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 décor,’ 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
