by Fox, Natalie
Hunched with cold, she paused in the vast drawing room. Every time she came in here she could see the spectre of Mel standing across the room as he had done the night of her party, stunned, face white and drawn after hearing her father make that appalling engagement announcement.
She turned away, hugging her arms around her, tears pricking her eyes. If only she could turn the clock back and do it right this time, somehow blot out her father and Nicholas…She wondered how many people in the world had wished that on themselves—to go back and try again. It was impossible, of course. No one had such power and some would say you could learn by your mistakes, but all she had learned was that she still had feelings for Mel, feelings with nowhere to go.
She needed something warm and willing—a hot cup of cocoa then bed and sleep to deaden those punishing thoughts of Mel that were hurting her so badly. Resolutely she closed the drawing-room door and went to the kitchen, where it was so cold and miserable that she abandoned the thought of cocoa and went straight upstairs to bed, wishing she hadn’t come.
She awoke in the middle of the night, muddled, not sure where she was, shivering and yet feverish, as if she’d had a bad dream. There was an eerie silence and her throat raged with thirst. She groped her way up from under the duvet to get a drink, and by the time she reached the bathroom she knew she was coming down with something.
‘Flu,’ she groaned feebly, feeling for the radiator and dismayed to find it stone-cold. The taps yielded no water. She jumped nervously as an icy wind whipped the bare branches of a tree against the bathroom window. Already there were inches of snow piled against the sill.
In despair Jade realised there was no water because the pipes were already frozen and that for the same reason there was no central heating. Her head reeled with frustration. She’d have to call a plumber first thing in the morning and then drive back to London. If she was going to be ill let it be in warmth and comfort rather than this. But for now all she wanted to do was go back to bed and pull the duvet over her throbbing head.
As she staggered back to her cold bedroom, feeling achy and wretched, her sympathies winged to Nadia of all people. She understood now how the other woman must have felt when the bug had hit her, appreciated that she probably had been too weak to pick up the phone. It was all Jade could do to pull the duvet over her.
‘Mell’ Jade cried. She tried to move her head but it felt as if it was in a vice. Why was she crying Mel’s name? She didn’t want him, she didn’t need him…
‘Lie still. Try and drink this.’
Jade blinked open her eyes and then squeezed them shut again. The room had spun and the light had burned her eyes. She tried to turn over to slide out of bed but the bed was floating.
‘Jade, sweetheart, stop thrashing and try and drink this.’
She felt her head being lifted and a warm lemony drink being held to her lips. Jade swallowed and coughed and swallowed some more.
‘Darling, listen; I’m going to try and dress you and take you away from here.’
‘I can’t, she moaned weakly. ‘It’s too cold.’
‘I know,’ the voice whispered close to her face. ‘That’s why I want to get you away. There’s no heating or water…’
The voice trailed away and Jade drifted into sleep again, feeling hot and cold and dizzy and weak. Later she lifted her heavy eyelids to find that the brightness had gone and there was darkness at the window. The darkness moved and came towards her. She looked up and saw that the darkness was Mel.
‘Still feeling awful?’ he breathed with concern.
He was bending over her, his dark hair falling across his creased forehead, eyes dark and worried, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Mel was here but he couldn’t be real. Was he an image conjured up by her fever? Her hand floated up to touch the firmness of his cheek, to soothe away the worry that tautened his face.
‘Don’t worry, Mel, darling. I’ll look after you,’ she whispered faintly.
He laughed softly and kissed the palm of her hand, a soft, warm, comforting kiss. ‘Poor darling, you aren’t fit to look after yourself, let alone me,’ he whispered.
He held another warm drink to her lips and she drank, so glad he was there. She felt herself drifting away again and fought it, afraid that he might be gone when she eventually awoke.
When she opened her eyes again she saw him kneeling across the room with his hand up the chimney, and when she looked again there was a coal fire blazing in the Victorian cast-iron grate. She thought she must be dreaming or hallucinating.
‘I’m not very good at this sort of thing,’ she heard him murmur a few minutes later, ‘but I’m going to try and bath you.’
She lay like a rag doll as he bathed her face and neck with fragrant soft water, his touch smooth and gentle over her burning skin. The sensation was delicious and blissfully she shut her eyes. Her breasts felt so sensitive as he ran his warm, soapy hands over them. She allowed him the intimacy because this was all a dream, really, such a beautiful dream. Mel touching her, comforting her, bathing her with silky warm water. She never wanted it to end, this feeling of safety and security. Water? There wasn’t any; the pipes were frozen. Yes, this was a dream.
‘There isn’t any water,’ she croaked.
‘Melted snow,’ he told her, his voice low so as not to distress her. ‘Scented with your perfume. Have you ever had a snow bath before?’
She smiled weakly. ‘Never. It’s wonderful,’ she whispered.
‘Try and roll over, then. I’ll bathe your back.’
He helped her over and she lay with her face half buried in the pillow. ‘Mel, I haven’t any clothes on,’ she mumbled, realising she was naked but not having the strength to do anything about it.
‘I can’t bath you with your nightie on, can I? Besides, it was damp with fever.’
‘Am I ill?’ she croaked.
‘You’re getting better,’ he assured her.
After patting her dry he helped her into a clean cotton nightie—one he must have found in the airing cupboard. It was ancient, but soft and comforting on her skin. He took the patchwork quilt from the bed, wrapped it around her shoulders and carried her over to an armchair by the fire. Out of her dream machine—the bed—she realised this was for real, and reality was suddenly disturbing and confusing.
‘Mel, why are you here?’ she asked, watching him as he set about changing the sheets on the double bed.
‘It doesn’t matter for now, Jade,’ he said without looking at her. ‘I just want to get you better.’
‘Is it the flu?’
‘Yes, a nasty one too—worse than…’ He stopped mid-sentence and, weak in the head as she was, Jade could have finished the sentence for him. Worse than Nadia’s.
She turned her pale face to the glowing coals in the grate. What would have happened to her if he hadn’t come? It really wasn’t a dream. Mel was here and looking after her and being so kind and thoughtful. She shook her muzzy head, trying to recall what had happened so far. Had he called her darling, had he really bathed her fevered skin with melted snow?
‘Was…was I delirious?’
‘Burning with a terrible fever.’ He came and stood over her. ‘You’re coming out of it, though.’
She nodded and tried to smile. “Thank you, Mel,’ she whispered.
He said nothing, didn’t even smile, just lifted her from the chair, and she clung to him, leaning her head against his neck and breathing in his scent. It overwhelmed her with memories of the past, when touching him had been a joy that never diminished, when she’d been with him heart and soul, knowing that the future was certain and promised so much happiness. She bit her lip as he lowered her down onto the cool, clean sheets then propped the pillows up behind her. None of that could ever happen again—that feeling of belonging to someone you loved and who loved you in return. He loved someone else now.
‘Mel,’ she breathed painfully. ‘Nadia—’
‘Leave it, Jade.’
‘I…I can’
t, Mel. She’s your…you should be with her.’
‘She’s all right,’ he assured her quietly. ‘Her sister is with her. I’m here. Leave it at that.’
She did. She was too weak to do otherwise. Mel went downstairs to make her a drink and Jade lay back against the fresh pillows and drifted in the apricot glow of the room. She’d lost a day of her life in this bed, thrashing around in a fever, Mel caring for her. She didn’t know why he was here and she couldn’t begin to imagine. It hurt her head to think too deeply. Now was this room, warmed by a fire, shadowed by the flames from that fire, safe and secure with Mel. It was enough.
It was dark outside, night again, but there was brightness, the moon reflected off the snow. She’d never had a winter with him. She’d loved him in the summer. She loved him now, she realised. She didn’t want to love him but she did. And he was here and not with Nadia and she wondered about that. But wondering hurt and made her head swim.
‘Could you manage some soup?’
Her stomach recoiled at the thought and she opened her eyes. ‘I couldn’t, not yet.’
‘Drink this, then.’ He sat on the edge of the bed, in jeans and a thick dark blue jumper with a cable pattern down the front. He looked so strong and handsome and so deeply concerned for her. His cold fingers brushed hers as he handed her a mug of steaming lemon drink.
‘You’re cold. You might have this flu bug,’ she said with concern. She’d be there for him if he did go down with it, she thought. She’d love him and comfort him and…
He smiled. ‘I had the jab; besides, a flu bug wouldn’t dare.’
She smiled and sipped her drink. ‘Am I drinking melted snow?’
‘No, bottled water from the fridge and one of those cold-cure powders. I found some sachets in the kitchen drawer. The doctor wouldn’t come out because of the terrible weather. The central heating is out because of the frozen pipes. I found coal and lit the fire here and one downstairs. Hopefully the warmth they generate will help the pipes defrost.’
‘My, you have been busy,’ she teased softly.
He held her eyes, unsmiling, looking more troubled than she had ever seen him before. ‘Sleep now, Jade. Talking is exhausting you.’
He took the mug from her fingers, drew the duvet up under her chin and bent and brushed a light kiss across her temples. She fell asleep with the softness of his lips warming her skin.
When she awoke later she was shivering. She felt pressure against her back. Mel was lying on the top of the bed alongside her. He lifted his head when she stirred.
‘You’re still shivering.’
‘Was I before?’ she asked.
‘A fever again. I tried to warm you.’
‘I feel awful, Mel,’ she groaned. ‘I hate this flu. My body is sore and my bones hurt and I’m so miserable and cold.’
‘It’s night and the temperature has dropped.’
Jade felt him get up from the bed and she cried out at the loss of his comforting weight from next to her.
‘It’s all right,’ he breathed. She felt him slide under the duvet. ‘Here, let me hold you.’
She clung to him, wrapping her arms around him and nestling her head against his warm blue sweater. Mel was here with her, holding her. Her skin was raw and she moaned as his jeans grazed against her thighs.
‘You’re hurting me,’ she groaned. ‘Your jeans are so rough.’
He tensed against her and then heaved himself up on one elbow to look down at her pale face. She realised a candle was burning on the table by the bed. No electricity. It was all getting worse. She looked up into his eyes; hers were filled with tears of misery.
His voice was very grave when he spoke. ‘Jade, if I take them off we are both in trouble. You understand what I’m saying?’
Suddenly she did. Burning with embarrassment and shame, she went to push him away, but he grasped her wrists and held them. He was tense with anger. ‘Jade, it is hard enough just lying on this bed with you fully clothed. If I touch your skin—’
‘Don’t, Mel,’ she pleaded. ‘I didn’t mean that…I couldn’t…I wouldn’t.’
Oh, she hadn’t meant what he thought, but deep down didn’t she long for the contact? Long for how it had once been? Uncomplicated love with none of the doubts and fears of the present that were invading her senses so disastrously?
‘I know, I know,’ he soothed, lowering his head as if understanding and sorry for being angry with her.
‘Don’t leave me,’ she bleated, and coiled into him.
‘I won’t,’ he breathed against her hair, relaxing down onto the bed and wrapping his arms around her.
She thought she must have slept because she felt different after a while. Still floaty, as if her body didn’t belong to her, but warmer. Mel was hard against her, breathing evenly in sleep. One leg was across her, protective and warm and…naked. She remembered his rough jeans and how he wouldn’t take them off and how his refusal had filled her with embarrassment. But at some time he had taken them off, though he still wore a shirt. It was soft and warm and fragrant against her thin cotton nightie.
She dared to touch him, smoothing her hand down the front of his shirt, just allowing her fingertips to stray between the buttons, to touch his skin and the hair of his chest. He was asleep and wouldn’t know.
Her whole body ached for him. She couldn’t help herself. Her head was muzzy with longing for him to reach out for her, to gather her into his arms and to hold her for ever and make the future live for her again.
‘Don’t, Jade—for God’s sake don’t!’ he grated, so thickly that the words came out in a blur.
A sob caught in her throat, a sob of shame and loss and pity for them both, but she was powerless to move away. Too weak, too drowsy to roll away from his magnetism and save her pride from more bruising. She lay motionless apart from the slight heaving of her chest as she tried to control the sobs of anguish in her breast.
And then he moved and slid his arms around her to gather her close to him. He held her gently yet strongly, and she felt the thud of his heart against her own and his mouth pressed in her hair. She lay in the delicious folds of his embrace, her small fists clenched tightly against his shirtfront, trying to control the flood of feeling that rushed through her body as he held her so closely and tenderly.
But it was impossible. She let it wash through her—the desire and the need. She let it speed up her heart beat and spin her senses and didn’t think beyond the moment. She tried not to think of the past either because that would remind her of her sad vulnerability now, in wanting a man she couldn’t have.
His mouth moved against her hair, then the sensitive area behind her ears, and then suddenly his warm lips were grazing small kisses against her throat. Drowsy, dizzy with longing, she moaned softly, a small, whimpering plea for mercy that went unheeded. His mouth sought hers in the dreamy, floaty world she was entrapped in, this world of unreality where nothing, but nothing mattered but their bodies and hearts responding to a delicious need. She parted her lips for him, to draw him into her very being, to lose herself in his.
In a daze of desire Jade slid her hand up under his shirt, desperate to touch the length of his body after so long. As she slid her hands around his back and drew him to her she felt his arousal hard against her thigh and hope surged like an eternal spring. He still wanted her, as much as she still wanted him. There was no resistance as the kiss deepened dangerously, his tongue insistent and probing the soft inner flesh of her mouth. Nothing could stop the world spinning on its axis as they clung passionately to each other, their bodies bonding heatedly.
But then a groan of despair from Mel brought Jade back to earth with a thud. He tore his mouth from hers and lifted himself away from her, swearing quietly under his breath. He rolled away from her and lay on his back, chest heaving, raking both hands through his hair.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing to me, Jade?’ he growled.
In horror Jade turned her face into the pillow and st
arted to cry softly. What a fool she’d been to let her heart take over, to allow his gentle seduction to influence her so deeply. But she was ill. She didn’t know what she was doing and he was blaming her. Didn’t he know, didn’t he understand that she wasn’t in control?
She choked back a sob and bit the pillow. She was going out of her mind, wanting him, knowing he could never be hers for longer than it would take for them to make love. He belonged to Nadia, and yet, yes, she had wanted him, indeed had nearly taken him, and if she had she would have died of shame afterwards—for herself, for him, for the whole wretched world.
‘Get…get out of my bed, Mel Biaggio!’ she cried into her damp pillow. But as soon as she had said it she realised he had already gone. She rolled over. He was standing naked by the fire, leaning on the mantelpiece and staring into the hot coals. He was still aroused and Jade let out a silent moan of desperation. He really wanted her and she ached for him so badly it was a pain deep within her. After all this time and all they had been through they still wanted each other. But his need was ephemeral, simply a need for a woman—any woman—if the opportunity arose, she reminded herself with a cold heart.
She tried to get out of bed and managed at last, weakly steadying herself by grasping the headboard. He heard the movement and turned his head to look at her. His face was drawn.
‘Get back into bed, Jade; you’re not ready to get up yet’ He came across to her and eased her back down onto the edge of the bed. She stared up at him as he put on his shirt and stepped into his jeans, right in front of her. He wasn’t aroused any more.
‘You know how close we came just now?’ His voice was an accusing growl.
Jade lowered her head and stared at the rug at her bare feet. She nodded, not uttering a word of confirmation.
‘You would have hated me after,’ he added in that same accusing tone.
Her head shot up defiantly and her eyes were wide and misty. ‘Then I wish we had, Mel,’ she bit out. ‘Because I want to hate you. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to hate you!’
He went to turn away but Jade grabbed at the sleeve of his sweater. She wasn’t going to let him turn his back on her and leave her with all the guilt. ‘Don’t just turn away and don’t try to blame me for what nearly happened. You were in my bed—’
