She wasn’t sure what woke her from the thick dreamless lethargy, but she found her eyes were heavy and tired as though she had been drugged. Blade was still asleep, his body curved around her and his limbs acting both as a shield and a cover.
For a moment the languor was too deep, too somnolent for her to raise herself, and then a burning stream of hot self-loathing flooded her limbs with pure adrenalin. How could she have been so weak, so criminally, stupidly weak? All the weeks of heartache, all the bitter confrontations and painful rows—and for what? She was back where she had been three months ago, about to break his heart for a second time, but this time things would be so much worse. She had run away, and that hadn’t worked. She had tried rejecting him, and look where that had got her. What could she do? What could she do?
‘Amy, darling …’ As Blade stirred and then opened his eyes, she saw his face was open and unguarded, his eyes hungry for her. ‘Everything will be all right, sweetheart.’
She stiffened, her whole body tensing at what she must do. But could she do it? Could she convince him after what they had just shared that it was all a mistake? A physical weakness momentarily appeased. Could she?
CHAPTER NINE
‘BLADE, I have to go.’ She jerked out of his arms with such force that she heard his elbow crack against the floor through the thick sheepskin rug on which they had lain. ‘I must get back.’
‘There’s no rush.’ His voice was lazy, warm. ‘We’ve the whole night—’
‘No!’ She was already pulling on her clothes with feverish haste, and this time the tone of her voice got through to him as he raised himself slowly on one elbow, his face hardening.
‘Not again. For crying out loud, not again.’
‘You don’t understand.’ She heard him move, a rustle of clothes, a zip fastening into place, and then he was in front of her clad only in his jeans, his face more angry than she had ever seen it, his black eyes blazing like an inferno.
‘I’m going to.’ His voice was low and tight, the same voice he had used to Beef in the restaurant. ‘Believe me, Amy, I’m going to. No more evasions, no more double talk. You are going to talk to me tonight, really talk—’
‘You can’t make me!’ She could hear the hysteria in her voice herself, and winced at the shrillness even as she recognised that she was frightened. Badly frightened. The coldly dangerous man standing in front of her was at the end of his tether; even if she hadn’t loved him so much she would have known that.
‘I can make you, and you know it.’ In contrast to her voice, his had got lower, the deepness chilling her bones. ‘Why did you leave, Amy? And don’t give me that garbage about it not working. That wasn’t the reason was it? Was it?’ The last two words had been like pistol shots in her ears and she jumped visibly, taking a step backwards as she gazed up at him with huge drowning eyes. ‘I’m prepared to stay here for days, weeks, months, until I get an answer. And this John!’ He dismissed poor John with an angry jab of his hand. ‘You don’t care for him. You couldn’t make love with me the way we’ve just done if you did. I know you, Amy. I know you. Try and tell me you don’t love me! Tell me you want me out of your life for good.’
She put her hand to her mouth as he moved a step towards her, for all the world like a huge dark avenging angel that was going to tear her heart out by its roots. And then it was all too much. Before he could stop her she had fled towards the door, pulling it open and rushing out into the dark night as though she had wings on her feet. She had to get away. Had to escape …
He caught her before she had even left the perimeter of the house, pulling her round with such force that she felt her head spin as he shook her hard. ‘You will tell me! Now! I love you, I have the right to know! You’re my wife, damn it. What about all the plans we made? Children. A house in the country. Growing old together—’
‘I’ll never grow old!’ She was screaming, over and over again, all the pent-up emotion of months breaking forth as she gave up the fight to be brave, to be strong. ‘I won’t, do you hear! At the most I’ve got just a few years before this body begins to break down, to decay, to give up! And then I’ll be on crutches, and then a wheelchair—’
‘Amy!’
‘No, you listen to me! This is what you wanted, isn’t it, to hear it all? Well, you’ve got what you wanted! I’m telling you now—’
The slap across her face was just hard enough to break the frenzied hysteria that had brought a red mist before her eyes, and as his dark face swam into focus she was suddenly enfolded in his arms as he lifted her bodily and strode back into the house. She didn’t try to struggle against his superior strength, there was no point, and besides she felt numb and lifeless as the enormity of what she had done washed over her. A living hell. She had condemned him to a living hell. If the knowledge of what was going to happen was too hard for him to bear and he left her, he would carry the guilt with him for the rest of his life. If he stayed—her mind slammed to a halt. What had she done? How could she have told him if she really loved him? And she did, so much.