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There are matters I must discuss with him.' She looked at Irene, praying that she would not protest.

But Irene didn't react, other than to say, 'And you don't have to worry about time. If Marion wants to leave, I shall be fine.' She smiled broadly and then looked serious. 'I wasn't very nice to Adam either.'

The word 'either' stung as Emma heard it, and she felt that she could not get out of the house quickly enough, telling herself that if she was mad and Adam had no patience with her, then so be it; but she couldn't live with the misconceptions and gulf between them.

Ruth answered the door to her when she arrived at the house.

'Emma!' she cried. 'How lovely to see you.'

Emma warmed to the welcome. Her heart was thudding as she murmured something of which she was hardly aware. She knew Adam was at home because his car was outside, and said in a breath, 'Could I see Adam? I won't keep him long.'

Ruth studied Emma's troubled eyes,
aware of her
tense manner.

'But of course.' She didn't know the story of Adam and Emma, her absence of questioning part of her natural tact. She knew only that Adam was an unhappy man and suspected that Emma was the cause of the trouble. The words slipped out because she thought of Irene in that moment. 'Irene all right? Adam told me he'd seen her out walking. That's wonderful.'

Emma reassured her, and as she went into the hall and Ruth closed the front door, Adam appeared from his study which was an emergency surgery-cum-consulting-room, and his own domain.

'You!'
She might have been an apparition.

Now that she was there Emma found courage deserting her, but she managed to say, 'I'd like to speak to you for a minute. I won't keep you long.'

Her voice was unnaturally staccato.

Adam stood back and allowed her to precede him into his room. He was mystified, trying to fathom her manner which was tense and, he thought, unconsciously pleading. She might be about to ask a favour. Instinctively he went to his desk, indicated the patients' chair and they both sat down. His manner was polite, but remote.

'What can I do for you?' he asked, and his low, deep voice quickened her heartbeat. There was no welcome in his expression. It was as though their last bitter scene together still lay between them, forbidding any concession.

And suddenly Emma's reserve snapped; she was there with him, aware of his power and attractiveness and of her love which seemed like a fire within her. The atmosphere became electric as she cried, 'Forgive me—if you can.'

He echoed the words disbelievingly, amazement spreading over his features. His gaze was intent and disturbing as he asked, 'For what?'

She didn't flinch. 'My attitude towards you over Irene. You had the right ideas all along. I should have got in touch with you immediately after the accident.' She tried to keep her voice calm, to behave as though emotion didn't come into it.

Adam felt the overpowering attraction of her presence and her words were like music, but he told himself that apology did not automatically mean reconciliation.

'Accident?'
he echoed, baffled, holding her gaze masterfully, his manner suggesting that he was not in the picture.

Emma told him the whole story, and when she had finished he said with quiet professional judgement, 'Fear for you, shock, and the first emergence of unselfishness! It all fits. I'm so thankful. God knows I've wanted this!'

Emma sat there, the ordeal over. It struck her that he had not resorted to criticism or condemnation, but accepted her apology with graciousness. It also struck her that there was no reason why they should pursue any future relationship, and that this did not wipe out the implication of the Grace Hayes case.

Yet the atmosphere was electric as he got up from his chair and went and stood, one elbow on the bookcase, holding his hand against his forehead, studying her intently, unnervingly. Their awareness of each other was magnetic as he said, 'It must have cost you a great deal to come to me like this, Emma.'

'I don't like injustice,' she said quietly.

'Any more than you like me,' he suggested significantly, still holding her gaze mesmerisingly. 'You made that abundantly clear.'

She sat there, passion, desire, longing, wiping
out
all coherent thought. There was
something challenging
about him, as though he had
knowledge of a secret
about to be betrayed. And all the time she was watching him, aware that he had become a challenge which she accepted, as she cried, 'That was true '

She was conscious of his moving and reaching her side, aware of his nearness and of his suddenly gripping her arms above the elbow, lifting her to her feet as he said masterfully, 'But it isn't true
now,
Emma.'

She trembled, a wave of passion wiping out everything except his touch as she raised her gaze to his and whispered, 'No, it isn't true now.'

His words came with a throbbing intensity as he said triumphantly, challengingly, 'You are in love with me, Emma—deny it if you dare!'

There was a second of breathless silence and suddenly she knew she could not fight any more.

'I don't want to deny it,' she cried.

'Then say it,' he demanded, taking her in his arms.

Emma met his passionate gaze. 'I love you.'

His lips parted hers in a long fierce kiss which drew them ever closer in a wave of sensuality that surged over her body in ecstasy. She clung to him until, breathless, she drew back, looking up at him, her eyes full of wonder and happiness.

'I've broken my resolve about kissing you,' he added. 'I ought to have known that such violent reactions were a symptom of love!'

Emma looked appealingly apologetic. 'I was dreadful to you. I didn't want to admit how I felt.'

'Nor I,' he confessed. 'And when you took that case!'

They looked at each other and laughed.

'Amazing,' he chuckled, 'how unintelligent two people in love can be!'

Two people in love. . .
The words were like music. She wound her arms around his neck and raised her lips to his.

'And now,' he said, leaving the moist softness of her mouth and looking down at her earnestly, 'will you marry me, my darling?'

The endearment thrilled her; but even in that second the thought of Irene stabbed.

'Irene?' she said, as though it were explanation enough.

He looked dominant and professional as he said, 'Will you leave Irene to me? I want to see her professionally.'

Emma didn't pretend. 'Unless she were happy. . . You see, she has been my
child,
Adam. My love for you is my life, but I have a responsibility that '

He interrupted her, his voice impressive in its authority as he corrected, '
We
have a responsibility which we must share in harmony. My first task is to get her to understand my feelings, so that together we may understand each other. If I say that she will always be a
trust '

Emma's heart lifted and a warm sensation of hope possessed her for a second, but looking at Adam, realising the depth of her love for him, she knew there was the agonising fear lest she might be prevented from becoming his wife. It was still Irene who dominated the future.

She said thankfully, 'I'll agree to whatever you feel to be right.' She looked apologetic and forlorn. 'If only I hadn't been in love with you and so contrary,' she admitted honestly.

'Contrary! That is the understatement of the century,' he exclaimed. 'It was like coming up against a matron of old!'

'You didn't kiss matrons!' she flashed at him with a smile. 'When will you see Irene?'

'Tomorrow morning—when I've had a word with Edmund and put him in the picture. I'll telephone her.'

'She'll be apologetic too.'

'I don't need that. I want her support.' He paused and looked at Emma intently. 'A long engagement is not my idea.'

The thought rushed up at Emma that, nevertheless, one might be necessary to allow Irene to adjust to the prospect of an entirely new life. A wave of depression washed over her.

Sensitive to her change of mood, Adam put his arms around her tenderly.

'Trust me,' he said, adding significantly, 'not only as your future husband, but as a doctor. I have a professional assessment to make.'

Emma tensed.

'You mean that she could revert if faced with a situation she didn't like?'

'Anything is possible. Her whole system has had a shock, but it is my belief that if we deal tactfully with our plans for the future '

Emma interrupted, 'She used to make remarks about us. Nothing escaped her notice. Even if I wanted to do so, I could not keep all this a secret.'

'That is the last thing I want.' He looked solemn.

Their eyes met and emotion flared as Emma said swiftly, 'I will tell her of our feelings '

'And let me deal with the time factor.'

She nodded her agreement. They were aware of each other's nearness and the desire that surged between them as he drew her back into his arms, his kiss fierce and passionate before abruptly releasing her and saying hoarsely, 'We'd better go and tell Ruth the news. You're far too great a temptation for me to be alone with you any longer.'

Irene listened in silence when Emma told her that she and Adam were in love, and then she said, 'You never deceived me about your feelings—you know that.' She added honestly, 'I was afraid he would take you away from me.'

'No one could break the bond between us,' Emma insisted, aware that there was a hint of apprehension behind Irene's smile.

'I wasn't able to realise the truth about anything,' Irene said. 'I'm so happy for you. It wasn't me—the real me—who didn't like Adam.'

'He's coming to see you in the morning,' Emma said quickly, not wanting the question of when they hoped to get married to come up for discussion.

Irene looked pleased. She sat there almost spellbound by her own adaptability. Even so, she didn't want to think of Emma going away and all that her marriage would entail. She'd think of that later on, after she'd seen Adam. Now that she was in control of her moods, it was simple.

'I want to see him—to talk to him. . . Oh, Emma,' she said warmly, 'you deserve so much!' With that she got up and crossed to the sofa on which Emma was sitting, put her arms around Emma's shoulders and kissed her with fervour. Emma felt a little of the uncertainty lifting, while the miracle of the change in Irene struck sharply, and she relaxed as she told herself that Adam would deal with the future.

Adam came into the house the following morning
and
studied Irene with a professional assessment, noticing that her eyes, as well as her lips, smiled as she greeted him. There was an endearing expression on her face as she said, 'I was beastly to you. . . I've lived through the nightmare; now I have to get used to the dream.'

Emma stood with them in the hall at the moment of his arrival, her gaze meeting his with
a
love
she
could not conceal. 'I'm going to
leave you two to talk,'
she suggested. Her voice was hurried,
a
nervous
happi
ness surging over her as she looked at Adam standing there—attractive, authoritative and, her heart sang, in love with her. The words echoed like magic as emotion flashed between them.

But Adam said in a low friendly voice, 'I want to see my patient—to sign her off,' he added with a smile at Irene. The two of them went into the sitting-room. Emma started to mount the stairs.

'Before we start talking,' Irene said when she and Adam were alone, the door closed, 'I want to tell you how pleased I am about you and Emma.'

'Thank you.' He was studying her intently, the change in her beyond belief. This was what he had striven for, and while the shock had cured the agoraphobia, assessment had resulted in this metamorphosis. The one identified with the other. 'It's been a stormy passage,' he added naturally and with a smile, cutting through any strangeness between them.

She didn't hesitate. 'I was responsible for all that.'

'I want to take your pulse and blood-pressure,' he said firmly, immediately assuming the air of the doctor in command.

'Before you sign me off.' She repeated his words lightly.

'Exactly.' He took both, well satisfied.

'I was obsessed with myself,' she said simply. 'You were very patient and I was equally ungracious. I'm sorry, Adam.'

There was a childlike quality about her as she spoke and yet, at the same time, he was aware of an inner strength in her attitude; her voice was stronger, the pleading whine gone.

'That is yesterday,' he said. 'Now,' he went on encouragingly, 'tell me how you feel.'

'As though I've been re-born. I can see things in perspective, think beyond myself, realise what a burden I must have been to Emma...'

'And physically?'

'I'm steady; I don't get those palpitations. . .I used to work myself up when things didn't go right,' she admitted. 'And I hated you because you
knew!'

He smiled indulgently at her to suggest that he was well aware of the fact, but all the time at the back of his mind was the disturbing thought as to how she would face up to losing Emma. Everything depended on her mental attitude. Could she sustain this unselfishness, or contemplate life alone? How did she envisage her future and was it too early to question? Yet he and Emma could not go on without direction. In normal circumstances, he told himself, he would get a special licence so that they could marry straight away and, if necessary, take a furnished house until they could buy one of their own. Ruth was no problem because she would be marrying Paul. His thoughts raced: Ruth and he, Adam, owned their house jointly and if Emma didn't want to live in it, then it could be sold, or Paul and Ruth could make it their home. . .

'But you don't hate the idea of my becoming your brother-in-law?' He looked at her questioningly.

'Not now,' she said swiftly. 'The possibility at one time made me ill.' A smile added to her beauty. 'I shall be very proud. I know you will make her happy—and she you.' She leaned forward, an earnest expression on her face. 'I'd like to talk to you about myself—talk to my doctor,' she added solemnly, 'because that is in confidence and I can expose all my foolish dreams—be free.'