He heaved a deep sigh. 'Not very well. Let's talk about it over dinner, shall we?'
She nodded, seeing that he was as worried about getting Marcus to see Jason Fitzgerald as she was.
'He refused, of course,' Simon told her as they ate their meal in the quietly intimate restaurant, where the atmosphere was conducive to conversation. 'But then I knew he would,' he shrugged.
'You did?'
'Oh yes,' he nodded, 'I think I would too in his place, in fact I'm sure I would. No news is good news as far as he's concerned. But I've given him something to think about,' he added with satisfaction. 'Fitzgerald has fitted this visit to England in between a very tight schedule, a schedule that doesn't leave him free again for six months. If Marcus turns down this opportunity I don't know when Jason will be able to see him again.'
'You told Marcus that?'
'Yes.'
'What was his reaction?'
'No interest,' Simon grimaced. 'But he has another sixteen hours to think about it. The appointment is for two o'clock. I think it would be better if you drove him to the—You can drive, can't you?'
'Yes,' she laughed. 'But if he changes his mind and agrees to go I'd willingly carry him there! You really think this time alone will convince him?' Her humour faded.
'If it doesn't we've failed.'
'I've already done that,' she told him softly. 'If Marcus goes to the hospital tomorrow it will be all your doing.'
'If—that's the real question,' he frowned. 'How do you think Sally is bearing up under the strain of all this?' he asked suddenly.
Olivia looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. 'Very maturely.' She knew by the instant flush to his cheeks that she had been right in her earlier surmise; Simon was more than a little interested in Sally, as she sensed the girl was more than a little interested in him.
'She likes to tease me,' he said ruefully. 'That kiss, for instance.'
'That was teasing?' she mocked gently.
'Of course.' His face hardened, as if he were angry with himself for even mentioning it. 'Sally is a child.'
Her expression softened sympathetically. 'A woman of eighteen is as capable of falling in love as one of twenty-five. I know, I did it myself,' she added softly.
Simon looked despondent. 'But it wasn't the sort of love that lasted, was it.' 'Yes—yes, it was.'
He gave her a searching look, realisation dawning at the steady glow of love in her face. 'I had no idea…' he groaned. 'I imagined you'd got over what you and Marcus had.'
'What I had,' -she corrected. 'Marcus had no idea that I ever loved him.'
'Then being with him now must be hell for you.' 'No more than your believing Sally is still a child. Believe me,' she touched his hands, 'she isn't.'
'Maybe when all this is over—'
'If it ever is. It's a possibility that has to be faced,' she realised heavily.
'Not yet, not until after Marcus has seen Fitzgerald.'
Her eyes were wide. 'You sound pretty confident that he will see him.'
'Wishful thinking,' Simon grimaced. 'But that's enough about work for now. Tell me about Olivia King,' he smiled encouragingly.
Olivia laughed softly. 'Only if you'll tell me about Simon Brooks.' 'Deal!' he grinned.
It was a pleasant evening, made the more so because both of them knew they met only as friends, colleagues, that both their romantic interests lay elsewhere.
From dinner they went on to a club, dancing together until after twelve, when Olivia decided she really should get back. She had left instructions with Sally about Marcus's medication, nevertheless she wanted to check on him before she herself went to bed; she had made that a nightly ritual.
'I'll see you tomorrow,' Simon smiled as he left her at the door.
'You hope,' she warned before quietly letting herself into the house.
Everyone had gone to bed, but that wasn't really surprising, it was almost one o'clock in the morning. There was no note from Sally tonight, but she checked that there was no coffee in the kitchen anyway, delaying the moment when she would have to go to Marcus's room. She felt nervous about seeing him again, even when he was asleep.
But finally she couldn't delay any longer, not surprised to see the light showing under his door; it was left on most nights. But she sensed that tonight it was different; she knew it as soon as she opened the door. Instead of being sprawled on the bed as he usually was Marcus sat in the armchair in front of the window, still fully dressed, the curtains drawn against the night as he faced only the brown velvet.
He turned sharply as Olivia closed the door, frowning, his head slightly tilted to one side in puzzlement, his features harshly defined, his expression fierce.
She hadn't dreamt he would still be out of bed, let alone that he would be awake too! Another confrontation between them was the last thing he needed. 'I'm sorry, Marcus, I thought—I thought you would be asleep,' she finished lamely.
Instead of the angry tirade she had been expecting he gave a choked sound, his hands tightly grasping the chair. 'I thought you'd gone!'
She put out her hands appealingly, then dropped them back to her sides as she realised he couldn't see her. 'I won't do that, Marcus,' she told him dully. 'No matter how many times you tell me to go.'
He frowned. 'Sally said you'd left the house.'
'I did. I've been out for the evening,' she revealed reluctantly.
'With Simon?' he rasped. 'Don't bother to deny it,' his mouth twisted. 'I can smell his aftershave on you! It's very potent, Olivia—is the man as effective?'
'Marcus!' she gasped her dismay.
'Is he?' His hand came out to grasp her wrist. 'Tell me!'
'I'm not telling you anything!' She wrenched away from him, rubbing her bruised wrist. 'I came in here to see if you're all right—I can see that you are. Goodnight!' and she hurried from the room before she said anything to make matters worse.
She could hear him moving restlessly about the next room as she lay in her bed, knew of his disturbed thoughts as he paced the floor minute after minute, hour after hour. She wanted to go to him, wanted to comfort him, to help him through this. But she knew he wouldn't welcome her understanding, that she was the last person he wanted around him in his emotional torment. But she couldn't stand his pacing, was aware of his every move, finally pulling her pillow over her head to block out the sound of his movements. He couldn't go on like that all night, if he finally did decide to see Jason Fitzgerald he wouldn't be fit enough for the examination. And neither would she!
'Olivia?'
She froze in the bed, slowly removing the pillow from her head. In the gloom of the room she could clearly see Marcus standing beside the bed. In that moment she could think only of the fact that Marcus had left his bedroom, that he had finally made the effort to leave the room that had become his prison. 'Olivia!' he rasped again,-more uncertainly this time. 'I'm here,' she told him huskily, swinging her legs to the floor as she sat up in front of him. 'I'm here, Marcus.' She clasped his hands in hers as she looked up at him.
'I need you,' he stated simply. 'Need…?' She swallowed hard.
'I need to be with you, to be held by you. I just need to be with you,' he finished in a tortured voice. 'Is that asking too much?'
He looked so vulnerable standing rigidly in the moonlight, shadows cast over his harsh face, and there was no thought of denial in her mind—or her heart. 'No,' she said huskily, 'that isn't asking too much.'
'Will Simon mind?' he sneered in the face of his deep need. 'Marcus—'
'Forget I said that!' He turned away. 'Forget I ever came here. It was a mistake. I just—I thought you'd really gone earlier—' He ran a hand across his face in a weary gesture.
'I'm here, Marcus,' Olivia repeated reassuringly, and stood up, her arms going about his waist from behind, her hands moving up his chest as she leant her cheek against the rigidity of his firm back. 'And I'm going to stay here. Come to bed and let me—let me hold you.' She could feel the tension in
his body, his breathing ragged.
'You're sure?' he ground out.
'Very,' she answered without reserve.
Marcus turned with a heartfelt sigh, his arms like steel bands about her. 'I'll see Fitzgerald,' he rasped harshly, his face buried in her scented hair as he trembled against her.
'You will?' she cried excitedly, looking up into his grim face.
'I will,' he confirmed abruptly. 'But he's the last one. If he says there's no chance then that's it. Agreed?'
'Marcus—'
'I said no more, Olivia. Do you agree?' he demanded hardly.
She chewed her bottom lip. Jason Fitzgerald was the top man in his field, and if he said Marcus would never see again then that was probably final. But there was always that lingering doubt. Could she make such a promise and keep to it?
'I mean it, Olivia,' Marcus bit out at her hesitation. 'There will be no more specialists, no more tests.'
'All right,' she agreed with a deep sigh, knowing he was implacable. 'Let me help you,' she offered as he began to unbutton his shirt. Marcus was a man who needed no one, and the fact that he had come to her filled her with gratitude.
'All right.' His hands dropped to his sides.
Her hands trembled as she unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and stripped it from his shoulders, his skin deeply bronzed in the moonlight. He stood motionless as she released the catch to his trousers and slipped them down his legs, his only clothing now a pair of black underpants.
'No!' his hand stilled hers as she would have removed those too. 'That's enough. Just show me where the bed is,' he requested wearily.
She held his hand as she guided him into the bed. 'It's only a single,' she frowned as he lay down. 'Maybe we should use your room?'
'No,' he held out his hands for her to join him. 'This will do just fine.'
Olivia looked down at him with all the love inside her, then she slid into the bed beside him, knowing she would go to this man whenever he needed her. The fact that she would just be another female body to him didn't matter; he needed her.
His arms came about her and pulled her close in the confines of the bed, resting his hand against her silk-covered breasts with a ragged sigh of satisfaction. 'I'm so tired, Olivia. So very tired,' he told her weakly.
His legs were entwined with hers, his body pressed intimately against hers, and yet within minutes, by the deep and even tenor of his breathing, she knew he was fast asleep!
Her main emotion was disappointment. She had thought when he said he needed her that… God, she had wanted him to make love to her, had thought that was what he needed—and what she surely needed too! It was torture to lie beside him like this when her hands ached to caress him, to arouse him to the heights of passion, to know his full and absolute possession.
Marcus moved restlessly in his sleep, and in the narrow width of the bed each movement was exquisite torture to Olivia as she lay awake beside him hour after hour, needing to sleep but needing Marcus more. She felt like a wanton as she finally gave in to the temptation to caress and touch his body, loving the firm feel of his flesh, the warmth of his skin, his masculine beauty.
As her caresses became bolder, more intimate, he rolled away from her, pushing her hands away with a groan of protest. 'I don't want you, can't you understand that,' he muttered in his sleep. 'Ruth! Don't go, for God's sake don't leave me again. I love you, I've always loved you.' He was becoming more and more agitated. 'Olivia, no! Why did you leave me? Oh God, why did you leave me?' he cried out his pain.
It seemed that only when he was asleep, in his subconscious, could Marcus remember that he had once known a little nurse called Olivia King, a young girl who had merely been a diversion to him, while Ruth was the woman he really loved.
'Marcus!' She had to wake him, he was beginning to shout, he would wake the whole household. And the last thing they needed was for him to be found in her bed. 'Marcus, it's all right!' She shook him slightly as he seemed to be in a deep sleep.
'What the—' The long dark lashes were raised as he woke up. 'Where am I?' he asked raggedly. 'Who are you?' he demanded as he felt the softness of the female body beside him. 'Olivia…?' he questioned uncertainly.
'Yes,' she confirmed. 'You were having a—a nightmare.' Her voice shook at the wealth of love Marcus still had for Ruth. And she had thought he had come in here to make love to her! 'You were shouting,' she calmed him.
'I'm sorry.' He ran a hand over his eyes. 'Is it still night?'
'Yes. You've only been asleep a couple of hours.' Her voice was low.
His arms tightened about her. 'Olivia…!' His mouth covered hers in rough demand.
Olivia knew that she should deny him. He still loved his wife, would always love her even though she was dead. But as his body hardened against hers she was unable to move away from him.
'You feel so soft,' he murmured against her shoulder. 'Like silk,' he added throatily, gently pushing the ribbon straps of her nightgown down her arms, baring her breasts to his searching lips, capturing one taut nipple to caress it with his tongue and teeth, tugging gently on the sensitive nub until its twin ached for the same pleasure.
His hand moved surely to feel her rising excitement, caressing the moist nipple his lips had just left, while his mouth moved to the other rosy peak, satisfying its hunger with a thoroughness that had her arching her body against his, her hips moving restlessly in erotic need. With deft hands Marcus removed her nightgown altogether, his dark underpants quickly following, and all thought of Ruth, of the love Marcus still had for the other woman, fled as their naked bodies became entwined, Marcus's thighs throbbing with desire.
They clung together damply as the desire grew to frightening proportions, and Olivia gasped as Marcus kissed her inner thigh, till she cried out with pleasure.
'Have there been many lovers, Olivia?' His lips returned to her mouth, his breath warm on her face.
Olivia was still lost in the euphoric glow of the pleasure he had so easily created, looking up at him dazedly. 'I don't—'
'Have there?' he demanded, shaking her slightly, above her in the moonlight. 'Your body reacts too quickly and satisfyingly for you to be a novice.'
She stiffened at the insult. 'Marcus—'
'I need to know,' he ground out. 'Don't you understand?'
'Why do you need to know?' Passion was fading fast in the face of his insistence. 'Do you want to know the strength of your competition?'
'No,' he groaned, 'it isn't that.'
'Then what is it?' She moved completely away from him, getting out of bed to pick up her pale green nightgown from the floor, pulling it on over her nakedness, feeling more confident with its protective covering, despite the fact that Marcus couldn't see her. She looked down at him, the man on the bed unable to see her aroused loveliness, the drugging sensuality of her eyes. 'Why do you need to know, Marcus?' she demanded. 'I've asked nothing of you. Nothing!'
'Then perhaps you should have,' he snapped grimly, unconcerned with his own nakedness.
'What do you want me to do, ask for a list of the women you've slept with since your wife died?'
His mouth twisted. 'It wouldn't be much of a list.'
No, of course it wouldn't. Loving his wife as he did, Marcus wouldn't want to make love to anyone else. He was a sensual man, she had always known that, but it was a sensuality he could control. She doubted there had been any women for him since Ruth.
'I'm sorry,' she said dully, moving away.
'Where are you going?' he rasped.
'To get some hot milk,' she told him jerkily. 'I would appreciate it if you would be gone by the time I get back.'
'Olivia—'
'Please, Marcus!' Her voice broke with the strain she was under. 'I realise that what happened just now makes me look completely selfish, that you didn't— well, I'm sorry that I—and you didn't.' She stopped before the conversation became too embarrassing, never having completely lost control before, embarrassed at the shuddering response Marcus
had induced in her. 'I want you to go. And don't—don't ever come in here again. I don't provide those sort of services!' She was blinded so badly by her tears that she could hardly see where she was going, stumbling out of the door and down the stairs to the kitchen.
She didn't really want the hot milk, and yet she prepared it anyway, relieved to have something to do. Although the task didn't occupy her mind, her thoughts were all too self-condemning. She had been a fool to respond to him so freely, had allowed herself to be betrayed by her own love, all the time knowing Marcus didn't return her feelings.
He had gone by the time she returned to her room, and unable to fight the emotion any longer, she sat down on the bed and sobbed out her pain.
It was late when she woke the next morning, and after a hurried shower she dressed in a blue and red patterned skirt and navy blue tee-shirt, going down to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee before she had to face Marcus, her embarrassment about last night, her uninhibited response, still acute.
'Have some breakfast too,' Miss Podmore insisted warmly.
'At ten-thirty it's almost lunch-time!' Olivia grimaced, surprised that no one had woken her. Although Marcus was probably no more eager for them to meet again than she was. 'I'll wait, thanks. I have to get back up to Mr Hamilton,' she smiled to hide her lack of confidence about the meeting.
'He isn't upstairs,' the housekeeper told her with a shake of her head.
'He isn't?' Olivia frowned.
'He's in the garden. He had breakfast out there this morning.'
She could hardly believe it; Marcus had made yet another move to break out of his self-imposed prison! 'I—How did he get downstairs?' she asked.
'He just walked down on his own—with a lot of swearing,' Miss Podmore added disapprovingly, a small bustling woman who was easily shocked. 'I think he knocked his shins a few times,' she confided. 'It was the shock of my life when he walked in here and demanded his breakfast!'
'I can imagine.' Olivia could too, although she couldn't possibly guess what had brought about this change in Marcus. She hurriedly swallowed the last of her coffee. 'I'll go out to him now.'
Everlasting Love Page 11