‘Doesn’t sound very appealing, I have to say.’
‘Trust me…it’s not. Would you like some coffee? Lottie had the percolator going when I came in and told me to help myself.’
‘Please.’
‘And how about some breakfast? I told Lottie I could see to it, as she’d got a pile of ironing to be getting on with.’
‘Not for me, thanks, but you go ahead if you want something.’
‘I’m fine. I never eat much in the mornings…so just some coffee for you, then?’
‘That’s all, thanks.’
He sat down at the table, scraped both hands backwards and forwards through his already tousled hair, and tried to force his distracted mind to focus on the play. In the entire history of his writing career never had anything been more seriously difficult…if not downright impossible…as he watched Maya cheerfully pour his coffee and bring it across to him, his gaze fixated on the gentle sway of those womanly hips in her spectacularly well-fitting jeans.
‘I’m really looking forward to starting work today,’ she enthused, gracefully dropping down into the oak chair opposite.
‘Are you?’ Sarcasm scarcely cloaked the frustration in Blaise’s tone ‘Well, if you’re feeling so full of get up and go perhaps you’d care to write the play for me?’
‘Is something wrong?’
A fleeting shadow of hurt passed across the vividly crystal irises and Blaise silently cursed himself. ‘I had a rough night, that’s all. And before you say it…I’m begging you…please don’t ask if there’s anything you can do to help!’
CHAPTER SIX
HIS gaze was hot, focused, and definitely aroused. Suddenly Maya knew very well why he had warned her not to offer to help. He had worn that same drowsy lustful ‘I could eat you up’ glance when he’d looked at her last night at dinner…just before he had declared that alcohol wasn’t the answer to whatever was bothering him.
But last night she had somehow fooled herself about what should have been as plain as the nose on her face. Before Blaise had offered her this job he had made it more than clear that he wanted to see her again, that he was attracted to her. Now Maya could no longer hide from the fact that he wanted her. The idea caused a lava flow of heat to erupt inside, making her squeeze her thighs together and squirm in her seat. Her body definitely responded to the libidinous signals Blaise was giving her, and indeed echoed them—yet because of her devastating past acting on her feelings was a frightening leap she just wasn’t ready to contemplate. Especially when she already knew that it had no future in it.
‘Is this going to get in the way of us working together?’ she asked quietly, staring down at the table. She continued, ‘Because I really want the chance to show you…to prove that I’m a fast learner where learning new skills is concerned and that I can be a genuine asset to you.’
‘Nothing gets in the way of my writing… Just because I’m attracted to you it doesn’t mean I’m going to throw the baby out with the bathwater! I still have a play to write.’ The broad shoulders lifted in a tense little shrug that couldn’t help but reveal his frustration. ‘And I still need someone to do my research. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got every chance of proving you can do a good job, Maya.’
‘Good.’ She relaxed.
‘But sex can be recreational too, you know.’
His words swept through her like a violent tornado.
‘For you maybe…but not for me’
‘Is that because you got hurt by someone, or just because you’re holding out for something more serious?’
‘Won’t you talk to me about the play?’ Taking a swift sip of her rapidly cooling coffee, Maya prayed her question was diverting enough to steer Blaise away from the far more dangerous ground he was currently intent on travelling…
Drumming his fingers on the table, he let a knowing little smile touch his lips ‘Because it’s safer?’
‘Probably… But I do really want to know what you’re writing about and hear your suggestions on what I need to research first.’
Sheba chose that very moment to pad into the kitchen and glance hopefully at them both. Studying the Wolfhound with far less wariness than she had yesterday, Maya smiled.
‘It must be just like having a small horse in the house, having Sheba about the place!’
‘Something like that,’ Blaise agreed, beckoning the animal to him and ruffling her fondly behind the ears. The dog sat, happily allowing him to make the fuss she’d obviously been seeking and clearly adoring him.
‘I suppose we ought to take her for a walk before starting work.’ He glanced across at Maya, his gaze friendly and with no hint of tension in those superlative blue eyes at all.
‘You want me to come too?’
‘Good opportunity to show you some of the countryside and talk about the play at the same time,’ he answered, rising to his feet with Sheba swiftly following suit…
Hadrian’s Wall was between seventy-six and eighty miles long, she’d learned. For the past two hours Maya and Blaise had negotiated merely four miles of it, with Sheba bounding along in front of them. Built on high ground, it had been a fairly steep climb. But Maya loved walking over the uneven crags alongside the wall, seeing the lichen scattered between the rocks, and clumps of gorse and purple-flowered comfrey wherever they glanced, climbing uphill one minute and then downhill the next, with the wind in her hair and the heady fragrance of genuinely unpolluted, clean fresh air in her lungs.
Blaise threw her an enquiring look as they moved steadily uphill again, clearly noticing that her breath came a little quicker at the exertion. Below them was a glorious panorama of the most wonderful countryside Maya had ever seen, consisting of clumps of ancient trees, verdant fields and tarns, sparkling rivers glinting in the midday sunlight, and every so often she simply had to stop and take stock of what she was seeing. To drink it in and count her blessings that she was privileged enough to be there, enjoying it.
‘How are you holding up? It can be quite a climb in places.’
‘I’m doing fine. It’s challenging, because I’m a little bit out of shape at the moment, but I honestly love it,’ Maya replied, emerald eyes shining.
‘I would never have called you out of shape, Maya.’ His tone huskily wry, Blaise let his glance deliberately track up and down her body for a moment. Heat invaded her.
‘I mean I’m probably quite unfit. Living in London, I just don’t get the exercise that I’d probably be motivated to get out here, where I can breathe in all this wonderful fresh air instead of traffic fumes. You’re so lucky living in such an amazing place.’
She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and frantically hunted for a way to keep the conversation neutral.
‘You said that the main character in your play is a young Roman soldier responsible for helping guard and patrol some of the sentry posts along the wall?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Where did he come from? Rome?’
‘No. The soldiers came mainly from a place in Belgium—known in ancient times as Tungria.’
‘Oh? Can you tell me a bit more about what happens to him?’
He had told her a little of the story, and what he needed her to research, and right from the start Maya had been intrigued by it. It was the heartbreaking tale of a young boy in Roman times—a boy with a head full of dreams of glory, running away from home and his family’s farm to join the Roman army—who, when he got to Britannia, met a local girl from one of the settlements and fell in love. The soldiers then had been forbidden to marry, and their liaison had to be conducted in secret.
‘Well…’ Blaise gazed out into the middle distance for a couple of moments, considering Maya’s question. ‘Eventually the soldier is killed, during a night attack on the wall, but before he dies he finds out that his sweetheart is pregnant with his child, and he vows to find a way for them to return to his village so that they can marry. Frankly, he is tired of being a soldier—killing men in skirmishes an
d attacks to preserve land for a conquering army—and has become increasingly disenchanted with his role. He soberly reflects on the benefits of a simple rural life, raising a family and earning a living from what he can grow on his land.’
He continued thoughtfully, ‘Yes, we can travel all round the world in pursuit of our dreams, only to realise the treasure we were so avidly in search of is already right here in front of us.’ He jerked his head towards the stunning vista surrounding them. ‘The taking of a life is a dreadful thing, and violence can never be the answer,’ he added, sighing, ‘however much we seek to justify it. First we need to examine the violence in ourselves, I think. Ultimately, that’s what the play is about.’
As he’d been speaking, a gust of strong wind had torn through the tousled dark gold lock of hair that flopped onto his brow, and Maya stared transfixed at the chiselled beauty of features that were suddenly thrown into stark and breathtaking relief. She was utterly fascinated that to highlight the theme he’d chosen—and he was writing a play about youthful dreams turning into a nightmare—he had used a story about love…
Before she realised it, she heard herself ask, ‘What were your own dreams as a boy?’
On the brow of that windblown hill, Blaise studied Maya for what felt like an eternity before replying. When he did eventually answer her question, his voice sounded calm and steady. ‘To express myself creatively in the way that I chose and be good at it…and funnily enough to be happy.’
‘And are you happy?’
‘Are you?’
‘That’s not fair!’ Maya protested, taken aback at how easily he’d turned the tables on her.
‘Then answer me this instead… What were your dreams as a young girl?’
Knowing that he was definitely issuing her with a challenge, Maya dug her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket and wondered what to tell him. In the end, because the penetrating beam of his gaze left her with no hiding place, she elected to be honest.
‘To grow up, find someone I wanted to be with for ever—someone who really loved me—and have a family. I was never ambitious for a big career or wealth or anything like that. But…’ she dipped her head and stared at the ground ‘…it was a childish dream. Now that I’m grown up I’m fully aware just how difficult such a deceptively simple dream is to achieve, and I just take one day at a time and try to enjoy what I have got.’
‘What about artistic talent? You didn’t inherit any desire to maybe do what your father did?’
‘No…I didn’t. I can’t draw or paint to save my life. Are you disappointed?’
Feeling a sickening sensation of genuine hurt well up inside her in case he was, Maya turned away from the lancing gaze that so easily took her apart and started walking down the hill again, her heart still hammering as her booted feet carefully negotiated the uneven crags that covered the ground.
Sensing a flash of something beside her, she glanced down at a panting Sheba, the large noble head held ever so slightly at an angle as she came to a halt, just as if she was asking her what was the matter and could she help? The thought was so preposterous that she found herself smiling. Reaching out, Maya gently stroked her hand over the slate-grey fur that covered the dog’s extensive back without any fear whatsoever.
‘It’s all right, Sheba. I’m fine…honest.’
Asking her if she’d had any desire to follow in her father’s footsteps had obviously been too close to the bone and Blaise should have known better. Especially when he had fielded many similar questions himself over the years, because of his own famous parentage. Yet somehow an increasing desire to get Maya to open up to him, to make a real connection with her, had unexpectedly manifested itself inside him. He’d never experienced such a powerful need around a woman before and, startled, he let the idea wash over him, feeling what it was like. Her confession that her one-time dream had been to be with someone who really loved her and to have a family had also perversely made him want to instantly back away…to maintain the emotional distance that he realised both of them subconsciously fought hard for.
Contemplating her now as she stroked Sheba, the gusting wind turning her long flowing hair into a riotous cloud of ebony silk, Blaise remembered the upsetting memory she’d revealed about being winded by a similarly powerful dog when she was small, and the fact that she’d taken the courageous step of petting the animal in front of him with such apparent ease filled him with honest admiration for her sheer gutsiness.
‘Let’s press on, shall we?’ he called out, lest any more warm feelings of admiration take precedence over the play he was meant to be thinking about. ‘We’ve got a lot to do today.’
Deftly negotiating the jagged crags that separated them down the hill, Blaise arrived beside the stunning brunette and the Wolfhound in next to no time, and with not even the merest hint of being out of breath added, ‘Lottie will have lunch prepared in another hour. And she’s a stickler for timekeeping when it comes to meals at Hawk’s Lair.’
‘That’s such an evocative name. Where did it come from?’ Maya asked, and he saw the telltale smudges of what he suspected was the residue of tears beneath her emerald eyes.
For a moment his heart squeezed with regret, and he had to fight the strongest urge to wipe them away.
‘My father started out in a local repertory company in the small Scottish town where he came from and once performed in a play that had the title.’ Blaise shrugged. ‘My mother had seen him in it and thought the name so romantic that when they bought the house here, she insisted on calling it Hawk’s Lair.’
‘And was it a romantic play?’
‘No…it most definitely wasn’t! It was a stinging satire about a corrupt politician.’
‘Still,’ Maya said quickly, but not quickly enough to hide her apparent disappointment, ‘it’s a great name.’
‘Maya?’
‘Yes?’
‘It was crass of me to ask if you had any ambition to be like your father.’ He lifted her chin and cupped her small perfect jaw in the cradle of his hand. ‘Do you forgive me?’
‘Of course.’ But she moved quickly away as she said it, turning only briefly back to enquire, ‘That sycamore tree you mentioned earlier that’s supposed to be a famous landmark… How far did you say it was from here?’
Fuelled by her challenging walk to see the famous Roman wall, along with Lottie’s excellent lunch of grilled fresh salmon, new potatoes and a warm salad, Maya was just as eager as Blaise to start work.
During lunch he had expanded a little bit more on the play, and just what he was looking for research-wise, and as they’d talked she’d become more and more transfixed by the animation she heard in his mellifluous voice. Animation that she also witnessed etched in the sublime contours of his handsome face. It was a master-class in inspiration, and by the end of it Maya fervently wished that she had some up until now undiscovered talent so that she could help him move forward with what she’d learned.
After lunch they made a brief detour to the extensive library on the floor upstairs, where Blaise informed her she could find just about every history book she’d need, then came back downstairs to his huge study. He showed Maya into the smaller connecting office, where she was set up with a computer, use of the internet, printer, scanner, and a small but extensive bookshelf crammed with books in which to search for information.
‘I’ve asked Lottie to make dinner for eight tonight instead of seven…do you mind? I’d like to work on as long as possible before we break again.’ Standing by the door leading back into his study, Blaise briefly checked his watch before settling his arresting gaze once again on Maya.
She almost had to shake herself out of the trance she’d fallen into. That voice of his was a seductive weapon, bent on the complete capitulation of the listener, she was certain. Along with the sheer sensual heat that radiated from his hard, leanly muscular body, it made her knees almost buckle and every muscle she possessed contract with an answering devastating warmth.
&nb
sp; ‘I—I hope you don’t think this sounds too weird…’ to cover her confusion she started to babble ‘…but when we were out there walking alongside the wall, I could almost hear the marching feet of the Roman soldiers—as though…as though the sound was contained and preserved in the very earth… Do you know what I mean?’
What she told him was absolutely true, but the way Blaise was studying her made Maya feel as if he’d just moved his body right up next to hers and demanded she kiss him. His pupils had contracted with genuine surprise at what she’d said.
‘I do know what you mean. I’ve had the same thought myself many times when I was up there. The place is full of ghosts from the past. You’re obviously very sensitive and receptive to that sort of thing.’
Ghosts from the past… Maya shuddered softly. She certainly knew about those. ‘Well, I’ll let you get on. I’m fine with dinner at eight.’
‘Good.’ Delaying his departure by another couple of disconcerting seconds as his glance lazily drifted across her face, Blaise finally moved away back into his own office and closed the door behind him.
Maya had returned to her room to change for dinner. Having showered and got ready in double-quick time himself, Blaise sat on the edge of the huge king-sized bed he occupied alone and tried to think over the progress he’d made on the play.
Trouble was…every time he tried to focus on the day’s work the TV screen of his mind kept switching to the channel where Maya had the starring role. Too restless to patiently sit and wait for her, he got up and went out into a corridor lined with much of the highly covetable art both he and his parents had collected over the years. Maya’s room was about halfway down the corridor from his and, scrubbing his hand round his newly shaven jaw, Blaise rapped smartly on the oak panelling. Half hoping she’d answer the door wrapped in just a towel, or that short little robe she’d had on that morning he’d called on her unexpectedly in Camden, he felt his lips twitch with a wry grin. He was behaving like a schoolboy who had just hit puberty with a vengeance! But then this was one bewitchingly beautiful woman, and when he was around her it just didn’t seem possible for him to behave like anything else.
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