Lovers Not Friends Page 8

  ‘Can we go back now?’ She raised her chin proudly.

  ‘Of course.’ He smiled mockingly. ‘It would be ungallant to refuse such a beautiful lady anything, especially as she happens to be my wife.’ The black eyes were deadly. ‘You have nothing more to say to me?’

  ‘No.’ She held the lethal gaze bravely.

  ‘Then the choice is yours.’ He smiled slowly but the twist to his mouth chilled her blood. ‘Lovers not friends. That’s how you want it?’

  ‘No!’ She glared at him angrily. ‘We won’t be lovers again, you know that. There’s nothing between us, Blade, not any more—’

  ‘Unlike you, I do not go back on my word, Amy,’ he said with deliberate laziness. ‘I’ve told you how it will be. You’ll want me as much as I want you. You doubt it?’

  ‘I want to go back to the car.’

  ‘So you said.’ He made no effort to touch her on the short walk back to the parked car, not even when she stumbled and almost fell. Indeed, he seemed to be almost unaware of her presence as he strolled along at her side, his face cool and closed against her and his powerful body loose-limbed and easy.

  She glanced at his face once as he opened the passenger door for her to slide in, but it was distant and withdrawn, a stranger’s face in an alien world where there were no colours, just the dank cold grey that had invaded every pore in her body. The numb misery that had gripped her mind since that fateful meeting with Sandra had intensified since she had seen him again. She wouldn’t have thought it was possible but it had.

  But she was fortunate. The little talk she gave herself periodically had no power even to touch her mind as she sat silent and small in the powerful car. She was fortunate. She had years left before the disease reared its head, long years in which to travel, to explore this beautiful world, to live. What about the children who were born with crippling disabilities, who never had the chance to live as she had? She was fortunate. She wanted to press her knuckles against her pounding forehead but restrained herself. Lots of people were struck down with no warning; she had been given time. Precious, precious time. She glanced at the stiff figure at her side. But she would gladly give up every second of that precious time just to spend one day with him as his wife without the knowledge of this thing hanging over her.

  Thank goodness she hadn’t conceived his child. That thought had tormented her for weeks until her body’s cycle had given reassurance. They had seen no reason to take precautions in the three months in which they had been married. They both wanted children, ‘at least ten’, Blade had informed her wickedly on their wedding-night after the consummation of their marriage, and with Blade’s enormous wealth the normal financial considerations that dogged young newlyweds hadn’t applied to them. But the rogue gene that was dormant in boys and attacked little girls couldn’t, mustn’t, be passed knowingly to another generation.

  Life was strange. She bit her lip hard as she thought. In just a few months she had met both ends of the spectrum, Sandra’s hate and rage and Blade’s love. But now the latter was past tense.

  ‘You’ll get cramp.’

  ‘What?’ As his deep voice cut into her thoughts she glanced up to find his eyes trained on her for a split-second before he turned to concentrate on the winding country road again.

  ‘Your body is as tense as a rod. Relax.’ The tone of voice could have been a weather report for the care or concern it held, but as she looked down at her hands clenched in her lap she realised he was right. Every muscle in her body ached.

  He didn’t speak again on the drive home through quiet drowsy lanes, cobbled market squares and tiny villages set like jewels in the magnificent countryside. They passed limestone hills, wooded valleys and the odd isolated cottage in pale stone standing serenely at the edge of the road, and still the thick heavy silence that blanketed the car wasn’t broken.

  As the day began to die, a soft golden twilight lit the great expanse of sky in front of them and as Blade’s car drew up outside Mrs Cox’s small cottage the melody of evening birdsong filled the air with poignant beauty, bringing a lump to Amy’s throat.

  ‘Thank you.’ She looked up into his face as he opened the car door for her but it was unreadable, the curt nod he gave her no indication of his feelings at all. And then he was gone.

  He reversed the car sharply under the protest of brakes and tyres, speeding down the lane far too fast in a whirl of gleaming metal and roaring engine until both sight and sound faded.

  Amy stood for a long, long time in the shadowed lane, moving into the small overgrown front garden after a time to stand with her eyes shut and her back resting against the gnarled trunk of the old lilac tree. It seemed impossible, even now, that this had happened to them, that they were living apart, estranged, with no hope of reconciliation.

  Everything had been so right, so good, so many small details adding up to a perfect whole. Blade had understood all her insecurities and fears, his own childhood being one of mixed blessings with devious turns and twists.

  His father had married his mother, his second wife, with the responsibility of three children from the previous marriage on his conscience, and his obsessive need still to feature prominently in the boys’ lives had cast a shadow over them all.

  ‘We never had a dime to call our own,’ Blade had told her quietly, his eyes looking inward and his face cold. ‘But my stepbrothers only had to ask and my father would provide whatever they wanted. Todd and I, my brother, grew up accepting that as normal. Mom worked every hour of the day and night to bring some extra money in but there was never enough. They rowed constantly but Mom could never bring herself to leave him like his first wife did. And then Todd died.’ His face had been bitter then. ‘Meningitis. And my father hardly noticed. It was from that point Mom sort of gave up. For the first time she accepted that he still loved Rosa, his first wife, and that the rest of us were almost incidental compared to Rosa and her boys.’ His eyes had been black with pain.

  ‘He was killed in a mining accident when I was eighteen and for years I was rent with guilt that I felt nothing but relief that the rows could stop and Mom could know some peace. She died six years later just as I began to make some real money, when I could have given her the life she deserved. But I’ve let it go now.’ He had held her close. ‘I’ve got you and I can finally let the dead rest in peace.’

  And now? She moved restlessly. Sooner or later, perhaps sooner, he would move out of her orbit altogether, living, breathing, sleeping—without her. The shaft of pain through her heart made her gasp in protest. They would be in the same chunk of this little planet but she wouldn’t know when he had had a bad day, when he was excited about something, when he was sad. She wouldn’t be there to massage the muscles of his neck when he was tense, laugh and tease him about his little idiosyncrasies, lie next to him in the warmth of their huge giant-sized bed … She shook her head helplessly as the tears rained down her face. She loved him, she loved him so much, she couldn’t bear this pain … But she had to. She hugged her crossed arms tight into her waist.

  None of their dreams could come true any more. He had had such a bad start in life, worked so hard to carve out his success. She would stop him from living the life he loved, fill him with guilt for every time he enjoyed himself without her, and if he did meet someone else …

  She sat down on the overgrown grass abruptly, her arms clasped round her knees. And before that time there would be years of waiting, of knowing—a sure-fire time bomb waiting to explode, the knowledge of which would taint even the good days. No children, no young Blade to carry on his father’s name. ‘I am right.’ Her voice was a soft tremble in the cool night air but even as she spoke she raised her head upwards, her wet face shining with ethereal paleness in the dim light. ‘I am right.’ This time her voice was firm and harsh, the bleakness that pulled at her delicate features echoed in the three small words that spelt a lifetime of loneliness and solitude.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MUCH to her surprise the ne
xt morning Amy found she must have fallen asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She had expected to lie awake for hours but sheer mental exhaustion had sent her into the transient world of dreams and shadows from which she awoke feeling much much better. Probably the human spirit could only take so much grief in short doses, she thought vaguely as she lay watching the dancing sunlight on the far wall of the small room, but today she felt a sense of peace and surety about her actions that was a balm to her sore heart. She had to be positive, had to put the past behind her and forget the future and live only in the present. And she could and would.

  That comforting conviction lasted for exactly five minutes, the time it took for her to rouse herself and don her thin silk dressing-gown after brushing her mass of ruffled gold waves into sleek obedience before she wandered downstairs to the tiny kitchen to make herself toast and tea.

  ‘Good morning, Amy.’ It wasn’t so much the deep rich American voice that caused her heart to stop and then pound madly out of control as the sight of Blade, stripped to the waist and clad only in a pair of grass-stained jeans and light trainers, drinking a cup of coffee with Mrs Cox as he surveyed her standing in the doorway through narrowed black eyes. ‘You slept well?’ The tone was velvet-smooth.

  ‘What—?’ She stopped abruptly. ‘I mean …’

  ‘I’ll just go and hang out that washing,’ Mrs Cox said hurriedly, ‘now you’ve cleared all the overgrown grass and moss from the path. Be a real treat, it will, instead of just using that little patch at the end.’ She had scuttled out of the back door before Amy could stop her and Blade closed it carefully, levering himself off the far wall where he had been leaning in lazy conversation with the little woman and moving to Amy’s side with animal grace.

  She tried, with every ounce of will she possessed, to draw her eyes away from that magnificent body but it was no good. The hard, strong male shoulders, broad hair-roughened chest and muscular arms were just as she remembered but better, and as an aching heat spread like wildfire through every vein and muscle she could feel its warmth reflected in her face and, worse, her body. The thin silk of her nightdress and dressing-gown did nothing to hide the hard, pointed tips of her breasts as they responded to the age-old call of his masculinity and she knew, she just knew, he was thoroughly enjoying her predicament.

  ‘I asked you if you slept well,’ he drawled mockingly, ‘in your chaste little bed.’

  ‘Fine, thank you.’ She sidestepped him adroitly and switched the kettle on with shaking hands, knowing full well that in the confined space of the tiny kitchen one wrong movement would bring her up against the tanned hardness of his flesh.

  ‘That’s good.’ He had moved behind her, his body moulded like a second skin to her back, and as his hands went round her waist and he nuzzled his chin into the scented silk of her hair, she froze helplessly. This felt so good, so good… ‘You’ve got your morning smell.’ He sniffed into her neck appreciatively and a wave of desire flooded down her spine so hotly she almost fainted. ‘A mixture of scented soap, shampoo and something else, something else that is all you. It’s—’ he growled softly against her skin ‘—very moreish.’

  ‘You smell of the garden,’ she said abruptly as she tried to break away from his grasp. ‘And would you please let me go?’

  ‘I didn’t smell of the garden when I first got here,’ he whispered seductively in her ear, blatantly ignoring the second part of her sentence with arrogant disregard. ‘Then I was fresh and cool from my shower and with a little of that aftershave you like so much. Remember?’

  Did she remember? Her senses were racing in hyperdrive as she caught the sensual, heady scent of the exclusive aftershave he had made specially for him, a mixture of lemon, musk and something altogether wicked.

  ‘I didn’t sleep too well,’ he continued lazily as he settled her more firmly into the hard planes and contours of his body, his warm breath causing a million ripples of sensation she fought with all her might to hide. ‘In fact after three cold showers at two, four and six respectively I thought maybe a spell in Mrs Cox’s garden would get rid of some of my excess energy. It was working too, until you walked in half naked.’

  ‘I am not half naked,’ she protested vigorously, turning angrily in his hold as she did so. It was a mistake. Now she was facing him and the slight slackening of his arms that had enabled her to shift her position tightened instantly as the soft curves of her body were pressed against the length of his. ‘Let me go, Blade, I mean it. I—’

  The pressure of his lips on hers caught the words in her throat and his mouth was immediately possessive, the kiss a deliberate, experienced assault on her senses. She was painfully conscious of her breasts caught against his hard hair-roughened chest, the thin layer of silk separating them more erotic than any nakedness, and as his tongue sent a river of desire coursing through her body she felt her mouth become pliant and eager beneath his.

  ‘Mrs Cox …’ she muttered desperately, her head spinning.

  He growled, deep in his throat, at the protestation. ‘Would be only too pleased to see a husband kissing his wife good morning.’ He had raised his head just long enough to speak and she saw his eyes were hot and glittering, their black depths brilliant. ‘Now be quiet and let me finish the greeting.’

  She tried, momentarily, to stop him but then his hands and lips were caressing her again and she sank dizzily into the sensual warmth, her senses whirling. He was just too good at this, he always had been.

  ‘Now, then.’ As he raised his head a minute or two later Amy knew it had been just in time. Another few seconds and her legs would have given way completely. ‘Tell me you didn’t enjoy that.’ His gaze stroked mockingly over the taut outline of her breasts displayed in evocative detail under the clinging silk.

  ‘I didn’t want you to kiss me.’ She stared at him, her face scarlet. ‘I’ve told you—’

  ‘That you don’t love me. Yes, I know.’ His eyes were hard now, hard and cool. ‘But that isn’t what I said. Tell me you didn’t enjoy it.’ He moved back a pace, crossing powerful arms over his bare chest. ‘And that will confirm you’ve turned into a duplicitous little liar, my love. Because that was your body giving the go signals there, and if it weren’t for the fact that our esteemed Mrs Cox might be a little put out to find us in flagrante delicto on her kitchen floor I would be very tempted to give you exactly what you were asking for.’

  ‘You arrogant, overbearing …supercilious …’ Her rage was making her flounder for appropriate descriptive words, especially in view of the laconic relaxed mockery evident in every line of his face and body.

  ‘I plead guilty to the first two, but the third …’ He eyed her tauntingly. ‘No, not the third. I know the things I’m good at, Amy, and making love is one of them, it’s as simple as that. If you don’t like it, then tough.’ Suddenly the lazy mockery was infinitely more chilling. ‘And when I’m ready I will have you and you won’t be able to do a thing about it. And do you know why?’ She stared at him without speaking, her blood running cold at the biting contempt and anger in his face. ‘Because you’ll want it as badly as me if not more.’

  ‘Never.’ Low as her voice was, it caused his face to darken into lines of pure steel.

  ‘I’ve never accepted that word from anyone in my life and I sure as hell don’t intend to start with you.’ He gave her one last scathing look that caused her flesh to burn from the top of her head to the soles of her feet before stalking out into the garden angrily, his head held high and his back straight.

  She watched him, her nerves shot to pieces, as he exchanged some passing comment with Mrs Cox, who was still hanging her washing out in the fresh summer air, before he picked up the old garden spade and began digging in one of the overgrown flower beds. The sunlight turned his bare torso into rippling bronze as he applied himself to the task in hand, and as she stared it came to her, on a flood of something approaching hysteria, that no one in the world would believe that the big muscled giant working in the
garden of a little Yorkshire landlady was the multi-millionaire Blade Forbes who had the business world at his beck and call. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so she did neither, turning to automatic as she made herself tea and toast and escaping to her room before Mrs Cox came back into the house.

  ‘I hate him.’ She found she was talking to herself as she paced the bedroom agitatedly. ‘He’s doing this on purpose, working here on purpose.’ She stopped for a moment and pressed close fists against her temples. ‘Why is he doing this, why can’t he let go?’ The answer was there the instant her mind voiced the question. Because nothing and no one had ever got away from him before; she doubted if anyone had ever wanted to try, anyway. She had seen at first hand the effect he had on women. ‘Lethal,’ she muttered to herself irritably. And he had told her he didn’t want her back, that he didn’t love her any more, but … She opened her eyes to gaze unseeingly across the small room. He needed to know he could still have her physically if he wanted to. Was that all their marriage had meant to him in the final analysis? Was it? She rubbed her hand over her eyes wearily. No, she didn’t believe that, but just what she did believe she wasn’t sure any more. He was different, very different, but then he could say exactly the same about her.

  One thing she was sure about was the necessity to avoid being alone with him at all costs. She stopped to stare into the mirror on the old wardrobe door blankly, her eyes skimming with perfunctory interest over the delicate beauty that had first attracted Blade. For most of her life her beauty had been a lead weight round her neck, alienating Sandra, destroying any closeness she might have had with her dour aunt and uncle, and now proving an ongoing temptation to Blade even when he despised her and a snare to herself because it kept him near.

  But he had loved her. Not just her looks. She turned from the mirror with a little cry of despair. Hadn’t he?