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She shook her head dazedly, a hundred and one conflicting emotions tearing her apart. If they made love, if he saw her naked, he couldn’t fail to be repulsed. And she couldn’t bear that. She wanted him to remember her as she had been—to picture her in his mind as smooth-skinned, nubile, inviting. She was doing this for him as much as her. She was. He had married her when she was perfect. Why should he have to learn to adapt to anything less? She was finding it hard, but what would it do to a man like Zeke? No, this was the only way. It had to end now. Swiftly, cleanly, unhesitatingly—like the surgeon’s scalpel. She had to remain strong. She couldn’t weaken.
‘No, Zeke,’ she whispered. ‘We’re not man and wife any more. Not here, in my head.’
‘I don’t believe that.’ He still continued to hold her, but now the circle of his arms was relaxed. ‘Not for a minute, a second. So don’t waste your breath trying to convince me when all you’re really doing is lying to yourself, okay? Now, go and pamper yourself—have a long soak in the tub and cream and titivate and whatever else women do when they’re getting ready for a night on the town. I’m wining and dining you tonight, and I’ve got tickets for the theatre.’
Melody stared at him aghast. ‘I’m not going out.’
‘Of course you are. We’re not going to let a bit of snow beat us. This is London, not the arctic.’
‘I don’t mean that.’ And he knew it. ‘I’m staying here.’
‘Why?’ The ebony eyes challenged her. ‘Why is that?’
Melody fell back on one of the oldest excuses in the book—the one that came just after I’ve got a headache. ‘I’ve got nothing to wear,’ she said. It was true. Her suitcase contained the leggings and T-shirts and other comfy clothes she had worn in hospital once she was allowed her own things, but absolutely nothing suitable for the sort of evening Zeke had described. All her evening things were back at their house.
He grinned. ‘No problem.’ Releasing her, he walked over to the Christmas tree and she saw that at some point during the afternoon a host of beautifully wrapped parcels had appeared beneath it. ‘You can have a couple of your Christmas presents early,’ he said cheerfully, extracting two parcels from the pile. ‘I bought a size below your normal measurements, so hopefully they’ll fit. Try them on and see.’
Utterly taken aback, Melody stuttered, ‘When—? How—?’
Zeke paused as an array of emotions—wariness, delight, embarrassment—flitted across his features. ‘I did a little shopping when you were asleep,’ he admitted. ‘I’d left your Christmas presents at home. I thought—’ He shook his head. ‘Well, you know what I thought. I didn’t expect we’d be spending Christmas in a hotel in the city.’
‘Zeke, I can’t accept these.’ It seemed absolutely brazen to take anything from him in the circumstances. ‘You must see that.’
‘Why not?’ he said easily and without heat.
Melody wasn’t fooled. She’d seen the flash of granite in his eyes.
‘I just can’t,’ she murmured helplessly. ‘I haven’t got anything for you, for a start. It—it wouldn’t be right.’
He slung the parcels on a sofa and reached for her again, refusing to let her go when she tried to pull away. One hand took hold of her face gently, lifting her chin so his midnight-dark eyes stared straight into hers. ‘You being able to walk out of that place today is all the present I’ll ever want. In those first few days I didn’t think you were going to make it. I was terrified and I couldn’t do anything. Something like that has a way of sorting out the priorities of life, believe me. So, you’re my Christmas gift this year.’
‘Zeke—’ She was struggling not to cry. ‘I can’t—’
‘I know, I know.’ He pressed a quick kiss on her mouth. ‘You don’t want to hear it, but tough—it’s the truth. Now, take your presents and go and make yourself even more beautiful, if that’s possible. Because we are going out tonight, Dee. Even if I have to dress you myself.’ He smiled, but Melody knew he wasn’t joking. ‘Which, incidentally, is the option I prefer.’
Knowing she ought to be stronger, but still melting from the beautiful things he’d said, she continued to stand looking at him for a moment more. Maybe going out was the best idea after all. Certainly a night in together would be dangerously cosy with Zeke in this impossibly seductive mood.
As if to confirm her thoughts Zeke kissed her again, as though he couldn’t help himself—a kiss of slow sensuality. She had wedged her arms between them, flattening her palms on his powerful chest in an effort to push away from the hot desire which had immediately gripped her. It had always been the same; he only had to touch her and she was lost. His mouth moved to one shell-like ear, nibbling it before progressing to her throat and finding her pounding pulse. His rapid-fire heartbeat under her palms revealed Zeke’s arousal as blatantly as the silk pyjama bottoms, and for a split second the old thrill and delight that she could inspire such desire in him was there, before a flood of cold reality doused the feeling as effectively as a bucket of icy water.
He didn’t know what she looked like under the robe. He hadn’t seen the scars and puckered skin.
Melody jerked away so violently she took him by surprise. ‘Please don’t,’ she said brokenly. ‘Please, Zeke.’ She gathered up the parcels he’d thrown on the sofa and moved to the door, turning in the doorway to say, ‘What time do I need to be ready?’ as she nerved herself to look at him.
He hadn’t moved, and her breath caught in her throat at the sheer male beauty of his magnificent body. The velvet eyes swept over her and there was no annoyance in his face. His voice was deep and warm and very sensual when he said, ‘I’ve ordered cocktails here in the room for seven before we go.’
She nodded stiffly, holding the tears at bay through sheer wi
llpower as it came to her that she had never loved him so much as she did right at this moment. He was everything she had ever wanted—would ever want—and she was going to let him go. She knew it. She just had to make him believe it before she went insane trying.
CHAPTER SIX
ONCE in her own bedroom, Melody shut the door and plumped down on the bed, the parcels in her lap. She stared down at them through the mist of tears clouding her vision. Rubbing her hand across her eyes, she sniffed. No crying. Not now. Not until this is over. She couldn’t give in. She had to be strong.
The short pep talk helped. She had always known life after the accident, particularly the first few days and weeks, was going to be hard. For all sorts of reasons.
She nodded to the thought. No just because of learning to cope with the world outside the hospital cocoon. She realised this confrontation with Zeke had always been on the cards from the moment she’d made up her mind their relationship was over. If she could have done she would have simply disappeared out of his life; she didn’t want to argue or discuss or rationalise, but she had always accepted she would have to.
The fingers of her right hand moved slowly over the rings on her left, but she refused to brood on the day when she had chosen her engagement and wedding rings. Instead she opened the presents Zeke had given her. The silver shot-silk trousers were exquisite and the cream-and-silver tunic top more so; she didn’t dare contemplate what they must have cost, but the designer label shouted exclusivity.
