“Why couldn’t we have been close at the beginning, if we loved each other?”
“But did we?” He spoke drily yet tenderly. “Do you recall how you received my proposal? You said, ‘But marriage, Blake,” as if I were suggesting something entirely beyond your capacity. You weren’t in love with me, Venetia. You were anxious to be cherished, to have someone who would fill the void your father had left.”
“But I did wish you’d make love to me.”
“I was aware of that, too,” he said with irony “but I couldn’t have gone about it in the way you expected; that kind of thing is apt to get unmanageable and if I’d kissed you then as I kissed you a moment ago, you’d have fainted with terror. You’ve grown up since then, my darling.”
She couldn’t take it in. Blake standing there, his gaze shrewd and a softness about his mouth as he called her “my darling”: her own being a maze of bliss and fright.
“It’s impossible—that the wall is down and the heartache over. Blake,” her voice shook, “how soon can we go back to Bondolo?”
Blake didn’t answer. He took her left hand and pressed his lips to the platinum band on the third finger. Then he kissed her mouth, with a purposeful violence ... and soon, Venetia believed.
THE END
Brittle Bondage Page 21
