Come Lie With Me Read online

  In her own room she stared at her bed, but realized that it would be a waste of time to return to it. She’d never be able to sleep. Too many sensations, too many memories, were warring in her mind and body. Her bedside clock told her that it was a little after three; she might as well stay up the rest of the night.

  She felt oddly empty, her regret candeling out the bittersweet pleasure she’d found in his embrace and leaving her with nothing. For a short while, in his arms, she’d felt wildly alive, as if all her fetters had fallen away. Reality was something less than that. Reality was knowing that the night meant nothing to him beyond the immediate satisfaction of his sex-starved body. She’d seen it coming from a mile away and still hadn’t had the sense to duck; no, she’d taken the punch full on the jaw.

  But mistakes were something to learn from, better textbooks than anything that ever got put into print. She’d picked herself up before and gone on, and she’d do it again. The trick was to remember that there was an end to everything, and the end of her time with Blake was coming at her with the speed of a jet.

  She cringed inwardly at the thought, and in agitation walked out to the gallery. The desert air was cold, and she shivered when it touched her heated skin, but she welcomed the shock of it. The night had been an emotional roller coaster, a ride that had left her stunned, bewildered. She’d gone from fear to acceptance, then to joy, followed by regret and a rerun of acceptance, and now she was afraid again, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces, afraid that life after Blake would be so hollow that it would be useless. Afraid, even, of the possibility that the fear he’d destroyed had been her strongest defense.

  Chapter Nine

  The sudden lancing of light across the dark gallery made her heart leap into her throat, and she turned her head to the left to wearily eye the sliding doors to Blake’s room, where the light was coming from. What had awakened him? When the glass doors remained closed, she turned back to stare out again into the blackness of the garden. She hoped he wouldn’t come looking for her; she didn’t think she could face him right then. Perhaps in the morning, when she was dressed in her familiar “therapist uniform” of shorts and a T-shirt and they were involved in the routine of exercise. Perhaps then she’d have herself under control and could act as if nothing unusual had happened. But now she felt raw and bleeding, every nerve exposed. Wearily she leaned her head against the railing, not even feeling how cold she’d become.

  A whirr came to her ears and she lifted her head, frowning. It was coming from her room…then it stopped just behind her, and she knew. Blake had used the wheelchair, because he could get around faster in it than he could using the walker. Her entire body tensed as she listened to him getting out of the chair, struggling for balance, but she didn’t dare look around. She kept her forehead pressed against the cold metal of the railing, hoping without belief that he’d realize she didn’t want to be disturbed and leave her alone.

  First she felt his hands, gripping her shoulders, then the hard, warm press of his body against her back and the stirring of his breath in her hair. “Dee, you’re freezing,” he murmured. “Come inside. We’ll talk there, and I’ll get you warm.”

  She swallowed. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “There’s everything to talk about,” he said, a hardness that she’d never heard before in his voice making her shudder in reaction. He felt the ripple of her muscles under his fingers and pulled her closer to him. “Your skin is icy, and you’re coming in with me now. You’re in shock, honey, and you need to be taken care of. I thought I understood, but you threw me for a loop tonight. I don’t know what it is you’re hiding, what you’re afraid of, but I’m damned well going to find out before this night is over.”

  “The night is over,” she told him thinly. “It’s morning now.”

  “Don’t argue with me. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a stitch of clothing on and I’m freezing, but I’m staying right here with you. If you don’t come inside I’ll probably catch pneumonia and undo all the progress you’ve worked for. Come on,” he said, his tone changing into one of cajolery. “You don’t have to be afraid. We’ll just talk.”

  She shook her head, her long hair flying wildly and striking him in the face. “You don’t understand. I’m not afraid of you; I never have been.”

  “Well, that’s something,” he muttered, dropping his arm to her waist and urging her to turn. She gave up and dully let him guide her inside, with his using her for balance. His pace was slow but remarkably steady, and he didn’t really put any of his weight on her. He stopped to close the sliding doors, then guided her to the bed.

  “Here, get under the covers,” he ordered as he bent down to switch on the lamp. “How long have you been out there? Even the room is cold.”

  She shrugged; it didn’t really matter how long it had been, did it? She did as he said and crawled into the bed, pulling the thick comforter up to her neck. Blake studied her pale, set expression for a moment, and his lips pressed grimly together. He lifted the cover and slid into the bed next to her, and she stared at him in shock.

  “I’m cold, too,” he said, and it was only half a lie. He slid his arm under her neck and curved his other hand around her waist, pulling her into the cocoon of his body heat. At first she was rigid; then the warmth began to penetrate her chilled skin and she started to shiver. His hand exerted just the slightest pressure and she moved with it, unconsciously pressing more closely to him in search of extra heat. When he had her settled, her head cradled on his shoulder and her legs tangled with his, he stroked the heavy black hair away from her face and she felt the pressure of his mouth on her forehead.

  “Are you comfortable?” he murmured.

  Comfortable wasn’t the word for it; she was so tired that her limbs lay heavily, without strength. But she nodded, as he seemed to want an answer. What did it matter? She was just so tired….

  After a moment he said with misleading mildness, “I thought you said you’d been married.”

  Surprise made her lift her head and stare at him. “I was.” What did he mean?

  Gently he threaded his fingers through her hair and forced her head back to his shoulder. “Then why was it so…painful for you?” he asked, his voice a rumble under her ear. “I damned near fainted, thinking that you’d been a virgin.”

  For a moment her mind was blank, struggling to understand what he was saying; then realization came abruptly and a hot flush warmed her cold cheeks. “I wasn’t a virgin,” she assured him huskily. “It’s just that I haven’t…it’s been a long time.”

  “How long?”

  With rising alarm she heard the determination in his voice, barely masked by the quietness of his tone. He meant to know everything, to uncover all her secrets. Twice before he’d torn away the protection of her forgetfulness, forcing her to remember the pains and failures that she’d tried so hard never to think of again. Did he like causing her pain?

  “How long?” he repeated inexorably. “Talk to me, honey, because you’re not leaving this bed until I know.”

  Dione closed her eyes in despair, swallowing in an effort to relieve the dryness of her mouth. She might as well tell him and get it over with. “Twelve years,” she finally admitted, the words muffled against his skin because as she said them, she turned her face into his throat.

  “I see.” Did he? Did he really see? Could any man really understand what goes through a woman’s mind when her body is violated? A wild bitterness sprang out of the well of pain that she usually kept covered. He didn’t care if he explored the clock’s workings until it could no longer tick, as long as he discovered what had made it tick in the beginning. Her hands stiffened against him and she pushed, but now he was much stronger than she was, and held her welded tightly to him, his body hard and unyielding against hers. After a moment she gave up the futile effort and lay beside him in rigid rejection.

  He curved his long fingers over her smooth shoulder and tucked her even