Sapphire

“It’s not fair. The other girls have gone to bed without a cool bath.”

“You are not one of the other girls.” He gave her an easy push in the direction of the bathing room.

The door stood ajar and she could see the big white tub that was so long that a person could sit in it with legs out in front. “You’re just trying to get me to take my clothes off so you can take advantage of me.”

He tilted his head back and laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked indignantly.

He wiped his eyes, which had teared up from laughing so hard. He took a sip of the scotch. “Sapphire Fabergine, you have never done anything in your life that you did not want to do. I pity the man who would try to bend you to his will.”

She stared up at him, exasperated by the fact that he had brought her across the Atlantic Ocean against her will, but that wasn’t what he meant, and she knew it. “I’m going to take a bath,” she said, “but if you come in there—”

“You’ll what?” he challenged with that cocky grin of his. He took one look at her face and then laughed and looked away, waving her off with his hand. “Never mind. All I know is that I should probably take care in staying on your good side or else I may be seated in the latrine with Clarice.”

Chuckling, Sapphire grabbed several towels off the floor where Blake had dropped them, entered the bathing room and closed the door soundly behind her.

In the next hour, Blake knocked on the door twice, but both times Sapphire sent him away, and he remained true to his word, staying out. She knew she couldn’t stay submerged in the exquisitely cool water, hidden in his bathing room from the world forever, but each time she rose to step out of the tub, she would rinse her hair or scrub her entire body head to toe with perfumed bath salts one last time.

But finally, when her skin began to wrinkle, she got out of the tub and wrapped her hair in one of the smaller towels, using a larger towel around her body. She just couldn’t bring herself to put on the scratchy black maid’s uniform; even the old gray skirt and faded blouse Blake had given her were more comfortable than the heap of clothing on the floor.

She opened the bathing room door and walked into the bedchamber. Blake had turned off most of the oil lamps so that only one glowed softly beside the bed. She did not see him but she could smell the smoke from one of his cigars, and when she went out on the balcony, she saw the outline of his form. He stood leaning against the rail, peering out over the cliff onto the dark water far below.

Sapphire walked over to stand beside him, and though he rested one hand casually on her hip, they were both quiet for a long time. They just stood there, enjoying the cool breeze, being together without arguing. “I should go,” she said softly at last.

He tightened his arm around her but did not look at her. “No. Stay with me. Stay the night.”

“Blake, I can’t. If someone wakes in the dormitory and realizes I’m missing, they might come looking for me.”

“Sapphire, tell me what you want from me.” He ground out his cigar on a glass plate that was balanced on the rail and he turned to her.

“What I want?” she said, taken aback by his sudden question.

“Yes, what you want, what will satisfy you. Do you want me to say I love you? Is that it?” He stared at her through the darkness. “Do you want me to declare my undying love for you?”

He said it as if love were a dirty word, and instead of being angry at him as she should have been, all she felt was sadness, and pity. Sapphire released the white towel and let it fall to the smooth stone floor of the balcony. She tipped her head back and removed the towel, letting her damp hair fall over her shoulders. Then she reached out to him. A part of her wanted to pull him into her arms, draw his head to her breast and smooth his hair, smooth away the lines on his face, smooth away all the pain she heard in his voice at this moment.

Instead, she rested a hand on each of his broad shoulders and she lifted up on her toes and kissed him on the mouth. His lips remained rigid for a moment, but then they softened and suddenly his arms shot out, pulling her against him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, kissing her hard, turning her in his arms to push her roughly against the railing.

Sapphire felt her hair hang free over the open space; she felt as if she were falling, and yet as long as Blake held her in his arms like this, she knew she would never hit the rocks far below. They kissed again and again, Blake cupping her breasts with his hands, squeezing them, kneading them.

She pulled the tail of his shirt from his trousers, found the buttons with her fingers and pulled it over his head. She loved the feel of his hard, muscular chest beneath her fingertips, loved to take his nipple in her mouth, loved creating the same sensations in him that he created in her.

Blake drew his hands up and down her arms, over her rib cage, over her waist, in a frenzy of desire for her. He rested his face between her breasts and then began to kiss his way downward. Before she could stop him, he was on his knees pushing her legs apart. Sapphire grabbed the rail behind her as he thrust his fingers between the damp, aching folds of her womanhood. She cried out in pleasure, in agony. First his fingers, then his tongue. The stars overhead began to swirl, pulling her into their vortex.

She ran her fingers through his dark hair, arching her back, groaning as she found glorious release. Then Blake was on his feet, stepping out of his trousers, pushing her up against the rail again. He grasped his erection and entered her as she held on to the cool forged metal with one hand, lifting her hips to meet him…to take all of his length inside her. She rose and fell in a rhythm of ecstasy under a canopy of stars that seemed to be theirs and theirs alone. Soon she heard herself cry out again, felt him thrust one last time, and then he slid out of her, dropping his cheek to her shoulder.

For a moment they just stood there, clinging to each other. Sapphire was trembling all over. What had Blake meant when he asked her if she wanted him to tell her he loved her? Did he love her? Was that his way of saying he did but that he was afraid to admit it? They had never spoken of love and yet she knew she loved him, and she knew it at this moment as well as she knew herself. Was it possible that this man who seemed to have no emotions possessed feelings as deep and vast as her own…was it possible that he truly loved her…or was it only more deceit and lies?

“Let’s go inside,” he whispered in her ear when he could breathe evenly again. “Where are my manners.”

She laughed and allowed him to lead her into his room. They lay down on his bed on the cool sheets and she rested her cheek on his shoulder, reveling in the feel of his arm around her. On the mantel across the room, she could hear the small case clock ticking.

“You asked me what I want,” she said softly.

She knew he was awake, listening, even if he didn’t answer. “I need for you to accept me for who I am.” She paused. “Accept me for who I might be. Accept the possibility.”

“Sapphire—”