Come Lie With Me - Linda Howard [82]
“Dee? Are you all right?”
His beloved, anxious voice was almost more than she could bear. “No,” she said, her voice muffled behind her hands. “I wonder if I’ll ever be all right.”
Abruptly she felt his touch, his hands on her arms, slowly drawing her to him. She could feel the tension in him as he folded her into his arms. “Of course you will,” he reassured her, kissing her temple. “Come back to bed with me; you’re cold.”
Abruptly she felt the cold, the chill of the night on the bareness of her body. She walked with him to the bed, let him put her between the sheets and draw the comforter up over her. He walked around to the other side, turned out the lamp and got into bed beside her. Carefully, as though he were trying not to startle her, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly to his side.
“I love you,” he said in the darkness, his low tones vibrating over her skin. “I swear, Dee, that I’ll never again touch you in anger. I love you too much to put you through that again.”
Hot tears burned her lids. How could he apologize for something that was, essentially, a weakness in her? How long would it take before he began to resent the flaw in her nature? He wouldn’t be able to act naturally with her, and the strain would tear them apart. Normal couples had arguments, yelled at each other, knowing that their anger didn’t harm the love between them. Blake would hold himself back, fearing another scene; would he come to hate her because he felt restricted by her? Blake deserved someone whole, someone free, as he was free.
“It would probably be better if I left,” she said, the words trembling despite all she could do to hold her tone level.
The arm under her neck tensed, and he rose up on his elbow, looming over her in the darkness. “No,” he said, and he achieved the firmness that she had striven for but failed to obtain. “You’re where you belong, and you’re going to stay here. We’re getting married, remember?”
“That’s what I’m trying to say,” she protested. “How can we have any sort of life together if you’re constantly watching what you say and do, afraid of upsetting me? You’d hate me, and I’d hate myself!”
“You’re worrying about nothing,” he said shortly. “I’ll never hate you, so forget that line.”
The edge in his voice cut her like a razor, and she fell silent, wondering why she had ever been fool enough to actually believe that they could have a normal life together. She should have learned by now that love wasn’t meant to be a part of her life. Blake didn’t love her; hadn’t her common sense told her that from the beginning? He was infatuated with her, lured by the challenge of seducing her and the hothouse atmosphere that his intense therapy program had generated. Hothouses produced spectacular blooms, but she should have remembered that those blooms wouldn’t flourish in the real world. They had to have that protected atmosphere; they withered and died when exposed to the often unfriendly elements of normal life.
Already the bloom of Blake’s infatuation was dying, killed not by the attraction to another woman as she had feared, but by daily exposure to reality.
Chapter Twelve
Knowing that it was happening was one thing; preparing herself for it was another. Every time she glanced up and caught Blake watching her broodingly she had to turn away to hide the pain that twisted inside her. She knew that he was regretting his marriage proposal, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to back out of it. Probably he would never ask to be released from the engagement; she would have to do the severing. She sensed that he still wasn’t ready to admit that he’d been wrong, so she didn’t try to take any action to break their engagement now. When the time came she would know, and she would free him.
New Year’s passed, and, as he had planned, he began working full time. She