Relative Ethics. Caroline Anderson

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      His fingers eased it back and he smiled gently. ‘You’re lovely when you blush. I really didn’t mean that the way it sounded.’

      She glanced quickly at him, and offered a shy smile in return. ‘I’m sorry, it must be the heat.’

      ‘Do you want to go out for a walk?’

      ‘Yes—oh, no! I mean——’

      ‘Just a walk. Trust me.’ His grin was mischievous but wholly straightforward, and his eyes were open and sincere. For some lunatic, unsound and intuitive reason, she did trust him.

      ‘OK. It’s too hot to eat yet anyway.’

      They wandered through the grounds of the conference centre, down towards the little man-made lake, and paused on the bridge, elbows resting on the parapet, sipping their drinks and watching the baby ducks for a while in companionable silence.

      ‘So what’s a gorgeous young thing like you doing on a God-awful course like this?’ he asked after a minute or two.

      Bron laughed. ‘Treatment of Trauma? I work in Accident and Emergency. I’m an SHO, but I’ve been offered the registrar’s job in December when she takes maternity leave. What about you?’

      ‘I’m in general surgery. I found A and E too traumatic—literally.’

      ‘Really?’ Bronwen eyed him in amazement. ‘I love it.’

      ‘You must be addicted to your own adrenalin, then! I like the nice, sedate pace of the theatre. I can cope with that. You don’t often get two patients at once!’

      Bronwen studied him openly. ‘You ought to be able to cope at your age,’ she teased. ‘How old are you—thirty, thirty-one?’

      He chuckled. ‘Not bad. I’m thirty next week. What about you?’

      She smiled. ‘You aren’t supposed to ask a lady that question!’

      ‘But?’

      ‘Twenty-seven.’ Her smile tilted her lips a little further.

      He touched his finger to the corner of her mouth. ‘Lovely…’ His eyes fastened on her lips, and she moistened them involuntarily with her tongue.

      He ran the fingertip across her lower lip, the damp skin dragging gently.

      ‘If we stay here much longer, little lady,’ he whispered, ‘I’m going to kiss that delectable mouth.’

      Bron felt his breath fan gently across her face, and her lips parted on a sigh of regret. She wished he would. Her eyes fluttered closed while she dealt with the storm of feeling suddenly raging in her breast. Who was he? Why this crazy urge to bury her face against his broad, firm chest and hug him close?

      His palms cupped her face, and she sensed rather than felt his lips brush lightly over hers, once, twice, before his lips came down firmly over hers with a sweet, aching tenderness far more intimate than passion would have been. With a tortured groan, he folded her into his arms and held her tight.

      ‘Oliver?’

      ‘Shh. Don’t say anything. Just let me hold you.’

      They stood there, arms wrapped round each other, absorbing the warmth and humanity of the contact while their tumbling emotions settled to a steady roar. Gradually his grip slackened, and Bron stood away from him, raising puzzled eyes to his.

      ‘What happened?’

      His voice was gruff with emotion. ‘I don’t know, Bron. I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s as if——’ He laughed, a little raggedly. ‘My God, I’m normally so practical and down-to-earth! Perhaps we ought to go and eat—it’s probably the hallucinogenic effects of hypoglycaemia.’

      Bron laughed breathlessly. ‘You could be right.’

      Instinctively their fingers met and wound together as they walked slowly back to the conference centre, a large, sprawling country house dating from the turn of the century.

      ‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ Bron sighed. She wondered what he had been going to say. It’s as if—what? As if we were meant for each other? As if we’ve been waiting all our lives? Suddenly, she felt threatened by the short time they could have together. ‘It’s a shame we’re only here for four days,’ she blurted.

      ‘Funny, I’ve been thinking that, but it’s nothing to do with architecture and everything to do with a dark-haired sprite from the valleys——’

      ‘I’m not from the valleys! It’s only my name that’s Welsh—and my father. I was born in London.’

      ‘Poetic licence. Bron?’

      ‘Mmm?’

      He tugged her to a halt, and looked down into her face with eyes unguarded and vulnerable. He looked slightly embarrassed and very honest. ‘I know we’ve only got a few days, but I want to see as much of you as I can. I don’t know what’s happening between us, I don’t normally come on so strong. Whatever, there’s something, and I want to find out what it is. No holds barred. I’m warning you, I want to make love to you, Bron, slowly, tenderly—I want to watch your eyes heavy with passion, your lips full and ripe from my kisses … not tonight, but soon. Maybe tomorrow, the next day? I want to know you first, but when I do——’

      He flushed and turned away, obviously embarrassed. ‘God, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m rambling on like this. I feel like a raging adolescent—I’ll be reciting poetry to you next!’ He took a deep, ragged breath. ‘There you are, though. That’s how I feel. If you want to come along for the ride, the spacecraft leaves in thirty seconds. I should warn you, though. I think the pilot’s gone slightly crazy.’

      She gave a breathless little chuckle. There was a pulse beating heavily in her throat, and she felt unbearably moved and aroused by his honesty. She laid a hand reassuringly on his arm, and felt a shudder run through him. ‘It’s all right, Oliver. I understand.’

      He turned back to her, his eyes searching. ‘You do? I’m damned if I do. Look, if it isn’t what you want, Bron, for whatever reason, then stop me now. Don’t play with me.’

      Bronwen swallowed with difficulty. ‘Oh, Oliver … Are you serious?’

      His eyes were steady on hers, and they softened with tenderness. ‘I’ve never been more serious in my life. Do you want time to think about it?’

      In answer, she stepped closer and, reaching up, pulled his face down to brush his lips with hers. ‘I don’t want to waste our time. I feel the same—and I’m terrified.’

      He hugged her close, and the breath sagged out of his body with relief. Thank God!’ he breathed, and then chuckled. ‘Come on, little lady, let’s go and eat before I do something very ungentlemanly and drag you off into the bushes!’

      The crowd in the dining-room was thinning out by the time they arrived, and they took their salads out on to the terrace, eating with one hand while the fingers of the other were entwined.

      After a while, Oliver СКАЧАТЬ