Sinful Nights: The Six-Month Marriage / Injured Innocent / Loving. PENNY JORDANЧитать онлайн книгу.
now that she had herself under control again, shocked her.
‘But you can’t deny that you responded to me,’ Blake pressed softly, watching her, making her feel trapped and tormented.
‘I can’t deny that I responded to your masculinity,’ Sapphire agreed in a face-saving bid … ‘I’m a woman now Blake, with all the desires and needs that that implies.’ Heavens was this really her saying this? Inwardly she was trembling, praying that he wouldn’t see through her pitiful attempt to deny the effect he had on her.
‘Meaning that you would have responded to any man in the same way?’ Blake asked her sardonically. ‘I don’t think so, Sapphire. In fact, judging by your response to me, there must be something lacking in your boyfriend’s lovemaking. You responded to me as though you were starving for …’
‘Stop it,’ Sapphire interrupted his cruel speech. ‘I won’t listen to this, Blake.’ She hurried to the barn door, wanting only to escape from him and the turbulence of her own emotions, completely forgetting the original purpose of her journey to the barn, until she got back to the kitchen and found the receiver still on the table. There was no-one at the other end and so she replaced it, busying herself in the kitchen, trying to find some balm to her disordered senses in the warm scent of baking bread that filled the room, but instead only able to remember the rough sensuality of Blake’s mouth on hers; the urgent caress of his hands on her body; the unashamed arousal of his as he kissed and caressed her, but no, she mustn’t think of these things. She must concentrate instead of remembering why she was here; how Blake had trapped her.
She was busily clearing away the remnants of pastry from the table when Blake walked in, checking on the threshold, frowning slightly as the warmly rich scent of her baking filled his nostrils. She ought to have been pleased by the startled expression on his face, but instead all she could think of was the way his mouth had felt against her own, and it took an almost physical effort to draw her gaze away from the slightly moist fullness of his lower lip.
‘Bread?’ he quizzed her, obviously surprised.
‘Alan liked me to bake it for him,’ Sapphire responded, knowing that she was deliberately invoking Alan’s name as though it were a charm which had the ability to destroy Blake’s powerful pull on her senses. Blake’s face hardened immediately, as he strode across the kitchen and picked up the ‘phone. Watching him punch in a series of numbers, so quickly that he must know them by heart, Sapphire was pierced by a feeling of desolation so acute that it terrified her. She mustn’t become emotionally involved with Blake again. She had travelled that road once and knew all too well where it led; she wasn’t going to travel it again.
Her desolation turned to sick pain as she heard him say Miranda’s name. The other woman must have said something because Blake laughed, a deeply sensual sound that stirred up the tiny hairs on the back of Sapphire’s nape, making her spine tingle.
‘No, she must have forgotten to give me the message,’ Sapphire heard him say, his eyes hard, his gaze unwavering splintering her with pain as she turned to face him. ‘Umm … well how about dinner tonight? Yes I’ll pick you up.’
Sapphire turned away, Blake was taking Miranda out to dinner? She glanced at the ‘fridge where the pastry and fillet steak she had prepared for their evening meal lay, and her mouth compressed in a bitter line. Hadn’t she already learned her lesson?
By the time Blake had replaced the receiver she had decided what she would do. Let Blake take his … mistress out to dinner if he wished, but she wasn’t going to sit at home, moping, waiting for him. She would go over to Flaws and spend the evening with Mary and her father.
It wasn’t until she heard the door close behind Blake that she realised that she had been holding her breath. Her lungs ached with the strain she was imposing on them, her body so tense that her muscles were almost locked.
Why on earth had she allowed Blake to kiss and touch her as he had? And why had she responded to him so … so ardently. She didn’t love him any longer; but she still desired him; part of her still felt the old attraction; that must be the explanation. Like an amputee suffering pain from a limb that no longer existed she was still experiencing the pangs of her youthful love for Blake even though that love had long ago died.
SAPPHIRE WAS IN HER ROOM when Blake went out; she had gone there, deliberately avoiding him, and only emerged once she had heard his car engine die away.
Despite the fact that the heating was on the house felt slightly chilly—a sure sign that the threat of bad weather hadn’t gone. In the living room a basket of logs stood on the hearth of the open fire, and Sapphire glanced longingly at them, acknowledging that it was pointless lighting a fire just for herself, especially when she didn’t intend staying in. Why, when she knew where Blake had gone; when she knew how he had manipulated her, did her imagination insist on filling her mind with pictures of Blake as she had always wanted him to be rather than as he was; of herself at his side; their children upstairs asleep while they sat side by side by the warm glow of the fire; happy and content. Suppressing a sigh Sapphire walked into the kitchen, still redolent with the fragrance of her newly baked bread. On the table one of her loaves stood on the breadboard surrounded by crumbs. Blake had obviously cut himself a slice, and probably given himself indigestion she thought wryly, touching the still warm loaf.
Knowing that if she remained alone any longer in the house she would only brood, Sapphire picked up her jacket and headed for the Land Rover. Spending the evening with her father would stop her thinking about the past; about useless might-have-beens, she decided firmly, as she swung herself up into the utilitarian vehicle. She was just about to start the motor when a sound from the barn stopped her. Tensing she listened, wondering if she was imagining things, and then she heard it again; the shrill, unmistakable whinny of a horse in pain.
Blake’s mare! But he had told her that the vet had said she probably wouldn’t start to foal for at least twenty-four hours. Frowning Sapphire glanced towards the barn door, her conscience prodding her to get out of the Land Rover and go and investigate. She wasn’t a stranger to animal birth; and as she hurried into the barn, snapping on the light, her experienced eye quickly took in the mare’s distressed state and knew that the vet had been wrong. By the looks of her the mare was already in labour.
Despite her long years in London old habits reasserted themselves. Soothing the mare as best she could, Sapphire left her to race back to the house. To her relief the vet’s wife answered the ‘phone almost immediately. Quickly Sapphire explained the position.
‘The vet isn’t here,’ she told Sapphire, ‘but I know where he is. I’ll ‘phone him and let him know the position. I know he’ll be with you just as soon as he can. Are you able to get in touch with Blake?’ she asked worriedly, ‘I know how much he thinks of that mare … ’
It wasn’t hard for Sapphire to find Miranda’s telephone number, but she hesitated before dialling it. As she had half-expected, there was no answer. She ought to have felt a savage satisfaction that Blake was being repaid for his duplicity, but all she could feel was a growing concern for the mare, and concern at her own ability to handle the situation. The shepherd who might have been able to help was out on the hills with his flock; her father was far too ill to help and Mary … Mary was a trained nurse, Sapphire remembered excitedly, picking up the phone again and punching in the numbers quickly.
Mary listened while she explained the situation. ‘I’ll be right over,’ she assured Sapphire. ‘The vet may not be long, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. This won’t be the first birth I’ve attended by a long chalk.’
While she was waiting, more to keep herself busy than anything else Sapphire boiled water and scalded the buckets, finding carbolic soap, and a pack of clean, unused rope. If for some reason the foal was turned the wrong way they might need the rope. Hurriedly she tried to think of anything else they might need, rushing into the yard when she heard the sound of a vehicle. To her disappointment it was Mary and not the vet who alighted from the Range Rover.
‘You’ve done well,’ she approved as she followed Sapphire into the barn. ‘But where’s Blake?’