by Penny Jordan
Tam recognised her face, a weary grin splitting his weathered face as he hailed her.
‘I’ve brought you something hot to drink,’ Sapphire called out as soon as she was close enough, adding anxiously, ‘How’s it going? The ewes …’
‘Brought most of them down yesterday,’ Tam informed her. ‘Blake’s gone looking for the rest of the flock. Shouldn’t have too much of a problem with my Laddie to help him. Fine sheepdog.’
‘Anything I can do to help?’ Sapphire asked, handing out the thermos flasks and cups.
‘No. I reckon everything’s under control. Luckily Blake was running your dad’s flock with his own, so we shouldn’t have too many casualties. If this weather had come another two weeks on we could have been in trouble—the first ewes are due to start lambing then.’
‘You don’t think it will last then?’ Sapphire asked, studying the snow-covered landscape.
Tam shook his head. ‘Not more than three or four days, and we were prepared for it.’ He nodded in the direction of the new shelter and the bales of hay. ‘Blake knows what he’s doing all right.’ There was approval in his voice and Sapphire turned away, not wanting the shepherd to see her own bitter resentment. What time had Blake come home last night? He could have had precious little sleep she thought revengefully. Had he arrived before the snow came or had the fact that she had not heard him been due to the fact that it had muffled his return?
What did it matter? It was no business of hers how he spent his time, or whose bed he shared.
She waited until the men had finished their drinks before gathering up the empty flasks.
‘I’ll keep this one for Blake,’ Tam offered taking a half-full one from her and screwing on the top. ‘He’ll be fair frozen by the time he gets back.’
‘Is he up there alone?’ Sapphire frowned when the shepherd nodded. ‘Is that wise?’
‘Blake knows what he’s doing.’
Tam had been right, Sapphire reflected several hours later when a noise in the yard alerted her to Blake’s return. Snow clung to his thick protective jacket and the cuffs of his boots, his skin burned by the icy cold wind. She hadn’t known whether to prepare a meal or not—there was still the Beef Wellington to cook from last night, and she had spent what was left of the morning making a nourishing hot soup, thinking that if Blake didn’t return she could take it out to the men in flasks.
She had also been in to inspect the new foal, now standing proudly on all four spindly legs while his mother looked on in benign approval.
As Blake crossed the yard the ‘phone rang. It was her father calling to enquire about the sheep. ‘Everything’s under control, Dad,’ she assured him. ‘Blake had already got the ewes down to the lower pasture and he’s been up to the top to bring the rest down.’
‘Yes, Mary told me I didn’t need to worry, but old habits die hard.’
The kitchen door opened as she replied, and she could hear the sound of Blake tugging off his boots. ‘Blake’s back now,’ she told her father, ‘would you like to speak to him?’
‘No, I know myself what it’s like. He’ll be frozen to the marrow and tired out—the last thing he’ll feel like is talking to me. I’ll speak to him later when he’s thawed out.’
‘Who was that?’
She hadn’t heard Blake cross the floor in his stockinged feet and whirled round apprehensively. Exhaustion tautened the bone structure of his face, dimming the gold of his eyes to tawny brown. White flecks of snow clung to his hair and jumper.
‘My father. Is it snowing again?’
‘Trying to. God I’m tired. Is there any hot water?’
‘Plenty. Would you like something to eat?’ She saw his eyebrows lift and mockery invade his eyes. ‘Quite the devoted wife today aren’t we? What brought about this metamorphosis?’
‘Nothing … there hasn’t been one.’ Sapphire retorted flatly cursing herself for her momentary weakness. ‘I just thought …’
‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ Strong dark fingers raked through his already tousled hair. ‘That was uncalled for—put it down to sheer male …’ His glance studied her slim body in its covering of jeans and sweater and he grimaced faintly before adding bluntly, ‘frustration … Deprivation of physical satisfaction does tend to make me behave like a churlish brute, and I haven’t even thanked you for your midwifery last night …’
‘Mary’s the one you should thank,’ Sapphire told him, turning away and busying herself filling the kettle. She wanted to scream at him that she didn’t want to know the details about his relationship with Miranda or about his physical hunger for her. Was that why he had made love to her so intensely yesterday? In anticipation of holding Miranda in his arms? The thought made her feel physically sick, but what was even more shocking was the knowledge that she could feel so strongly and primitively about a man for whom she had already told herself she felt only the echoes of an old physical desire.
‘Is something wrong?’
She could feel him approaching and tensed. ‘No, nothing.’ She couldn’t bear him to come anywhere near her right now, not when her far too active mind was picturing him with Miranda, kissing and caressing her. The handle of the mug she had been holding in her hand snapped under the intensity of her grip, the mug falling to the floor where it shattered into fragments.
‘No … don’t. Leave it.’ Her voice was sharper than she had intended, almost shrill in its intensity and she prayed that Blake wouldn’t recognise the near hysteria edging up under it. ‘You haven’t got anything on your feet,’ she added weakly. ‘You go and have your bath and I’ll clean it up. Are you hungry now, or can you wait an hour or so?’
‘I can wait.’ He too sounded clipped and terse, but Sapphire couldn’t look at him to read the reason in his expression. Instead she waited until she heard the door close behind him and then carefully skirting the broken china went to get a brush and pan to clear up the mess.
She was putting the Beef Wellington into the oven when she heard Blake call out something from upstairs. Reacting without thinking Sapphire hurried up them, coming to an abrupt halt outside his bedroom door, wondering whether to knock or simply walk in. The dilemma was solved for her as Blake pulled the door open. He had taken off his sweater and shirt, and his skin gleamed silky bronze beneath the electric light. Her breathing, which hadn’t been in the slightest affected by her dash upstairs, now suddenly constricted, her heart thudding heavily its beats reverberating through her body.
‘I’ve scraped my back against a wall. I think the skin’s broken.’ Blake turned his back to her as he spoke and Sapphire saw the patch of broken skin, slightly swollen and discoloured with dried blood.
Farm accidents no matter how minor always had to be properly attended to; that was one of the first rules Sapphire had ever learned and she knew better than to accuse Blake of being too fussy in wanting the graze attended to. Neither would he be able to deal with it himself, positioned as it was just below his shoulder blade.
‘I’ll go and get some antiseptic and cotton wool. Your tetanus shots are up to date I hope?’
‘Do you?’ Blake grimaced sardonically, flexing his shoulder as he moved away from her, as though the muscles pained him. ‘Funny, I had the distinct impression you’d like nothing better than to see me suffer.’
‘Don’t.’ Sapphire whispered the protest, her face paper white, remembering the stories Tam had told her as a child about farm workers who had died from the dreaded ‘lockjaw’. Fortunately, with his back to her Blake couldn’t see her betraying expression, nor question her as to why she should feel such concern for someone she purportedly hated.
Why did she? She was forced to ask herself the question as she hurried into the bathroom for antiseptic and cotton-wool. There was nothing personal in her concern, she assured herself, she would have reacted the same way no matter who was involved. But she would not have reacted so intensely to the sight of anyone else’s half-naked body; she would not have wanted to stretch out and touch the bronz
e skin and hard muscles, excitement gripping her by the throat as she visualised that same body … No … she was over all that. She no longer loved Blake, but for some reason her senses were playing cruel tricks on her, tormenting her with mental images of herself in Blake’s arms; of Blake making love to her with all the fierce passion she suspected lay beneath his sardonic exterior.
Fool, fool, she berated herself as she hurried back to the stark, functional bedroom Blake had chosen for his own occupation. As she walked in she noticed that the bed looked untidy and rumpled. When she had dealt with Blake’s wound she would change the sheets and tidy up a bit. Very wifely, the inner cynical voice she had come to dread mocked her, but it won’t make him want you. I don’t want him to want me. The denial seemed to reverberate inside her skull, and then as though it knew how paper-frail it was that other voice taunted softly, Liar.
‘Sapphire?’ Blake’s curt voice cut across her thoughts. ‘Are you all right?’ He was frowning, his eyes sharpening to vivid gold as they searched her face.
‘I’m not going to faint at the sight of a drop of your precious blood if that’s what you think,’ Sapphire responded tartly, adding with a calm she was far from feeling. ‘While you’re having your bath I’ll change the bed for you. You’d better sit down on it, otherwise I’ll never be able to reach the graze.’
‘If you just clean it up for now,’ Blake suggested, ‘that should do the trick.’
‘It will need a dressing on it,’ Sapphire protested.
‘Which will get soaked through the moment I get in the bath.’
‘Then I’ll put it on when you’ve finished,’ Sapphire told him tartly, complaining, ‘Honestly Blake, I never thought you of all people would be so irresponsible.’
‘Perhaps I’m just testing to see exactly how deep your hatred of me really is,’ Blake taunted back.
Sapphire compressed her lips. ‘I’m not a child any more, Blake,’ she reminded him. ‘No matter what my personal feelings for you are, I wouldn’t want to see you take the risk of getting a bad infection through a neglected skin wound.’
‘Which doesn’t really answer my question does it?’
‘Sit down,’ Sapphire instructed, ignoring his probing comment. ‘This will sting,’ she warned him as he sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to her. His skin looked so warm and inviting that it took all the self-control she possessed not to reach out and caress it.
‘And won’t you just enjoy it,’ Blake muttered under his breath, tensing slightly as Sapphire applied the antiseptic soaked pad to his skin, gently cleaning the graze, until the blood flowed cleanly from it.
She let it flow for a few seconds, and then quickly stemmed it with fresh antiseptic, hiding a faint smile as Blake winced.
‘Give me a shout when you’re ready,’ she told him when she had finished, ‘and I’ll come up and put a dressing on it for you. It should start to heal by morning.’
‘Yes, nurse,’ Blake mocked, getting up off the bed and momentarily making her feel at a distinct disadvantage as he towered over her. ‘Taking a risk aren’t you?’ he drawled, watching her. For a moment Sapphire thought he meant the temptation she had exposed herself to in being so close to him, and her face flamed until he added softly, ‘Isn’t it a well known fact that patients always fall for their nurses?’
‘In that case I think I’m pretty safe,’ Sapphire responded, struggling to appear calmly unconcerned. ‘After all I already know how you feel about me, don’t I?’
Blake walked out without responding, and when she heard the bathroom door close behind him Sapphire got up and went to the large, old-fashioned airing cupboard situated on the landing to get clean sheets for his bed.
She worked methodically, changing the sheets, tidying up automatically, filling the laundry basket with the items of discarded clothing she found scattered round the room. Blake was basically a tidy man and there was nothing really in the starkly furnished room apart from his clothes that had his stamp of possession on it. If anything the room was rather bleak, she thought, studying it, almost monk-like. Mocking herself for her thoughts Sapphire carried the laundry out on to the landing. Blake was no monk, as she had seen last night.
She had just finished preparing the table when Blake called. Guessing that he would probably be tired she had decided that they might as well eat in the kitchen. It was warm and cosy enough and the table was large enough to seat an entire family, never mind merely two adults.
This time she walked into Blake’s room without thinking, coming to an abrupt halt as she realised that he was nude. Of the two of them she was the one to be embarrassed she recognised angrily, as Blake merely grinned mockingly at her, taking his time in reaching for the towel that lay discarded on the bed.
‘Why the outraged expression?’ he demanded calmly. ‘I can’t be the first naked man you’ve seen.’
He was the only one, but Sapphire wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘Hardly,’ she lied, shrugging aside the frisson of awareness the sight of his naked body had given her.
‘And we are married …’
‘Maybe, but it isn’t the sort of marriage that involves parading around naked in front of one another.’
‘What a pity.’ Genuine amusement glinted in Blake’s eyes as he teased her, and Sapphire had to fight against responding, against remembering how much joy there had been in loving him before she discovered the bitter truth. Blake had always been able to make her laugh, and even now she could feel the corners of her mouth twitching in response to his droll expression. The towel was firmly in place around his hips now, but to her chagrin that didn’t stop Sapphire from visualising the taut shape of masculine buttocks and long hard thighs.
‘Something smells good.’ Blake’s voice jerked her out of her reverie, and Sapphire bent her head to hide her guilty flush of colour. What on earth would he think if he knew what had been in her mind?
Fortunately he didn’t, she assured herself as she gestured to the bed and suggested that he sit on it. This time she didn’t allow herself to dwell on the supple texture of his skin or the masculine formation of muscle and bone that lay beneath it, finishing her self-imposed task with a haste she was surprised Blake didn’t pick up on.
When the dressing was in place, she stepped away from him, tensing nervously as his fingers curled round her arm, preventing her from moving.
‘Blake, let me go.’ Her voice sounded sharp and nervous even to her own ears, and her anxiety increased when Blake refused to accede to her demand.
‘I haven’t rewarded you yet,’ he told her softly, the hard grip of his fingers pulling her inexorably closer to him. ‘All ministering angels deserve a reward, don’t you agree?’
Whatever she might have said was lost as she felt the warm heat of Blake’s body. She put out a hand to push him away, but the sensation of warm, sensuously silken male skin beneath her fingertips was so intoxicating that her resistance melted.
Dimly she was aware of Blake pulling her down on to his lap, and of the single bed creaking protestingly under their double weight.
She struggled to pull away out of his constraining arms, but Blake simply toppled her over on to the bed, imprisoning her against it with the superior weight of his body. His thighs pinned her lower body to the mattress, his chest hard against the softness of her breasts.
Sapphire felt vulnerable and helpless and yet the sensations coursing through her veins and along her nerve endings whispered sensuously of pleasurable excitement rather than fear. Even so, she felt moved to protest shakily, ‘Blake, let me get up, the dinner …’
Soft laughter brushed against her skin. ‘Right now I’m hungry for more than just food.’
‘Then perhaps you ought to give Miranda a ring,’ Sapphire suggested tartly, struggling to push him away. She was glad she had said that, until that moment she had been dangerously close to giving way to the insiduous pull of her too vulnerable senses.
‘Why should I need another man’s wife, when I’v
e got one of my own?’ Blake countered outrageously, following her squirming movements and refusing to let her escape. His towel, Sapphire realised, had become dislodged, and weakening darts of pleasure relaxed her muscles into a sensuous lethargy as she felt her body reacting to the male provocation of Blake’s body.
‘Kiss me, Sapphire.’
She looked at him with desire-hazed eyes, barely comprehending the softly whispered command as she fought to subdue the treacherous impulses of her body.
‘No.’ She mumbled the denial huskily, knowing that it was far more than a kiss that Blake wanted from her. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t play substitute for Miranda.
‘Yes.’ The silky affirmation was whispered against her lips, the warmth of Blake’s breath stirring to life a thousand tiny drumming pulses. Against her will Sapphire felt her mouth soften, her breathing suddenly ragged as Blake touched its soft contours with the tip of his tongue, expertly teasing light kisses into the corners, tormentingly stroking her sensitised skin, until she reacted with a feverish protest, lifting her arms, and locking her fingers behind his neck, her body arching instinctively into the hard heat of his, as her mouth opened to capture the marauding torment of his tongue. The sudden fierce pressure of his mouth, searing into her skin, took Sapphire by surprise, making her realise the extent of Blake’s self-control. The kisses he had given her before had been so lightly teasing that she had been lulled into a false sense of security, and yet there was a wild elemental pleasure in responding to Blake’s hunger; a knowledge that they were meeting as equals, not child and adult.
