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“Does he?” Blake intoned, as if he knew what she spoke of.
The doorknob rattled.
Sapphire darted to her right but she wasn’t fast enough. The one second she had hesitated had been too long.
She heard the door open behind her.
“Sam?” Blake called.
She ignored him, walking faster, hoping he thought he had made a mistake. After all, hadn’t the helpful woman said she was Sam Water?
“Sapphire…please.”
Something in his voice made her halt. Was that emotion? Longing? Regret? Blake Thixton, the arrogant, self-righteous, never-feels-a-thing Blake Thixton, Earl of Wessex? Surely she was mistaken.
“Is it really you?” he breathed, grasping her forearm and forcing her to face him. She felt as if she were falling. Being so close to him frightened her more than she had ever been in her life, and yet at the same time, a sense of overwhelming relief washed over her. All these weeks, months, she had wanted him, needed him so desperately, and now here he was. So suddenly. So unexpectedly.
Sapphire lifted her lashes, tears stinging the backs of her eyelids. “Sam Water, stable hand, sometimes jockey,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Thixton.”
“I knew it was you!” He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, covering her mouth with his. “God, I was afraid I would never—”
Sapphire couldn’t breathe, her chest felt so tight. She was bombarded by a mixture of anger, relief and resentment, by the sight of him and the feel of his mouth, his touch. She had thought she would never see him again.
And he was so happy. There was no denying it.
Of course he was pleased to see her. She had abandoned him, left without his permission. No one left Blake Thixton without his blessing.
She tore her mouth from his, panting hard. “Let me go!”
“Where the hell have you been?” He still clasped one of her arms, holding tightly even when she tried to pull away. “What are you doing in men’s clothing?” He looked her up and down in disdain. “What is this nonsense about you being a horse jockey?”
“Let me go,” she repeated from between clenched teeth.
“What? And then chase you through the streets of New York? I don’t think so.”
“Blake, please. I have to get back inside. People will begin to notice I’m missing. My employer, Mr. Carrington—”
“A jockey?” he asked. “You told these people you were a man and a damn jockey?”
She looked up at him through a veil of wet lashes, anger beginning to fill the pit in her stomach. “I am a jockey! This party is in honor of me, of the horse I ride and the man who owns him.”
“You ha
ve got to be kidding me,” he murmured.
She looked him in the eye, defiance plain in her voice. “You know I’m not.”
He glanced away, then back at her. “Do you have any idea how much time, how much money I have spent looking for you?”
“Well, you shouldn’t have.” She tugged hard on her arm, trying to escape as she fought her emotions. “You had Mrs. Sheraton. You didn’t need me.”
He pulled back even harder. “Sapphire—”
“I have to go back inside,” she insisted, not wanting to hear whatever he had to say about Mrs. Sheraton. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Sapphire would never be more to him than a mistress.
“You’re not going back in there. You’re going with me.”
“What are you going to do? How are you going to stop me?” she demanded. “Kidnap me again?”
