I'm hoping to update during the week, but it's another busy few days ahead. Thank you for being so affirming in your reviews and such faithful followers of this story. I really do treasure each and every one of you. XX

CHAPTER 55

"Come in," she said, not looking up from her writing. A familiar voice said,

"So this is where you've been hiding. I was getting worried because no one had seen you for a while and there's no light in here. Why are you working in the gloaming?"

"Roland! I lost track of time doing all this paperwork."

"Well, it's time to stop. The light is going and so will your eyesight, if you don't take better care of it. Come on; let's drop in and visit the ward. They won't expect us and it'll keep them on their toes."

"Let me just check that I'm neat and tidy."

She moved to the mirror and made fractional adjustments to her headdress, pinning back one or two stray strands of hair and smoothing down her skirt. He came up behind her, wound his arm around her waist and gently held her against him. She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck as he whispered,

"You're beautiful, Grace."

"Now whose eyesight is failing?" Her attempt to hide her emotional response behind humour fooled neither of them. She was so desperately in love with him and his statement had deeply touched her.

"I mean it, Grace; you are beautiful and never more so than here in these gloomy surroundings. You light them up as you light my days."

He planted a gentle kiss on her hair and steered her towards the door.

"I know you won't be happy, but I'm going to sleep in my quarters tonight, Roland. I think it's too risky at the moment for us to sleep together at night."

"Must you?" He momentarily looked bereft. "I need you."

"And I need you, which is why I don't want anyone to be able to point their finger at us."

"Grace, at that rate there will never be a good time for us to be together because someone could always spot us or watch us. Does it really matter what people think? Unless they find us in bed together they have nothing. We just need to be careful, and not betray our feelings for each other, when we are performing our roles around the hospital. As long as what we do in our own time does not impact our performance and we are not openly co-habiting, there can be no reason for anyone to call into question our competence or leadership."

"But…"

"No 'buts', Grace. We're living in a war zone, which has already claimed the life of one of my sons. Freddie was young, had his whole life ahead of him. All he knew of life was school, Sandhurst, and this God forsaken place. He never knew what it is to make love to the person with whom you want to share your life, to lose yourself in the willing body of another human being, to touch with your soul as well as your physical self, to be so hopelessly in love that infinity can't measure what you feel and time can't limit it. I don't want to look back and regret that I chose the rule book and convention over life. I've done that for too long. My whole married life has been built on it and I don't want it anymore; I want you, I choose you, wherever that will take me."

Grace felt her body sway as he spoke to her of his feelings. There were times when she simply could not believe that she was loved as he loved her, that her feelings were so entirely reciprocated. How she had longed for such a love her entire life and now that Roland had gifted her with it, she was completely overwhelmed and wanted nothing beyond loving him in return. She closed her eyes to keep her emotions in check, but when she opened them again, she met his intense gaze and was lost. The light had faded, leaving them in the dark, and she touched his face with her hand, raising her lips to his, her love flooding through her kiss, as his arms tightened about her and he claimed what he knew was his alone to claim. They both gasped with frustrated longing as they broke apart, wholly unsurprised that one touch could ignite such a response.

"Grace, my dearest love, please stay with me tonight, even if just for a few hours."

The clasp of her hand around his was the answer he wanted. They left her office together, wrapped in their thoughts, and headed across the wooden walkway to the main ward, by the light of the lamp, which Grace held.

As Roland had predicted, the staff were taken very much by surprise at the lateness of their visit and scurried around, surreptitiously trying to tidy up and smooth down beds. He and Grace checked on the status of each patient, spent time talking to each one and questioning the nursing staff on aspects of treatment. No one indicated anything other than a professional approach towards them and Grace spent time with the volunteers, seeing the positive results of her disciplined approach to their training. She gave praise where it was due and was pleasantly surprised by several smiling faces in return.

"Perhaps," she thought, "I may just have won this battle at a point where I thought all was lost."

Trevelyan and Marshall had totally transformed into accomplished and dedicated members of the nursing team. Grace said to them both that she would encourage them to consider formalising their roles and both had said that they would consider it. Leaving the volunteers, she passed the cupboards in which dressings and other materials were stored and saw Margaret Quayle stacking up bandages and gauze supplies. Grace knew that she would have seen her, but the newest staff nurse kept her back firmly turned towards her and that suited Grace, too.

Rejoining Roland, Grace was just in time to hear him take his leave of Captain Andrews, the soldier whose shock at his brutalised appearance, but a few days ago, had triggered such far reaching consequences for all at the hospital. They walked back in the dark, careful to keep to the path lit solely by Grace's lamp. It was far colder than it had been and Grace was grateful to reach the warmth of Roland's office, enhanced by its new blackout curtains, which gave some protection from the icy draughts, which were an integral part of life in the wooden huts, which comprised their working, and his living, accommodation. They certainly made a world of difference to the privacy afforded any occupants of the office, too.

"Well, this is a welcome surprise. We can shut out the world beyond, even if only for a few hours," she said.

"I'm glad you approve, Matron, although I suspect that the colour is less than appealing!"

"We only see it at night and without the curtains it would still be black outside, so I'm grateful that we are hidden from view, if nothing else. Swags and drapes would hardly be appropriate for an RMC Colonel, although as a Matron, I wouldn't mind a splash of chintz," she said, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her and said, "I didn't think you were the chintzy type."

Walking towards him she replied, "I'm not. I prefer cleaner, more classical lines." She traced the planes of his face, following her fingers' path, along his jaw, with a deliberate sensuality, her eyes promising him more than he could ever have hoped for earlier that day. He captured her hand in his and ran his tongue along the inside of her wrist, finishing in the lightest of kisses, and then pressing it against his chest, where she could feel the thudding of his heart.

"I've also had an internal bolt placed on the door. No unannounced visitors now."

"I feel so much less vulnerable. Thank you, darling, for thinking of us."

"Actually, I have another adjustment, which will be started tomorrow."

"Really? What's that?"

"You remember when we spoke with Dr Kazanjian and the Brook Street team, at Purbright's briefing, you asked me to keep in touch with them, well I gave them our contact details and Dr Kazanjian must have written to us the same day because his letter arrived today in the headquarters' post bag."

Roland showed Grace the letter addressed to them both. She looked at it with a sense of wonderment. She had never seen anything addressed to "Dear Colonel Brett and Matron Carter" before, and the joining of their names, in the letter, gave her a glimpse of what the future might hold for them. She was filled with hope.

"He sent it to me, which is why I opened it, but it's clearly for both of us. Read it, Grace. You'll be amazed."

Grace read the letter and then re-read it. She could scarcely believe it. Dr Kazanjian wanted them to work with him, to continue to explore the use of music in healing the emotional wounds of their patients and to document their findings.

"Roland, this is wonderful. It's a vindication of everything we've thought about since stumbling upon it with Prentiss. It's a way of remembering him, too, poor man. I've wondered what became of him."

"We have our esteemed disciplinarian and colleague to thank for his complete mental collapse. Who else would have done something like that, apart from her?" he pointedly said.

"She'll think she's paid a high price, but it's nothing compared with the price Prentiss paid for crossing her path, when she was hell bent on exacting revenge on you, for passing her over in favour of me. I wonder if he'll ever be whole again. It's a tragedy."

"Yes, it is, but we didn't cause it; that was her perverse doing. What we can do is to try to give some meaning to suffering, which was totally unnecessary, through continuing with our work and attempting to ease the pain of others. That's why I've ordered an additional room to be constructed at the side of the office. The existing side door will lead into a new treatment room, where we can work with our patients. They tell me it shouldn't take long to do; these wooden walls are all pre-constructed panels, just glorified sheds really. The sapper says the insulation, roofing and waterproofing will be another two day's work. By the start of next week, we'll have our treatment room and the poor tortured souls, whom we see, will at least be able to sit somewhere private whilst we try to help them." Roland spoke from his heart for them both.

"I'm so proud to be part of this. Oh Roland, I'll always be at your side, whatever you do and wherever you go."

"Grace, you're as much a principal in this endeavour as I am; this research is ours, not mine. We're partners and we're creating something of us through our work. We'll stand alongside each other and it's my hope that by the time Dr Kazanjian publishes, it'll be Col. & Mrs. R. Brett, whom he credits."

"Really?"

"I'm determined to see Hetty in the New Year. I want a divorce, I want you, Grace."

"You have me, my love, with, or without, a divorce. I've always been yours, even when you didn't know it," she said, smiling up at him.

"I always knew it was you; I just never imagined you could want me as I wanted you, and yet you do; thank God, you do."

He held her against him and they stood together, saying nothing, just listening to the sound of their breathing and hearts beating, lost in the silence which enveloped them. Eventually they had to break the spell they had cast about themselves. Roland cradled Grace's face between his hands and bent his head to kiss her. Their eyes closed as their attention centred on the exquisitely slow movement of lips against lips, mouths opening to each other, pouring all they felt into the expression of their love.

"You were right, my love. We can't reclaim the time which has passed, but we can seize this present and the future with both hands. If we are careful, we can add something beautiful to every day spent in this bleak landscape and, one day, we'll be free of it. Until then, I'll tread whatever path you do, knowing that I could've so easily walked it alone, without ever tasting the joy you have given me. Roland, I love you so much it hurts when I'm not with you, and I know that sounds like every cliché rolled into one, but, my darling, it's true."

"Does that mean you'll stay with me?"

"Yes," she said simply.

"Shall we have something to eat? I'm sure it'll be inedible, but you can't have had anything since the morning."

"Let's see what there is and get it sent over."

"I'll go," he said. "You stay here in the warm. Perhaps put on the kettle for later. I promise to select the least life-threatening option from the cook's repertoire!"

Sometime later, their meal finished, they sat down against the clean sound of Bach's Two Part Inventions to discuss their plans for their treatment-based research. By the time they had finished, it was late. Roland held out his hand to Grace and led her quietly to his sleeping quarters. They undressed quickly and slid under the rough cotton sheet and coarse woollen blankets, lying on their sides and wrapped in each other's arms, against the cold. Grace shivered and he pulled her even closer into his embrace, pulling the covers around them both. She nuzzled the place where his neck and collarbone met, as he rubbed his chin against her hair, and lifted her face to kiss her. She reciprocated, returning his kiss, as he eased her leg over his and seconds later slid home, making love to her with a restrained passion, which placed her needs above and beyond his own. As she gasped his name, his mouth captured hers, absorbing the sound and pushing him over the edge, too. His gentleness with her spoke to her of an abiding love, which would transcend anything that life threw at them. She knew that with each day that passed she fell more in love with him than ever and, with that realisation, she cradled his head to her breast in the age old gesture of protection and nurture, her leg still wrapped around him. His hand cupped her breast and he took her nipple between his lips, sucking and drawing it to a point against his tongue, kissing it as he stroked her, and she pressed against him, as he drew her upwards once more, with his hands and mouth, which knew her better than she knew herself. Her last thoughts before sleep claimed her were of him and she knew her first, upon waking, would be, too.