by Helen Brooks
The countryside through which they wound was tranquil and sleepy, green hillsides, winding rivers, the inevitable grey stone walls carving an endless pattern up into the rolling summits and down into fields of velvet green grass. Carpets of wild flowers perfumed the clean pure air with their faint scent, spilling over on to the grass verges and down into little dells where sparkling streams sang their way over smooth round pebbles. It was beautiful, magical, but Amy’s eyes were blind with misery. I’ve made such a mess of all this, she thought bleakly as the familiar delicious smell of Blade’s aftershave teased her nostrils and tightened her lower stomach into one giant ache. She couldn’t see him each day without betraying herself, she just couldn’t …
‘Can you afford to leave the business for days on end like this?’ she asked carefully, when they had been driving for some time in cold silence. ‘I’d have thought—’
‘Consideration? At this late date?’ His voice was bitingly cool. ‘Don’t tell me you are actually thinking of my welfare? Or could it be that you just want to get rid of me as soon as possible?’
‘It’s just that after our—’ She stopped abruptly and as his eyes flashed to her face, their blackness fiery, before returning to the road ahead she knew he had read her mind again and had known what she was going to say.
‘After our …?’ he asked silkily.
‘After our honeymoon you had so many problems to sort out,’ she finished in a little desperate rush. How could she have been so stupid as to mention their honeymoon? she asked herself miserably. Talk about a red rag to a bull.
‘That’s my concern, not yours,’ he said shortly, his face dark and cold.
‘Blade—’ she paused, biting her lower lip helplessly ‘—can’t we behave like two reasonable people, let the divorce go through as amicably as possible?’
‘But I don’t feel reasonable, Amy,’ he drawled imperturbably, ‘in fact I feel anything but. The things I would like to do to you—’ He stopped abruptly as his voice tightened and it was a full minute before he spoke again, and then his voice was smooth and controlled with just a hint of cynical mockery. ‘Let’s just say I don’t feel reasonable and leave it at that. Enjoy the drive for now and after lunch we’ll have a nice little chat.’
‘We’ve got nothing to say to each other,’ she countered quietly as her heart leapt into her throat.
‘On the contrary.’ He sounded his horn at two large crows who were haggling in the middle of the road over some titbit that looked disgusting. ‘There’s the tedious business of washing all the dirty linen for a start.’
She sank a little lower into the upholstered seat and shut her eyes tightly for a moment. She was going to have to be careful, so careful. If he even got an inkling of what this was all about …
‘I understand your white knight, the slayer of dragons, is visiting Mother?’ he continued drily with cold mockery. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t take you along hidden in the boot to keep you from my evil clutches.’
‘How do you know John’s—?’ She stopped as a little bell sounded in her mind. ‘Oh, of course, Mrs Cox,’ she said flatly. He had really made a killing there, she thought bleakly.
‘Has he introduced you to Mummy yet?’ the cynical voice continued. ‘Or is she one of the old school who would object to her little boy dallying with a married woman?’
‘I don’t know why you are trying to make John out to be some sort of mother’s boy,’ she said tightly, ‘because he most certainly isn’t.’
‘Isn’t he?’ The drawling lazy voice expressed disbelief. ‘What exactly are the noble John’s attributes, by the way?’
‘He’s kind and gentle and patient,’ she said hotly, as the overt criticism of her friend stung her on the raw. John had shown her nothing but kindness and she wouldn’t let Blade, even Blade, make fun of him.
‘Worthy virtues in the average cocker spaniel,’ Blade said with icy derision, ‘but somehow that description is not the most passionate characterisation I’ve heard in my life. Is that the best you can do for the poor guy?’
‘It’s impossible to try and talk to you,’ she said angrily as the last of her self-control flew out of the window. ‘I can’t understand why you bothered to come round today—’
‘Well, it certainly wasn’t to talk,’ Blade said softly, without taking his eyes from the road. ‘I realised when I saw you again that that wasn’t the answer. No, this needs to be sorted out on a more—physical level than just mere words, although they will do afterwards.’
‘Afterwards?’ she asked icily with all the disdain she could muster through the mad hot pounding of her heart. ‘You don’t really think—’
‘You’d be amazed what I think,’ Blade said grimly, ‘and none of it good where you are concerned, so why don’t you just be quiet now so we can keep things pleasant?’
They lunched at a tiny little wayside inn whose flower-filled country garden sloped right to the edge of a bubbling river banked by smooth round boulders and stones. There were a few tables and chairs dotted about on the rough green grass under the shade of an enormous cherry tree, and Amy voted for a meal in the open when Blade gave her the choice. The quaint little oak-beamed pub with its homely brass and low ceiling was a little too intimate somehow.
‘You’ve lost weight.’ They were sitting sipping draught cider in tense silence, the sunlight casting dappled pictures on to the old wooden table through the waving branches overhead, and as Blade spoke Amy jumped involuntarily, spilling a few drops of cold golden liquid as she did so. ‘And you’re nervy.’ He touched her hair, following one silky strand from the crown of her head to its place on her shoulder, his eyes thoughtful. ‘Is that because of me, or are you burdened down with guilt at your wayward life?’ he asked with caustic mockery.
‘According to you I should be, then, I suppose?’ she answered quietly as she jerked her head away from his touch. ‘You’ve cast me as the original scarlet woman?’
‘You’d disagree with that?’ he asked tightly as he settled back into his seat opposite her, his eyes hooded and half closed against the bright light. ‘No, don’t answer that. I have no wish for you to perjure yourself any more than you have already done. Ah—the food.’ For a moment the last three words didn’t register, and then a plate of fresh buttered trout, baby new potatoes and fresh green peas appeared over her shoulder.
‘Thank you.’ She smiled up at the landlady as she spoke, grateful for the diversion. John’s words were suddenly very vividly in the forefront of her mind. ‘Trouble with a capital T.’ And how! She looked at Blade now as he sat eating his lunch with every appearance of enjoyment. The hard, handsome face and big, powerful body were painfully familiar. How many times had she thought she would faint beneath the pleasure that masculine body produced, the intimate sensual caresses that had had her mindless with desire? She turned scarlet at the direction her thoughts had veered off to, snapping her eyes down to her full plate and forcing herself to start eating slowly. She didn’t feel like food, she didn’t think she would ever feel like food again …
She was conscious that the piercing dark eyes were trained on her at regular intervals even without raising her head, and when after a few minutes she pushed her half-eaten meal aside his next words didn’t surprise her.
‘No appetite? Why?’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ The vehemence of her voice almost made her jump. ‘I’m not hungry, that’s all.’
‘You don’t look as though you have been hungry for weeks,’ he murmured wryly, but although the comment might have been airy when spoken by anyone else the hard thread of steel underlying the deep voice told her he wasn’t going to let go of this particular bone. ‘Or maybe you’ve been too busy to eat?’
‘Blade, you might not have much respect for me now, if any at all, but believe it or not I didn’t find it easy to end our marriage,’ she said with painful carefulness. ‘Obviously it’s affected me, it’s only to be expected.’
‘And that’s it?’ He le
ant forward suddenly, trapping her small face between his hands as he forced her head upwards to meet the fiery blackness of his gaze. ‘That’s all you’ve got to say to me after what you’ve done? “I didn’t find it easy to end our marriage, obviously it’s affected me”.’ He parroted her words with a furious bitter anger that sliced into her heart.
‘Leave me alone!’ She tried to jerk away but this time he was prepared and the large hands tightened like iron round her face.
‘No way, sweetheart.’ Suddenly his American accent was very pronounced. ‘Like it or not, you are still Mrs Forbes for the moment and I’m damned if I’m going to sit back and do some sort of parody of the stiff upper lip. What do you think I am—?’
He stopped abruptly as the tears she couldn’t hide any more spilled from her eyes to run a salty trail on to his fingers. ‘Amy!’ He swore softly after the one hard explosion of her name and then she found herself lifted up into his arms as he moved to her side, his mouth hard and hot on hers as he strained her to him in an agony of need he couldn’t hide. ‘What’s got into you, girl, what in hell’s name has got into you?’ His words were a soft groan as his lips left hers and then she was cradled against his broad chest, the sunlight and everything else fading into a blinding haze as she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
This was the last thing she had wanted to happen, the very last. Now he’d know she was weak, vulnerable, that there was some mystery. She had to be strong, had to convince him she knew what she was doing! But it was useless. She had longed, with a burning devouring ache night after night, to be held by him like this. She was deathly afraid of the future, horribly lonely, but the knowledge that he had ceased to care, that he believed she had left him because she no longer loved him, was worse than all the future might hold. She wanted him to care, wanted him to share this thing with her, just to be there … Sanity returned in a rush of shame. How could she think like this? If she really loved him how could she drag him with her into the pit? None of this was his fault. She had to see it through alone.
‘I’m all right now.’ She moved out of his arms quickly, sitting down in her seat again as she reached for her handbag and dabbed at her face with a somewhat dog-eared tissue. The effort to control her tears was causing her lower lip to tremble and she bit on it painfully as the coal-black eyes fastened on her face.
‘You are far from all right,’ he said slowly, ‘and I’m fast getting to the point where the temptation to drive somewhere and make love to you until you’re pleading and begging me to take you is becoming irresistible.’
The change in conversation threw her and she stared at him vacantly as he took his seat again, draining the last of the cider with a swift swallow. ‘What did you say?’ she asked faintly as she wondered, for a split-second, if her mind had played tricks on her. ‘John—’
‘John can go to blazes as far as I’m concerned,’ he drawled imperturbably, the poker face he was so good at in business impenetrable and cold. She didn’t know why she had mentioned John’s name at that precise moment—as a talisman, a protection against the sheer force of sexual energy that was reaching out to her from his big body, she suspected. She found she was shaking slightly, her blood running through her veins at fever pitch.
‘I haven’t yet worked all this out,’ he continued slowly, his eyes never leaving her face for a minute, ‘but if you and lover-boy are the epitome of love’s young dream, then heaven help the rest of us.’ His voice was cool and very remote as though he were exercising an iron control on his emotions. ‘So if, as you both claim, you aren’t sleeping with him yet, why did you leave me for him? Do you feel sorry for him, Amy? Is that it? If so, that emotion isn’t going to keep you warm in bed when you finally take the plunge, is it? He just isn’t your type, face it.’
‘Stop it!’ She glanced at him angrily. ‘Stop talking like this.’
‘Why?’ He moved closer now, the control slipping as his voice became a snarl. ‘Or have I got it wrong, or right as the case may be? Perhaps you are his lover already? Is that it? Does he satisfy you, Amy? Give you what you need—’
Her hand shot out to connect stunningly with his face and as the sound echoed round the empty garden they both froze into icy stillness. ‘Well?’ One black eyebrow lifted in cool, hard, quizzical admonition but his expression was impossible to gauge as he stood up slowly, his movements faintly reminiscent of a big black cat. ‘Is that a yes or a no?’
He was playing with her she thought suddenly as she stared back into the dark, glittering eyes. Taunting her, seeking a weak spot.
‘Well, little wife?’ His eyes were cold. ‘Shall we go for a quiet pleasant walk in this countryside you like so much, somewhere quiet and secluded where we can be alone?’
There was definite cruelty in the lazy, cool jibe, but in spite of the apprehension that clouded her eyes and sent a little shiver of fear snaking down her spine she felt a strange sense of relief too. He didn’t suspect the truth or he wouldn’t be treating her like this. Those cold black eyes would be soft with pity and the hard face would maybe, however hard he tried to hide it, have a shred of revulsion somewhere in its depths. He liked beautiful things, beautiful, perfect things, and she wasn’t that any more.
Now she had to be very strong, had to convince him that he didn’t affect her any more, that she meant every word she had spoken concerning their marriage. Could she do it? She brushed the thought aside angrily. She had to, that was all there was to it.
Once back in the car he drove for just a few miles before turning off the main road into a narrow earthen lane banked by high flower-strewn verges and overhanging trees. ‘Do you know this area?’ she asked in surprise. He seemed almost as though he knew where he was going.
‘I asked in the pub,’ he said shortly, ‘and they recommended this way. We should reach a gated road in a moment and beyond that moorland.’
True enough, within thirty seconds the gate, gnarled and old, presented itself and, after they had passed through, the lane led them up and up until the sweet wild smell of moorland grass invaded the open windows of the car and the landscape fell away in great rolls and curves of patchwork artistry.
Blade brought the car to a halt in a little indentation at the top of a hill, and once the powerful engine had died the silence, complete and awesome, took over in all its majesty. ‘Come on.’ He had left his seat to move round the car and open her door and now almost pulled her from the interior, his face expressionless. ‘Let’s walk.’
She had expected him to begin the interrogation at once, but instead he seemed wrapped in some dark silence of his own, walking by her side but careful not to touch her until they came to a flank in the great fell where a tiny narrow stream splashed its way over hard grey rock, the water crystal-clear and icy cold. He took her hand to help her across the gully and the contact seemed to trigger his voice. ‘Cards on the table, Amy.’ His voice was hard and cold and she shivered against its severity. ‘It’s truth time. And don’t forget—’ he smiled slowly ‘—there’s just you and me and miles of moorland.’
‘Are you threatening me, Blade?’ she asked, with far more composure than she felt inside. ‘Because if so—’
‘If so, I get my hand smacked?’ he asked with mocking contempt. ‘But don’t worry anyway, sweetheart, I’m not threatening to hurt you. Merely—’ he paused contemplatively ‘—merely offering to fulfil my marital obligations.’
And as she took a step backwards, her eyes wide with shock, he laughed very softly and the sound was more chilling than any uncontrolled rage.
CHAPTER FOUR
AS she stared at this man she had promised to love, honour and obey for the rest of her life, Amy was vitally conscious of two quite unconnected facts. One was that there was something immensely threatening in the very blankness of the jet-black abyss of his eyes, and the other was a low-moving shadow sweeping across the rolling grassland even as the sunlight followed close on its tracks.
‘How long did you think it would be bef
ore I found you?’ Blade asked softly after a full minute had passed. ‘You obviously expected me to try?’
‘Not really.’ She looked at him warily but the hard face was expressionless now, his eyes veiled. ‘I didn’t know what you would do.’
‘I’ve checked on the validity of John’s injury,’ he continued in the same soft voice that was infinitely disturbing. ‘And it appears it’s genuine.’
‘You’ve done what?’ She forgot to be cautious as the shrillness of her voice caused the black eyes to narrow into slits. ‘How could you? As if anyone would make up a story like that!’
‘But it’s amazing what people will do, sweetheart.’ He eyed her coldly. ‘You of all people should know that.’ He turned from her, his hard features in profile as he gazed across the grassland. ‘I was hoping it was a lie,’ he said after a few moments. ‘But beating him to a pulp is an indulgence that obviously is denied me. I’ll just have to get my satisfaction in another way, won’t I?’ He didn’t look at her as he spoke and in spite of the warm sunlight she shivered helplessly.
‘Please don’t be like this, Blade—’
He cut off her voice by starting to walk, his back straight and stiff and his body taut. ‘Come on, keep moving. I’m less likely to do something I’ll regret that way.’
‘Blade, please wait.’ She couldn’t bear this coldness, the veiled threats. This wasn’t the Blade she knew. Somehow she had to say something, do something, to defuse his rage. ‘I’m sorry …’ As she reached his side her voice died at the blackness of his profile.
‘Do you know what I’ve been through imagining you with him, Amy? Do you? Do you?’ He swung round for one split second and the ferocity in his face brought her heart into her mouth. ‘I’ve been to hell and back a hundred times a day, day in, day out, and all you can say is sorry!’ He laughed harshly. ‘But those pictures in my mind burnt all the feeling I had for you into ashes …’ As his voice cracked, her hand made an involuntary movement towards him but he had turned away again, the big body rigid and stiff. ‘I realised after a time that I don’t know you, Amy. I never did,’ he said coldly after an endless moment when she felt incapable of speech. What was there to say? She couldn’t explain, justify her actions. He had a right to hate her after all but, oh, did it have to hurt so much? And it wasn’t her fault, she thought painfully, it wasn’t.