Sinful Nights: The Six-Month MarriageInjured InnocentLoving

by Penny Jordan

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘SAPPHIRE, 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 re-married, 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 be
haviour, 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.

  ‘Blake, it’s cold in here …’ He was halfway through shaving when she finally plucked up the courage to remind him, albeit obliquely, that she wanted to get out of the bath. He finished what he was doing, rubbing his jaw experimentally. ‘I thought you always shaved in the morning,’ Sapphire muttered crossly. Why couldn’t he take the hint and leave her in privacy to get ready for bed?

  ‘So I did,’ he agreed blandly, unplugging the razor and turning round to lean indolently against the wall, watching her, ‘but married men, my sweet, always shave at night. It saves wear and tear on delicate feminine skin,’ he pointed out, grinning openly when she started to blush. The colour seemed to start at her toes and wash up over her body until it reached the swell of her breasts, now barely concealed by the cold bubbles, ‘and if you’re cold, why don’t you get out of the bath?’ He saw her tense and instinctively try to submerge more of her body beneath the bubbles and leant towards her. ‘Why so shy? You weren’t this afternoon.’

  How could she explain that that had been different; that then in the heat of passion her own nudity had not disturbed her, but that now in the small confines of the bathroom, with Blake still fully dressed, it did?

  All she could manage was a cross, ‘You seem to forget that unlike you, I’m not used to … to …’

  ‘Living with someone? The only person I’ve ever lived with is you, Sapphire.’ As he spoke he was unfastening his shirt buttons. When he had finished he tugged it off, revealing the tautly muscled expanse of his chest. Her breath seemed to lock inside her as Sapphire tried to drag her hungry gaze away from his body.

  ‘Since you won’t get out of your own volition, and since I’m too much of a gentleman to let you freeze, I’ll just have to help you, won’t I?’ Blake drawled, and as he leaned towards her, Sapphire realised why he had removed his shirt, and tried automatically to evade him. The small tidal wave her hurried movements caused soaked Blake’s jeans, but didn’t prevent him from lifting her out of the bath. His chest felt warm and hard against her water-chilled damp flesh, a shivering that had nothing to do with the cold raising goose bumps over her sensitised skin.

  ‘Blake!’ Her half-shocked protest was ignored. ‘You’re soaking wet,’ she pointed out breathlessly, trying to clamp down on her rising excitement and totally unable to do so. This close she could see the pores in his skin, the mingled scent of sweat and heat coming off it provocatively arousing.

  ‘We both are,’ he agreed, slowly letting her slide to the floor, while reaching for her towel with his free hand, ‘but it can soon be remedied.’ His eyes never left her face as he enveloped her in the large soft towel and then slowly started to rub her dry.

  Within seconds of his touching her Sapphire had forgotten how chilled she had been. Her body seemed to be bathed with heat, consumed by it everywhere he touched her. She had never dreamed that something as mundane as drying her damp skin could be so unbelievably erotic but the gentle friction of the towel against her skin, in Blake’s hands became an instrument of exquisite pleasure that delighted and yet intruded unbearably, stopping her from savouring the touch of Blake’s hands against her skin—a touch she now burned and hungered for even more than she had this afternoon. He only had to touch her and she went up in flames, she realised shudderingly, almost lightheaded with desire.

  ‘Blake.’ His name was a muffled protest and a plea, lost against his chest as she gave in to an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him, pressing trembling lips to the hard column of his throat, and glorying in his responsive shudder.

  ‘Tell me you want me.’ The hoarse command was one she couldn’t resist.

  ‘I want you.’

  The towel fell away as he picked her up and strode through into the bedroom. Against her body she could feel the fierce thud of Blake’s heart, pounding out an unmistakably erotic message, his body, hard and urgent as he deposited her on the bed, tugging off his wet jeans before joining her.

  ‘Show me how much,’ he demanded thickly, tracing an erotic pathway downwards along her throat, his fingers burning fiery brands of possession against her skin as he cupped the silky skin of her breast, delicately stroking the hard nub of her nipple. This time Sapphire responded immediately without hesitation, knowing with one corner of her mind that mingled with her desire and love was a tiny thread of desperation urging her to take as much of him as she could while she could—memories to store up to keep her warm on those nights when her bed would be cold and empty without him. As though her yearning hunger reached out and unleashed some deep core of need within him Blake reacted to her passion, touching her, kissing her with a barely restrained ferocity that left her weakly clinging to him like a drowning person to a raft. His touch, his need, the words of passion and hunger he muttered into her ear, took her far beyond the shores of love and out into an ocean so deep she knew that without him she would sink and never ever re-surface.

  Fierce tremors of pleasure raced through her body, each lingering caress making her arch and invite with a sensuality that left one corner of her mind half-shocked. Could this really be her, touching Blake with a far greater intimacy than she had ever envisaged; stroking and kissing the taut male body until Blake cried out in a delirium of need, reaching for her, taking the fullness of one breast deeply into his mouth and laving it with the moist heat of his tongue.

  Now it was her turn to cry out with pleasure and to experience the fierce shudder of pleasure slamming through Blake’s body as he responded to that cry. His fingers stroked circles of fire along the inside of her thigh her body aching with the intensity of her need. He touched her intimately and she melted, twisting and turning, breathing in short, muffled gasps.

  ‘It’s no good, I can’t wait any longer.’ Blake’s groaned admission echoed her own thoughts, her body wildly exulting in his swift possession and frenziedly responding to it. The world seemed to explode around them Sapphire crying out with pleasure at each powerful thrust of his body, her nails scoring heatedly along his back as she sought to prolong the contact her body craved even after the climax had been reached and the deep ache inside her soothed.

  She felt Blake move away slightly and murmured an incoherent protest. ‘Hush …’ His mouth covered hers briefly, warm and moist and she was shocked to feel the light spiral of desire twist through her so quickly after she thought it had been sated. She tried to move away when Blake bent his head to suck lightly on her swollen and slightly sore nipples, but the pleasure of his touch seduced her into staying where she was, dreamily contemplating the smooth warmth of his skin, reaching out lazy fingers to stroke idly along the ridge of his shoulder.

  When his lips grazed across her stom
ach she felt too indolent to protest, simply looking down at the thick darkness of his hair and wondering awedly that one person could be so vitally important to her happiness.

  Blake’s fingers touched her thigh, and she tensed as his tongue touched her so intimately that she almost recoiled from the shock of it, trying to pull away and yet at the same time consumed by the molten heat his intimacy engendered until she was giving herself up to it, abandoning herself completely to the sensual spell he was weaving around her, unaware that she was crying out his name.

  This time their coming together was less tumultuous, more leisurely and prolonged; Blake’s fierce cry of exultation muffled by her kiss, her arms holding him locked against her body as she savoured the sweet aftermath of their pleasure. She fell asleep still holding him, waking during the night to discover that their positions were reversed and that he was now the one holding her, the heavy weight of one leg thrown across her body, pinning her close against him. Sleepily content she nestled closer to him gloating over the pleasure of being able to do so; of being free to reach out and touch the matted hair on his chest; to place her lips to the pulse thudding slowly in his throat. Maybe he only wanted her, but she loved him and hopefully, God willing, they could yet build a relationship; a marriage that could last.

  She fell asleep on that thought waking to find herself alone. Downstairs in the kitchen she found a note propped up against the teapot and a small smile tugged at her lips as she read it.

  ‘Market Day,’ Blake had written. ‘Don’t expect me back until late—suggest you catch up on your sleep!’

  She spent the morning in a blissful daze, knowing that she was walking around with a smile on her face like a cat fed on cream, but unable to do a thing about it.