coming weekend early. Like all the buildings in Aunt Hilda’s neighborhood, the pub had been there for over a century, its antiquity marked by framed maritime maps, heavy anchors, and an old fishing net coated in years of dust. Olivia checked her glass for floating trespassers, then sipped her bitter hoping it would calm the upset stomach that had nagged her the past three days.
Across the table, her bubbly companion settled in. “My goodness, Livvy, all I’ve done is talk, talk, talk!” Katie removed her navy cap with a laugh. Opposite her dark widow’s peak, her bun gave her an authoritative air that was broken whenever she opened her mouth. “You’ve told me nothing of what’s happening with you.”
Katie had hardly changed since Henry’s funeral, and for that, Olivia was grateful. She’d depended upon her cousin’s innate optimism more times than she could count. And though Katie could listen as well as she could talk, she wasn’t quite finished on her end. So as Katie continued nattering about her desire to meet Mr. Right and her miserable failure as a wireless telegraphist, Olivia let her.
“And so now I’m an office clerk. It’s an area I’m rather clever in, really. I’ve always had a knack for filing.” Katie’s expression turned coy. “But even tucked away in that little office, I suppose I have a better opportunity of meeting that special someone than you do, since you and the major are only friends. How is Major Morgan? Not still paranoid, I hope? Did you have a terrible time getting a few days’ leave? I know your parents are glad you’re away from London, so that’s something. I just hope you aren’t bored to tears out there in no man’s land.”
Olivia’s eyes blurred over the froth of her ale. She took a big gulp. “No, I can’t say I’m bored. Not bored at all.”
Katie’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute, what’s this? What’s happened? He’s taken a shine to you, hasn’t he? And you to him. I knew it!”
Through a smile that rivaled the Cheshire cat’s, Olivia shared the recent details of her life. Happy scenes from the past four months fit squarely like patterns on a quilt: the kiss underneath the mistletoe, William’s declaration of love, even the loss of her virginity. This was the first time she’d spoken to anyone about the man she loved, and steeped in the compliments and congratulations of her rapt audience, she beamed like Ginger Rogers must have after her Academy Award triumph for Kitty Foyle.
“Why Livvy, you’re absolutely radiant!” Katie exclaimed. “I’ve never seen you like this. I’m so happy for you. Wait—does your mother know?”
“No one knows.”
“Why so secretive?”
“I’m not ready to tell my parents yet. I’m sure they’d find it all too sudden, especially Mother. Daddy would go with whatever made me happy. But it’s been fun having this be our secret, the two of us, away from the war and the world. William’s healing has been my priority, which not surprisingly has brought us even closer.”
The miracle of his returned vision shimmered inside her, and she fought another secret smile by raising her half-pint. “We’ll tell people eventually.”
“All right, then. So what does your dictator-turned-Romeo look like?”
She described William as she pictured him: his tall frame capped with dark, unruly h
air and slate-blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires when he laughed. She spoke little of the trauma he’d endured and more of the passion and strength he embodied. At their small table, he had a presence, which helped her miss him a little less. She smoothed her blouse over the moonstone around her neck. She’d kept it tucked beneath her neckline so far; she didn’t need her mother asking questions.
“Hang on,” Katie said skeptically. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned that your William has no idea what you look like? What if you’re not his type, if and when his sight returns?”
“He knows the color of my hair and eyes, and his hands have a marvelous way of identifying features.” She grinned impishly. “But I won’t deny the consideration.”
“Don’t get me wrong. You’ll forever be the cousin I envy, with your light hair and dimpled cheeks. He’d be a fool not to think you’re the bee’s knees. But honestly, when I put myself in your shoes—well, I’d be worried. I mean, what happens if you find he prefers brunettes?”
“I’m not worried.” William had his sight, and none of this was an issue any longer, but she couldn’t tell Katie that.
Instead, she grinned, recalling a certain rainy afternoon six short days ago.
“Wait—what’s that cheeky look for? What else aren’t you telling me?”
It was close to nine when the girls parted.
After a warm hug, Katie laughed and cupped Olivia’s face in her hand. “To think you were so bloody miserable last autumn, and now look at you. You can thank the war, I suppose. Strange how things happen, isn’t it?”
Though positive, the observation left Olivia with a sense of emptiness. If only she and William could’ve fallen in love without the shadow of war, when an enjoyable evening out wouldn’t bring with it the worry that tomorrow might be worse than today. She lifted her head as she rounded the pub’s corner into darkness. Patience was what she needed, and faith—patience for the war’s end, and faith they would outlive it. By then, their lives would be normal. Their children would run circles round their grandparents, and the biggest obstacles they’d face would be whether to send the children to boarding school or allow them to attend locally. William would likely want them to be sent away, as he’d been, but perhaps she could convince him otherwise.