A Christmas Night to Remember(39)

Numbly, she forced her lips to move. ‘A coffee. Thanks.’

‘Don’t be long.’ A pause. ‘I miss you already.’

She waited until she was sure he’d gone and then turned on the light, staring at her reflection in the mirror over the wash basin. A wild-eyed, pale-faced woman stared back at her and she barely recognised herself in the haunted features.

What had she done? What had she done? And what sort of message had sleeping with him sent to Zeke? No, Zeke, I don’t want to stay married to you. Oh, yes, Zeke, you can take me to bed. No, Zeke, there’s no future for us. Oh, yes, Zeke, the more intimate we are the better.

She sat down on the edge of the bath, her fingers pressing tight into her closed eyelids as though she could shut out the memory of the past hour, erase it from her mind by an iron will. But of course that was impossible. She’d done some stupid things in her life but this went far beyond stupid. Infinitely beyond. It was cruel and selfish and unreasonable and totally unforgivable. He would hate her now and she didn’t blame him.

She was still berating herself when another tap came at the door. Zeke’s voice was light, with a thread of steel. ‘If you don’t come out, I’m coming in.’

Her hands tightened on the edge of the bath and then she stood up, opening the door. ‘I was just coming.’

‘I thought you’d prefer coffee in the sitting room,’ Zeke said coolly. He was wearing the black silk pyjama bottoms and nothing else, and he looked hard and tough and sexy, his hair ruffled and his eyes ebony-dark as they scoured her face. ‘And then perhaps you can tell me why you left our bed like a scalded cat. I was under the mistaken impression it’d been great.’

His words caught her on the raw, but at least the dose of adrenaline provided the strength she needed to face him. ‘Firstly, it’s not our bed. It’s yours,’ she pointed out, sailing past him and making her way into the sitting room. ‘Secondly, I did not leave like a scalded cat or a scalded anything.’

She glanced at the coffee table, where coffee and a plate of biscuits were waiting, a sofa pulled close, and then walked across to the window, opening the curtains and looking out. It was snowing again—beautiful, starry flakes that whirled and danced as though they were enjoying their brief life to the full.

She was aware of Zeke coming up behind her and then his arms enclosed her. Her back rested against his chest and his chin nuzzled her hair. ‘Okay, let’s have it,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve got the message that all is not yet resolved.’

She didn’t know how to say it. ‘I—I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,’ she said lamely, hating herself.

‘Lady, I don’t know if I’m on foot or horseback,’ he drawled with dark amusement, ‘so the wrong idea’s the least of it. That was you I made love with a while ago, wasn’t it? You haven’t got a clone who doubles for you now and again?’

‘What I mean is—’

‘What you mean,’ he interrupted, turning her round to face him but still keeping her in the circle of his arms, ‘is that in spite of having your wicked way with me you are still holding to this ridiculous notion of a divorce. Correct?’

She couldn’t tell if he was furious and hiding it extremely well, or if the slightly sardonic attitude was for real. Zeke was a master of the inscrutable. Warily, she nodded.

‘Okay. So you’ve got that off your chest. Drink your coffee.’

He had to take this seriously. ‘Zeke, you have to understand—’

He stopped her with a breath-stealing kiss. ‘Come and have your coffee and biscuits. And then we’re going to talk some. We should probably have talked before we finished up in the bedroom, but I never did profess to be perfect.’

‘There’s nothing to say,’ she protested helplessly.

‘There’s plenty. Let me put it this way, Dee. Until you can convince me it’s over, it’s not over.’

Melody stiffened in defence of his arrogance, her hands pushing against the wall of his chest. ‘Let me go.’

‘Sure.’ She was free immediately. ‘But you still have to convince me. You’re part of me, Dee. One half of the whole. I have certain rights. You married me, remember?’

‘You talk as if you own me.’ She was shaking inside, his closeness a sweet torment, but she knew if she didn’t attack she would be lost. ‘Do you know that? Is that what you believe?’