by Sara Craven
When Colly returned to the apartment she felt calmer. It had done her good to get away for a short while—even if she’d had to make a determined effort to keep from returning. And while she intended to quietly savour every moment she spent with Silas, she also knew that she would not see him again after tomorrow. Tomorrow, before Paula Livingstone arrived, she would leave.
Since she had no key to the apartment, Colly rang the doorbell. Mrs Varley let her in and, after a few minutes spent in friendly chat, returned to her chores. Colly took her bits of shopping into the kitchen and, despite her strictures on keeping her distance from Silas, had to give in to an overwhelming need to see him.
She looked in at the drawing room on her way to seek him out in his bedroom. But he was in neither room. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he’d said when she had told him she was going out. Oh, surely he had not gone out on his own! Trying not to panic, Colly went looking for him.
She found him in a room she had not been in before—it was a study. He was working! ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.
He looked at her—and grinned. Actually grinned. Did not look shame-faced, but actually grinned. Her fierce expression amused him, apparently. ‘You wouldn’t let me go out,’ he replied innocently—a man who would do exactly as he wanted without bothering to ask her permission, thank you. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind if I found something to occupy myself with while you were gone.’
Colly calmed down, outwardly. ‘Does that mean you intend to go and rest somewhere now?’ she enquired evenly.
‘My father called just after you left,’ he ignored her question to announce unexpectedly. And, while she was getting over her surprise, ‘He was sorry he missed you.’
Colly was not sorry. One way and another Silas’s family were closing in. True, Silas had been extremely ill and was still recovering. Which meant that they must have been exceedingly alarmed and had more or less lived at the hospital until he had turned the corner, as it were. There was no way that they were not going to keep a check on his progress now.
‘You said I was out?’
‘I told him you went out looking for a lettuce—and might be some while.’
Her lips twitched at his hint that if it had taken her two hours to run some salad to earth, then it must be some pretty special salad. ‘You didn’t tell him anything else?’
Silas shook his head. ‘What we have is personal to us, Colly.’
Her heart turned over at how wonderful that sounded, even though she knew full well that the only thing personal to them was their secret marriage. And in any event, while she instinctively knew that Silas would never lie to his father, Silas did not want anything more personal between them than those facts on that marriage certificate.
She turned away when the phone rang. She had an idea she would be wasting her time were she to insist that he rest. He was in the thick of business before she left his study.
And, in her view, he paid the price for not resting. Mrs Varley left at lunch-time. But Silas did not have any appetite for lunch. Colly took him some soup—in his study. He was not hungry at dinner-time either. Though he did insist on joining Colly at the dinner table.
‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ she suggested when she saw he had eaten all that he was going to eat.
He looked drained, but even so she was sure he was about to say no. Worryingly, after a minute or so, he got up from the table.
He was in bed when Colly went in a short while later. He was not reading, but was just lying there. She grew more worried. ‘As head nurse, is there anything I should know?’ she asked lightly.
‘I’ll let you know,’ he replied, and closed his eyes. Colly went quietly from his room.
But she could not settle. She felt marginally less worried when she heard plumbing sounds that indicated he was taking a shower. Still the same, she could not resist taking another look at him before she retired for the night. She tiptoed into his room. He had switched his light off and appeared to be asleep. She silently retreated.
She showered and got into bed—but she was awake at one, and awake at two. When the clock said three and she was still awake Colly gave in. It was no good. She just knew that she would get no rest until she had been to check on Silas.
Calling herself all sorts of a fool, she still the same got out of bed, slipped on her cotton wrap and, unable to deny the instinct that propelled her, went silently along the hall and, as silently, opened the door to his room. And at the sight that met her eyes she was never more glad that she did.
His bedside lamp was on and Silas was huddled up in bed—shivering. ‘You’re supposed to be asleep!’ he admonished when he saw her.
She hurried into the room, not knowing what to do for the best. ‘Where do you keep your hot-water bottles?’ she asked, reaching him and pulling the duvet up closer around him.
‘Don’t have any,’ he responded, his body shaking with cold.
That figured. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Don’t you dare go calling out a doctor!’ he instructed shortly. And, when she stared at him obstinately, ‘This is nothing to the attacks I had in hospital.’
That made her feel better, but only marginally. ‘I’ll just go and turn the heating up,’ she said, and went looking for controls. Discovering that the system was programmed to shut down overnight, she switched it on full belt and then hurried to her room to grab up the duvet from her bed.
Back in his room, she wrapped the duvet around him. ‘I’ll just go and make you a warm drink,’ she told him.
‘A brandy would be good.’
‘I’m unsure,’ she answered. ‘It might clash with your medication.’ And, guessing he would probably gag if she made him some hot milk, ‘I’ll make some tea.’
She was still undecided about whether or not to call out a doctor, but decided to leave it a half-hour to see if Silas’s shivering got worse. But in any case, after she took the tea into him she had no intention of leaving him.
She eyed his silk robe at the bottom of the bed, but didn’t think there would be very much heat obtained were she able to get the robe around him. ‘Sit up and drink this,’ she said, and, first placing the tea down, she pulled her duvet closer around him.
In fact she still had an arm about his shaking form as he took a few swigs of tea, wanted no more, and leaned back against her.
‘Put your arm in and try to get some sleep,’ she urged gently.
He obediently put his arm under the covers, but more she suspected because he was cold than because she had told him to. ‘You must sleep too,’ he answered.
‘I will—soon,’ she replied, and, half sitting, half leaning on him, she secured the covers up and around him once more. ‘Try to relax,’ she murmured, realising he was tensing against the cold of his fever.
‘Keep me warm,’ he mumbled, and moved over so she should get closer to him.
It did not require any thinking about. Silas was her first priority, her only priority. She stretched out beside him on top of the covers, her head on the pillows, close to his head. ‘You’ll be all right soon,’ she whispered softly.
‘Don’t get cold,’ he mumbled, and said nothing more, but snuggled against her as though seeking her warmth.
And Colly lay against him, her arms around him. A few minutes later and she was of the view that she should be ringing a doctor or the hospital he had been in. A few minutes after that, though, and she thought his shivering had started to subside.
When another ten minutes had passed and, while Silas was still racked by the occasional shudder, he was not otherwise shaking, Colly thought and hoped that he was over the worst. But, mainly because she was unsure, she stayed with him. Stayed with him and held him, her love.
And gradually the shudders that had taken him began to pass. She felt him begin to relax, heard his even breathing, and she began to relax too, so much so that she closed her eyes.
She stirred in her sleep, moved—and bumped into someone! He
r eyes shot wide—she always slept alone. ‘Good morning, Mrs Livingstone,’ said her bed companion.
‘Silas!’ she exclaimed croakily, a hundred and one emotions shooting through her. ‘Er—how are you?’ she asked witlessly, already attempting to scuttle urgently away. Where last night, or in the early hours, she’d had her arm about his shoulders, Silas was now sitting half propped up in bed and had an arm around her shoulders, holding her there. ‘I’m s-sorry,’ she stammered before he could answer. ‘You were shivering,’ she explained hurriedly. ‘I tried to keep you warm.’
‘In the time-honoured way.’
‘Yes—well…’ She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. ‘I’d better go.’
‘No hurry,’ he replied, to her amazement. And, with a grin that she absolutely adored, ‘I’m nowhere near back to my former strength yet.’
That was quite some admission, coming from him. And she checked her agitated movement to stay and look into his face for signs of the exhaustion she had witnessed there yesterday. There were none. ‘Let’s be thankful for small mercies,’ she replied.
‘For that,’ Silas said, and bent over and lightly kissed her.
She adored him some more. And then made a serious attempt to move. And that was when her foot came up against a bare leg! She shot Silas a startled look: she was under the duvet with him! ‘I didn’t get into bed with you. I swear I didn’t!’ she protested distractedly.
‘You didn’t,’ he agreed. ‘When I woke up around six, your duvet was on the floor. You were sleeping so soundly it seemed a shame to kick you out. I covered you over.’
‘You’re too good to me,’ she muttered, and again went to get out of bed—but his face was so near that on impulse—her brain anywhere but where it should be—she moved those extra few inches and kissed him. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m going to have to restrain my wicked ways.’ She laughed then, hoping to cover her guilt. ‘Only you were so poorly, it’s a relief to know you’re okay and that, regardless of you ordering me not to, I did do the right thing in not calling a doctor.’ She was gabbling. She broke off. ‘You are all right, aren’t you?’
His very dark blue eyes were looking good-humouredly down into hers. ‘You tell me,’ he suggested, and, his head coming down, he kissed her long and lingeringly.
‘Oh!’ she said on a gasp of breath when he raised his head again. Her body was all of a tingle. ‘I—um—think you’re stronger than you’re trying to make out,’ she said on a cough. Somehow the will to leave his bed has disappeared.
‘I think you could be right,’ he answered, and loosened the duvet so she should be free to go.
She sat up—their bodies collided. ‘S-sorry,’ she stammered again, made valiant efforts to leave, and got cross. ‘Why am I apologising?’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re the one who’s trying to lead me astray!’
‘Outrageous accusation!’ he denied, and suddenly they were both laughing. Then, breaking off, they were staring at each other. And then—kissing.
And it was all too wonderful. Silas had his arms around her, she had her arms around him, his lips were seeking hers, parting her lips with his own, and his hands were holding her, warm and burning her skin. There was thunder in her ears and in her heart.
She clung to him, and kissed him as he kissed her. ‘Oh,’ she sighed blissfully, and quite adored him, was in another world entirely as his hands began to caress over her back. ‘I’m not s-sure this is good for you,’ she murmured in one isolated sane moment.
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ he breathed against her throat, and the next she knew she was lying half beneath him and his hand was somehow beneath her nightdress, stroking upwards.
Shock hit her—his caressing hand strayed higher. ‘No!’ she cried urgently, her head in panic—but surely she’d got that wrong; she’d meant yes. She wanted him.
‘No?’ he queried.
‘This isn’t…You…Stop!’ she ordered, when once more his caressing hand began to adventure.
His hand stilled. Stayed on her upper thigh—but stilled. He bent and tenderly kissed her—and she was lost. ‘This could be the best medicine so far for the both of us—wouldn’t you agree?’ he asked against her mouth.
The words ‘yes, oh, yes,’ were already forming—but that was when the doorbell sounded. Colly shot a startled look to the bedside clock. Half past eight. Half past eight! ‘Mrs Varley!’ she cried, with a strangled kind of sound, and leapt out of bed, galvanised—and hurtled to her room.
Mrs Varley had her own key and would let herself in. To ring the bell was a mere courtesy because she knew there was someone there, Colly realised, as she rushed to get showered and dressed.
She was almost dressed when a whole barrage of complications hit her. Had Mrs Varley not arrived when she had then she and Silas might well have made love. On thinking about it, Colly knew there was no ‘might well have’ about it. She had put up all the resistance of which she was capable and, as Silas had said, he was feeling stronger than he had believed. But where would that have got them? Their marriage would have been consummated. And, while Silas still wanted that marriage certificate, what he definitely did not want was a wife.
That thought stirred her pride into action. Complications aside, she felt it incumbent on her to let him know that as he did not want a wife so she did not want a husband.
She remembered his kisses and could not lie to herself—she wanted more of them. To be in his arms…But this would never do. She recalled her response, the way she had clung to him—she had more or less offered herself to him! She recalled the way her lips had so willingly, so urgently met his—and died a hundred deaths. Oh, how was she ever to look him in the eye again?
That was when, too truly het-up to bear it, Colly decided that she did not have to look him in the eye again. She had intended to be away before his mother got here this morning anyway.
It seemed to Colly that, later than she had meant to be, she had better get her skates on. Paula Livingstone could arrive at any moment. If she hurried, Colly realised, she might be able to be away without having to see Silas again either.
Colly did not merely hurry—she flew!
CHAPTER SIX
COLLY did not see Silas again. She heard from him, though. The next day. Flowers arrived. ‘Thank you—for everything’, the card said, ending ‘Silas’. How final was that?
She wanted to hate him that he could cast her off with a few flowers, and owned she was not best pleased. Even so, she just did not have the heart to toss his flowers in the bin.
And, since they filled two vases, she supposed that ‘a few flowers’ was a bit of an understatement. And, in all honesty, what had she expected? She had left his apartment without a word. Had he wanted to thank her personally, she had denied him that chance.
Day followed day just the same, she discovered, when a month had dawdled by since that day she had walked out of Silas’s apartment. While her chief concern was to know how his recovery was going—and, after the finality of his flowers, to ring and ask was totally out of the question—other matters, minor in comparison, were about.
For one, Colly had her interview for the foundation course she’d applied for, and was accepted to start in September. For another, Nanette sought her out at the art gallery and bluntly stated that, since Colly was going to benefit when the sale of the house went through, she could come and help clear everything out.
That, apart from calling in antiques valuers, Nanette had small intention of lifting a finger was neither here nor there. Colly was glad to be busy. It was a large house—her days were fully occupied. Her evenings less so.
Tony Andrews continued to ask her out, and, while she had no intention of going out with him, she started to form the opinion that he was not so bad after all. He hadn’t pushed it when she had let him know that the evening ended on her doorstep, had he?
And, anyway, with a month passing since she had zipped up her overnight bag and rocketed out of Silas’s apartment, she felt that
Silas had to be better by now. And a well-again Silas, when she recalled the virile look of the man, meant that no way was he sitting at home evenings; well, not by himself, he wasn’t.
The next time Tony Andrews phoned and suggested they dine together somewhere, Colly agreed.
‘You said yes!’ he exclaimed.
Already she was half regretting her decision. ‘I should love to have dinner with you,’ she said quickly, before she could change her mind.
She knew, though, when twenty-four hours later she waited for him to call, that her acceptance had stemmed from being pricked by spiteful barbs of jealousy that Silas would have renewed his dating activities. She had to admit, too, that the hope of dislodging Silas from being so constantly in her heart and her head had something to do with her decision to go out with Tony.
Which effort was totally defeated when, on entering the smart eating establishment Tony had chosen, the first person she should cast her eyes on was none other than Silas Livingstone!
The restaurant was crowded, dozens of other people were there. So why should he stand out from the crowd? It was a question she had no need to ask. He was her love, her life—pure and simple.
Silas had spotted her too; she knew that he had. He was with a party of other people; she refused to try and pinpoint which of the attractive women in the group he was with. But as her eyes locked on him, so for a split second his eyes seem to lock with hers.
She turned away and looked at Tony, who was beaming his best smile down on her. Then the head waiter was leading them to their table and her fast-beating heart slowed down to a sprint. From what she could see Silas looked fully recovered from the bug that had flattened him. And she could not have been more pleased about that. She could not deny, either, that even if jealous darts were giving her a bad time she was still the same glad to have seen him.
Colly bucked her ideas up. Tony was doing his best to be an ideal dinner companion. She had agreed to dine with him, and politeness, if nothing else, said she should forget the party of six who appeared to be having a splendid time.