Sinful Nights (11 page)

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here before—an emergency at Low Head farm, but you seem to have managed well enough without me.’ His smile was for Sapphire, but she shook her head, directing his attention to Mary. ‘Without Mary’s help I couldn’t have done it.’

‘The foal had turned,’ Mary explained, ‘but fortunately he was small enough for me to turn back.’

‘Umm, quick thinking on your part to send for Mary,’ the vet praised Sapphire, ‘but where’s Blake?’

‘He had to go out.’ Sapphire repeated the explanation she had given Mary.

‘Lucky for him and the mare that you were here.’ His eyes were curious as he inspected her, and Sapphire wondered if he knew that she was Blake’s wife, and that they were back together again.

It was another two hours before Sapphire could crawl into bed. She had made supper for Mary and the vet, who had pronounced both mother and foal to be in perfect health, and by the time they had gone she had been almost too tired to sink into the hot bath she had run for herself. As she pulled the quilt up round her ears she glanced at her watch. One o’clock, and Blake still wasn’t back. A bitter pain invaded her body. Was he at this very moment making love to Miranda, kissing her with the barely restrained passion he had shown her earlier in the day? They had not been lovers he had said to her, and for a moment she had believed him, but surely his actions tonight proved that he had lied?

She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. She
wasn’t
going to lie here awake, wondering where he was, waiting for him to return as she had done so often in the past.

A
SURPRISE AWAITED
Sapphire when she opened her eyes the following morning. It was the clarity of the light in her bedroom that first alerted her, and padding across the room on bare feet she flung back the curtains, bemused to see the white blanket of snow that must have fallen during the night. Everything was so quiet; the air so crystal clear it was almost like wine. She frowned; where was Blake? Had he even returned? She padded back to bed, picking up her watch and nearly dropping it as she realised how long she had overslept. It was gone ten o’clock!

Showering quickly she ran downstairs and opened the kitchen door. The room was empty but there was evidence that Blake had had some breakfast. The aroma of coffee hung tantalisingly in the air making her aware of her thirst. Deftly she moved about the kitchen going to stand by the window as she waited for the coffee to filter into the jug. The snow lay surprisingly deep in the yard, criss-crossed with footmarks plus those of a dog. Of course, the sheep! Sapphire gnawed at her bottom lip. Attractive though the snow was to look at it could spell disaster for any unwary farmer. She remembered
her father’s shepherd telling her that he had expected this weather. Had Blake got the ewes down to the lower pastures? If not there was every danger that the new lambs would be lost beneath the huge drifts Sapphire knew could form on the bleak mountain tops. Without consciously making any decision she found herself searching in the porch for a pair of suitable Wellingtons, mentally ticking off all that she would need if she was to be any help to the men. She could follow their tracks through the snow without any difficulty. Perhaps if she took them hot coffee and tea …

Fifteen minutes later Sapphire tramped through the farmyard, following the clearly defined footprints upwards. The snow had frozen to a crisp crust, her laboured breath made white plumes in the sharp morning air. At another time she would have found the atmosphere invigorating, but right now she was too concerned about the sheep to really enjoy the delights of the morning.

The baaing of the sheep and the sharp yelps of the dogs reached her first, carrying easily on the clear air, and she expelled her breath on a faint sigh of relief. Obviously some of the sheep at least had been brought down to the lower meadows. As she followed the footprints along a dry-stone wall Sapphire caught her first glimpse of her quarry, a rough shelter had been constructed in one of the fields, and men were busy unbaling hay from a tractor. The field sloped away slightly offering some protection from the wind and drifts, and as she got nearer Sapphire recognised her father’s shepherd, busily at work. The other men she also vaguely
recognised as general farmhands attached to Blake’s farm whom he had no doubt taken from their other tasks to help with the all-important job of saving the sheep.

Tam recognised her face, a weary grin splitting his weathered face as he hailed her.

‘I’ve brought you something hot to drink,’ Sapphire called out as soon as she was close enough, adding anxiously, ‘How’s it going? The ewes …’

‘Brought most of them down yesterday,’ Tam informed her. ‘Blake’s gone looking for the rest of the flock. Shouldn’t have too much of a problem with my Laddie to help him. Fine sheepdog.’

‘Anything I can do to help?’ Sapphire asked, handing out the thermos flasks and cups.

‘No. I reckon everything’s under control. Luckily Blake was running your dad’s flock with his own, so we shouldn’t have too many casualties. If this weather had come another two weeks on we could have been in trouble—the first ewes are due to start lambing then.’

‘You don’t think it will last then?’ Sapphire asked, studying the snow-covered landscape.

Tam shook his head. ‘Not more than three or four days, and we were prepared for it.’ He nodded in the direction of the new shelter and the bales of hay. ‘Blake knows what he’s doing all right.’ There was approval in his voice and Sapphire turned away, not wanting the shepherd to see her own bitter resentment. What time had Blake come home last night? He could have had precious little sleep she thought revengefully. Had he arrived before the snow came or had the fact that she
had not heard him been due to the fact that it had muffled his return?

What did it matter? It was no business of hers how he spent his time, or whose bed he shared.

She waited until the men had finished their drinks before gathering up the empty flasks.

‘I’ll keep this one for Blake,’ Tam offered taking a half-full one from her and screwing on the top. ‘He’ll be fair frozen by the time he gets back.’

‘Is he up there alone?’ Sapphire frowned when the shepherd nodded. ‘Is that wise?’

‘Blake knows what he’s doing.’

Tam had been right, Sapphire reflected several hours later when a noise in the yard alerted her to Blake’s return. Snow clung to his thick protective jacket and the cuffs of his boots, his skin burned by the icy cold wind. She hadn’t known whether to prepare a meal or not—there was still the Beef Wellington to cook from last night, and she had spent what was left of the morning making a nourishing hot soup, thinking that if Blake didn’t return she could take it out to the men in flasks.

She had also been in to inspect the new foal, now standing proudly on all four spindly legs while his mother looked on in benign approval.

As Blake crossed the yard the ‘phone rang. It was her father calling to enquire about the sheep. ‘Everything’s under control, Dad,’ she assured him. ‘Blake had already got the ewes down to the lower pasture and he’s been up to the top to bring the rest down.’

‘Yes, Mary told me I didn’t need to worry, but old habits die hard.’

The kitchen door opened as she replied, and she could hear the sound of Blake tugging off his boots. ‘Blake’s back now,’ she told her father, ‘would you like to speak to him?’

‘No, I know myself what it’s like. He’ll be frozen to the marrow and tired out—the last thing he’ll feel like is talking to me. I’ll speak to him later when he’s thawed out.’

‘Who was that?’

She hadn’t heard Blake cross the floor in his stockinged feet and whirled round apprehensively. Exhaustion tautened the bone structure of his face, dimming the gold of his eyes to tawny brown. White flecks of snow clung to his hair and jumper.

‘My father. Is it snowing again?’

‘Trying to. God I’m tired. Is there any hot water?’

‘Plenty. Would you like something to eat?’ She saw his eyebrows lift and mockery invade his eyes. ‘Quite the devoted wife today aren’t we? What brought about this metamorphosis?’

‘Nothing … there hasn’t been one.’ Sapphire retorted flatly cursing herself for her momentary weakness. ‘I just thought …’

‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ Strong dark fingers raked through his already tousled hair. ‘That was uncalled for—put it down to sheer male …’ His glance studied her slim body in its covering of jeans and sweater and he grimaced faintly before adding bluntly, ‘frustration … Deprivation of physical satisfaction does tend to make me behave like a churlish brute, and I haven’t even thanked you for your midwifery last night …’

‘Mary’s the one you should thank,’ Sapphire told him, turning away and busying herself filling the kettle. She wanted to scream at him that she didn’t want to know the details about his relationship with Miranda or about his physical hunger for her. Was that why he had made love to
her
so intensely yesterday? In anticipation of holding Miranda in his arms? The thought made her feel physically sick, but what was even more shocking was the knowledge that she could feel so strongly and primitively about a man for whom she had already told herself she felt only the echoes of an old physical desire.

‘Is something wrong?’

She could feel him approaching and tensed. ‘No, nothing.’ She couldn’t bear him to come anywhere near her right now, not when her far too active mind was picturing him with Miranda, kissing and caressing her. The handle of the mug she had been holding in her hand snapped under the intensity of her grip, the mug falling to the floor where it shattered into fragments.

‘No … don’t. Leave it.’ Her voice was sharper than she had intended, almost shrill in its intensity and she prayed that Blake wouldn’t recognise the near hysteria edging up under it. ‘You haven’t got anything on your feet,’ she added weakly. ‘You go and have your bath and I’ll clean it up. Are you hungry now, or can you wait an hour or so?’

‘I can wait.’ He too sounded clipped and terse, but Sapphire couldn’t look at him to read the reason in his expression. Instead she waited until she heard the door close behind him and then carefully skirting the broken china went to get a brush and pan to clear up the mess.

She was putting the Beef Wellington into the oven when she heard Blake call out something from upstairs. Reacting without thinking Sapphire hurried up them, coming to an abrupt halt outside his bedroom door, wondering whether to knock or simply walk in. The dilemma was solved for her as Blake pulled the door open. He had taken off his sweater and shirt, and his skin gleamed silky bronze beneath the electric light. Her breathing, which hadn’t been in the slightest affected by her dash upstairs, now suddenly constricted, her heart thudding heavily its beats reverberating through her body.

‘I’ve scraped my back against a wall. I think the skin’s broken.’ Blake turned his back to her as he spoke and Sapphire saw the patch of broken skin, slightly swollen and discoloured with dried blood.

Farm accidents no matter how minor always had to be properly attended to; that was one of the first rules Sapphire had ever learned and she knew better than to accuse Blake of being too fussy in wanting the graze attended to. Neither would he be able to deal with it himself, positioned as it was just below his shoulder blade.

‘I’ll go and get some antiseptic and cotton wool. Your tetanus shots are up to date I hope?’

‘Do you?’ Blake grimaced sardonically, flexing his shoulder as he moved away from her, as though the muscles pained him. ‘Funny, I had the distinct impression you’d like nothing better than to see me suffer.’

‘Don’t.’ Sapphire whispered the protest, her face paper white, remembering the stories Tam had told her as a child about farm workers who had died from
the dreaded ‘lockjaw’. Fortunately, with his back to her Blake couldn’t see her betraying expression, nor question her as to why she should feel such concern for someone she purportedly hated.

Why did she? She was forced to ask herself the question as she hurried into the bathroom for antiseptic and cotton-wool. There was nothing personal in her concern, she assured herself, she would have reacted the same way no matter who was involved. But she would not have reacted so intensely to the sight of anyone else’s half-naked body; she would not have wanted to stretch out and touch the bronze skin and hard muscles, excitement gripping her by the throat as she visualised that same body … No … she was over all that. She no longer loved Blake, but for some reason her senses were playing cruel tricks on her, tormenting her with mental images of herself in Blake’s arms; of Blake making love to her with all the fierce passion she suspected lay beneath his sardonic exterior.

Fool, fool, she berated herself as she hurried back to the stark, functional bedroom Blake had chosen for his own occupation. As she walked in she noticed that the bed looked untidy and rumpled. When she had dealt with Blake’s wound she would change the sheets and tidy up a bit.
Very wifely
, the inner cynical voice she had come to dread mocked her,
but it won’t make him want you
. I don’t want him to want me. The denial seemed to reverberate inside her skull, and then as though it knew how paper-frail it was that other voice taunted softly,
Liar
.

‘Sapphire?’ Blake’s curt voice cut across her thoughts.
‘Are you all right?’ He was frowning, his eyes sharpening to vivid gold as they searched her face.

‘I’m not going to faint at the sight of a drop of your precious blood if that’s what you think,’ Sapphire responded tartly, adding with a calm she was far from feeling. ‘While you’re having your bath I’ll change the bed for you. You’d better sit down on it, otherwise I’ll never be able to reach the graze.’

‘If you just clean it up for now,’ Blake suggested, ‘that should do the trick.’

‘It will need a dressing on it,’ Sapphire protested.

‘Which will get soaked through the moment I get in the bath.’

‘Then I’ll put it on when you’ve finished,’ Sapphire told him tartly, complaining, ‘Honestly Blake, I never thought you of all people would be so irresponsible.’