Wings of a Dove (59 page)

    The stench of sweating bodies, sickness, and human waste was overpowering. It had struck Allie the moment Delaney carried her through the doors of the hospital a few hours earlier and had grown increasingly potent as they progressed through the colorless corridors of the massive institution. The wave of nausea it had initiated did not subside as they sat on the hard bench awaiting word of Margaret's operation. Grateful that she had not been made to suffer the rigors of this place, or one like it, after being injured in the train wreck, she realized Delaney had spared her yet another hardship for which she would never be able to adequately express her gratitude.

    Retching spasms threatened again, but Allie knew that anxiety was more responsible for her unsettled physical state than the pervading odors and the dismal atmosphere of the waiting area. She glanced at the large clock on the wall. Was it possible they had only been here three hours? It seemed like a lifetime.

    "Allie, are you all right?"

    Allie turned at the concern in Delaney's voice. She nodded, unable to speak over her physical discomfort. The darkening of Delaney's brow was clear indication that she had been unsuccessful in concealing her distress.

    "Would you like a glass of water? Do you want to lie down for a while?"

    Delaney covered her hand with his, and embarrassed at her show of weakness, Allie forced a smile. "No, I'm fine. It's just that it's very stuffy in here." Her smile slipped. "And I hadn't realized the operation would take so long."

    Delaney slid his arm around her shoulder and drew her supportively against his side. Accepting the comfort of his strength, Allie restrained the desire to curve her arm around him in return. Her fears for Margaret were making this day a living nightmare. How fervently she wished James could have been here with her, but Dr. Lindstrom's crowded schedule had allowed only overnight notice of an opening, and she had had no choice but to accept it.

    But one thing had been accomplished during this uncertain time while they waited for Dr. Lindstrom's calendar to clear. The relationship between Delaney and Margaret had improved immeasurably, and a cautious friendship had grown between them.

    A bittersweet pain had touched her heart as she watched her daughter warm to Delaney's kindnesses, and as she had seen his response. But she was no stranger to the warmth he showed once his heart had become engaged, and it was a great comfort to her that the antipathy between them had finally been put to rest. Her pledge to James that Delaney and Margaret would know each other only as friends had been a heavy burden, and she was only now feeling some relief.

    A footstep in the hallway brought Allie back to the present. She rose to her feet, grimacing with pain as her ankle failed and Delaney rose to her support. The light pounding in her head increased to a painful drumming, but the person approaching proved to be neither Dr. Lindstrom nor Dr. Willis.

    Her torment apparent, Allie turned with a single, broken word: "Delaney"

    Delaney drew her into the comforting circle of his arms, and Allie closed her eyes against her fears. The medal lying against her skin warmed in a silent consolation that had eluded her until now as Delaney's whispered words of reassurance brushed her ear.

    Yes, everything would be all right. It had to be.

    Allie's breath caught in her throat when Dr. Willis finally appeared in the doorway. The pounding in her head becoming acute as he approached, she searched the aging doctor's fatigued expression.

    "Is it over? Is Margaret all right?"

    Dr. Willis's brief nod allowed a choked sound of relief to escape Allie's paralyzed throat. Not quite laughter, not quite a sob, it tightened Delaney's arm around her as Dr. Willis managed a tired smile.

    "I've never seen anything like it. Dr. Lindstrom performed a miracle. Barring unforeseen incident, Margaret will be as good as new."

    "When can I see her?"

    His weary smile fading into a frown, Dr. Willis appeared to notice Allie's pallor for the first time. He took a short step toward her, his gaze assessing as he spoke. "Not for a few hours. Dr. Lindstrom likes to maintain tight control over circumstances immediately following an operation of this sort. Go home now, and when"

    "No, I'll wait. I want to see Margaret."

    "Allie, dear." Slipping into a form of address with which he had become more comfortable, Dr. Willis wagged his graying head. "Don't waste your strength in protests. You're still recuperating, and you must not weaken yourself at this point in time. Margaret has not yet regained consciousness, and she won't be aware of your presence in any case until later in the afternoon. Go home. Take one of the powders I left you and get some rest. Come back later, when you're feeling stronger. Your daughter will need your help in the coming weeks, and you will want to be up to it."

    The wisdom of Dr. Willis's words overcoming her objections, Allie nodded, startled as Delaney swept her up into his arms. Her short protest was answered by Dr. Willis's weary chortle.

    "I wouldn't complain, my dear. I wager there are many women who would wish to command such special treatment from this fellow. Mr. Marsh knows what you need, and right now you need rest. Do that, my dear. I'll expect to see you back here in a few hours."

    As Delaney strode rapidly down the corridor, Allie assessed his tense expression. It suddenly occurred to her that his concern was twofold: He worried about her as well as Margaret. Allie squeezed his shoulder lightly, drawing his attention to her face. Her attempt at comfort emerged as a wobbly smile.

    "Margaret's going to be all right, Delaney."

    Delaney's light eyes dwelled for long moments on her face before he carried her outside. Undisturbed by his silence, Allie relaxed against his chest, her tension draining away at the silent communication between them. There was no more need for words.

    "Did you see him carrying his pale, fainting swan?" Her voice a harsh jeer, Sybil choked back the tears brimming in her glorious blue eyes as she turned to the man seated beside her. Their carriage shuddered into motion as she continued, "He treats her as if she's something precious, instead of the common tart that she is. What does he see in her, Harriman? She's a drab stick of a woman with no appeal at all!"

    Harriman Bain paused, his distinguished face sober as he concealed his impatience with difficulty. "I happen to disagree with you, but that makes little difference, because you refuse to acknowledge a very important point, Sybil. Delaney Marsh doesn't see that woman through your eyes. He sees her through the eyes of love."

    Sybil stiffened, paling. "Rot! That's nothing but foolish nonsense!"

    "You've lost him, Sybil. Face it now before you make a bigger fool of yourself than you already have. You don't realize how very fortunate you are, my dear."

    "Fortunate! How did you come to that brilliant conclusion?"

    "You're fortunate because I view you in the same way that Delaney Marsh views Mrs. Case. You should realize that nothing else would have permitted me to endure your behavior of the past few weeks without turning my back on you and leaving you flat."

    "You could never do that, Harriman." Her beautiful face reflecting a self-assurance totally absent a few moments before,     Sybil managed a knowing smile. "You could never turn your back on me."

    Witnessing a new light in Harriman's eyes, Sybil felt a small flutter of anxiety as he raised a well-tended hand to her cheek.

    "For the first time, I find that I'm not so sure," he said. "Fair warning, dear. I will not be party to any malicious machinations. You're pushing me very close to the edge. I suggest you not take further liberty with my affection."

    The peculiar sense of loss Harriman's words evoked was fleeting, and Sybil dismissed it as Delaney's carriage slipped out of sight ahead of them on the street. Her jealousy flamed anew.

    "Perhaps you're right, Harriman darling. Perhaps I have lost Delaney, and perhaps I wouldn't want him back now even if he came to me on his knees, begging for a reconciliation."

    "I'd say the possibility of that eventuality is nil."

    Sybil looked at Harriman with impatience. "Then I'll rule out my first choice and prepare for the second."

    His expression hardening, Harriman stared directly into Sybil's narrowed blue eyes. "I warn you now, Sybil. Leave the fellow alone and forget any twisted notions of revenge you might be entertaining."

    "I shan't bother to confirm or deny that intention. It's really none of your affair."

    "You've made it my affair."

    "That's where you're wrong." Sybil looked out onto the passing street. "Can't you get this fellow to drive a little faster? I'm fatigued. I think a nice hot bath will relax me quite well. And then a short nap." Turning back to Harriman, Sybil continued, "And when I'm my old self again, I will welcome your call. Shall I expect you this evening, darling?"

    Startled at Sybil's about-face, Harriman remained silent. Not quite able to trust her, he was unable to resist her as well.

    "Shall we say eight?" she prompted.

    Sybil slid her arm around his neck and drew Harriman's mouth down to hers. Regret for the love he bore this beautiful, headstrong woman was soon overcome by the familiar taste of her, and Harriman consoled himself with the thought that in a few more moments he would no longer care.

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    The sedative had begun to take effect and Allie was drifting off to sleep. Seated on the side of her bed, Delaney curled his hand around Allie's, smiling as she fought to raise her eyelids one last time.

    "You won't let me sleep too long. I must see Margaret."

    "I promise to wake you."

    But Allie's hand was already limp, and Delaney realized his response had gone unheard. Gently he raised her palm to his lips. Holding it to his mouth for long moments, he tasted her skin, his eyes closing at the bittersweet pain of the subtle intimacy. Leaning forward, supporting himself on his hands, he looked down into her face, certain that he never had, and never would, see another woman as beautiful as she. He ached with love for her.

    Halting his painful thoughts, Delaney forced the lump from his throat with sheer force of will. The truth was that Allie was beyond his reach. He would never again know the ecstasy of holding her in his arms, feeling her flesh against his. He would never again know the fulfillment of two parts of one spirit totally converged into a whole by the act of love. He would never again feel her heartbeat echo his own, breathe her fragrant scent, hear the soft, gasping cries of passion that still resounded in his dreams.

    His eyes intent on her face, Delaney lowered his lips lightly to the scar on Allie's forehead, loving it because it had restored her to him, if only temporarily. He trailed his lips across her eyelids, knowing it was through those eyes he had first seen love. He pressed his lips against the gentle pulse in her temple, grateful for the life throbbing there. He touched her delicate ear with his mouth, wishing he could whisper the words of love that so filled his heart. He followed the curve of her proud, determined chin. He paused at her lips.

    Her lips were still, slightly parted, her breath lightly fanning his mouth. He rested his mouth lightly against hers, allowing her breath to mingle with his, tasting it, warming to it, his hunger growing. His hands slipped into the pale silk of her hair, cradling her head as he was overwhelmed by a deep, painful yearning.

    "Allie" His whisper a soft hiss in the silence of the room, he grazed her lips with his words. "That night so long ago when    you lay in my arms, I became angry when you said the Lady had brought us together. I didn't want to hear you say she made us part of each other, that it would always be that way. I was jealous of her. I wanted there to be only us no one, nothing else, to share what we had. But things are different now. If I believed in the Lady, if I thought she could hear me, I would ask her to send my words into God's ear the way she sends yours. And those words would be a plea that you would never leave me.''

    His lips touching hers in a fleeting kiss, Delaney drew back just far enough to look into Allie's still face once more as he continued. "Do you still talk to the Lady about me, Allie? Do you still see her sweet face and ask her to"

    A loud pounding at the front door drew him up sharply. The movement caused Allie to move restlessly in her sleep and Delaney whispered a soft word of reassurance as he reached for the coverlet at the foot of the bed. The pounding sounded again, more frantically than before, and he stood up, annoyed that the few quiet moments he had stolen with Allie had been interrupted.

    He heard a woman's voice at the front door, slightly raised, mingling with Olga's. He recognized that voice and hurried down to the foyer, his eyes on the young redhead standing there.

    "What are you doing here, Mae? Don't you know it's dangerous for you?"

    Running toward him as he reached the foyer, Mae Brewster clutched his shirt, her broken fingernails digging into the spotless fabric. Her breath was ragged, her eyes frantic. "They know, Mr. Marsh! They know everythin'!"

    "What do you mean?"