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Drawing his mouth across her cheek to her earlobe and down her neck, Blake tugged at the waistband of her skirt and she shimmied out of it. As he grasped her around the waist, they fell onto the bed, their arms and legs tangled, their mouths meeting in passionate kisses.
Blake fondled her breasts and then kissed his way to one hardened nipple, and even through the fabric of her shift, she could feel his hot, wet mouth.
“The door,” she gasped, writhing beneath him. “Blake.”
“I closed it. No one would dare open it in this house—not Lucifer himself,” he panted.
Her desire…no, it was more than that. Her need for him, was too great. She could no longer deny this strange, physical desire she had for him. Her logical thinking had vanished, gone on the warm breeze that played at the open drapes on the doors that led off to the veranda.
Sapphire slid her hand over Blake’s hip and cupped the evidence of his desire for her. He groaned and fumbled with his trousers. As he arched his back, she lifted her shift, pulling the fabric up around her waist. With no drawers, there was nothing between them now, no clothing, no disagreement.
Blake took her quickly and she cried out in pain, joy and emotions she couldn’t identify and didn’t want to. A part of her was ashamed of herself, ashamed that she could not resist him, but none of that mattered, not right now. He stifled her cries with kisses until they were little more than sighs of contentment.
“Blake,” she sobbed, digging her nails into his back.
His lovemaking was rough and without tenderness. She clung to him, wrapping her legs around his hips, lifting off the bed to meet him each time he thrust into her. At the end Sapphire felt her entire body tense and then found release, and a moment later, Blake collapsed on the bed beside her.
For a moment Sapphire just lay there on his elegant, massive bed and stared at the vaulted ceiling. She couldn’t catch her breath and her mind was shooting in a thousand directions at once. Was she being foolish? If all he wanted her to say was that she was a fortune hunter in order to release her from her servitude, couldn’t she just say it?
No. She could not say what wasn’t true. And what would be the point in the end? They would enjoy each other’s company for a few weeks, a few months, perhaps even a few years, but the only thing he had offered was to care for her in return for her agreement to become his mistress. Blake didn’t love her. He never would. And somewhere, deep in her heart, Sapphire knew she wanted him to.
She sat up and reached for her blouse.
Blake rolled onto his side and grabbed her bare arm. “Where are you going?” he asked quietly.
She pulled away from him. “I have to get these sheets downstairs or the laundress will have me by the ear.”
“Why are you being so stubborn, Sapphire?” He stood up, raising his trousers. “You don’t have to do this.”
“But I do.” She dropped the ugly blouse over her head and reached for her skirt. “I do until you make arrangements for my transportation back to London.”
Leaving his trousers open, he started to button up his shirt, and when he couldn’t line up the buttons, he growled in anger and ripped it off. “Damn thing’s wrinkled, anyway,” he muttered.
Sapphire stepped into the skirt and began to tuck in the hem of the blouse.
Blake walked to a wardrobe on the far side of the room, opened a drawer and pulled out a freshly starched shirt, identical to the one he’d discarded on the floor.
“You said you would let me go home if I didn’t like it here, and I don’t like it here.”
“Of course you don’t like it here!” he exploded. “Not like this! I didn’t intend for you to be doing my laundry, Sapphire. You were supposed be my—”
“Your whore,” she said, tears stinging her eyes.
“No, that wasn’t what I was going to say. That’s not what I want.”
She spun around to face him, refusing to release the tears that threatened to run down her cheeks. “That’s exactly what you want. You want me to be your whore.” She flung the words at him. Dressed, she grabbed his shirt and the sheet she had left on the floor. “You want me to serve as your entertainment. You want to put me on display like all your lovely artwork. You’ll never love me. You don’t want to marry me!”
“Marry you?” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “Where did that come from?”
Horrified at what she had blurted out, Sapphire jerked open the bedchamber door, threw the dirty clothes in the basket and rushed down the hall.
“Sapphire,” Blake called from his open doorway, obviously trying to keep his voice down.
She ignored him as she passed the grand staircase in the direction of the servants’ stairs.
“Damn it, come back here!”
Sapphire heard him start down the hallway after her, and then he halted, obviously changing his mind. “Fine,” he hollered after her. “Wash laundry, polish the silver for a few days, and then we’ll see if you’ve come to your senses!”
