of steaming soup, along with a basket of freshly baked bread rolls, in front of the young couple who had ordered them when the old traditional bell on the front door jangled a new arrival. She felt no presentiment as she turned, no apprehension or sixth sense to warn her that her fragile equilibrium was about to be blown apart.
‘Hello, Amy.’ His voice was quiet, too quiet, and the narrowed eyes were deadly.
‘Blade …’ As her face drained of colour she was conscious, for one piercing moment, of a rush of fierce joy at seeing him again, which was quite ridiculous in the circumstances, and then, as the full horror of the situation swept in on her, she thought for one desperate moment that she was going to faint.
He obviously had the same notion because he moved quickly, forcing her roughly down on to a seat, his voice harsh. ‘Don’t look so surprised. You knew I would find you one day; it was just a matter of time.’
‘Blade …’ She found she was incapable of saying anything but his name; her mind seemed to have frozen into an icy void with no coherent thought that she was conscious of.
‘The very same.’ The glittering black eyes held her dazed blue ones ruthlessly, his arrogant, handsome face as hard as stone, just as in the dream. The dream … She caught at the thought faintly. It had been a warning; she had somehow sensed he was near. She should have been on her guard, should have known… ‘Now get up.’
‘What?’ She stared at him numbly.
‘I said get up.’ The look on his face would have terrified her if she hadn’t been beyond feeling anything, but now she heard the young couple stir behind her and then the man appeared at their side.
‘I say, look here.’ He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one and was clearly scared to death. ‘Is everything all right, miss?’ He was speaking directly to her; his eyes had flicked once to Blade’s dark countenance which had turned his frightened face still whiter. ‘Shall I call someone?’
‘No—’
Her voice was lost as Blade’s low growl cut into the thick, tense air. ‘Don’t interfere in things that don’t concern you, sonny.’ He didn’t look at the youth as he spoke; his eyes hadn’t moved from her face since he had entered the restaurant.
‘Look, I don’t think she wants to speak to you—’
Blade cut off the young man’s voice by the simple expedient of turning the full force of that malignant gaze on to the blanched face, and even in her frozen state Amy felt a dart of admiration for the boy because he didn’t turn tail and run. ‘Go and sit down in your seat.’ His accent was very pronounced, which somehow made the softly snarled words even more chilling. ‘Or I will personally place you there.’
‘Stop this.’ As Army rose jerkily to her feet, she caught the glimpse of terror in the young man’s face and suddenly hot anger replaced the frozen calm. ‘Don’t bully him.’
‘Bully him?’ Blade’s big body stiffened, and she felt a moment of churning fear before she turned quickly to the youth.
‘It’s all right, really. Please go and have your meal.’
‘Are you sure?’ Relief was warring with male pride, but relief won as he scuttled off back to his waiting girlfriend who had been viewing the proceedings with avid interest.
‘What do you want, Blade?’ She had to tilt her head back to look into his face. At over six feet he had always dwarfed her five-foot, four-inch petite-ness, but in the flat canvas shoes she wore for a working day he seemed even larger.
‘You know exactly what I want, so don’t try and play dumb.’ The dark fury that had transfigured his face was new to her; she had never seen him angry before. Coolly cutting when someone had annoyed him, cynically mocking with a sardonic deadly bite on more than one occasion, but he had always been perfectly in control as though it were all a game. But this was no game. The black eyes blazed back at her as she met them square on. And no one knew that better than she. ‘Are you coming out of here with me of your own accord or do I have to carry you out?’
‘I can’t just leave, I work here—’
‘Oh, you can, Amy.’ The intonation his accent gave her name still had the power to make her weak at the knees, she reflected dazedly. ‘And that is exactly what you are going to do.’
‘I’m not coming back, Blade—’
‘Who asked you to?’ There was a hard grimness in his face that had never been there before when he looked at her. ‘You don’t really think I would want you back after what you’ve done, do you? That I still care? That would make me the biggest fool alive.’ Something flickered in the back of his eyes as he spoke, swiftly veiled, and his voice was even harsher as he continued, ‘But I do want to talk to you and I want to know where he is. You understand me? You are both going to learn a lesson you’ll never forget.’
‘Where he is?’ She repeated his words vaguely with the helpless realisation that she had lost her grasp on the situation. ‘Who?’
‘I told you, don’t mess with me, Amy.’ His grip on her arm was vice-like and again she heard the couple behind them stir. ‘I’ve stood all I’m going to take.’
She would have to talk with him. As she stared back into his dark face, it was stamped with the ruthless determination that had brought him from the relative obscurity of second son of a mining engineer in his native America to self-made millionaire at the age of thirty-five when she had first met him a year ago. His toughness was legendary, his inflexibility when he wanted something rock-like. Yes, she would have to talk with him, and the sooner she got it over and done with, the better.
‘I’ll just ask Arthur if I can leave for a while—my boss, he’s out there …’ She waved vaguely towards the kitchen door.
‘You do that.’ His grip lessened and she was free. ‘I’ll give you exactly sixty seconds.’
Fifty-nine seconds later, as she emerged with Blade from the warm interior of the restaurant into the ancient winding village street, she took a deep steadying breath of the pure Yorkshire air before following him to his car.
‘Can’t we just walk?’ she asked nervously, as they reached the low-slung sports car that was crouched broodingly in the grey street. ‘I’d rather—’
‘I’m not interested in what you’d rather,’ Blade said coldly as he opened the passenger door and indicated that she slide in. ‘You’ll do as you’re told.’
He had never used that tone of voice with her before, and suddenly everything in her rebelled against the arrogant authority that had been paramount since she had set eyes on him again.
‘You can’t order me about like this, Blade.’ She tried to keep her voice firm and cool, but she was unable to hide the quiver of pain in its depths. ‘I’m filing for divorce, as you know; you have no right—’
‘Damn my rights!’ His voice was vitriolic with pure rage. ‘I’ve never let “my rights” as you call them interfere with what I want before. Fortunately in this case that is not a problem. I don’t want you, Amy, if that makes you feel a little more comfortable. The only feeling you inspire in me is one of disgust and contempt. Got it?’
She’d brought this on herself
