Relative Ethics

Then with a sigh he put her from him. ‘Go on, go up to bed while I can still let you go.’ He brushed his lips lightly across hers and, turning her round, he propelled her gently towards the door. ‘Goodnight, my darling. Sleep tight. I’ll see you for breakfast.’

On considerably reluctant feet, Bron forced herself to walk away from him and upstairs.

The night was predictably sleepless; she lay, her mind filled with thoughts of Oliver, and wondered if he returned her love. How could he not? she thought dreamily, and finally fell asleep as the sun crept over the horizon.

She was woken abruptly by Oliver pounding on her door.

‘Bron? Open up, I’ve got something to show you!’

What on earth does he want? she wondered, and slid out of bed, her hair tousled, face flushed, eyes half shut. She caught a glimpse of herself on the way to the door, and groaned. She looked a wreck!

‘Come in,’ she muttered, and shut the door again behind him.

He swept her up in his arms and hugged her tight, laughing with delight and something else. She heard the crackle of paper, and then he dumped her on the bed and shoved a letter into her hand.

Sleepily, she pushed her fingers through her hair to lift it off her face, and dropped her eyes to the letter.

‘Oh! You passed your FRCS! Congratulations, Mr Henderson!’

She flung her arms around him and squeezed him tight. That’s fantastic! We’ll have go to out tonight to celebrate. Oh, you clever man! Oh, well done, darling——’

His mouth came down hard on hers, and when he released her his face was blazing with pride and happiness.

‘I can’t believe it—all that and you, too. I’d better get out of here before I do something crazy. See you downstairs in ten minutes.’

He winked and left her, and she gathered her scattered wits and washed and dressed in double-quick time.

The day passed in a whirl of congratulations. Somehow they managed to make some sense of the lectures, but by this time both of them were relying more and more heavily on Jane and Michael to pass on relevant notes during their breaks.

The other delegates heard about Oliver’s success and, not needing much of an excuse, decided to organise a party for that night.

Someone produced some disco lights, which were set up in the conference-room, and the chairs were cleared to leave space for dancing. The sound equipment was pressed into service, and a young SHO, who had done time on the hospital radio as a student, agreed to act as DJ. Jane dragged Bronwen upstairs.

The blue silk,’ she said firmly, thrusting Bron through her bedroom door. ‘I’ll be back in an hour, and you’d better be ready to blow their socks off!’

Bron laughed and shook her head in despair. ‘OK, OK, the blue silk. See you later.’

Fifty-five minutes later there was a tap on the door. Bron was sitting at the dressing-table, clad in a tiny pair of midnight-blue silk panties and her make-up, toying with her hair.

‘Come in,’ she called, and she heard the door open and shut softly behind her. ‘What do you think, Jane, down or up?’

‘Down,’ said a deep voice, and Bron leapt to her feet and spun round, clutching her arms to her chest.

‘Oliver! What are you doing in here?’ she squeaked.

He chuckled. ‘Obeying orders. You said come in.’ He walked towards her and, placing his warm hands on her bare shoulders, he kissed her lightly on the forehead. ‘What are you wearing?’

‘Not a lot! Get out so I can get dressed.’

He grinned. ‘No way. Don’t worry, I’m a doctor——’

‘Huh! Anyway, you’re just plain Mr now, Henderson, so you can take yourself off while I finish my preparations.’

‘No. Is this the one?’ He held up the mightnight-blue silk dress, and she nodded. ‘Which way round does it go?’

‘Oliver!’ Bron tried to sound scandalised. ‘It’s backless!’

‘Pity. I think it would look better the other way round——’

‘Shut up and close your eyes. I’m getting cramp standing like this.’

‘Your choice, not mine. Oh, well.’ He sprawled out comfortably on the bed and shut his eyes. ‘I’ll give you ten seconds.’

It took her six.

‘Right, pervert, do the zip up, please.’

There was a tap on the door, just as Oliver sat up and reached for the zip.

‘Can I come in? Oh, sorry!’

‘It’s all right, Jane. He’s just doing up the zip.’

‘More’s the pity——’

‘Oliver!’

Jane smiled benignly. ‘I’ll see you two downstairs. Michael’s in the bar running up the bill.’

‘Whose?’

‘Yours, I think!’ Laughing at his horrified expression, Jane floated out of the room and closed the door.

‘Do I detect a mean streak?’ Bron murmured, and Oliver glowered at her.

‘Mean? You don’t know him when he gets going. By now, everyone down there will be celebrating my success at my expense, and what’s more I’m not even there!’

Bron slipped on her pumps. ‘Come on, then, what are we waiting for?’

‘This,’ he murmured, and drew her into his arms to kiss her gently. ‘Have I ever told you,’ he murmured, ‘how very beautiful you are?’

‘Oh, Oliver…’ Bron coloured delicately at the softly voiced compliment.

‘Oh, God, let’s get out of here while we still can,’ he groaned.

By the time they joined the others, the party was in full swing. They danced until Bron was breathless, and then propped up the parapet outside to cool off for a while before going back in again.

Oliver eyed her thoughtfully. ‘How are we going to keep this going, Bron? I’m in London, you’re in Bristol—it’s going to be hell. Normal people could commute for the weekends, but the chances of us both getting a weekend off together must be remote in the extreme. We might have to wait weeks on end.’

She tried to smile. There’s always the phone.’

He shook his head. ‘It can’t take the place of holding you in my arms—oh, God, Bron, I’m going to miss you so much!’ He tugged her into his arms with a wild desperation that found an echo in Bronwen’s heart, and she clung to him, suddenly terrified.

‘We’ll work something out—we must,’ he murmured against her hair. After a moment he released her, captured her hand, and led her back on to the dance-floor.

In the middle of the evening the DJ paused to dedicate the party and the next number to Oliver. The song, predictably—considering that their blossoming romance was being avidly watched by all and sundry—was a slow, sultry number. Oliver opened his arms and Bron steped into the warmth of his embrace with a delicious sense of inevitability.

He held her close, their thighs brushing with every slight movement, so that she was aware of the change in him almost as soon as he was. His warm, strong hands moved sensuously against the bare skin of her back, tracing the slender column of her spine and sending fire racing through her veins. His heart beneath her cheek quickened and beat more strongly, fanning the flames of her own desire, and when he led her wordlessly out on to the terrace to the other hall door and upstairs she followed without question.

At the door to her room she fumbled with the key so badly that he took it from her with hands only a little steadier than her own. Once in, he leaned back against the door and crushed her body against his, motionless for several minutes, then he eased her away from him and looked down into her eyes.

‘Sorry, I just had to be alone with you. I couldn’t hide my feelings any more.’ His voice was gruff with passion, and yet tinged with uncertainty. He searched his eyes, and then his lids drifted shut and he swallowed unsteadily. ‘Bron?’

‘Oh, yes, Oliver … please?’

For a long, breathless moment, he was motionless, then he exhaled and reached round to slide the zip down with trembling fingers. Slowly, with infinite care, he lowered the dress from her shoulders until it slithered in a shimmering pool to her feet, and then he knelt and eased the tiny triangle of lace down over her trembling legs. With a feather-light kiss on the tangle of curls he had revealed, he straightened and stripped off his own clothes, casting them aside until he stood naked before her, the moonlight silvering the smooth planes of his body, casting shadows in the scatter of curls on his chest, darkening the skin to bronze. Her breath caught in her throat.

‘You’re beautiful…’

He gave a shaky little laugh that cracked in the middle. ‘That’s my line. Oh, Bron…’

He scooped her up in his arms and laid her tenderly on the bed, coming down carefully beside her. She felt the slight rasp of his hair-roughened thigh, and smelled the warm, male, musky scent of his body as it joined with hers, and a soft cry rose in her throat, mingling with his as his mouth closed over her lips and captured her words of love.

She hadn’t known the highs could be so high. It was as if a giant hand had lifted them and thrown them out among the stars, to tumble gently back to earth in a tangle of limbs and murmured promises.

Later, she lifted her hand and touched his face, and found it wet with tears. He turned his lips into her palm, and pressed a soft kiss on the skin. When he lifted his head, she was stunned by the naked emotion in his eyes. His voice was ragged.

‘Dear God, Bron … I had no idea. Oh, darling, hold me, I love you, Bron. I love you, I love you…’

When she woke in the morning, he was gone. He had written ‘I love you’ on the mirror with her lipstick, and there was a note on the dressing-table.

Gone back to clear up the chaos. Think it’s best if I sleep in my room—I don’t want any speculation about you. See you for breakfast. We have to talk—there’s so much to tell you. I love you. Oliver.

She showered and dressed and ran downstairs eagerly, but as she reached the bottom step the manager crossed over to her.

‘Oh, Dr Jones, I’m so glad I’ve caught you. Mr Henderson asked me to give you a message. He was called away in the night—awful business, his brother-in-law was killed in a car accident. He had to dash back; he said his wife—Clare, isn’t it?—is pregnant, and he had to be with her. Dr Jones, are you all right?’

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