by Penny Jordan
After a light lunch she contemplated going for a walk, and was just about to set out when she heard the sound of a car driving into the yard. From her vantage point in the kitchen she watched Miranda uncurl her slender body from the driver’s seat, her face disdainful as she picked her way over the cobbled yard in spike heeled shoes. Her cream wool suit and expensive shoes were beautiful but surely completely unsuitable for farm visiting Sapphire reflected waspishly as Miranda knocked on the back door.
‘If you want Blake, I’m afraid he isn’t here,’ she told her curtly, knowing she was being ungracious but unable to stop herself. It still hurt bitterly to think of Blake and this woman being lovers; to know that if Miranda hadn’t married they still would be lovers. It did nothing to endear Miranda to her to know that at least some of Blake’s desire for her must have been fuelled by the fact that he was missing her and Sapphire knew some of her feelings must be reflected in her face.
‘It isn’t Blake I wanted to see,’ Miranda surprised her by saying smugly, ‘Of course I knew he wouldn’t be here. It’s market day—we normally meet for lunch but of course since I got married …’ She shrugged dainty shoulders. ‘I’ve told Blake he can’t have his cake and eat it. It’s much pleasanter being a married woman than being a single one …’
‘Despite the fact that you had to settle for second best,’ Sapphire threw at her, regretting her impulsive comment the moment she saw the pale blue eyes harden.
‘Hardly that,’ Miranda drawled tauntingly. ‘As a lover Blake is first-rate, but as a husband?’ Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Hardly. For one thing Jim is an extremely wealthy man, whereas Blake …’ She glanced round the large kitchen disparagingly. ‘Being a working farmer’s wife is hardly my métier …’
‘No, I can see that,’ Sapphire agreed drily, ‘But if you haven’t come to see Blake why have you come here?’
Settling herself comfortably in a chair Miranda raised calculating blue eyes to Sapphire’s darker ones. ‘Oh I thought it was time you and I had a little talk—that er, shall we say … certain ground rules were laid down. You know of course that Blake and I are lovers?’
‘I know you were,’ Sapphire agreed coolly, hoping that Miranda would never guess how much the admission cost her.
‘Were?’ The thin eyebrows lifted tauntingly, ‘Oh dear is that what he told you? And you believed him? Poor Sapphire,’ she mocked. ‘Blake is far too virile a man to give up what he and I have between us. Oh I grant you, you’ve grown up from the awkward adolescent he married, but Blake loves me, Sapphire, and all you’ll ever be is a pale substitute. Your marriage to him won’t last. Blake will tire of you again just like he did before.’
Her taunting words, the look in her eyes, and her own inner insecurities all combined to goad Sapphire into saying with desperate intensity, ‘You’re wrong; Blake wants our marriage to last.’
‘You mean he wants to keep your father sweet to make sure he doesn’t lose out on Flaws Farm,’ Miranda derided. ‘Oh come on Sapphire you know it’s true. That’s the only reason Blake ever married you, and the reason he wanted you back. Your father threatened to sell his farm elsewhere if he didn’t. You’d better pray that he lives a long time if you’re counting on seeing more than one wedding anniversary, just as Blake must be hoping that he doesn’t.’
The cruelty of her gibe took Sapphire’s breath away for a moment. With tears in her eyes she cried fiercely, ‘That’s not true, Blake knows that my father only has a matter of months to live … I …’
‘What? What on earth are you talking about?’ Miranda snapped obviously disbelieving her. ‘Why only last month Jim was telling me how amazed he is by your father’s stamina. It must come of coming from sturdy farming stock,’ she added, her lip curling fastidiously.
‘Oh I know he was seriously ill with pneumonia, but Jim told me he’d never seen anyone recover so quickly from it, never mind a man well into his mid-sixties. If he’s told you he’s at death’s door, he’s lying,’ she told Sapphire positively. A gleam of suspicion darkened her eyes momentarily, her gaze narrowing as she studied Sapphire with insolent appraisal. ‘So that’s how he got Blake to take you back,’ she breathed triumphantly at last, ‘by telling him that he’s close to death. Of course! It would work perfectly. Poor Blake, I wonder what he’s going to say when he knows he’s been deceived. I can’t wait to see his face,’ she purred viciously. ‘I don’t think he’s going to be too pleased about the way you’ve trapped him into taking you back. Oh I grant you he’s single-minded enough to stay with you until he’s got what he wants, but that doesn’t mean he’ll ever really be yours or that he cares about you.’
She turned and left before Sapphire could retaliate. Not that she had anything left to retaliate with, she thought despairingly, staring helplessly out of the window. Everything fitted together too neatly for Miranda to be wrong. She had thought herself, the last time she saw him, that her father looked better. He had even been out of bed, she remembered. Dear God how could he have done this to her? How could he have put her in this position?
Perhaps Miranda was wrong, she though feverishly … after all she had only the other woman’s word for it that her father had only had pneumonia. Frantically pacing the kitchen Sapphire knew there was only one way to find out. She was already dressed for walking, so pulling on her boots she stepped out into the yard closing the kitchen door behind her.
If Miranda was right Blake would have to be told. She shivered in the cold breeze. What would his reaction be? He had never made any secret of the fact that he wanted Flaws Farm, but there was a big difference in expecting to inherit in say six months’ time and waiting perhaps sixteen years? After all her grandfather had lived to his mid-eighties and so had his father before him. Walking quickly to try and blot out her jumbled thoughts, Sapphire headed for Flaws Farm.
CHAPTER TEN
‘YOUR FATHER?’ Mary responded in answer to Sapphire’s query. ‘Yes, he’s in his room.’
‘How is he today?’ Sapphire watched closely as she waited for Mary’s response.
‘Oh much better,’ the older woman beamed. ‘In fact he’s improving rapidly every day now. As soon as this cold spell breaks he’ll probably be able to go outside. He’s chafing at the bit now I’m afraid,’ she smiled ruefully, ‘not the best of patients, but then that’s understandable when one thinks of the active life he’s led.’
‘But he will be able to get out and about?’ Sapphire queried.
‘Good heavens yes.’ Mary looked surprised that she even needed to ask. ‘Pneumonia is serious of course, but these days, with modern drugs, it’s not dangerous, and of course your father is supremely fit.’
‘Pneumonia … There weren’t any other complications then?’ Sapphire asked trying to sound casual while inwardly shaking with dread. So Miranda had been right after all.
‘Not as far as I know.’ Mary looked concerned. ‘I know you must be worried about him, but there really is no need you know,’ she told her gently. ‘For a while he did seem to have reached a plateau stage, but since you came back he’s really made progress. I suspect the hope of a grandchild has had some bearing on that. Men hereabouts place a great deal of importance on continuance of the family line. I think when your father was ill he brooded rather a lot on the fact that he was the last male Bell, but he’s definitely over that now. Why don’t you go up and see him, he’ll welcome the interruption. He’s working on the farm accounts.’ She grinned conspiratorily, ‘And you know how he hates that.’
It was amazing what one could see when one knew what to look for Sapphire thought wretchedly, opening the door without knocking and walking into a scene familiar to her from her childhood.
Her father’s dog lay curled up at his feet, swear words turning the air mildly blue as he bent his head over his ledgers. Seeing him now with her new knowledge, Sapphire could see that he had been ill and that he was recovering. There was more flesh on his bones for one thing and for another the colour of his skin was better.
The door creaked faintly as she let it swing closed and he turned round, his welcoming smile changing to a frown as he saw her pale face.
‘Sapphire.’ He got up, coming towards her, but she avoided him, sitting down in a spare chair.
‘I know exactly what’s been going on, Dad,’ she said quietly. ‘I know you’re not … not dying.’ Her control broke as she cried out wretchedly, ‘How could you do this to me …? How could you trick and deceive …?’
‘Lass, lass, believe me I thought it best,’ he interrupted sadly. ‘Your place is here with your husband. I’ve always thought that.’
‘You’re free to think what you like, Dad, but to try to force me back with Blake by pretending …’ She bit her lip, turning away from the remorse in his face.
‘Sapphire, perhaps I shouldn’t have meddled, but believe me I thought it was for the best. It was plain to me that you weren’t happy in London. You loved Blake when you married him.’
‘But he didn’t love me, he only married me to get Flaws Farm. That’s the only reason he took me back,’ she cried wildly. ‘Can’t you see that? He doesn’t really want me, he only wants your land, and the only reason he re-married me was because he thought it wouldn’t be long before he inherited it. We made a bargain you see,’ she told him wretchedly, ‘peace of mind for you, and Flaws Farm for Blake. I agreed I’d sell it to him, once … How do you suppose he’ll feel when he discovers how you’ve tricked him and he will discover it …’
‘Sapphire, you’ve got it all wrong,’ her father interrupted sternly. ‘I’ve never deceived Blake. He knew exactly what was wrong with me. He wanted you back here as much as I did. Don’t you see … Blake knew the truth … he knew, Sapphire …’
For a few minutes it was too much for her to take in and then she burst out bitterly, ‘I see … and how were the pair of you planning to resolve this grand charade—a miracle recovery? And to think I fell for it.’ unable to endure any more she wrenched open the door, ignoring her father’s anguished cry, half-running through the kitchen and out into the yard. The afternoon was drawing in and the cold blast of air against her heated skin stung, but Sapphire ignored it, head down, hands stuffed into her pockets as she walked doggedly away from the farm, instinctively taking the path that had been her favourite as a child.
It led to a disused quarry, now overgrown and mossy. As a child she had discovered a moss-covered ledge halfway down one of the escarpments, and almost hidden from view by the lip of the quarry.
This had been a favourite refuge of her childhood, and now driven by an intense need to be alone she automatically took the path that led to it.
She could understand what her father had had to gain from deceiving her, but Blake … Had her father perhaps dangled the farm in front of him? Take Sapphire back, give me a grandchild and in return … Her mind shied away from the thought. No, Blake would never allow himself to be manoeuvred like that, he wasn’t that type of man, but he was very fond of her father … and he did want Flaws’ land … and he did find her desirable. Given that might he not decide that marriage to her was a reasonable price to pay, especially when he could still be Miranda’s lover?
Round and round her thoughts circled, tormenting her with each combination that came to mind. There were so many imponderables for her to consider, so many differing combinations, and only Blake knew the real truth; exactly what had motivated him. But now it would have to end. She couldn’t stay with him knowing what she now did. Humiliation seared her soul when she thought about their lovemaking; about the intensity of emotion she had put into it when he had merely been enduring it out of necessity.
On and on she walked, scarcely aware that it was starting to get dark, setting one foot in front of the other, wrestling with her thoughts.
By the time she reached the quarry it was almost dark, but logic and common sense had long since given way to an instinct for sanctuary which led her to seek out the treacherous path going down to her childhood hiding place.
She found it more by instinct than anything else, stumbling once halfway down and clinging to the quarry face for support as a tiny avalanche of stones crumbled downwards beneath her feet, to eventually splash eerily into the deep pool that had formed at the centre of the quarry crater. This place had been out of bounds to her as a child but it had never stopped her coming here. She shivered suddenly, coming out of the bleak despair that had driven her to seek out this place, swaying lightheadedly. Perhaps she ought to go back; her father would be worrying about her. Remorse overcame her earlier anger. Of course he had been doing what he thought best; to him no doubt she was still the shy seventeen-year-old who had first fallen in love with Blake. And her father was old-fashioned. To him marriage vows were sacrosanct and not lightly to be set aside. Sighing faintly Sapphire started to turn round, freezing tensely as she felt the shale beneath her feet shift. The last time she had come down here she had been seventeen—a child bride looking for somewhere to escape the miseries of a marriage that had turned out to be so far removed from her childish imaginings of high romance that now it seemed to be a farce. Even then the path had been dangerous—something she had forgotten when she came down it tonight. She shivered again remembering the remoteness of the quarry and the unlikelihood of anyone guessing that she was up here. If she made it to the ledge she would be stuck there until morning when she might be able to attract the attention of one of the shepherds. If she made it, she thought wretchedly as another part of the path slid away to drop into the pool. The pool. Icy trickles of fear dripped down her spine. The water in that pool was freezing, its sides smooth and worn by time into a glassy slipperyness that made the pool a death trap for anyone foolish enough to swim in it. Closing her eyes and clinging to the wall of the quarry she inched her way carefully down to the ledge, easing her shaking body on to its grassy smoothness.
It seemed smaller than she remembered and as she edged back against the quarry wall, trying to sit down she realised why. Like the path, the ledge had been partially eroded away. Every time she moved she could hear the rattling of shale and small stones. How safe was the ledge? She could die here and no-one would be any the wiser. Would it matter if she did? Was life really worth living without Blake? If one judged life on its quality rather than its quantity then no. Without him her life had no direction; no purpose. Without his love … Wearily her body relaxed into a numbing lethargy that was almost a relief, her mind torturing her with images of Blake and on to the point where death lured her with its promise of oblivion.
Suicide had always been something she had viewed with horror—until she lost Blake, and now with sharp clarity she remembered those first months after she had left him, when she would have given anything not to have had to wake up in the morning. Now she was going to lose him again. The moon slid out from behind a cloud illuminating the still water below. It beckoned to her, casting a spell that seemed to reach out and enfold her until she could almost imagine she was already in its icy embrace. As though obeying the directions of a voice only she could hear Sapphire stood up, drifting like a sleep-walker towards the edge of the ledge where she stood poised, drawn by the inky black depths below, her powers of reasoning clouded by the greater force of her emotions.
‘No!’
At first Sapphire thought the taut cry had been torn from her own throat, but when it was followed by her name, called abruptly by a familiar male voice she started back from the edge of the ledge, staring up in disbelief to find Blake looking down at her.
Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight, but his face seemed oddly white and drawn, his eyes burning as though he had looked into the fires of hell.
‘Stand back from the edge Sapphire, and I’ll throw you down a rope.’
She was too bemused to question how he had got there, simply obeying the commands he shouted down to her, feeling the coarse fibre of the rope bite into her waist as Blake hauled her back up the quarry face, until she was lying flat on her back, on the ice-cold grass, breathing in great gu
lps of air, like a landed fish.
Blake’s fingers tugged at the knotted rope, unfastening it from around her. His head bent over his self-imposed task, Sapphire resisted the urge to reach out and stroke the thick darkness, but she couldn’t restrain the brief quiver tensing her body when she remembered how they had made love.
‘Keep still,’ Blake’s voice was terse, his hands clinically detached as they examined her body. ‘Nothing seems to be broken … Come on, I’d better get you back and alert the rest of the team.’ As she stood up Sapphire saw that his mouth was compressed, his eyes darkly bitter as they studied her.
‘The team?’ Was that really her own voice, soft and husky almost begging him to reach out and touch her?
‘The Rescue Team,’ he reminded her in the same clipped voice. ‘Your father called them out when you didn’t come back. Tom Barnes rang me and asked me to stand in for Geoff Plant—he’s away at the moment. I had no idea when I set out that it was you …’ He broke off and turned away from her, rubbing his forehead with tense fingers. ‘I called at Flaws on the way to see if you were there—I thought you might have decided to spend the evening with your father …’
‘In view of his ailing health I suppose you mean,’ Sapphire cut in sarcastically, only to be silenced by Blake’s brusque, ‘Not now Sapphire. You realise your father’s practically frantic with worry, to say nothing of how I felt …’
‘And how did you feel Blake?’ she asked bitterly, suddenly furiously and intensely angry, the adrenalin flowing fiercely along her veins. ‘Worried that you might not get Flaws after all? Oh yes, I know all about how the pair of you deceived me. Your very good friend Miranda enlightened me. My father I can forgive because I know he acted in what he believed to be my best interests, but you …’ Her heated words were silenced by the brief blast Blake gave on the whistle he was holding.