Sinful Nights (16 page)

‘A man could be in danger of forgetting that he’s only mortal under a look like that,’ Blake told her throatily, sliding his hand round her throat, his thumb under her chin tilting her face up to meet his.

Passion blazed into life as they kissed, her mouth opening willingly to admit the penetration of his tongue, seeking, taking all the warm sweetness she gave up so willingly.

Blake’s free hand was resting possessively against her thigh, a heavy warm weight that tantalised and excited her, her own fingers stroking and cajoling the strong muscles of his back, sliding round to investigate the sharp angles of his hips, moving in restless, roving urgency as she responded to the hunger in Blake’s kiss.

He released her to tease a chain of moist caresses in a line that investigated the valley between her breast and the slight well of her stomach.

The restless urgency in the pit of her stomach increased and in obedience to its commands Sapphire brushed her own lips against the firmness of Blake’s belly, thrilling to the sudden tension in muscles finely tuned to her light touch. His skin tasted warm and slightly salty, its flavour almost addictive. Lost in the veil of pleasure touching him had revealed to her, she let her lips travel where they wished barely aware of Blake’s harsh groan of protest until he snatched her up, rolling her beneath the constraining weight of his body, parting her legs with his thigh, muttering her name like
a litany as his fingers touched her intimately, making her yield and ache for his possession.

Far beyond remembering the accusation that had preceded their lovemaking, Sapphire wasn’t ready for the unexpected burst of pain. Her muscles tensed immediately, shock mingling with hurt as she fought to understand the too-swift transition from pleasure to pain.

Above her she heard Blake curse, a fiercely bitter sound, his body withdrawing from hers. Suddenly the pain was gone, and shamelessly she clung to him, refusing to let him go, her eyes pleading mutely with him as her fingers dug into his shoulders, her soft, ‘Blake, please …’ dragging an anguished mutter of response from his throat as he tensed and then shuddered and her body melted in welcome to his, her senses singing with pleasure.

Never had pleasure seemed so tangible, her body was awash with it, glowing, so supremely fulfilled that she wanted to tell the whole world. Stretching indolently she turned her head. Blake was lying inches away, his eyes open, his expression sombre. Of course, this wasn’t the first time he had experienced such feelings—not by a long way.

‘There’s never been anyone else, has there?’ he asked the question in a flat voice that drained her pleasure as effectively as a tap being turned on. Sapphire shook her head.

‘Then for God’s sake why didn’t you say so?’

No need to ask if he was regretting making love to her. It was there, written all over his face, etching into his scathing voice.

‘I didn’t think you’d listen.’ She turned away from him, not wanting him to see how vulnerable she was. Neither of them had mentioned love … but silently in her heart she had told him how she felt about him, just as her body told his how much it worshipped and adored him,

‘So you decided to let me find out for myself?’

‘I didn’t think I could have stopped you.’

‘Half-a-dozen words or so would have done it—”I’m still a virgin”, for instance.’

Sapphire arched her eyebrows, turning back to face him. ‘And you’d have believed me?’ She turned away again. ‘I’d better get dressed …’

‘No.’ Blake’s voice was sharp. He swung himself out of bed. ‘No, stay here and rest for a while, I’ll go down and make you a drink.’

‘I’m not an invalid, Blake,’ she protested, flushing as his eyes studied her pale skin and slender body. Still bathed in the warm afterglow of their lovemaking she hadn’t bothered to cover herself, but now she felt a need to do so, chilled by the way Blake was studying her. Was he comparing her to Miranda? She felt sick at the thought.

‘You’re not exactly in the peak of
health
either,’ he told her still watching her. There was a dark, brooding quality to his look that saddened her. Was he already regretting what had happened?

She reached out towards him, her eyes unconsciously pleading, ‘Blake, I …’

‘Stay here and rest.’ He had his back to her and was already getting dressed. Feeling dejected, Sapphire huddled
beneath the bedclothes. Plainly Blake didn’t want to talk to her. She closed her eyes, knowing she should regret what had happened but knowing that she did not. Where was her pride? When Blake left the easy, weak tears of physical release flowed for a few seconds and then stopped. By the time he came back with her tea Sapphire was fast asleep. He stood watching her for several seconds with shuttered eyes, before turning to leave, his face grim.

‘S
APPHIRE
, we have to talk.’

They were sitting in front of the log fire she had lit just before dinner. Blake had suggested they have their coffee there and now she tensed dreading what he might be about to say. She had been awaiting this moment with mingled apprehension and anguish ever since she had woken up this afternoon. Had Blake guessed that she still loved him? Was he going to tell her that what had happened between them had been caused by some mental aberration. That he would never have made love to her had he been in his right senses? Was he going to tell her about Miranda?

She risked a glance at him. He was sitting opposite her on a chair, his upper body leaning forward, elbows braced on his thighs as he dropped his head into his hands and pushed weary fingers through his hair.

A wave of love overwhelmed her. She wanted to reach out and touch him; to wipe away the lines of exhaustion fanning out from his eyes; to touch and caress him, to …

‘Sapphire!’ The tone of his voice warned her that he knew her thoughts were wandering, his fingers steepled
together as he watched her over them, the liquid gold of his eyes dulled, their expression almost stark.

‘I never intended what happened this afternoon to take place,’ he began abruptly, causing a thousand sharp knives to tear jaggedly at Sapphire’s aching heart.

‘I know that,’ she interrupted curtly. ‘I do have a memory, Blake, I’m well aware of the fact that you don’t find me desirable. When we first married …’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course I find you desirable.’ Angry fingers raked through his hair again. ‘Hell, Sapphire,’ he growled impatiently, ‘you’re not
that
innocent. If I don’t desire you what the hell do you think that was all about this afternoon?’

Colour flamed momentarily in her face as she recalled the fierce intensity of their lovemaking; the feeling she had had at the time that both of them were suffering from the same driven compulsion; the same starving hunger. Quickly she reminded herself of the past, of the early days of their marriage. ‘You may desire me now, Blake, but when we were first married, you couldn’t bear to touch me; you …’

‘I don’t want to talk about the past.’ His voice was clipped and brusque, defying her to continue the subject. ‘We’re living in the present now, Sapphire, and despite everything we said before we remarried, it must be as obvious to you now, as it is to me, that we can’t live together platonically.’

Her muscles seemed to be seized in a paralysing grip, her body totally unable to function, and then as the great wave of pain crashed down over her Sapphire knew her immobility was simply a defensive measure;
a way of stopping the pain, only it had failed miserably. It seemed to fill every corner of her, drowning out pride and reserve. She wanted to cry out to Blake not to send her away; she wanted to plead with him to stay with her, but instead she remained unspeaking, dreading opening her mouth in case she voiced her anguished thoughts.

‘Well?’

Blake was plainly waiting for a response, and when she didn’t make one, said tersely, ‘Come on, Sapphire, I know you … you were a virgin—and that fact alone merely reinforces what I feel—but you must know that sexually we’re extremely compatible, almost explosively so,’ he muttered half under his breath.

His words were so totally at variance to what she had expected to hear that Sapphire simply stared at him. ‘Come on,’ Blake demanded half-aggressively, ‘Admit it Sapphire, when I made love to you, you enjoyed it. You …’

‘Yes.’ Her simple admission seemed to rob him of breath. ‘I did enjoy it, Blake.’

Colour lay dark red along the ridge of his cheekbones, his eyes the flaming gold she remembered from that afternoon, their gaze trained on her, tracking every betraying expression that crossed her face. He breathed deeply, exhaling slowly, his chest rising and falling with the effort.

‘Why were you still a virgin?’ He was looking directly at her, and Sapphire knew an insane desire to laugh. Pure nerves she told herself, taking a deep breath of her own to steady her.

‘At first when I left here I felt too bruised mentally
to even think of loving anyone. Later …’ she shrugged, ‘Well, there just wasn’t anyone I wanted, and then I met Alan …’

She paused, telling herself that it wasn’t really lying to tell him the truth as she had believed it to be before realising that she still loved him. He didn’t want her love, and if he knew how she felt he could easily send her away, when, in reality, all she wanted to do was to stay.

Ignoring the inner warning voices that told her she was courting even greater unhappiness than she had already experienced, she continued softly, ‘… I wanted to be sure that what we felt for one another was right. Alan felt the same way. Before I came up here we were planning to go away together for a holiday. We were going …’

‘To be lovers? In some romantic, idyllic setting?’ Blake demanded harshly. ‘Mentally you were ready to make love, and because your boyfriend wasn’t available you substituted me, is that what you’re trying to tell me?’ He looked so murderously angry that Sapphire knew a frisson of fear.

‘Perhaps, subconsciously,’ she lied bravely—anything rather than risk him guessing the truth. ‘But no, I didn’t consciously substitute you for Alan, Blake.’

‘And am I also supposed to believe that we were good together because you thought I was someone else?’

Slowly Sapphire shook her head. She daren’t risk trying to pretend that. Blake was angry enough already. Obviously she had touched some nerve of touchy male pride which it would be unwise to press on too hard.
‘You’re the one with the experience—not me,’ she reminded him simply. ‘Personally I don’t think it would be possible to deceive oneself to that extent, but …’

‘It isn’t.’ Blake’s voice was so harsh, his face so shuttered and forbidding that she wondered what personal anguish lay behind the curt words, but could not bring herself to ask.

‘So,’ he told her, ‘given that sexually we both agree that we’re extremely compatible, I submit that we change the rules of our partnership.’

‘Change the rules?’ Sapphire was so surprised that she could only repeat what he had said, staring uncomprehendingly up at him. For an instant there was something in his eyes that warmed the ice-coldness of her heart, but it was gone almost immediately his voice crisp and businesslike as he said firmly. ‘Yes. We agreed that our relationship would be a platonic one lasting just as long as …’

‘My father lives,’ Sapphire finished for him, her face white. For a few hours she had forgotten her father’s condition. Mentally castigating herself she tried to concentrate on what Blake was saying. ‘Now I’m suggesting that we lift that self-imposed ban; that we make our marriage a real one in every sense of the word, to be …’

‘Set aside when we no longer desire one another?’

‘Is that what you want?’

His eyes narrowed as he waited for her response, and Sapphire felt a quiver of apprehension deep down inside her. Had he guessed how she felt? It was pride and pride alone that kept her from crying out that she wanted to be with him for ever; that she wanted to share his life
and his bed for just as long as her life lasted. Instead she said lightly, ‘Yes, of course.’

A mask seemed to drop down over his features, his eyelids lowering to conceal his thoughts from her. ‘Very well then,’ he said at last. ‘If those are your terms, then for as long as our desire lasts, so does our marriage.’ He stood up, stretching lithely, and completely changing the subject said calmly, ‘Snow’s melting. I’ll just go out and check on the foal. Why don’t you have an early night? You still look washed out.’

Very flattering, Sapphire thought wrathfully ten minutes later, luxuriating in a deep scented bath of deliciously hot water. She wasn’t going to question Blake’s abrupt volte-face, nor his suggestion that their marriage continue. Perhaps he was hoping to quench his desire for Miranda with her. Perhaps the fact that Miranda was now married broke Blake’s own personal code of behaviour, Sapphire didn’t know.

One half of her urged flight and safety, reminding her of all the pain he had already caused her, while the other whispered that life without him had been arid, dead; and that perhaps his desire for her could flower into something stronger and more permanent if it was carefully nurtured and protected.

She lingered so long in the bath, deep in thought, that the water started to cool. A draught from the door as it opened made her shiver and she turned round thinking it must have swung open.

‘You’ve been in here so long I was beginning to wonder if my suggestion was so offensive to you that
you’d decided you preferred a watery grave to another night in my arms.’

The sight of Blake standing beside the bath, looking down at her, was so unexpected and startling that she could barely breathe. ‘I was thinking,’ she told him huskily, shivering again as her skin chilled. ‘I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting for the bathroom.’ How formal her voice sounded, her expression hunted as she looked past him to where she had left her towel, trying not to think about the hunger that had started to unfurl inside her at the thought of ‘a night in his arms’.

‘It’s large enough for us to share,’ Blake drawled reaching for his electric razor, and wiping some of the steam off the mirror above the basin as he plugged it in and switched it on.