Village Midwife, Blushing Bride

by Gill Sanderson

  Zoe had come back home to get ready. The taxi would pick her and Connor up from her house. Now she was sitting on her patio waiting for Connor to walk across the garden. She had asked him to come over a little early. On the patio table were two glasses and a chilled bottle of Prosecco. They were both going to find it awkward to enter the ballroom this evening. She thought they might have a glass of wine before they set off. She laced her fingers together, then unlaced them. Why was she nervous?

  ‘Stop that,’ she told herself. ‘You know perfectly well why.’

  Connor. Pure and simple. It was all very well to say to Jo that they were just friends. The truth was that she was comfortable in his company, she trusted him with Jamie; she was starting to trust him with herself. That thought alone was enough to make her wonder where their friendship might be heading. The longer their acquaintance went on, the easier it became to think that maybe it was possible to have a relationship without getting hurt. She stared down at her hands. Very deliberately, she took the wedding ring off the third finger of her left hand—and placed it on her right hand. Perhaps, in time, she would stop wearing it completely. But it was a big step.

  Then she saw him walking along his path and opening the gate. It took her a moment to register that in his formal dinner jacket Connor looked more gorgeous than she had ever seen him. As happened so often, her heart started beating faster.

  Connor fumbled with the catch on the gate between his garden and Zoe’s. He could feel his heart speed up and wished it wouldn’t. He wanted to remain calm, didn’t want any kind of excess emotion.

  This was exactly the kind of event he had been avoiding. He’d been to too many charity balls with Francine when they had been a golden couple—dining, dancing, partying, surrounded by friends who lived the same way. Working hard, playing harder. When he’d taken his dinner jacket to be drycleaned he had found in the inside pocket an invitation to Dr C Maitland and Guest to a reception at the Savoy. He had torn the card in half, wishing he could get rid of the memories as easily.

  But what he was feeling now had nothing to do with the past. Anticipation had crept up on him without warning and he was actively looking forward to this ball. He was honest enough to acknowledge that the reason was Zoe.

  What was he to do about her? Just how far could he let her into his life? For that matter, just how far would she allow him into her life? Over the past few weeks they had become closer, but did he want to take it to the next stage?

  He had loved Francine, trusted her, and she had let him down in such a way that he had doubted he would ever love or trust again. But Zoe was different. He already knew she was loyal, but there was more to it than that, much more. She stirred his senses. Her smile lifted him with its warmth and all-encompassing humanity. He found himself trying to make her smile on purpose.

  He latched the gate behind him, turned and saw her sitting on the patio. His breath caught in his throat. She was wonderful! She had let her hair down; it trailed over bare shoulders. Her dress was apparently simple, fashioned in peach silk. The bodice clung, enhancing the brownness of her bare arms. The skirt was what he would describe as swirly, fuller than the bodice; he guessed it was bought specifically with dancing in mind. Strappy sandals peeped out below the skirt.

  As he drew nearer he noticed she was wearing jewellery. A necklace of amber hung low on her neck, dangling gold earrings replaced the neat studs that she normally wore.

  ‘You look absolutely marvellous,’ he said, and heard the shake in his voice. He couldn’t help himself; he bent over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. He felt her shock, but when she raised her eyes to his they were pleased.

  ‘You look pretty good yourself,’ she said. ‘I bought a bottle of Prosecco. I thought we had time for just one drink before the taxi arrives. Will you open it?’

  He sat opposite, puzzling over the slight anxiety he could hear in her voice. ‘Are you nervous?’ he asked in disbelief, easing off the cork and filling the two glasses.

  ‘A bit. I used to go to grand parties with Neil before he…’ She broke off. ‘The thing is—these past few weeks I’ve been building a new life, a more stable one. Oh, I love being Cinderella and dressing up, but I suppose I’m a little worried that memories from the past might spoil tonight. Silly, really.’

  ‘Not silly at all. I had a few similar thoughts myself. Let’s make a pact—tonight, neither of us is to think of anything except the present. Time out, as it were. After all, Cinderella wasn’t worried that at midnight the coach and horses would turn back into a pumpkin and rats. She went ahead and enjoyed herself anyway.’ Connor leaned forward and clinked his glass against hers. ‘To a wonderful evening to come.’

  ‘One night of magic?’ She laughed uncertainly, then bit her lip and studied his face. ‘All right; you’ve convinced me. To a wonderful evening to come.’

  They both sipped; Connor felt the bubbles tickle his throat. Tonight, he decided extravagantly, whatever he could give Zoe, she would have.

  If a magic night needed a magic setting, then Zoe thought Cantwell House was it. She, Connor, Jo and Sam were taken to the ballroom and shown to a table. A bottle of champagne in a silver bucket stood on it. Behind them was a wall of French windows, opening out to the terrace and a view of the gardens beyond.

  Zoe looked around the beautiful sparkling room and smiled. She was going to enjoy herself. She was with friends, all of whom were out to have a good time. And she was with a man who…No, she wouldn’t think about the future. They had agreed. Today was for today.

  ‘You look like you used to,’ Sam said to her. ‘Radiant. Buckley must be good for you.’

  ‘Something is certainly good for me,’ Zoe said. ‘I feel especially happy tonight.’ She hoped that Jo and Sam hadn’t noticed the look that Connor gave her.

  And then a band started to play.

  ‘Sam,’ said Jo, ‘we’re dancing. If only to prove to you that those ballroom dancing lessons were worth it.’

  ‘Too right. They won’t play the old stuff for long.’ He cleared his throat. ‘My dear, may I have the pleasure of this dance?’

  ‘But certainly; I’d be delighted.’ Jo winked at Zoe and Connor. ‘He can still impress when he wants.’ They glided across the floor.

  ‘Would you like to dance, Zoe?’ asked Connor.

  ‘I’d love to dance.’ As she stood, suddenly Zoe felt shy.

  This was the first time Connor had had his arm round her in a not-just-for-comfort way. It was unsettling and exciting both at the same time. They were close together; she could smell the faint fragrance of his cologne, feel the warmth of his body. She rested her hand on the silk of his dinner jacket. Her eyes were drawn to his. Had Cinderella felt this way?

  They danced. There was that initial hesitation while they learned just how their bodies would move together, worked out how to lead, how to follow. But they seemed to fall into a rhythm almost at once. They danced as if they had been made for each other. Zoe gave herself to the music and the consciousness that she was in Connor’s arms.

  ‘You’re a very good dancer,’ she told him.

  ‘I used to do a lot of it. But I never enjoyed it as much as I am doing now.’

  ‘That’s a lovely thing to say. Can we stay on the floor for the next dance?’

  He smiled down at her, directly into her eyes. ‘Tonight, your wish is my command.’

  Of course they couldn’t come to the ball and simply dance all evening. Apart from the fact that this was meant to be a social occasion, it would cause far too much speculation. So they sat at their table for a while, drank champagne and chatted to friends who came by. She was asked to dance by other people she’d met since she’d moved up. She remembered that thrill of knowing she was in demand. There was also a distinctly guilty pleasure in seeing the envious glances of the other girls when they recognised her partner.

  ‘All the women’s eyes are on you,’ she said to Connor. ‘People are jealous of me, and I feel sneakily pleased.’
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br />   ‘I think it’s more likely that all eyes are on you. I’m just another man in a penguin suit. Come on, let’s dance again. There’s a registrar from the hospital moving towards us and I know he wants to ask you to dance—but I want it more.’

  Zoe laughed and let herself be pulled into the throng. The music was more modern now, so the dance floor was crowded. The temperature rose along with the noise level. Connor asked if she’d like to walk in the gardens to cool down. Others were doing the same. It was dusk, but there were discreet lights scattered around, illuminating the paths.

  She thought that a walk in the gardens would be lovely. As they walked to the far end of the terrace she took his arm, and became aware that he was guiding her away from most of the others. Was this the old Connor wanting solitude? Her senses told her probably not. And, as she thought it, a frisson of expectation ran through her.

  They walked along a dimly lit path, the warm air heavy with the mingled scents of Cantwell House’s famous old-fashioned roses and the drifts of white and pink nicotiana along the borders.

  They came to a bench, dark and secluded, and they sat, hands just touching. Zoe looked up and found that he was looking down at her. In the moonlight he seemed even more magnificent than by day.

  ‘Is this still our evening out of time, Cinderella?’ he asked in a low voice.

  She smiled, felt herself shiver. ‘Oh, yes,’ she whispered.

  Being kissed by Connor was magical. At first the touch of his lips was delicate, tentative even, but as her body pressed closer to his, he became more assertive. She felt his fingertips trail across her naked shoulders and when they moved gently over the swell of her breasts she could detect that they were trembling. She wanted to stay here for ever being kissed by him; she was being transported into a realm where she didn’t know what might…

  In the distance there was a fanfare of trumpets. Shaken back to the present, she could hear the sound of feet on gravel. People were chattering loudly, coming towards them up the path. Zoe felt cheated when Connor took his arms from round her and leant back against the stone of the bench. He kept hold of one of her hands, though.

  ‘Perhaps we ought to get back,’ he said, his voice husky with disappointment. ‘This place is getting too popular.’

  She felt better, knowing that he wanted to stay as much as she did. ‘I suppose so,’ she said. She found a grin. ‘But I’m still Cinderella and it’s not midnight yet.’

  He smiled back at her. ‘Now that is good news.’ They walked back hand in hand. Whether it was the champagne or the moonlight or the fairy lights, Zoe no longer cared.

  Back in the ballroom, they discovered that the fanfare was because the buffet was being served. Much to her amazement, Zoe found she was hungry. But then she’d packed quite a lot into the past three or four hours.

  The buffet, like everything else organised so far, was superb. She picked smoked salmon on rye biscuits with cream cheese, ham vol-au-vents, chicken in a rich cream sauce. To the side, a tossed rocket salad.

  ‘I’m eating the salad because it’s slimming,’ she told Connor. ‘I’m eating the rest because tonight I’m just not bothered.’

  He chuckled. ‘Leave some space for the pudding.’

  She looked at the exotic fruit salads, the cream cakes, the ice creams. ‘I will,’ she said.

  They returned to their table to eat and chat some more. Jo phoned the babysitter to check that all was well. Empty plates were cleared away by efficient waiters. Coffee was served. Then, from the stage at the end of the ballroom, there was a welcome and a couple of short speeches. And all the time Zoe was aware of Connor next to her, the scent of him, the brush of his arm against hers, the warm pressure of his thigh. She’d been glad to sit down and eat, but now she felt energised and impatient. She wanted to dance with Connor again. Or go for another stroll in that magical garden. Most of all, she wanted to kiss him and dissolve in his arms again.

  The band struck up again. ‘I think you need some quiet, floating around time,’ said Connor, holding out his hand to her.

  This time there was no hesitation. She fitted into his arms as if they had been designed for her. ‘This is lovely,’ she murmured.

  ‘Magic,’ he replied.

  Magic, she thought. That was just the word.

  After a couple more dances, they went outside for another walk in the garden, but discovered with a nasty shock that everyone else seemed to have the same idea. They found the same private path as before, came to what she thought of as their bench—and there was a couple already sitting on it. And they were kissing! They struck off down a side path to another seat and there was another entwined couple.

  ‘Pah! All this kissing on benches,’ muttered Connor in her ear. ‘We did it first. Did we start a craze or did everyone work it out for themselves?’

  Zoe had been feeling hard done by, but knowing that Connor felt the same cheered her up. ‘It’s just a romantic night,’ she told him. ‘Let everybody share it.’

  ‘I’m selfish. I don’t want their romantic nights interfering with mine.’ He looked down at her in the dimness. ‘We are having a romantic night, aren’t we?’

  Zoe caught her breath. Did he mean now—or later? ‘Very romantic,’ she said.

  They turned another corner. For the moment, there was no one in sight. Connor quickly pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It felt deliciously urgent. ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘It’ll do to be going on with.’

  Did that mean what she thought it might mean? Was she going to try and fight it?

  At the close of the evening the taxi dropped Jo and Sam off and took Zoe and Connor on to the coach house. ‘Ouch! My feet!’ said Zoe as she stepped down to the road. She hung on to Connor’s arm for balance. ‘I haven’t danced so much for years.’

  ‘But did you enjoy it?’

  ‘Tremendously. You?’

  ‘More than any night I can remember,’ said Connor. ‘Ever.’

  Chapter Nine

  AND now Zoe was on the patio of her home and alone with Connor. The happy, joking mood that had been so obvious when there were four of them had disappeared. Something more serious had taken its place. ‘You aren’t going straight home, are you?’ she said. Not a question or a challenge but a simple statement of fact.

  He traced the side of her face with his hand. ‘No.’

  The intensity of that one word took her breath away. She moistened her lips. ‘Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Tea,’ he said. ‘Champagne is all very well, but now I’m thirsty.’

  She smiled. ‘Me too. Tea it shall be.’ She looked at him, his dinner jacket slightly rumpled, his beautiful shirt not quite so pristine, his tie loosened. It was difficult to imagine how much more gorgeous he could look. ‘It’s a warm night. Why don’t you take off your jacket and tie?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  Oops, were things moving a bit fast? ‘The sunset’s long gone, I’m afraid,’ she said quickly, ‘but sit down anyway. I’ll be right with you.’ She wasn’t avoiding what might be coming. Rather, she was putting off the moment, giving herself time, drawing out the delicious anticipation. And…all right, admit it. She was just a bit afraid.

  She filled the kettle and then hurried upstairs. She had felt glamorous and magical in her new dress, but now the evening was taking a different course and she needed to be able to relax. It only took a minute for her to slide the dress over her head, hang it in the wardrobe and pull on a sleeveless silk wraparound shift. Before going downstairs she changed a couple of things in her bedroom—just in case.

  He patted the bench next to him as she carried a tray out to the patio, indicating that she should sit next to him, not on one of the chairs. ‘You’ve changed your dress. You still look gorgeous.’

  ‘Thank you, kind sir. And you look gorgeous too.’

  He put his arm round her, pulled her to him and kissed her.

  ‘That was lovely,’ she whispered as it ended.

&n
bsp; ‘Very lovely,’ he agreed.

  They reached for their tea together and for a few minutes sat companionably sipping. But there was a whole lot unsaid between them and when Zoe put her empty mug on the table and he—after a tiny hesitation—did the same, she realised it was time. The entire evening had been leading up to what might happen now. Coming this far had been a set of small conscious decisions—this was the last chance she had of changing her mind. She was going against everything she’d vowed over the past few months; she was putting her emotional self at the mercy of a man—one she had only known for a comparatively short while. And this was not something minor. She didn’t do casual affairs; she never had. If she went ahead it would change her life here in Buckley for ever.

  He put his hand over hers. Uncannily, he seemed to know exactly what she was feeling. ‘Sweetheart, I’m uncertain too, but I think it will be all right,’ he said. ‘You’re worried. That’s understandable, but I promise the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you. Why don’t we just sit here a while longer and kiss each other some more and we’ll see where things go?’ He put his arm round her, close enough for her to feel reassured, loose enough that she didn’t feel threatened.

  And suddenly and absolutely, the magic came back and she did know. This was what she wanted. ‘Kiss me again,’ she said.

  He kissed her. A gentle soft kiss at first, on the lips but then on her cheek, on her forehead, even on her nose. Playful kissing. A good way to start. Then he slipped his hand inside the loose front of her wraparound shift, stroked the softness of the naked flesh below. She felt his hand pause, almost as if waiting for permission to continue. For answer, she pulled him closer, heard the soft sound of pleasure deep in his throat.