Chapter Five
After the wedding ceremony, they headed for the reception. Colonel and Mrs. Knight stepped out of the taxi, then George climbed out and offered Sandra his hand. Elegantly dressed wedding guests swarmed past her as she gazed up at the grand facade of the exclusive five-star hotel where the reception was taking place.
It hadn't occurred to Sandra that being married in a cathedral was unusual until they'd arrived there for the service. The roads approaching Saint Mary's Cathedral had been cordoned off to traffic while the nineteenth-century edifice had barriers erected around the entrance to keep the photographers and spectators back.
George had calmly informed her that his friend Robert was actually Sir Robert Mackenzie, who had recently inherited a huge swath of the Scottish Highlands and a castle. Yet he wasn't the one the paparazzi were gathered at the barriers to photograph. His stunning redheaded bride, Lady Moira Graham, was a well-known socialite and the daughter of the Earl of Belford.
Cameras had flashed at Sandra and George as they'd followed his parents into the cathedral. Sandra would have bought a new dress if she'd known what a prestigious social event this would be. She was grateful Mrs. Knight had dragged her to the beauty parlor, although she was fairly certain that her face would not appear in the newspapers.
She slipped her hand through George's offered arm and joined the slow-moving trail of well-dressed people waiting to go in the hotel entrance to find their seats for the reception.
Once they entered, George pulled Sandra aside. "I want to find a pay phone to call the hospital and check up on Harold. Do you mind waiting with me for a few minutes?"
"Of course not. I'd love to have an update on him."
They located a phone booth tucked away in a corridor that led to the bathrooms. Sandra leaned against the wall while George pumped in some coins and dialed the hospital. She listened while he spoke to the matron in charge of the ward.
George released a satisfied sigh as he hung up the receiver. "He's off oxygen and sitting up. They don't think it was a heart attack, but he definitely suffered cardiac arrest following ventricular fibrillation."
"I suppose that's a relief, although they need to do more tests." It was often difficult to know what caused an arrhythmia, but if Harold suffered angina, it was likely he had some degree of coronary heart disease. This was something a cardiologist needed to investigate.
They rejoined the throng of people in the hotel foyer and made their way into a huge ballroom decorated with alternating banners of black and gold and blue and yellow, the coats of arms of the Grahams and the Mackenzies. Plaid napkins and chair sashes provided bright splashes of color against the starched linen tablecloths.
The main wedding party was already seated at the head table while other guests found their places at the round tables positioned along the edge of a central dance floor.
A concierge at the door asked for their names and directed them to their table halfway down the room. George's parents were already seated, Mrs. Knight deep in conversation with a woman of her own age wearing a bright cerise dress and matching hat covered in feathers.
"George, darling. Sandra, dear." Mrs. Knight beckoned them vigorously. "Did you check up on Harold? How is he?"
"Improving." George stood aside to let Sandra take her seat first.
"John, you move. I want Sandra to sit beside me." Mrs. Knight shooed her husband a few seats to her right.
"Thank you, Colonel Knight," Sandra said softly as they passed. He nodded in acknowledgment.
She and George sat between his parents. Mrs. Knight immediately laid her hand on Sandra's arm and drew her into the conversation with the feathered-hat lady. "This is my son's girlfriend, Sandra. She's a doctor like George." She then went on to describe in melodramatic terms the drama of the previous night, making Sandra sound like a movie heroine who'd risked her life to save Harold.
A couple of times Sandra tried to butt in to add a touch of realism and play down her actions, but once Mrs. Knight got going, there was no stopping her. In the end, Sandra simply smiled and nodded at the oohs and ahhs as everyone around the table became enthralled with the story.
Embarrassed to be the center of attention, particularly when she didn't deserve this much praise for doing what any responsible doctor would do, she cast George a sheepish glance. He had the side of his hand pressed to his mouth to stifle a grin, his eyes crinkled with mirth.
Leaning her head towards him, she whispered, "Can't you say something to stop her?"
"When she's having so much fun?"
Sandra chuckled and poked him in the side with her elbow. "You're enjoying this."
"Whatever gave you that idea?" He grinned, all white teeth and twinkling brown eyes. Her heart danced and soared. This was a side of George she'd never seen before. He was normally so serious and disciplined, so like her, she realized. He'd let his guard down today and so had she.
Because she'd been bruised too many times at school by fake friends and bullies, she'd erected defenses that few people ever earned the right to breach. But George had sneaked in and taken up residence in her heart.
The sumptuous dinner was followed by wedding speeches. Robert Mackenzie was handsome in a dark jacket and his Mackenzie plaid kilt of green and blue; his bride, Lady Moira, was a stunning petite redhead in an ivory taffeta dress with a tiara nestled in the folds of her hair. One of Moira's brothers, Lord Alex Graham, was the best man. He gave an amusing speech that had the whole room laughing as he related some of the things he remembered Robert doing at school.
Moira's father, the Earl of Belford, was a politician. Like all politicians he spoke for too long, but Sandra didn't mind how long the speeches lasted. Underneath the tablecloth, away from prying eyes, George held her hand. Every time he leaned close to whisper something in her ear, his warm breath sent tingles racing across her skin.
After the speeches, the bride and groom wandered between the tables, chatting with friends and relatives, thanking people for their gifts. They stopped for a few minutes at the Knights's table and Robert introduced Sandra to Moira.
Then Lord Alex Graham made a beeline for George. He had the same dark red hair as Moira, and looked to be about thirty. He held out his hand as George rose to talk to him. "How are you? I haven't seen you since I left school."
"I'm very well. I hear you joined the navy."
"And you followed Colonel Knight into the army."
The two men chatted about what they'd been doing, then Alex moved on to speak to a few other people before returning to his seat.
Once the meal was finished and the dishes cleared away, the lights dimmed. A band in the gallery struck up, playing a mixture of contemporary and classical tunes.
When a slow song started, George stood, a smile on his lips and a question in his eyes. "Will you dance with me?"
"I'd love to." Sandra slipped her fingers into his, and rose. He led her to the dance floor where the older guests were trying to waltz to the modern tune. Circling his arms around her waist, he drew her close.
She leaned a cheek on his chest and closed her eyes, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear both exciting and reassuring. George was an enigma. He was the man she'd thought him to be, strong, self-confident, and driven. But he had a softer side that she hadn't seen before this trip. Both sides of him fascinated and attracted her.
As the solid masculine length of his body moved against her and his hand traveled in lazy circles on her back, a languid heat flowed along Sandra's veins. Dancing in George's arms was the fantasy she'd imagined so many nights as she fell asleep, a fantasy she had never believed would come true. But her imaginings had never felt this good.
She breathed in the enticing smell of him and released her breath on a satisfied sigh.
He angled down his head and whispered, "All right?" His mouth brushed her ear, drawing a tiny gasp of longing from her lips. Last night's kiss seemed like a dream now. She hoped he would give her another to refresh her memory.
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The usual fuzzy feeling filled her brain so she could barely think, but for once she didn't mind.
None of her previous boyfriends had filled her with this sizzling heat that made her wish she and George were pressed together somewhere private.
His lips brushed her temple and his fingertips sank into her hair and caressed her neck, sending a cascade of sensation down her spine.
He'd pretended this wasn't a proper date, but unless he was a very good actor, he hadn't been honest. He must have feelings for her or why would he behave this way?
And she most definitely had feelings for him—she'd fallen in love. Or maybe she'd already been in love with him but hadn't admitted it to herself?
Although falling in love with an army doctor who would be away most of the time was not part of her life plan, Cupid apparently didn't care about plans.
• • •
Cheery Christmas music played while colorful strings of foil decorations made the white and stainless steel hospital cafeteria a little less utilitarian than usual.
The nurses sitting at the next table to George wore scrub tops decorated with Christmas cartoon characters. "Going anywhere nice for Christmas, Captain Knight," a pretty nurse with short blonde hair asked. She cast him a flirty sideways glance and the others giggled.
"I'm spending Christmas with my girlfriend at her parents' place." He gave a perfunctory smile and turned his attention back to the important sheet of paper in his hand, hoping they left him alone. He didn't want Sandra to find him chatting with four pretty nurses just before he announced he was going away.
He stirred his coffee and reread the letter containing his new orders, a buzz of suppressed excitement running along his nerves. He'd been waiting to be re-posted, eager to discover the location. Where the army sent him was an indication of how they viewed his potential, and his next posting suggested they were planning to fast-track him to promotion.
Instead of the normal deployment to Northern Ireland that he'd expected, he was being sent on three months of Arctic warfare training in Norway with a joint forces team of medics under the command of the Royal Marines. They were going to practice setting up a field hospital in inhospitable and challenging conditions.
The opportunity for this new experience and the confirmation that the army saw him as a high flyer pleased him, but he was not quite as thrilled as he would have been a few weeks ago, before he started dating Sandra.
Since the trip to Scotland they'd grown closer, meeting regularly for meal breaks during their shifts. When they both had the time off, they went out on dates. He'd taken her to the new James Bond movie, and to a nice Italian restaurant. A couple of nights she'd cooked for him at her small studio apartment, and she'd also come for Sunday lunch at his parents' house.
He sipped his coffee and tapped the folded letter on the white Formica table. Things were going well between them, but Sandra would not be happy that after Christmas he'd disappear off to Norway for three months.
His gaze rose to the swinging doors that led to the cafeteria as Sandra pushed them open. His gut instinct told him she was right for him and he didn't want to lose her.
She wove her way between the tables, a shy smile on her face as she glanced at him. Her hair was up and her glasses disguised her pretty face. In her white coat and flat black shoes, she moved across the room unobtrusively, not a single person glancing up to watch her pass. But George had seen behind that disguise to the beautiful woman beneath. She couldn't hide from him anymore.
A tight, almost painful sensation clutched his heart as he rose to meet her. He didn't want to be parted from her for three months. Not when they had only just found each other. When he'd made his plans to marry a sensible woman who would deal with his absences without a fuss, it hadn't occurred to him that he might not want to be away from her. George put his arms around Sandra and kissed her for rather longer than he meant to.
The nurses at the next table giggled and Sandra's cheeks were flushed when she pulled away. She cast an embarrassed glance over her shoulder and dropped into a chair with her back to the other women.
"Don't take any notice of them," he whispered, catching hold of her hand across the table.
She lowered her lashes, color staining her cheeks.
George couldn't resist lifting her knuckles to his lips and pressing a kiss there.
While she was working, Sandra came across as confident and capable, but underneath, he'd discovered, she was anything but confident. The way she'd kept to herself in college now made sense. Somebody in the past had knocked her self-esteem.
The thought of her being hurt made him long to pull her onto his lap and cuddle her, but she'd probably pull away if he tried that here. He suppressed a smile at the thought. His Sandra was a shy little thing when others were around. It was only when they were alone together that her passionate nature emerged.
In a few short weeks she had worked her way into his heart, and he didn't want to lose her. It would most likely be impossible to phone home when he was out in the snowy wilds of Norway. A man and woman needed a strong, trusting relationship to weather such a separation.
The thought sobered him and his humor faded. "I've received my orders." It was best for her to read the details herself, so he pushed the folded sheet of paper across the table.
With a questioning glance, she picked up the letter and examined it.
"You mentioned Northern Ireland?"
"I was wrong. This is better for my career. This shows they've recognized my potential."
"I'm pleased then. Well done." Sandra reached across the table and squeezed his arm, but her voice was flat and her cheeks pale.
He'd known she wouldn't complain, but he also knew her well enough to recognize that the dialogue inside her head was very different from what came out of her mouth. She was upset, and it twisted his heart.
"I know three months sounds like a long time, love, but I will be back."
She smiled, a strange forced expression that didn't touch her eyes. The ache in George's heart expanded to fill his chest. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt her, yet he couldn't avoid it.
She passed back the letter and he gripped her hand in both of his. "It'll be difficult to stay in contact while I'm away, but I'll try. Please write to me. The army is usually pretty good at delivering mail."
Nodding, she pressed her lips together as if trying not to cry. "It's all right. I know the army is your life."
George winced. She was right. Yet he didn't want to lose Sandra. Having an army career didn't mean he couldn't have a wife and children. Other men managed it; surely he could as well. The trouble was that in the three months he was away, Sandra would talk herself into believing he didn't care. By the time he came back, she'd have fortified the wall around herself and shut him out so he couldn't hurt her again.
He had to find a way to prove he loved her and persuade her to wait for him.