Sapphire

by Rosemary Rogers

  “Easy there,” he warned, closing his hand over hers.

  She coughed.

  “Maybe a little bit at a time would be better.” He took the glass from her and set it on the elaborately carved rosewood bedside table. “I want to have a look at that ankle. I need to take your stocking off.” He met her gaze. He was neither smiling nor frowning. “Is that all right, Sapphire?”

  She nodded slowly, still not feeling fully conscious. Maybe it was everything that had happened, or maybe it was the brandy.

  Blake was being so kind to her, this man who was her enemy, this man who kept her from what she wanted most in the world. It didn’t make any sense. Charles had said he loved her, and yet he had behaved in such a despicable manner toward her. And this man, who would not even respond to her requests to talk with him, was caring for her injuries as tenderly as any beloved nursemaid might do for a mischievous child.

  “Do it if you must,” she heard herself say.

  Blake held her gaze with his penetrating eyes as he untied her white velvet garter ribbon and slowly began to roll down what was left of her silk stocking.

  He’s done this before, she thought, feeling as if she were floating. Removed a lady’s stocking. Already the brandy had eased the pain in her hands and knees and ankle and she was feeling only its warmth and the security it seemed to offer…warmth and an unfamiliar tingling in the pit of her stomach.

  When he reached her ankle, she flinched.

  “Pretty tender,” he said as he slipped the torn, soiled stocking off her foot and sent it sailing to the floor.

  “It’s…not broken, is it?”

  He turned it one way and then the other and she gritted her teeth against the pain, determined not to cry.

  “Move your toes.”

  She wiggled them.

  “Point your foot.”

  She grimaced but complied.

  “Good. No, I don’t think any of the bones are broken.” He reached back for the cloth in the washbowl, wrung it out and then laid it over her ankle, wrapping his fingers around it.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together to keep from crying out.

  “The cool water is good for it,” he told her, moving his hand to rest it on her shin. “It will help keep the swelling down.”

  All she could do was nod.

  “Have some more brandy.”

  Again, it wasn’t a request but an order and she found herself obeying him. As she drank, he removed the cloth from her ankle, rinsed it in the cool water and applied it again to her swollen ankle.

  She had finished the brandy by the time he rinsed the linen cloth a third time and began to slide it up her shin. Sapphire felt herself relax as she sank deeper into the soft pillows beneath her. She felt her eyelids flutter and she parted her lips slightly, sighing. The cool cloth felt so good, his warm hand almost better.

  When he reached her knee, though, she tensed again. The cloth suddenly felt rough and it smarted as he tried to gently scrub away the bits of dirt embedded in the flesh.

  “Good thing you were wearing all this clothing,” he said teasingly as he pushed away a billow of silk skirt and ruffled petticoat. “Otherwise, you might have been more seriously injured.”

  She felt her mouth turn up in a half smile. “I…I want to thank you for—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Honestly, I can’t believe you would agree to be alone with a man like him. In a group, I’m sure he’s fine, but—” Rather than finishing what he was going to say, he frowned and dropped the cloth dotted with her blood into the washbowl. “Some of these scrapes are rather deep, and I suppose that the responsible thing would be to call a physician and have him treat the injuries, but we could hardly do that without drawing attention to ourselves, could we?” He swirled the cloth in the water, then squeezed it out with one hand. As he went through the motion that was now familiar to her, she found herself staring at his muscular forearm.

  She knew he owned a shipping company in Boston, but she hadn’t suspected he’d ever done any physical work. Though Armand was a wealthy plantation owner he had made a point of going to the fields or the drying house to toil side by side with his workers. He said it kept him close to the land and to the coffee that provided the luxuries he reaped with his profits.

  Blake’s forearms were the arms of a man who could lift a heavy weight and carry it a long way. She wondered if he worked on the docks or in the warehouse with his hired men. Had he ever trimmed the sails on a sailing ship or rowed a boat to shore?

  The words to ask him about his experiences were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. It was as if she were under some spell. His spell.

  Again he was beside her; she could feel the warmth and pressure of his hip pressed against hers. As he drew the cloth over her shin to her other knee, she caught his eye. Suddenly her heart was pounding, not from fear this time, but something else.

  Blake leaned over her, his hand on her knee…perhaps even a little higher. “You’ve intrigued me, you know,” he said, his voice barely audible. “From the day you showed up in my parlor claiming you were Wessex’s daughter.”

  “But I am Lord Edward Wessex’s—”

  “Hush, Sapphire, I’m speaking. Surely you know it’s rude to interrupt when another is speaking. No doubt the nuns on that tropical island of yours reprimanded you on more than one occasion for that.”

  She pushed her elbows into the soft tick, propping herself up. “How did you know—”

  “You’re doing it again, Sapphire. I’m still speaking.”

  She lay back again, pressing her lips together. He leaned so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Fortune hunter or not—”

  “I’m not—”

  This time he laid his free hand on her mouth to silence her. “Do I have to gag you to be permitted to speak?”

  She felt her eyes widen and suddenly she was a little fearful of him as she remembered his rage on the street. She shook her head.

  “Good.” He slid his hand off her mouth and let it rest on the pillow just beside her cheek.

  “What I wanted to say was that you’ve intrigued me and that…against my will, I find myself desiring you, as I stated before in the garden.” He smiled. “You’re really not my type, you know.”

  “Mr. Thixton, I—”

  This time he silenced her with his mouth. Sapphire had opened her own in protest and he had covered it with his, pushing her down into the bed.

  “Sapphire,” he said as he raised his lips from hers to draw them across her cheek.

  It came out more as a groan, sending a shiver of apprehension through her body.

  He drew his mouth to her earlobe and whispered again. “Sapphire, a jewel of a name. So sweet…”

  She heard herself moan as he raised his hand higher up her leg. He pushed back the tattered fabric of her gown to expose her bare breasts.

  I mustn’t…I can’t let this happen, she thought somewhere in the back of her mind. And yet there was a part of her…that wanted him the way that she knew he wanted her.

  Before she could say anything, his mouth found the hollow between her breasts and her breath caught in her throat.

  Blake covered her breasts with his hot kisses, and every time she opened her mouth to protest, he kissed them again, stifling the words she tried to utter.

  Blake slowly slid down over her, and by the time he traced the taut buds of her nipples, she felt drained, unable to stop him. Her pulse was racing, her breath coming in short bursts. She whimpered each time he covered her nipple with his mouth and tugged.

  And all the while his hand rose farther beneath her silk skirts and petticoats. The cool linen cloth was gone—where she didn’t know. Now it was only his hand, hot, seeking…

  She turned her head one way and then the other, her eyes shut. She wanted to tell him no, but as he moved his hand farther up the tender inside of her thigh, she couldn’t find the strength.

 
; She was so confused. She hated this man, and yet she wanted him…the way she now understood Angelique wanted men. A hot twist in her stomach seemed to be flaring outward, burning her, making her writhe beneath him.

  Again, he was kissing her breasts, her neck, her mouth. He barely had to tug at the fabric of the tattered silk gown for it to fall away. His fingers found the laces of her stays, and then they were gone, too. She watched through half-closed eyes as he sat up and slipped her gown off, first pushing it down to her waist, then carefully pulling it over her feet. She shivered as she felt the fabric slip away, her last defense with it. He threw it carelessly to the floor; it didn’t matter, she thought dreamily. It was ruined anyway.

  There was nothing between them now but her thin white chemise and eyelet drawers. When he found her mouth again, his hand caressing her breast, his thumb gliding over her sensitive nipple, she kissed him back. Against all reason, all logic, Sapphire kissed him back, aching to know what this was between a man and a woman.

  Still completely dressed, Blake stretched out over her, pinning her to the bed, one leg thrown possessively over her. She felt his mouth on her neck, her breasts, her belly, and even through the fabric it burned a fiery path.

  He took her mouth with his and she felt his hand on the waistband of her drawers, and she was defenseless against him. All she could do was kiss him back, making sounds deep in her throat.

  When he pushed the undergarment down over her feet and raised his hand along her bare calf, then her inner thigh, she felt her body tense.

  “Don’t,” he whispered, easing her legs apart. “You’re so beautiful, Sapphire, your body is made for a man to make love to. Let me.”

  His deep, rumbling voice seemed to draw her on a wave that first splashed on the shore and then tugged her outward into the darkness, the unknown.

  His fingertips brushed the apex of her thighs and she cried out incoherently, fighting the pleasure.

  “Shh,” he murmured, resting his cheek on her abdomen.

  Another moment and she forgot who she was, who she was with. He just kept stroking her, moving upward and then back again, and she found herself straining against him, desiring…what she didn’t know. Needing him, his touch more than anything she had ever known.

  Sapphire reached down to run her fingers through his dark hair, her eyes closed, her body moving with his touch. “Blake,” she heard herself moan. “Blake.” The aching filled her, consumed her, and time seemed to stretch until it stood still. Suddenly her entire body shuddered, burst, and a second later she felt as if she were floating, slowly falling to earth again.

  “I didn’t know,” she whispered, half ashamed, half joyful, tears in her eyes.

  He stretched out beside her, a smile on his lips, as he cradled her in one arm. “I told you your body was made for loving.” He pushed back a lock of her hair that had fallen over her cheek.

  She drifted on the last waves of the pleasure he had given her.

  “I…should go home,” she whispered.

  “Not now.” He kissed her mouth lightly, almost lovingly. “Sleep now and we’ll talk in the morning.”

  Sapphire knew she couldn’t stay, not here in his bed, not undressed, not like this—but she couldn’t stay awake another moment.

  15

  At the sound of movement in the room, Sapphire opened her eyes drowsily. She knew at once where she was; the lamp still burned on the nightstand, but Blake was no longer in bed beside her.

  He was seated in a chair near the fireplace, pulling on a pair of tall leather boots. He wore a woolen patterned coat that appeared more a working man’s garb than the elegant frock coat he had discarded after the ball. There was a wool cap on his head and several leather satchels on the floor beside him. He appeared to be leaving….

  She almost smiled. Of course he was leaving. Blake Thixton was more of a gentleman than she had first given him credit for. He would say nothing of what had passed between them in this bed, this mistake, error in judgment, whatever it had been. He would slip out the back of the hotel, bribe any servant who had seen them enter earlier, and she would wake in the morning and return home with some tale to protect herself and her virtue.

  At that thought, she almost laughed aloud. How could her virtue possibly matter at this point? Half of London believed she was a courtesan!

  “Ah, you’re awake. I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet.” Blake rose from the chair, pushing the cap farther back on his head as approached the bed.

  Suddenly shy with him after her earlier response to his touch, she pulled up the light blanket until it touched her nose. She realized she was completely unclothed beneath the coverlet and she looked around quickly, in horror. Every stitch of her clothing was gone—the beautiful white gown, her petticoat and chemise, even her eyelet drawers.

  “Where are my clothes?” she whispered accusingly, wishing she could take back her thought that he could be any sort of gentleman.

  He gave her that half smile that had been attractive earlier but now only infuriated her.

  “They were quite ruined, beyond repair.”

  Tightening her grip on the edge of the blanket, she stared up at him. “But…but I have to have something to wear home.”

  “You’re not going home.”

  “What?”

  “My offer. You’ve accepted.”

  “What offer?” she breathed.

  “To become my mistress.”

  “I did no such thing! Why, I would not…not if you were the last man on this Godforsaken—”

  “You see,” he interrupted, picking up a leather billfold from the bedside and slipping it inside his coat. “I knew you were going to make this more difficult than it had to be.”

  She sat up in the bed, still covering her nakedness as best she could with the blanket. “What are you talking about?” she asked, staring at him. “Surely you didn’t save me from Charles only to—”

  “Sapphire, I’m not going to rape you.” He frowned. “I’m not the kind of man who needs to rape in order to have a woman.” Again, that smile. “They come to me of their own accord.”

  She sucked in a breath, speechless in her rage. “You…you are the most conceited, the most self-centered, most egotistical man I have ever had the misfortune to meet! What are you going to do with me?” she demanded. “What are you talking about? What will I make more difficult than it need be?”

  He picked up a small leather case with a wide strap and dropped it over his head and one arm. “I’ve decided to take you with me.”

  She tried to push herself back farther with her feet, attempting to put more distance between them, but the simple movement sent pain shooting from her injured ankle up her leg.

  “Lie still before you injure yourself more.” He leaned over the bed and began to pull up the corners of the sheet beneath her.

  “I demand to know where you’re taking me, Mr. Thixton!”

  He continued his task, folding the sheet and blanket around her. “Mr. Thixton again, is it?” He raised an eyebrow. “Seems to me it was Blake not long ago, but then we were more intimately engaged, weren’t we.”

  She wanted to reach out and slap that ridiculous smile from his face. “You can’t do this,” she spat. “You can’t…kidnap me.”

  “I’m not exactly kidnapping you. After all, you’ve touted your wares over most of London these past few weeks waiting for the highest bid. I’ve made the highest bid and you’re going to accept it.”

  “I’m going to do no such thing,” she hissed.

  He began to draw the blanket over her shoulder and around her and she lashed out at him, trying to slap away his hands.

  “Really, Sapphire,” he muttered. “This is completely unnecessary. Where are you going to go like this, stark naked and barely able to walk this time of morning? Not to Lord Thomas, I’ll guarantee you that. Your offer was that of a virgin’s.”

  “I’m still a virgin,” she sputtered as he lifted her into his arms.

  �
�A technicality, but who would believe you?”

  “Oh!” she cried, her eyes filling with tears of frustration as she tried to reach out, to claw his eyes out or something equally harmful, anything to shut him up. But wrapped tightly in the sheet and blanket, she couldn’t get her legs free, and now he had her arms pinned inside, as well.

  “There, there, darling,” he soothed, lifting her from the bed.

  In his arms, he drew her against his chest, forcing her to look up at him. “In time you’ll get used to the idea of being my mistress. I think you’ll even come to like it.”

  “Let me go!” she shouted, glaring at him. “Let me go or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? Scream? Who would come? I bring women back with me most nights. Some whores, but mostly respectable ladies who prefer to be discreet. No one will come if you scream, my dear. Anyone who might hear you will just assume it’s all part of our early morning love-play.”

  Sapphire gritted her teeth.

  “Or did you intend to free yourself and run? Wouldn’t that be a pleasant sight, you running stark naked down the middle of the street? Of course, with that bad ankle, you’d have to hobble. And that wouldn’t be quite so lovely a picture, would it? Tarnished lady hobbles through the streets of London. I’m afraid you’d be ruined, my dear, all value of your charms lost to anyone of quality—once they stopped laughing.”

  “I’m not going with you, wherever you’re going,” she said quickly, suddenly afraid of what she had gotten herself into. “Last night…it was all a mistake. I…I had too much to drink, I—”

  “You keep telling yourself that. Now be quiet while I get you out of here, or I swear by my father’s gin bottle, I’ll set you loose on the street and I’m taking my blankets with me.”

  “Oh!” was all Sapphire could manage to say before he covered her face with the blanket, silencing her and leaving her in darkness as he walked out the door.

  When Angelique entered the apartments at dawn, Lucia was seated on the couch in her bedclothes, drifting in and out of sleep. At the sound of the door opening, she leaped up. “Sapphire?”