I would appreciate it if you would continue to sit with her once I’ve left.’
‘Yes, Doc—er—sir. Of course.’ She felt no hesitation, although they both knew she should have been off duty hours ago. Or perhaps he didn’t know; he was hardly likely to know the hours of a first-year nurse. But it didn’t matter anyway, she had no intention of leaving the elderly lady.
Marcus Hamilton nodded dismissively. ‘Get yourself a cup of tea and something to eat while I’m with Mrs Bateson. You have about ten minutes,’ he told her arrogantly.
Miraculously Sister Marton had arranged a hot meal and drink for her. ‘You should have gone hours ago,’ she tutted as she supervised the meal. ‘But Mr Hamilton has been most insistent that you stay with Mrs Bateson. I must say that in the circumstances, I agree with him.’
The consultant strode from the ward exactly ten minutes later, his jaw rigid as Olivia hurried past him to return to the elderly lady’s bedside.
‘He’s a nice young man,’ Mrs Bateson sighed, ‘but he doesn’t understand a love like Bert’s and mine.’
‘He’s married—–’
‘Separated, he told me.’ She shook her head. ‘You young people take your marriage vows so lightly nowadays!’
‘I’m not married, Mrs Bateson,’ Olivia reminded her gently.
‘You will be.’ Mrs Bateson nodded approvingly. ‘And your husband is going to be a lucky man. You’re a lovely child, Olivia, so wait for the right man to come along—like I did.’
Shortly after that the elderly lady fell asleep, although Olivia still remained at her side, the gnarled work-worn fingers curved trustingly about hers. It had been dark for several hours when Marcus Hamilton appeared again, and considering what a busy man he was Olivia was touched by his concern for his patient. It couldn’t have been the most pleasant of duties to tell her about her husband.
Olivia easily released her hand this time, making her way outside the curtains to speak to him.
‘How is she?’ His expression was grim.
‘Asleep,’ she whispered, as the rest of the ward settled down for the night. ‘Where are her family?’
‘The daughter who was coming to sit with her mother collapsed in Emergency,’ he frowned. ‘Quite understandable. But unfortunately we didn’t make the connection between them until a few minutes ago. I’ve just come to check Mrs Bateson before letting her in to see her mother.’ He went in to see his patient.
He was gone for several minutes, a hand to his temple as he left the bedside. ‘You may as well go, Nurse King,’ he told her curtly. ‘There’s nothing more you can do here.’
Olivia pushed past him, not caring in that moment who or what he was, her panicked gaze fixed on the still figure of Mrs Bateson. ‘I—You—She isn’t dead,’ she choked. ‘She can’t be!’
‘She is.’ His hands steadied her as she would have swayed and fallen. ‘About an hour ago, I would say. She just seems to have stopped breathing.’
‘No!’
‘Nurse King—–’
‘Leave me alone!’ She wrenched out of his arms and ran from the ward, the tears falling unchecked.
She ran from the building and into the grounds, stumbling her way through the built-up garden towards the nurses’ home, unaware that she had been followed until strong arms stopped her progress, swinging her round so that she found her face buried against a hard chest.
‘I’m sorry,’ Marcus Hamilton murmured, letting her cry for several minutes into his snowy white shirt, smelling slightly of some tangy aftershave. ‘That’s enough, Olivia!’ He finally shook her gently as she couldn’t seem to stop the tears.
She raised a tear-wet face to him. ‘It doesn’t seem fair. She was so nice—they both were.’
He produced a snowy white handkerchief and gently began to dry her cheeks. ‘You haven’t looked at this from her point of view, you know,’ he said softly, concentrating on his task.
Olivia swallowed hard, standing docilely in front of him now. ‘I don’t understand …’
‘She’s with her husband now, the way she wanted to be.’
‘Do you really believe that?’
He nodded. ‘Of course. So it isn’t a time to cry, is it?’
‘I—–’
‘She would never have got well again, Olivia,’ he told her gently. ‘We’d done all we could for her—and it just wasn’t enough.’
She bit her lip. ‘It still doesn’t seem fair.’
‘Life seldom is.’ He held out his handkerchief to her. ‘Blow your nose,’ he encouraged softly. ‘You’ll feel better.’
‘I—I have my own.’ Now that the shock was passing she was beginning to realise how unorthodox this was. Marcus Hamilton shouldn’t even know she was alive, let alone be comforting her like this! ‘I’m sorry,’ she sounded more controlled now, ‘I—I didn’t mean to cry all over you.’
‘You’ve just never been that close to death before?’ he prompted.
‘No,’ she confirmed huskily.
‘Believe me,’ his voice was gruff as he straightened his shoulders wearily, ‘it never gets any easier.’
Olivia blinked up at him in surprise, her lashes still spiky and damp from where she had been crying. Marcus Hamilton was very pale, a ring of white tension about his mouth, his expression strained. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said dazedly, ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘People seldom do,’ he rasped. ‘Doctors aren’t supposed to feel emotions, especially surgeons.’
‘I really am sorry.’ It had never occurred to her that this hard man could be affected by death as much as she was.
‘But you still aren’t convinced, are you?’ he said ruefully.
‘Convinced?’ She looked puzzled, sure that if he said he was upset by Mrs Bateson’s death then he was. What reason would he have to lie?
‘That I can feel as much as the next man,’ he drawled in reply.
‘Oh, I—But I—–’ her words were cut off by a coolly possessive mouth claiming hers. Marcus Hamilton was kissing her! It seemed hard to believe, although the ruthless insistence of his lips couldn’t be imagined. ‘Mr Hamilton!’ she gasped when he at last raised his head to look down at her.
‘Indeed,’ he derided. ‘Shocking, isn’t it?’
‘Well, I—I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,’ she blushed.
‘Wouldn’t you?’ Dark brows rose over steely grey eyes.
‘No,’
