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She glared at him. ‘I mean it, Zeke.’
‘So do I.’
‘Fine. Keep it.’ She had her handbag over her shoulder, containing her credit cards and cash. ‘But just leave me alone.’
‘Stop this.’ The studiously calm pose vanished. ‘I’ve stayed away the last six weeks, as you asked. I thought that would give you time to come to your senses after the doctor said my presence was upsetting you and hindering your recovery—’ the icy quality to his words told her how he had received that news ‘—but I’m damned if this ridiculous farce is continuing for another hour. You’re my wife—we’re in this for the long haul, remember? For richer or poorer, in sickness or health, till death do us part.’
She only heard the ‘long haul’ part. It suggested gritted teeth, a fulfilment of duty, doing the ‘right thing’ when everything in him was crying out against it. It confirmed all her fears. She felt herself shrinking, dwindling away to nothing.
Zeke had never made any secret of the fact that he delighted in her body. Every night of their marriage and sometimes in the day too he had worshiped her with his lovemaking, taking her to heights she had never imagined as they gloried in each other. He was a skilful and generous lover, adventurous but infinitely tender, intent always on giving her pleasure even as he satisfied his own desire. She had never slept with anyone before Zeke because she had never been in love with any of the men she had dated, and she’d always known she wanted to wait for ‘the one’. And then Zeke had blazed into her life like a dark, glittering meteor, and within two months of their first meeting she had been Mrs James.
Melody took a deep breath, and as she did so the first starry snowflake wafted by in the wind. ‘It takes two to keep a marriage together, Zeke. You can’t force me to stay.’
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’
‘Believe it because I mean every word.’ She was amazed her poise was holding. ‘Things are different now.’
His opinion of her last statement was decidedly profane, but she didn’t flinch in the face of his anger. He stared at her after his outburst, conflict evident in every line and contour of his rugged features. ‘Are you telling me you don’t love me any more?’ he ground out finally. ‘Is that it?’
She lowered her eyes from the brilliant black orbs boring into her. She couldn’t lie convincingly otherwise. Allowing her hair to swing forward and hide her face, she muttered, ‘Yes, that’s it. I don’t love you. All right?’
‘Look at me and say it.’ His fingers forced her chin upwards. ‘Tell me you’re prepared to wipe away the last couple of years and all we’ve shared together as though they never happened. Tell me that and look me in the face while you do it.’
‘Of course they happened, and I’ll always be grateful for them, but things move on. People change.’ She could hear herself saying the words as though it was someone else speaking.
‘I haven’t changed!’ He suddenly shook his head in rapid movement, signifying a silent apology for his raised voice. ‘I haven’t changed,’ he repeated more softly, the sensual, smoky quality to his voice apparent. ‘And I simply don’t believe you have either.’
‘Oh, I have,’ she said, with such bitterness he couldn’t fail to believe her. He had married a young, whole woman. Now she didn’t feel young any more and she certainly wasn’t whole. She was a mess, inside and out. And there was no room in Zeke’s world for emotional and physical cripples.
‘You mean the accident? Your legs?’ He was speaking so quietly she almost couldn’t hear him. ‘That doesn’t make any difference to me—surely you know that? You’re still you—’
‘No.’ Her voice was brittle but with a thread of steel running through it. ‘I’m different, Zeke. And you can’t wave a magic wand and make me the old Melody, any more than you can pretend I’m not damaged. I’ll never dance again. I’ll never even walk without a limp. I have months of intensive physiotherapy in front of me and they’ve already warned me the chances of arthritis as I get older are high. I could end up in a wheelchair at worst.’
‘I know all that. I’ve been seeing the consultant on a regular basis and I have worked out a programme of treatment with him.’ Before she could react, he took her arm again, adding, ‘It’s starting to snow and you’re getting cold. Come and sit in the car at least.’
‘I’ve told you I’m getting a cab.’ He was wearing a black overcoat and he looked very big and dark as he glanced down at her. A part of her noticed the way his hair curled over his collar, unlike his usual short, almost military style. Was that intended or did he need a haircut? For some reason she found the thought weakening, and to combat this her voice had a sharp edge as she added, ‘And I don’t want you talking to my consultant again, okay? Much less deciding on my treatment. I can look after myself. We’re not together any more, Zeke. Deal with it.’
Before she had met Zeke she had looked after herself for years after all. She knew from her grandmother that her father had walked out on her mother before she was born, but, her mother having died when Melody was little more than a baby, she had no recollection of her. Her maternal grandmother had brought her up, and as her mother had be
en an only child there had been no aunts and uncles or cousins in her life, and her grandfather had divorced her grandmother years earlier and moved away.
Consequently it had been a somewhat singular childhood, especially as her grandmother had discouraged friendships with other children. She had lived for the twice-weekly dance lessons she’d attended since a small child. At the age of sixteen she’d been accepted at a dance school and had just graduated from there when her grandmother had passed away, leaving her a small inheritance. She had moved from her home town in the west of England to the capital, finding a bedsit and beginning to look for dancing work while practising every day. Once her nest egg was gone she’d been forced to take other jobs between dancing engagements to pay the bills, but she had been happy enough while she waited for her ‘big break’. And then the part of Sasha had come along and she had met Zeke and her life had changed for ever.
‘You’re being extremely childish, Melody,’ Zeke said, in a tone which one would use with a recalcitrant toddler having a tantrum. ‘At least let me drive you to where you want to go. What do you think I’m going to do, for crying out loud? Kidnap you and spirit you away against your will?’
It was exactly the kind of thing he would do, and her face was answer enough. Her green eyes were a perfect mirror of her thoughts.
Zeke clicked his tongue in exasperation. ‘I give you my word—how’s that? But you must see we need to talk? You owe me that at least. The last time we talked you were all but hysterical and I had half the medical team at the hospital breathing down my neck and accusing me of delaying your recovery. I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong then and I still don’t. And I intend to get to the bottom of this.’
‘I wrote to you last week,’ she said flatly, knowing he had a point. But how could she explain to Zeke what she didn’t fully understand herself? She just knew it was impossible for them to be together. ‘There’s nothing more to be said.’
‘Ah, yes, a lovely little missive,’ Zeke said with heavy sarcasm. ‘A few lines stating you wanted a divorce, that you required nothing at all in the way of settlement and that in view of this kindness you expected the divorce to go through without contest. Well, I’ve got news for you. There’s no way—no way—I’m going to let you walk away from me. You’re my wife. When I made those vows they were for life. It wasn’t some kind of nice little event that could be put to one side when it suited.’
Her chin came up. ‘I’m not a possession, Zeke, like your Ferrari or your villa in Madeira. This acquisition can think and feel.’
‘Don’t twist my words,’ he said with remarkable calm. ‘Now, are you going to let me take you where you’re going without a scene or shall I put you over my shoulder and carry you to the car? The choice is yours. I’m easy either way.’
She didn’t make the mistake of saying You wouldn’t dare. Zeke would dare. Drawing on what was left of her limited supply of dignity, she eyed him icily before allowing him to lead her in the direction of the car. It wasn’t hard to pick it out. There weren’t too many sleek black Ferraris crouching in the hospital grounds. The car was like its master—distinctive.
