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‘No.’ Blake’s voice was sharp. He swung himself out of bed. ‘No, stay here and rest for a while, I’ll go down and make you a drink.’
‘I’m not an invalid, Blake,’ she protested, flushing as his eyes studied her pale skin and slender body. Still bathed in the warm afterglow of their lovemaking she hadn’t bothered to cover herself, but now she felt a need to do so, chilled by the way Blake was studying her. Was he comparing her to Miranda? She felt sick at the thought.
‘You’re not exactly in the peak of health either,’ he told her still watching her. There was a dark, brooding quality to his look that saddened her. Was he already regretting what had happened?
She reached out towards him, her eyes unconsciously pleading, ‘Blake, I …’
‘Stay here and rest.’ He had his back to her and was already getting dressed. Feeling dejected, Sapphire huddled beneath the bed-clothes. Plainly Blake didn’t want to talk to her. She closed her eyes, knowing she should regret what had happened but knowing that she did not. Where was her pride? When Blake left the easy, weak tears of physical release flowed for a few seconds and then stopped. By the time he came back with her tea Sapphire was fast asleep. He stood watching her for several seconds with shuttered eyes, before turning to leave, his face grim.
CHAPTER NINE
‘SAPPHIRE, we have to talk.’
They were sitting in front of the log fire she had lit just before dinner. Blake had suggested they have their coffee there and now she tensed dreading what he might be about to say. She had been awaiting this moment with mingled apprehension and anguish ever since she had woken up this afternoon. Had Blake guessed that she still loved him? Was he going to tell her that what had happened between them had been caused by some mental aberration. That he would never have made love to her had he been in his right senses? Was he going to tell her about Miranda?
She risked a glance at him. He was sitting opposite her on a chair, his upper body leaning forward, elbows braced on his thighs as he dropped his head into his hands and pushed weary fingers through his hair.
A wave of love overwhelmed her. She wanted to reach out and touch him; to wipe away the lines of exhaustion fanning out from his eyes; to touch and caress him, to …
‘Sapphire!’ The tone of his voice warned her that he knew her thoughts were wandering, his fingers steepled together as he watched her over them, the liquid gold of his eyes dulled, their expression almost stark.
‘I never intended what happened this afternoon to take place,’ he began abruptly, causing a thousand sharp knives to tear jaggedly at Sapphire’s aching heart.
‘I know that,’ she interrupted curtly. ‘I do have a memory, Blake, I’m well aware of the fact that you don’t find me desirable. When we first married …’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course I find you desirable.’ Angry fingers raked through his hair again. ‘Hell, Sapphire,’ he growled impatiently, ‘you’re not that innocent. If I don’t desire you what the hell do you think that was all about this afternoon?’
Colour flamed momentarily in her face as she recalled the fierce intensity of their lovemaking; the feeling she had had at the time that both of them were suffering from the same driven compulsion; the same starving hunger. Quickly she reminded herself of the past, of the early days of their marriage. ‘You may desire me now, Blake, but when we were first married, you couldn’t bear to touch me; you …’
‘I don’t want to talk about the past.’ His voice was clipped and brusque, defying her to continue the subject. ‘We’re living in the present now, Sapphire, and despite everything we said before we re-married, it must be as obvious to you now, as it is to me, that we can’t live together platonically.’
Her muscles seemed to be seized in a paralysing grip, her body totally unable to function, and then as the great wave of pain crashed down over her Sapphire knew her immobility was simply a defensive measure; a way of stopping the pain, only it had failed miserably. It seemed to fill every corner of her, drowning out pride and reserve. She wanted to cry out to Blake not to send her away; she wanted to plead with him to stay with her, but instead she remained unspeaking, dreading opening her mouth in case she voiced her anguished thoughts.
‘Well?’
Blake was plainly waiting for a response, and when she didn’t make one, said tersely, ‘Come on, Sapphire, I know you … you were a virgin—and that fact alone merely reinforces what I feel—but you must know that sexually we’re extremely compatible, almost explosively so,’ he muttered half under his breath.
His words were so totally at variance to what she had expected to hear that Sapphire simply stared at him. ‘Come on,’ Blake demanded half-aggressively, ‘Admit it Sapphire, when I made love to you, you enjoyed it. You …’
‘Yes.’ Her simple admission seemed to rob him of breath. ‘I did enjoy it, Blake.’
Colour lay dark red along the ridge of his cheekbones, his eyes the flaming gold she remembered from that afternoon, their gaze trained on her, tracking every betraying expression that crossed her face. He breathed deeply, exhaling slowly, his chest rising and falling with the effort.
‘Why were you still a virgin?’ He was looking directly at her, and Sapphire knew an insane desire to laugh. Pure nerves she told herself, taking a deep breath of her own to steady her.
‘At first when I left here I felt too bruised mentally to even think of loving anyone. Later …’ she shrugged, ‘Well, there just wasn’t anyone I wanted, and then I met Alan …’
She paused, telling herself that it wasn’t really lying to tell him the truth as she had believed it to be before realising that she still loved him. He didn’t want her love, and if he knew how she felt he could easily send her away, when, in reality, all she wanted to do was to stay.
Ignoring the inner warning voices that told her she was courting even greater unhappiness than she had already experienced, she continued softly, ‘… I wanted to be sure that what we felt for one another was right. Alan felt the same way. Before I came up here we were planning to go away together for a holiday. We were going …’
‘To be lovers? In some romantic, idyllic setting?’ Blake demanded harshly. ‘Mentally you were ready to make love, and because your boyfriend wasn’t available you substituted me, is that what you’re trying to tell me?’ He looked so murderously angry that Sapphire knew a frisson of fear.
‘Perhaps, subconsciously,’ she lied bravely—anything rather than risk him guessing the truth. ‘But no, I didn’t consciously substitute you for Alan, Blake.’
‘And am I also supposed to believe that we were good together because you thought I was someone else?’
Slowly Sapphire shook her head. She daren’t risk trying to pretend that. Blake was angry enough already. Obviously she had touched some nerve of touchy male pride which it would be unwise to press on too hard. ‘You’re the one with the experience—not me,’ she reminded him simply. ‘Personally I don’t think it would be possible to deceive oneself to that extent, but …’
