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She made a small ineffectual sound in her throat, pulling her hand away as she stepped back a pace.
‘So defensive.’ The words were almost a sigh, and for a moment she thought she detected sudden pain in his dark eyes before he blinked and it cleared.
‘I thought we were leaving?’ She spoke flatly, carefully keeping her facial expression calm. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down. Not for a moment.
‘We are.’ But he didn’t move.
Melody stared at him warily, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. There had always been something uncivilised about Zeke, and tonight it was in every movement and expression—a sensuousness that was almost animal-like in its instinctive earthiness and male power.
And then he smiled, opening the door. ‘Let’s go.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT had stopped snowing when they left the hot-house comfort of the hotel, stepping into a frozen winter wonderland that had transformed the city streets into something magical.
The gritters had been hard at work keeping the main roads serviceable, and the hotel staff had had the foresight to clear a path from the hotel door to the main thoroughfare. Nevertheless, Melody was glad of Zeke’s firm hand at her elbow as they hailed a taxi.
The snow hadn’t seemed to deter the last-minute shoppers making use of some of the big stores which were still open. The white pavements were alive with folk heaped with bags and parcels, and an unusual air of gaiety pervaded the scene. It was as though a white Christmas had evoked the excitement of a child in even the most hardened city-dwellers, and for a little while the wonder of the festive season had swept away everyday problems and difficulties. Everyone seemed happy.
Zeke settled her close to him in the taxi, his arm round her shoulders, and she didn’t pull away although his touch made her as tense as a coiled spring. It was strange being out in the hustle and bustle of life again after her long stint in the hospital, but it wasn’t that which tightened her nerves, although he must have thought so because he murmured, ‘Relax. We’re doing this together, okay? I’m here. I’ve got you. This is going to be a pleasant evening, that’s all.’
‘I’m fine,’ she lied firmly. ‘Absolutely fine.’
The sound he made in his throat expressed what he thought of that, and as he bent and kissed the top of her head with a swift, featherlight touch she thought she heard him sigh again.
Melody stared out of the window without really seeing the brightly lit shops and crowds, overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions—fear and panic and, not least, love. His solid muscular body was against hers, filling her with the old familiar feeling of safety and belonging. When she had met Zeke she’d realised she’d been searching all her life for the security he provided. For the first time she’d felt she had a chance at the things lots of people took for granted. He would take care of her. But now that was relegated to a memory—a beautiful dream which had been sweet while it had lasted.
They didn’t talk on the way to the theatre, but every so often Melody felt his lips brush the top of her head. It took all of her willpower not to twist and lift her face to his, and only the knowledge that it would be immensely unfair to give him any hope prevented her from reaching for him. She had seen sadness mingled with desire in his eyes the last time she’d met his gaze, but she knew he still hadn’t accepted their marriage was over. And he had to. For both their sakes.
Zeke helped her out of the taxi once they reached the theatre, but she was still vitally conscious of her less than elegant exit, and despair at her clumsiness was paramount as she stood on the icy pavement. Mr Price had told her that she was too hard on herself more than once. ‘It is the dancer in you who exaggerates what you see as ungainliness,’ he’d insisted. ‘Other people would not notice.’
She had blessed him for his kindness, but had known it was just that and not the truth. She had watched the smooth, controlled walk of the nurses in the hospital, of visitors, everyone, and marvelled at all she had taken for granted before the accident. But then she supposed everyone was the same in her position. She wasn’t unique.
She breathed in the crisp, bitingly cold air, which due to the snow was devoid of the taint of the city for once. Okay, best foot forward, she told herself with silent irony as Zeke slid an arm round her waist. And they might not meet anyone they knew, anyway.
And pigs might fly!
They were barely inside the foyer when a gushing voice caused them to turn. ‘Darlings…’ Angela Stewart was an actress of some standing and, Melody suspected, one of Zeke’s old flames—although he had never said and she’d never asked. But there was something in the way Angela was with her made Melody feel the tall, willowy blonde resented her beneath the effusive front she presented. ‘So lovely to see you.’ Angela’s sharp blue eyes swept her from head to foot before the actress gave a mwah of a kiss to the air either side of their faces, her carefully tousled hair stiff with hairspray.
Melody braced herself. ‘Hello, Angela,’ she said carefully, trying to breathe through the fog of heavy perfume the blonde was wearing. Angela was the last person she’d have chosen to see. ‘How are you?’ A red-taloned hand touched Melody’s arm lightly. ‘We were so devastated when we heard about the accident, you poor, poor love. And you a dancer too. So sad.’
‘She’s wonderful—aren’t you, sweetheart?’ Zeke’s voice was cool, with an edge that made Melody hope Angela didn’t prolong the conversation.
Angela’s escort—a tall, distinguished man who could have doubled as Richard Gere—must have thought the same thing, because he took her arm after nodding at Melody and Zeke, saying, ‘Our party’s waiting to take their seats, Angela.’
Angela jerked herself free, looking straight at Melody. ‘All those months in hospital must have been tedious for you. I bet you can’t wait to get back in the swing of things again,’ she drawled softly. ‘But you must take it a day at a time, sweetie. You look a little tired and peaky.’
‘Melody has the resilience of youth on her side,’ Zeke put in smoothly. ‘Remember how that used to feel, Angela? Now, if you’ll excuse us…’
They were seated in their box before Melody spoke. ‘You shouldn’t have said that,’ she murmured as Zeke poured the champagne which had been waiting for them. ‘She’ll never forgive you. I’d be surprised if she ever speaks to you again.’
Zeke grinned, offering her the plate of canapés. ‘Sounds good.’
Below them the stalls were filling up, along with the balcony and the other boxes. The musical drama they were seeing was the latest big thing, and tickets were like gold dust. The theatre itself was an old building, with a high, ornate domed ceiling and an air of genteel Victorian splendour, and the central heating was equally archaic and not quite man enough for the unusually cold evening.
Like a magician producing a rabbit out of a hat, Zeke placed a thick, imitation fur throw across her legs. ‘Is that better?’ he murmured softly.
