Everlasting Love

by Carole Mortimer

  He gave an arrogant inclination of his head. 'When you've gone.'

  'Oh, but I'm not going.'

  'I don't need an audience while I eat!' Marcus ground out, his face rigid.

  'You aren't getting one.' She put salt and pepper on her own food. 'I shall be too busy eating to watch you.'

  'Eating ?' He turned sharply towards her. 'You aren't eating in here!'

  'I've already started. I was right, the pork is delicious. Why don't you try some? I'm sure you—'

  'Stop treating me like a child!'

  'Then stop acting like one!' She raised her own voice to meet his. 'It isn't going to hurt you to eat lunch with me. I hate to eat alone.'

  'Sybil—'

  'Is lunching with friends.'

  'She would be,' he muttered, evidence that he wasn't ignorant of the fact that his mother-in-law couldn't bring herself to even visit him, despite living in the same house.

  'Please sit down, Marcus,' Olivia pleaded softly. 'The food is getting cold.'

  He looked down at her fiercely for several long minutes—and it was difficult to believe those piercing grey eyes couldn't actually see her! Finally he sat down. 'Aren't you going to cut my food up for me?' he taunted.

  'Do you want me to?' she challenged.

  His mouth tightened. 'No.'

  In fact he managed very well, better than a lot of people who could actually see what they were eating! Not that she made any comment about it, knowing he would resent that as being patronising.

  'I'll get our coffee,' she told him after clearing away the tray.

  Marcus had his back towards her, his body tense. 'Olivia…'

  'Yes?' She turned at the door.

  'Thank you,' the word seemed forced out of him. 'It was nice to know what I was eating for a change, and exactly where it was on the plate. Miss Podmore usually just leaves the tray and forgets to mention those vital facts. I once ate my horseradish sauce with my apple pie,' he revealed derisively. 'Oh, Marcus!'

  'Get the coffee,' he ordered harshly. By the time Olivia returned with the tray of coffee the moment of closeness had passed and Marcus was once more growling at her. But it had been a start, and she very wisely didn't push things any further, offering to read the newspaper to him later in the afternoon.

  'I listen to the radio,' he dismissed the suggestion. 'But they don't give much more than the headlines,' she pointed out reasonably. 'Besides, I never have the time to read the newspaper myself.' 'So you want to read it in my time?' 'Why not?' she shrugged. 'I played with the dog in your time.'

  His mouth twisted. 'While "his moody master sulked in his room".'

  Olivia's mouth quirked. She had wondered if he had heard that remark. At the time she had meant him to, but now it seemed rather a childish thing for her to have said.

  'Jasper would have preferred you to have gone down.'

  'I'm sure he enjoyed your company just as much,' Marcus dismissed. 'You sounded as if you were having fun.'

  'We were. Now shall I read the newspaper to you or not?' She was aware that he had deliberately lead her away from her original question.

  'Go ahead,' he invited mockingly. 'I'd hate to ruin a perfect day for you.'

  Once again she decided to ignore his sarcasm, and read out the items she thought would interest him. At first he let her read without comment, then he would query her on certain points, until in the end she could tell he was listening to her intently.

  'That's enough for now.' She put the newspaper down after an hour, seeing he was beginning to tire. 'I could do with a cup of tea, how about you?'

  Marcus seemed to stiffen. 'I'm sorry, I didn't think. Please, go down and have your tea.'

  'I'll bring it up here—'

  'I would prefer to be on my own now.' Once again he was withdrawing from her. 'And I would prefer to have my dinner alone too.'

  'Of course.' Olivia calmly accepted his dismissal of her, knowing she had won enough battles for today. 'But I'll bring it up, shall I? That way I can tell you what it is.'

  'Very well,' he accepted abruptly, turning away from her.

  Sally was just coming in from college as Olivia reached the bottom of the stairs, her expression one of anxiety. 'Everything all right?' she asked breathlessly, seeming to have run all the way home.

  'Fine,' she answered noncommittally. She didn't want to raise Sally's hopes over what little progress she had made today, knowing that it could all be forgotten by tomorrow. Marcus was going to be far from an easy patient. 'Why don't you go up and see your father?' she suggested. 'I'm sure he would like that.'

  Sally was halfway up the stairs before she came to an abrupt halt, turning round to look at Olivia. 'Has he—has he been—all right?'

  'Well, he hasn't thrown anything at me, if that's what you mean,' Olivia smiled.

  Sally looked taken aback. 'I didn't think he would have done. Daddy isn't violent—except with his tongue,' she added ruefully. 'Then he can be pretty cutting.'

  'I've noticed,' Olivia grimaced. 'How did college go today?'

  'All right,' the girl shrugged. 'I was a bit preoccupied, though.'

  'Because of your father,' she sympathised. 'Well, you can stop worrying now, your father and I are going to get along just fine,' she said with much more confidence than she actually felt. 'You just concentrate on your studies. Your father will be angry if you do badly because of his accident.' She knew Marcus well enough to be sure of that. 'What are you studying for, by the way?' she asked interestedly.

  Sally gave an impish grin. 'Guess!'

  'Not to enter the medical profession?' groaned Olivia.

  With a light laugh Sally ran the rest of the way up the stairs. 'What else?'

  'Indeed,' Olivia agreed dryly. 'I'll see you later.'

  Sally paused at the door to her father's room. 'Is it safe to go in?' she asked conspiratorially.

  'It would be less safe to stay outside!' her father barked from within.

  'Whoops!' Sally was giggling as she entered the room.

  Olivia smiled, going through to the kitchen to tell Miss Podmore Marcus and Sally would like their tea, ordering her own to be brought into the lounge. After the tense day she had had trying to keep one step ahead of Marcus, a cup of tea was the least reward she could give herself.

  Sally had remained with her father, so everything appeared to be all right there. She sat back with her eyes closed, the weariness of the day washing over her. This job was going to be far from easy, and this was only the beginning!

  'Making yourself comfortable, Miss King?' taunted a harsh female voice.

  Her eyes were wary as she raised her lids. 'Mrs Carr,' she nodded acknowledgment of the other woman, sitting up straighter in the chair.

  Sybil's mouth twisted. 'I must say, you don't exactly look the part.'

  'The part?' Olivia frowned her puzzlement.

  'You're supposed to be Marcus's nurse, Olivia.' Sybil came further into the room, the ravages of the last weeks completely erased from her perfectly made-up face and styled hair, her pale grey suit looking like real silk. She put her parcels down on the table before moving to sit in the chair opposite Olivia. 'He can hardly appreciate how attractive you look with that tee-shirt against the brightness of your hair, or the way your denims fit you like a second skin,' she scorned.

  Olivia sensed the anger in the other woman, and she knew that here was a second member of the household who would prefer it if she weren't here. 'I dressed like this to please myself, Mrs Carr,' she replied coolly, 'not Marcus.'

  'Did you?'

  'Yes!'

  Sybil's mouth twisted with mocking humour. 'Wouldn't a uniform be more appropriate?'

  'Marcus would prefer me not to wear one,' she replied truthfully.

  'And you still want to do what Marcus likes?'

  Olivia stiffened at the other woman's insulting tone. 'Mr Hamilton is my patient, of course I want to do what's best for him,' she defended tautly.

  'My dear, it's obvious that you a
nd Marcus were once—close. Just don't trade on that, and his— blindness.' Sybil obviously had trouble just saying the word, confirming Olivia's suspicion that the older woman preferred not to accept Marcus's blindness, to ignore it and hope it would go away. 'Marcus has been far from celibate since Ruth's death,' she continued haughtily. 'He's a man who has need of a woman in his life, and as you're available…' she trailed off pointedly.

  The pressure of Olivia's fingers into the arm of her chair increased as each insulting word left the other woman's red-painted mouth. 'Just what are you implying, Mrs Carr?' she asked tightly.

  'Don't be naive,' Sybil snapped. 'You and Marcus were lovers once, and now that he's blind—'

  'You think I intend sleeping with him as part of my nursing duties?' Olivia stood up agitatedly.

  'I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time,' Sybil, drawled.

  Olivia's face was deeply flushed, her eyes fever-bright. 'Then you know more than I do, Mrs Carr. I do not sleep with my patients, and neither am I "available". I never have been! Marcus and I have never been lovers either, but even if we had it's none of your business. As for sleeping with him now, you're wrong about that too. I'm here as Marcus's nurse, nothing more.'

  'No?'

  'No!'

  Sybil shrugged, having lost none of her supreme self-confidence. 'I'm sure Marcus will be disappointed.'

  'I would say the last thing on his mind at the moment is going to bed with any woman! You know nothing of what he's feeling, you haven't even been to see him since the accident! I'm sorry,' Olivia gasped as the other woman seemed to blanch, 'I didn't mean to say that.'

  'Didn't you?' Sybil snapped. 'I think you meant exactly what you said. Well, at least now we know where we stand, Olivia.'

  She eyed the other woman warily. 'We do?'

  'Oh yes.' Sybil's head went back in challenge. 'I didn't like you before, and I don't like you now.' She stood up, and the two women faced each other across the room like adversaries—which was precisely what they were, Olivia realised that now! 'As soon as Marcus is feeling more his old self again I will see that you leave here.'

  'More his old self?' Olivia echoed slowly. 'You mean when he can see again?'

  'Of course.'

  'And if he never does?'

  'You can't really know Marcus very well if you believe that,' Sybil scoffed. 'He has the will and determination to get through anything. He'll see again, you can be sure of that.'

  Olivia watched the other woman leave, wondering if Sybil Carr could really be so sure of Marcus's determination. Right now his anger was directed at everyone, even himself, with no thought of regaining his sight.

  But Sally seemed somewhat assured when she came downstairs a few minutes later, a smile lightening her features. 'He actually sat and talked to me!' she said excitedly. 'Took an interest, you know.'

  Olivia did know, and it was a definite step forward. But she still gave no indication to Sally as to the progress of the day. Marcus was just as likely to be ordering her out of the house again tomorrow! And many more conversations like the one she had just had with Sybil Carr and she was likely to take him up on the suggestion!

  She changed for dinner that evening, aware that Sally and Sybil would be doing so. Her dress was a practical 'little black dress', suitable for any evening occasion, and with her lack of evening clothes it was likely to get a lot of use here! It was halter-necked in style, leaving her shoulders and back bare, clinging to her firm breasts and narrow thighs. It gave her an unconscious elegance, and she returned Miss Podmore's smile warmly as she went into the kitchen to get Marcus's tray.

  He still sat by the window as she let herself into the room, in spite of the sky darkening to dusk. It reminded Olivia all too poignantly that Marcus couldn't see that night was falling, that it was all darkness to him.

  He had turned at the sound of the door opening, standing up to pull the brown velvet curtains. His mouth twisted as he turned back to her, as if he sensed her surprise. 'You've brought my dinner, so it must be getting dark outside. Isn't that right—Olivia?'

  Without his dark glasses as a shield it seemed incredible that those piercing grey eyes couldn't see her. 'How did you know it was me?' Her tone was brisk as she arranged his dinner out on the table.

  He shrugged, moving confidently towards her. 'Your perfume.'

  She frowned. 'But it's new, I've never worn it before.'

  'I said your perfume, Olivia.' He was standing very close now, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. 'I meant your body perfume. You smell of the earth, the moon and the sky. A sensual Aphrodite, in fact.'

  'Oh.'

  'Nothing else to say?' he taunted.

  She was blushing too much to think of anything else to say. It was true people had body odours all of their own, she was aware of the deep musky smell of Marcus that spoke of his masculinity. But just thinking about that reminded her all too forcefully of Sybil Carr's accusations of this afternoon. She had never shared Marcus's bed, the other woman had been wrong about that, but she had wanted to. God, how she had wanted to! And looking at him now she realised that hadn't changed. He still excited her, still made her pulse race.

  Instead of answering him she began to describe his dinner to him, studiously avoiding looking at him. These feelings of attraction she had for him wouldn't do; Marcus was her patient, and that was all he was, all he could ever be to her now.

  'Coward,' -he murmured at her lack of reply to his question.

  'Not at all,' she answered strongly. 'I just don't happen to think this type of conversation serves any real purpose.'

  'You're quite right, Olivia,' he derided. 'Conversation never serves a purpose. I've always believed actions speak louder than words.' Before she could even guess at his intention he had swept her up against him, his mouth finding hers with unerring accuracy.

  She wanted to struggle, she tried to do so, but her body betrayed her, curving into the hardness of his as if it knew no other master. With a hungry groan her lips parted beneath his.

  'What are you wearing?' Marcus groaned against her throat. 'Describe it to me.' His lips were like fire as they travelled the length of her throat to her shoulders, biting erotically against the soft skin there.

  'I—It's a black dress—' She was having trouble articulating, her body on fire for the intimacy of his touch after being denied him for so long.

  'Halter-necked.' His sure fingers moved to the single button fastening at her nape, easily releasing it, and the material fell down about her waist. 'I like the feel of your skin better. Although I'm sure the bright beauty of your hair looks very effective against the dress.'

  'How did you—'

  'You told me, remember?' His mouth moved back to hers, the pressure almost savage this time, as one hand moved up to capture the firm tautness of her breast.

  Olivia knew and regretted the reason for his savagery, knew that for the few brief minutes he had made love to her his blindness had been forgotten, unimportant. He was making love to her with his hands, not his eyes. But she had unwittingly reminded him by her thoughtless question, and now she was being made to pay for that with his fierceness.

  Marcus was brutal with her, not intent on arousing her but on punishing her. His mouth plundered hers roughly, with an intimacy that left her gasping. And all the time his hands were caressing the aching tips of her breasts, the dusky red aureole hardening beneath his pleasure-giving fingertips.

  And that was the trouble, she did feel pleasure, even in the pain. She shouldn't, but she did. It had been so long since she had been with him like this, so long…

  Marcus's mouth eased on hers as he sensed her surrender, his caresses more subtle now, his hands moving from her breast to her thigh in searching appreciation, his lips tasting hers, asking for her response—a response she was only too eager to give. This hadn't changed, her weakness to Marcus's sure touch was still there.

  Her fingers entwined in the dark hair at his nape as he bent his head to capture one f
iery-tipped breast between his lips, holding him to her, her head thrown back in pleasure, her breathing shallow and ragged.

  But suddenly he was thrusting her away from him, a ruddy hue to his lean cheeks, his eyes the grey of slate. His mouth was twisted in contempt as he seemed almost to see her.

  But of course he couldn't, he could have no idea of the abandonment in her face, the way her body still craved for his touch. But Olivia was very aware of it, and hastily pulled up her dress to fasten it over her nakedness, smoothing the material over her waist and hips with hands that still trembled. »

  Marcus thrust his hands through the dark thickness of his hair. 'So I got to grope my way over your body after all,' he rasped coldly.

  Olivia swallowed hard. 'Marcus, I—'

  'Strange,' he continued as if she hadn't spoken. 'You felt—familiar.'

  She could feel the colour drain from her face. He couldn't possibly remember her! It had been six years, she had changed, matured. Heavens, if her name hadn't struck any memories how could he possibly remember her body! His wife had died three years ago, there had to have been a lot of women since then. They hadn't even made love, he couldn't have remembered her!

  'Olivia?' he was frowning.

  'I'm still here,' she told him jerkily.

  'I know that,' he snapped harshly. 'I thought I'd just successfully proved that all my other senses function perfectly normally.'

  Two bright wings of colour heightened her cheeks. 'You have—I mean, you did,' she fumbled over the words in her embarrassment. 'I just—I have to go down to dinner now. Your food will be—be cold, I'll bring you a fresh tray.'

  'Strangely enough I'm no longer hungry,' he drawled, mocking her. 'I think my appetite has just been satisfied.'

  She swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat at his insulting tone. 'Then you're easily pleased, Mr Hamilton,' she derided contemptuously. 'I feel far from satisfied myself. But then I can leave this prison to find someone to help me with that. Goodnight, Mr Hamilton.'

  'You little—'

  She left the room before his outstretched hands could reach her. He had looked murderous, as if he would like to put those hands around her throat—and slowly strangle her.