Her Long-Lost Husband

by Josie Metcalfe

  ‘Do you think she’ll ever give up trying to marry you off to someone suitable?’ he asked wryly. ‘She must have thought she’d cracked it this time, with the Grayson-Smythes. Imagine…the two family estates finally joined together and the next generation of the Mannington-Forbes bloodline with a hereditary title!’

  That had never been on the cards, Olivia thought, everything inside her repulsed by the very idea of carrying any but Gregor’s child. In fact, it was unlikely, now, that she’d ever have a child of her own if Gregor did want a divorce.

  And if that wasn’t a thought to make her heart sink and add an extra few decibels to the thumping going on inside her head, she turned round and saw that, in spite of the heavy-duty medication, Gregor was looking positively grey again.

  ‘What time have you got to be back at the hospital?’ she asked, knowing that neither of them was really in the right frame of mind to sort anything out tonight. Anyway, with the wedding called off, there really wasn’t any rush to sort the divorce out, was there? The pang of disappointment that their time together had been so brief was something she couldn’t afford to think about.

  ‘I don’t,’ he said firmly.

  She frowned. The label on his analgesics had been dispensed by the pharmacy in her own hospital and she’d already registered the fact that it would normally only be administered to an in-patient.

  ‘You mean, you haven’t got a curfew? Surely they want you back before the ward settles down for the night, otherwise you’ll disturb everyone else.’

  ‘I don’t have to go back because I signed myself out — AMA,’ he said, his tone almost belligerent.

  ‘But…’ He’d left the hospital against medical advice? Well, it didn’t take her medical qualifications to see that he still needed…

  ‘I couldn’t stand it any longer,’ he added grimly, swivelling the chair to face her. ‘Livvy, today was almost the first time in nearly two years that I’ve been outside some sort of medical institution. I’ve had enough of doctors to last me a lifetime, but…I just needed…’

  He didn’t need to finish the thought. The edge of despair in his voice was matched by the shadows in his eyes and the tension stiffening his whole body.

  The part of her that would always love this man ached to know everything that had happened to him since the last time she’d seen him, but now was not the right time…not when his medical condition seemed to have been aggravated by all the tests he’d been through.

  ‘So, what have you planned to do?’ she asked. ‘I wouldn’t have thought they’d be happy to have you discharge yourself when you’re on such high doses of analgesia; but then, I suppose you told them you weren’t in much pain.’

  ‘There wasn’t time for much of a discussion about it,’ he admitted. ‘I was just glancing through one of those glossy magazines and caught sight of your photo with…’ He paused for her to supply the name of the man who’d accompanied her in the stylised shot.

  ‘Ash…Ashley Grayson-Smythe,’ she supplied with an inner wince, knowing exactly which photo he meant and blaming her mother anew for contacting the publication with the announcement of the impending wedding. That had been the single incident that had set the awful roller-coaster on its apparently unstoppable journey.

  ‘It was an out-of-date issue, the way they usually are in hospitals and doctors’ surgeries,’ he continued, ‘and when I realised that the wedding was due to happen today, all I was focused on was getting there in time to prevent you making the dreadful social faux pas of committing bigamy.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure that once the Grayson-Smythe and the Mannington-Forbes families have had time to recover from today’s debacle, they’ll be properly grateful for your efforts,’ she said crisply, ‘but that still doesn’t tell me where you were intending to go after you’d disrupted all my mother’s careful planning.’

  ‘I hadn’t arranged anything,’ he admitted, with a sideways glance in her direction that gave her just a glimpse of those unforgettable silver eyes. But, then, a glimpse had always been enough to send a shiver of awareness through her and distract her from whatever she was doing. ‘I was hoping…well…that you would let me stay here.’

  ‘Here?’

  That was the last thing she’d been expecting…although if she were to be honest, something deep inside her clenched tight with excitement just at the thought of having Gregor home again.

  Home?

  If that wasn’t the craziest thought she’d had today.

  The flat they’d chosen together and lived in right up until he’d disappeared out of her life hadn’t been Gregor’s home for nearly two years. Where did he get off expecting to swan back in? Next, he’d be asking her to take care of him until…until whatever was wrong with him had resolved itself, one way or another?

  Or, until their divorce papers came through?

  In spite of the fact that she knew he was probably the most stubbornly independent man on the planet, indignation roared through her, mixed with disbelief that he could just blithely assume that he had the right to move back in when he hadn’t bothered to let her know —

  ‘Please?’ he added softly, his voice rough around the edges with the sort of bone-deep exhaustion she’d never heard from him before, and even though she’d been drawing breath to blast him with a few home truths, she knew the battle was lost.

  ‘For how long?’ she demanded, trying to fight a rear-guard action even though she knew it was pointless. She never had been able to refuse him anything, almost from the first moment she’d met him, especially when there was a hint of that pleading-little-boy look on his face. There was just something so —

  ‘I’ll have to make another appointment at the hospital to replace the one I missed this morning, and then…’ Something dark flashed across his face but it was so quickly hidden that she could have been mistaken, especially when he added in an upbeat voice, ‘If I could just stay here until I’m on my feet?’

  The almost casual reference to his present disability and the implication that his condition wasn’t expected to be permanent made her quite giddy with relief.

  ‘And how long is that likely to be?’ Was her delight at the news hidden behind her attempt at a poker face? It was becoming harder and harder to remember just why she should be angry with him; why she should resent his easy impression that he could just slip back into her life as easily as he’d left it.

  ‘Does it make a difference?’ he asked after a telling pause. ‘Livvy, I don’t exactly have too many options at the moment. With the change in the law, public accessibility is apparently improving for those less physically able, but I’m not in a fit state to deal with the attention I’d draw if I booked into a hotel, nor am I mobile enough to book into the nearest motel. And you have to admit that there’s no chance of going flat-hunting and expecting to find something I could move into tonight…’

  The utter weariness that accompanied his observations surrounded him like a suffocating fog and made her feel like a poisonous witch, especially when the long fraught day was almost drawing to a close.

  This was the man she’d promised to love and honour in sickness and in health, and just because he’d disappeared for two years, it didn’t absolve her from keeping those promises, not while they were still legally married…and even if they weren’t still married, she probably wouldn’t be able to forget those promises for a good deal longer than that, if she was honest.

  ‘You’d better take the bedroom,’ she conceded. ‘There’s room to manoeuvre the chair in there and you’ll have easier access to the bathroom.’

  She started to clear the table and when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him clench his hands around the arms of his chair, she knew that he was regretting the fact that he wasn’t able to help her with even that menial task; something he’d never shied from during their marriage.

  ‘If you go on through, you can take your time getting ready. I’ll finish tidying up in here, but I’ll be listening in case you need to sh
out for help,’ she suggested, hoping to give both of them a few moments of breathing space before she had to face the reality of having Gregor back in her life and in their bed again. And in spite of the fact he’d been gone for two years, it was going to be hard to come to terms with the fact that it felt so right to have him back.

  ‘I can manage alone,’ he said brusquely, and even though Olivia knew that there was no point in showing her frustration as male pride took precedence over common sense, it was still difficult not to let her anger show when she whirled to confront him.

  ‘So your tendency towards being pig-headed hasn’t diminished over the last couple of years,’ she snapped, and continued before he had the chance to do more than draw a defensive breath, ‘Just tell me, how much damage is your stubbornness likely to do to you? You haven’t even told me what’s the matter with you…why you need the chair.’

  Suddenly, something he’d said a few minutes ago came roaring back into her head.

  Today was the first time in nearly two years that he’d been out of a medical institution? Where on earth had he been? And if he’d been injured in the line of duty, as she’d been told two years ago, surely the army should have been responsible for looking after him. In which case, why hadn’t she been informed when he’d been found?

  ‘I’ve had several bouts of surgery to put various bits back together,’ he said tersely. ‘I now have enough pins and plates and screws in me to set off a major alert if I go to an airport.’

  ‘Was the surgery successful?’ She wondered briefly what the chances were that she’d be able to have a look at his medical notes. The likelihood that Gregor would give her the full details of what he’d gone through was slim to none if the previous time he’d come home after working forty-eight hours straight through with half a dozen broken ribs was anything to go by.

  ‘Which surgery?’ He pulled a wry face. ‘Probably none of it was as successful as if it had been done properly, two years ago,’ he muttered with a grimace. ‘But at least there’s a chance that I’ll — ’

  ‘What do you mean, not as successful as if it had been done two years ago?’ she interrupted. ‘You mean, all your operations were necessary to correct injuries that happened nearly two years ago? Not for something that happened recently?’ The idea that the treatment he needed had been withheld from him utterly horrified her.

  ‘The sort of surgery I needed wasn’t…wasn’t available,’ he said grimly, and she knew from the way he’d worded his answer and from the tone of his voice that she wouldn’t be getting any further details from him…at least, not until he was ready to give them to her.

  She stifled a sigh, knowing that brow-beating would never work with this stubborn man, yet aching with the need to do something…anything…to make things easier for him.

  Except…did she have the right any more? Two years was a long time for a man as virile and attractive as Gregor. Perhaps there was someone else in his life, now; someone whose help he would welcome.

  ‘Go through to the bedroom. And remember to shout if you need a hand,’ she suggested, knowing that call was unlikely to come.

  Even with her back to him she knew exactly when he left the room. There was a strange electricity that had always sparked when they were near each other and it didn’t seem to have lessened in the time they’d been apart.

  She smiled sadly as she remembered the first time he’d come back to her from his very first front-line deployment.

  For weeks her nerves had been strung tighter than violin strings, refusing to believe anything but that he would return home safely to her. And then, without a word of warning, the door had opened and he’d been there, sun-burnt and windblown and with the wild fire of overwhelming desire in his eyes that hadn’t subsided to a manageable simmer until they’d finally emerged from the bedroom more than twenty-four hours later.

  How different things were now, she thought sadly, swallowing the tight ache in her throat as she wasted time fluffing cushions and straightening books around the living room even as she strained to hear what Gregor was doing.

  The flat was as neat as a show-home when she heard the first mutterings and she was torn between the urge to laugh and the need to cry when she recognised it for what it was.

  Gregor may have left his own country in his early teens and his English was almost perfect, but in moments of stress he still reverted to profanities in his own tongue.

  ‘I can swear without shocking anyone,’ he’d said the first time she’d heard him letting off steam. Although with the recent addition of a number of East European countries into the jobs market, he might have to learn to be a little more circumspect from now on…

  On silent stockinged feet she made her way to the bedroom door to lean against the frame, folding her arms while she took in the situation that was causing Gregor’s bad temper.

  For a moment shock robbed her of the power to breathe when she saw him there, sitting in the chair in nothing more than his underwear.

  What on earth had he been through to do this to his body?

  He’d been the perfect specimen of manhood in its prime the last time she’d seen him in this room, his broad shoulders tapering into a lean waist and his arms and legs beautifully muscled under smooth bronzed skin dusted with dark whorls of silky hair.

  This man was so utterly different that she could almost have walked past him without recognising him if he’d been a patient on the ward.

  His shoulders were broader than ever, with extra bulk to the powerful layer of muscles as a result of having to haul himself in and out of the chair. His torso had always been lean and taut but that six-pack was so perfectly sculpted now that her fingers itched to trace the symmetry of those ridges. But where were those muscular thighs that had been strong enough to power him out of a chair even with her weight in his arms, and the calf muscles that had reminded her of Michelangelo’s David? Never had she expected Gregor’s legs to look so pale and wasted…more like an elderly man than one in the prime of life.

  And where was the healthy glow on the natural bronze of his skin that had tempted her to touch…to explore all that silky warmth and furrow through the swirls of dark hair? The grey cast to his body, now, made it all-too evident just how long it had been since he’d last been well.

  ‘Problem?’ she asked mildly, unable to leave him struggling when there was the chance that he might do himself damage. ‘Were you just about to call for me?’

  She saw the muscles in his jaw tense rhythmically as he fought down his ire. ‘The bed is too soft to brace myself to transfer out of the chair,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘Would you be able to manage better if I were to put a board under the mattress? I could get one tomorrow,’ she suggested as she stepped forward, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt, especially as she’d just implied that he’d be staying for more than one night. ‘What position do you prefer…?’ She swallowed down the rest of the sentence, suddenly realising just how it sounded, but the damage was already done.

  ‘Livvy…’ Gregor growled, his eyes every bit as dark and hot as they’d been in her memories, and her heart stuttered wildly for several breathless seconds.

  Every fibre of her being longed for the last two years to disappear; for everything to be exactly as it had been when he’d swept her into his arms just moments before he’d been due to depart for that final deployment, unable to resist making love for one last time.

  Then she saw him blink, deliberately, and it was almost as if a screen had come down, shutting her out from any evidence of what he was thinking and feeling.

  Her heart clenched inside her with this fresh evidence that what had once been between them had been damaged for ever in the two years they’d been apart, but that wouldn’t stop her doing what was necessary to take care of him.

  ‘Link your hands behind my neck,’ she directed after a moment’s thought, positioning herself squarely in front of him.

  Silently, he complied, although every inch of him scream
ed resentment that he needed her assistance.

  It was a mixture of heaven and hell to wrap her arms around him and pull him tight against her body and she had to concentrate on the simple mechanics of lifting him just enough to clear the chair before she could pivot him so that she could lower him onto the bed.

  She bent to take the weight of his lower legs, not giving him time to object to the assistance before she lifted them onto the bed, but it was only when Gregor turned away from her to grab the edge of the covers to pull them over himself that she had her first sight of the livid scars marring his lower back.

  It was only the briefest heart-stopping glimpse but it was all the evidence she needed to realise just how close he’d come to losing his life entirely.

  Some were jagged — ugly reminders of the injuries inflicted on him by the explosion — while others were neatly outlined by the punctuation of stitches that proved that some sort of attempt had been made to piece him back together in the intervening years.

  ‘Oh, Gregor,’ she breathed, her heart aching for him and everything he’d lost in the blink of an eye, but the expression on his face as he settled himself against the pillows told her any sympathy she tried to show would only be taken as pity.

  It seemed wrong that her breasts were still tingling from the taut pressure of those beautifully developed pectorals and she wasn’t expecting to be distracted by the sight of his dark head against the pale blue pillow she usually slept on, but the last thing she anticipated was that he would grab her hand before she could walk away.

  ‘Is there something else you need me to do?’ she asked, overwhelmingly aware of the leashed strength in his grip and the fact that she could now smell the scent of her own soap on his skin and her toothpaste on his breath.