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s under the mistaken impression it’d been great.’
His words caught her on the raw, but at least the dose of adrenaline provided the strength she needed to face him. ‘Firstly, it’s not our bed. It’s yours,’ she pointed out, sailing past him and making her way into the sitting room. ‘Secondly, I did not leave like a scalded cat or a scalded anything.’
She glanced at the coffee table, where coffee and a plate of biscuits were waiting, a sofa pulled close, and then walked across to the window, opening the curtains and looking out. It was snowing again—beautiful, starry flakes that whirled and danced as though they were enjoying their brief life to the full.
She was aware of Zeke coming up behind her and then his arms enclosed her. Her back rested against his chest and his chin nuzzled her hair. ‘Okay, let’s have it,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve got the message that all is not yet resolved.’
She didn’t know how to say it. ‘I—I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,’ she said lamely, hating herself.
‘Lady, I don’t know if I’m on foot or horseback,’ he drawled with dark amusement, ‘so the wrong idea’s the least of it. That was you I made love with a while ago, wasn’t it? You haven’t got a clone who doubles for you now and again?’
‘What I mean is—’
‘What you mean,’ he interrupted, turning her round to face him but still keeping her in the circle of his arms, ‘is that in spite of having your wicked way with me you are still holding to this ridiculous notion of a divorce. Correct?’
She couldn’t tell if he was furious and hiding it extremely well, or if the slightly sardonic attitude was for real. Zeke was a master of the inscrutable. Warily, she nodded.
‘Okay. So you’ve got that off your chest. Drink your coffee.’
He had to take this seriously. ‘Zeke, you have to understand—’
He stopped her with a breath-stealing kiss. ‘Come and have your coffee and biscuits. And then we’re going to talk some. We should probably have talked before we finished up in the bedroom, but I never did profess to be perfect.’
‘There’s nothing to say,’ she protested helplessly.
‘There’s plenty. Let me put it this way, Dee. Until you can convince me it’s over, it’s not over.’
Melody stiffened in defence of his arrogance, her hands pushing against the wall of his chest. ‘Let me go.’
‘Sure.’ She was free immediately. ‘But you still have to convince me. You’re part of me, Dee. One half of the whole. I have certain rights. You married me, remember?’
‘You talk as if you own me.’ She was shaking inside, his closeness a sweet torment, but she knew if she didn’t attack she would be lost. ‘Do you know that? Is that what you believe?’
‘Only in as much as you own me,’ he said softly. ‘It works both ways. You gave me your love and so that’s mine—as my love is yours. The difference between us is that I trust you. I trust you with everything I am and everything I have. But you’re not there yet, are you? There’s still a question mark hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles. True trust involves commitment, becoming vulnerable, Dee. It can make you feel exposed and frightened. Oh, yes, it can. Don’t look at me like that. Do you think you’re the only one who’s scared rigid at the enormity of what true love and trust involves? But it’s worth it. In the long run, it’s worth it.’
She shook her head, unaware of the tears coursing down her face until he stepped forward and stroked the moisture away with his fingers. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ he reassured her very quietly, his eyes dark and steady. ‘You’re a good person and so am I. In fact I’m a great person. We’re destined to be together.’
It was so silly that she had to smile, as he’d meant her to. ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ she whispered, in such a low voice he could barely hear her, ‘but better that now than later. This—us—it’s impossible, Zeke.’
He drew her over to the sofa, pushing her down and handing her a coffee made from the complementary tray left in the room. ‘This is your night.’ He put a biscuit in the saucer of her cup. ‘A night that laughs at the impossible. Only believe.’
That was just it. She couldn’t. Melody put the cup to her lips, not even noticing the milk was the long-life sort that she hated. She couldn’t believe any more.
CHAPTER NINE
THEY sipped their coffee in silence, eating the biscuits automatically. Melody didn’t want to talk and start the process of discussion again. There was nothing more to be said. She was so tired—not the physical, bone-weary kind she’d experienced earlier, but tired in her spirit. Arguments and counter-arguments—she had been going over them in her head for weeks alone in her hospital bed. There was nothing new Zeke could say that she hadn’t already considered. She was all reasoned out.
‘Let’s go and build a snowman.’
If Zeke had said Let’s take a trip to the moon tonight, Melody couldn’t have stared at him with more amazement. ‘What?’
‘A snowman.’ He pointed to the window. ‘The hotel has a tiny courtyard that the restaurant looks out on, with a tree and some bushes in it. We could build a snowman.’ He grinned at her. ‘Let’s live dangerously. What do you say?’
‘We couldn’t.’ She shook her head. ‘Everyone’s asleep. It’s probably locked. They wouldn’t allow us to do that.’
‘There’ll be someone on Reception.’ He pulled her to her feet. ‘I fancy being out in the fresh air for a while.’
So did she. Months of being shut in the antiseptic confines of the hospital had been stifling. ‘They’ll think we’re mad.’
