Everlasting Love Read online

  She didn't wear black, not being a member of the family, but her clothing was sombre, the brightness of her shoulder-length hair muted by being secured at her nape with a black ribbon.

  The buses ran regularly from outside the hospital, and she could see the right one coming for her destination as she reached the bus stop? 'Like a lift, Olivia?'

  She frowned down at the driver of the huge car parked at the side of the road. 'Mr Hamilton…'

  He leant over to thrust the passenger door open. 'Get in.'

  'Oh, but—'

  'I'm going to the funeral too, Olivia,' he told her abruptly. 'Please get in,' he repeated. 'I'm about to cause a traffic jam.' He looked pointedly at the rapidly approaching bus.

  She climbed into the burgundy-coloured Rolls-Royce, the engine only a gentle purr in the background as they drove further into town.

  'You look different out of uniform,' Marcus Hamilton suddenly broke the tense silence between them. At least, it was tense on Olivia's part, as usual she could tell nothing of this man's feelings, from his enigmatic expression.

  'Thank you—I think,' she added uncertainly. For the first time since she had seen him he smiled, deep grooves visible in his cheeks, his teeth very white against his dark skin, his eyes a warm grey. 'You can take it as a compliment,' he drawled. 'Although the uniform is quite flattering on you too.'

  She blushed shyly. She hadn't seen him the last three days except for a brief glimpse on the ward on Friday, and remembering that kiss they had shared she felt embarrassed about being with him now.

  'We're going to a funeral, Olivia,' he derided at her silence. 'Not to my home.' 'Yes—er—sir.'

  'Marcus,' he substituted hardly. She couldn't possibly be that informal with this autocratic man, so she remained silent for the remainder of the drive, swallowing hard as he parked the car with the others outside the church.

  He studied her pale face as he helped her out of the car. 'It's all right, Olivia,' he assured her softly, clasping her elbow once again after locking the car. 'I'll be right beside you. If you want to come out just say so and we will.'

  The service was short and beautiful, the words for the elderly couple sincerely moving, and the tears flowed unchecked. A snowy white handkerchief suddenly appeared in front of Olivia's blurred gaze, and she took it gratefully.

  'This is getting to be a habit,' Marcus murmured softly. 'No, keep it,' he advised as she offered it back to him. 'You might need it again.'

  She stood silently at his side as she spoke to the family outside after the service, his hand still firm on . her elbow as he offered his quiet condolences.

  'I'm afraid Olivia and I have to get back now,' he politely refused the eldest daughter's invitation back to the house.

  'We realise what busy people you are,' the woman gave them a wan smile. 'We're just grateful you could come.'

  Almost as if they were actually a couple! No one seemed to think it in the least odd that they were here together like this.

  Well, Olivia thought it very odd. Senior consultants just didn't take this amount of interest in their juniors, and yet the masculine smell of cologne that clung to the handkerchief she still held told her it was all reality.

  'Tea?' Marcus suggested on the drive back to the hospital.

  'Er—no,' she answered awkwardly, 'thank you. I have to get back now.'

  'Why?'

  'Sorry?' she frowned.

  'Why do you have to get back?' Marcus nodded. 'This is your day off, isn't it? Unless of course you have a date now?' he quirked one dark brow.

  'How did you know it was my day off?'

  'Well, you're here, aren't you?' he mocked.

  She blushed at her stupidity. But however much she would have liked to have tea with him, to have perhaps learnt more about the break-up of his marriage, and his little girl, it just wasn't possible. Years of protocol established long before she was born dictated that she couldn't accept his invitation. She just wished she knew what had prompted him to make it.

  'I do have a date,' she invented. 'Maybe some other time.'

  'Yes,' his voice was terse. 'As you say, some other time.' Olivia was aware of his silent anger for the rest of the journey, but what else had he expected! He might find it amusing to be entertained by her for a few hours, but she had to face the rest of the hospital staff, not him. The gossip about them wouldn't touch him in his lofty position, but she would come out of it less unscathed.

  It wasn't until she reached her room in the nurses' home that she remembered his handkerchief still clutched in her hand. She would have to launder it and return it to him as soon as possible. And if she were . honest with herself she was pleased to have this excuse to talk to him again.

  Her opportunity came her first day back at work. Marcus was doing his usual ward round, with six or seven student doctors hanging on his every word and Sister Marton hovering on the edge of the crowd seeing that he had each patient's notes at the precise moment he needed them. Marcus was the first to leave Sister Marton's office after the round, so Olivia seized her opportunity.

  'Mr Hamilton!' She hurried after him, pulling the neatly folded handkerchief out of her pocket.

  He took it wordlessly, pushing it into his breast pocket; several files were tucked under his other arm.

  She touched the sleeve of his jacket. 'I—Thank you.'

  'Yes.' He looked down pointedly at her hand, meeting her gaze coolly after she had removed it. 'If you'll excuse me…'

  She took the rebuff for exactly what it was, making a promise to herself that she wouldn't bother him again. He obviously regretted his friendliness of yesterday, and she wouldn't remind him of it again!

  She might have decided that, but it didn't stop her feeling any less miserable, and the news that she had a telephone call later that evening didn't help either. Her steps were slow as she went to the communal callbox in the nurses' home.

  She knew who it was going to be, knew there would probably be another argument with her mother because she didn't go home enough. Never mind the fact that she and her father argued non-stop when she did go home!

  'Hello,' she greeted lightly, deciding she might as well start off on the right foot!

  The voice that answered her was definitely male, and it wasn't her father. 'Olivia?'

  'Yes,' she frowned her uncertainty, not recognising the voice at all.

  'I'd like to see you. I have to see you,' the man amended raggedly.

  'Who is that?' she demanded to know.

  'God, I must be mad,' he muttered to himself. 'I'm sorry I troubled you. I—'

  'Marcus!' she suddenly realised. 'Marcus, is that you?'

  'Yes,' he confirmed shakily. 'I've just had a scene with Sally, and I—'

  'Sally?'

  'My daughter,' he explained impatiently. 'It doesn't matter, I shouldn't have called you. I'm sorry I bothered you.'

  'Would you like to talk about it?' she prompted gently, ignoring his lapse back into the controlled consultant, appealing to the man who had telephoned her out of desperation.

  There was silence for several long seconds after her question. 'Yes,' he sighed at last. 'I have to talk to someone. But it's so difficult over the telephone, and I can't leave Sally, it's our housekeeper's night off.'

  'Where do you live?' she asked.

  'Where do I ? Olivia, are you saying you'll come here?' He sounded astounded.

  'If you want me to,' she answered without hesitation, no longer caring that he was a top consultant and she was only a junior nurse; they were a man and a woman, and Marcus needed to be with someone tonight. She felt grateful that she was that someone, felt a new maturity at his trust in her.

  'Olivia, are you sure this is what you want?' He seemed to hesitate.

  'As sure as you were when you decided to make the call,' she told him briskly. 'The address?'

  He didn't hesitate any more—and neither did she, grabbing a lightweight jacket to pull on over her blouse, the latter tucked into her denims,
her waist, narrow hips and long legs all clearly outlined against the skin-tight material. The taxi-driver raised his brows as she gave him the address, charging her an exorbitant fee, since the address indicated she could well afford it, being in a quietly exclusive part of London, the house one of several in a private square. Marcus opened the door before she even had time to ring the bell, looking completely different from the Marcus Hamilton she had come to know as he walked about the hospital, as casually dressed as herself, in black trousers and a grey shirt unbuttoned partway down his throat. His avid gaze searched her shy face. 'Olivia…!' he breathed. 'Yes,' she said needlessly.

  He gave a ragged sigh, pulling her inside the house before taking her hungrily into his arms. 'God, Olivia!' His mouth came down fiercely on hers, bending her body into his as she clung to him, making no secret of his desire for her. 'Olivia, Olivia, Olivia!' He smoothed back her tumbled curls, the last cry of her name coming out as a triumphant laugh, one of his rare smiles lighting his austere features. 'God, you're beautiful!' He shook his head almost dazedly.

  She moistened her lips, aware that they had a tingling sensation from the force of his kiss. 'I am?' She gave an uncertain smile.

  'You are.' With his arm still about her waist he took her into the lounge, a strange uncomfortably modern room, the furniture all angles and squares, white fluffy rugs scattered about the highly polished floor, modern pictures hung on the white walls. It didn't look like Marcus at all. 'My wife's choice of decor,' he explained with feeling. 'I just haven't got around to changing it yet.'

  'Of course,' she bit on her bottom lip. 'You're separated.' He nodded abruptly and moved away from her. 'In the process of getting a divorce. Which is precisely the reason Sally and I argued.'

  'Oh,' Olivia grimaced. 'Do you think it's wise to argue with her about it? She needs your love and understanding, not more arguments.'

  He sighed. 'I've tried to be understanding, but I'm afraid it isn't a two-way thing at the moment. Sally has the ridiculous idea that I'm going to start bringing a string of different women to the house.' He saw her smile, his expression rueful as he thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. 'I know—hardly my image, is it?'

  'Daddy—' A young girl came to a halt in the doorway, her rebellious grey eyes focusing on Olivia before she turned angrily on her father. 'You didn't waste any time, did you?' she accused. 'And to think I came down here to apologise for being silly!'

  'Sally—'

  'Leave me alone!' she almost spat the words at him. 'Mummy was right, men aren't to be trusted!' She slammed back out of the room.

  Stunned silence followed her exit before Olivia hastily gathered her thoughts together. 'I don't think it was such a good idea for me to come here after all. I thought if you could talk to me I might be able to help, but instead I've—'

  'Been subjected to my daughter's rudeness,' Marcus said grimly, running a weary hand through the dark thickness of his hair. 'It's been like this ever since Ruth and I separated six months ago. I'm running out of solutions.'

  'I think all your daughter needs is time—and me out of the house,' Olivia added ruefully. 'I think you should go up and talk to her.'

  'And what are you going to do?' He looked at her with narrowed eyes. '

  She shrugged. 'I'll go back to the nursing home and do some studying—and goodness knows I need to!' she added lightly. 'I don't know how you ever remember it all.'

  'Experience,' he derided dryly. 'You really do want to go?'

  'I think I should,' she answered evasively.

  'But do you want to?' He watched her intently.

  'No,' she admitted truthfully.

  'I was hoping that would be your answer,' he gave another of his rare but mesmerising smiles. 'My housekeeper usually sits with Sally if I'm out in the evening, so will you have dinner with me tomorrow evening?' His hands grasped her upper arms strongly.

  Olivia was almost hypnotised by the deep grey of his eyes. 'Yes,' she said breathlessly. 'Yes, I'd like to.'

  It was to be the first of many evenings they were to spend together, although on none of them was Marcus ever as intense as he had been that first .evening at his home. He would be an entertaining companion, give her a chaste kiss on the cheek before they parted, usually arranging to see her again in a couple of days' time, but never again did he kiss her with passion.

  By tacit agreement they didn't make their friendship obvious at the hospital, being completely cool to each other whenever they happened to meet there. And although several of Olivia's friends teased her about her mysterious new boy-friend, none of them guessed she was secretly seeing Marcus Hamilton. She wasn't sure any of them would have believed her if she had told them—she wasn't sure she believed it herself half the time!

  Sally Hamilton had point-blankly refused to meet her, and in the circumstances Olivia couldn't exactly blame her. She wasn't even sure herself what part she played in Marcus's life; she only knew that for the moment he seemed to need her, her quiet presence, her gentle teasing if he should happen to become too grim. And not once did he mention his wife to her, whether through marital bitterness or just uninterest, she didn't know.

  Then one night their relationship changed drastically, Marcus telephoning her urgently to put off their meeting for that evening. 'My mother-in-law has turned up to see Sally,' he explained tersely. 'I can hardly deny her, she is Sally's grandmother.'

  'Of course,' Olivia agreed quietly, for the first time realising the consequences of going out with a man who was still married to another woman. 'I understand,' she said, not understanding at all. Was Marcus ashamed of his relationship with her, was that why he was so determined no one should know about it?

  There was silence at the other end of the telephone for several long minutes as Marcus sensed her confusion. 'Come and meet Sybil,' he invited suddenly. 'Then you'll see why I was so anxious for you not to do so.'

  She did indeed. Sybil Carr was still a beautiful woman despite being in her mid-fifties, her figure slender, her black hair fashionable grey at the peak. She was also bitchy and condescending, treating Olivia as being no older than her granddaughter, the latter having graciously consented to sit down to dinner with Olivia, obviously enjoying her grandmother's treatment of the woman she didn't like and had no intention of attempting to like.

  It was a strained and uncomfortable evening for Olivia, and Sybil Carr's friendly word of warning about 'middle-aged men trying to recapture their youth with a younger woman' was the worst of it. The two women unexpectedly found themselves alone in the lounge when Marcus went upstairs to say goodnight to Sally, and Sybil Carr took full advantage of the opportunity this gave her to warn Olivia off him.

  'Well?' Marcus arched dark brows questioningly as he drove her back to the nurses' home.

  'I shouldn't have come,' she confirmed woodenly, still shaken by what Sybil Carr had said to her. 'Your mother-in-law believes you will eventually go back to your wife.' The words came out in a rush as she couldn't hold them in any longer.

  He stiffened, his expression remote. 'I wasn't the one to leave, she was.'

  'And if she wanted to come back?' 'She's never asked to.'

  'But—'

  'I do not wish to discuss my wife, Olivia,' he told her harshly. 'She has no relevance to our relationship. Sybil may believe what she likes, but I don't expect you to listen to her.'

  If only she had more confidence in his feelings for her! And yet Sybil Carr had been so patronising about Marcus's interest in her, had called it a fantasy for him, every man's dream of having a young girl infatuated with him. She had also pointed out that Marcus needed someone with more sophistication, that he would soon tire of a child like her. Her last warning had had the most effect on Olivia, telling her that Ruth Hamilton had realised the mistake she made in leaving her husband and daughter, that she was now prepared to come home.

  Marcus hadn't denied wanting his wife back, now, he had merely said she hadn't asked to come back. There was a vast difference be
tween the two answers. 'Olivia?'

  'Sorry.' She came out of her reverie to look at him, finding his gaze levelled on her. 'Your mother-in-law doesn't like me.'

  His expression lightened as he turned back to the road. 'She isn't supposed to, I am.' 'And do you?' she asked huskily.

  His hand left the steering-wheel to grasp hers. 'You know I do.'

  'I—You never show me that you do,' she said . hesitantly, needing his reassurance tonight. 'You're always so—distant with me.'

  He didn't answer her, taking his hand from hers to stare rigidly ahead. Heavens, what had she done now!

  Marcus stopped the car a short distance from the hospital as he usually did, turning to look at her.

  'Olivia—' he seemed to be searching for the right words. 'If I—I'm afraid that if I once start kissing you I won't be able to stop! Can you understand that?' He looked at her appealingly. Her eyes were wide. 'No.'

  He sighed. 'I didn't think you would. Come here.' He opened his arms to her.

  She went into them unquestioningly, gasping at the fierceness with which he claimed her lips, moulding her torso to his, making her aware of the rapid beat of his heart. One hand moved to curve possessively over her breast, locating the taut nipple through the thin material of her blouse, his touch sure and demanding. 'I want you,' he groaned into her throat. 'I want you so, Olivia.'

  She was lost in the wonder of his caresses after weeks of starvation, loving the feel of his lips against her skin, her head thrown back as he smoothed the material away from her breasts, capturing one red-tipped nipple between his pleasure-giving lips, his tongue erotic against the hardened nub, and spasms of pleasure coursed through her body. She held his head against her, her fingers fevered in the thickness of his hair, kissing his temple with trembling lips, gasping as his teeth bit gently into her sensitive nipple, causing no pain, only pleasure.

  'Come home with me. Olivia,' he murmured against her mouth, nibbling gently on the lower lip, drawing it into his own in a message of eroticism. 'Come home and share my bed,' he encouraged raggedly.

  'I—'