Fifteen minutes later Sapphire tramped through the farmyard, following the clearly defined footprints upwards. The snow had frozen to a crisp crust, her laboured breath made white plumes in the sharp morning air. At another time she would have found the atmosphere invigorating, but right now she was too concerned about the sheep to really enjoy the delights of the morning.
The baaing of the sheep and the sharp yelps of the dogs reached her first, carrying easily on the clear air, and she expelled her breath on a faint sigh of relief. Obviously some of the sheep at least had been brought down to the lower meadows. As she followed the footprints along a dry-stone wall Sapphire caught her first glimpse of her quarry, a rough shelter had been constructed in one of the fields, and men were busy unbaling hay from a tractor. The field sloped away slightly offering some protection from the wind and drifts, and as she got nearer Sapphire recognised her father’s shepherd, busily at work. The other men she also vaguely recognised as general farmhands attached to Blake’s farm whom he had no doubt taken from their other tasks to help with the all-important job of saving the sheep.
Tam recognised her face, a weary grin splitting his weathered face as he hailed her.
‘I’ve brought you something hot to drink,’ Sapphire called out as soon as she was close enough, adding anxiously, ‘How’s it going? The ewes …’
‘Brought most of them down yesterday,’ Tam informed her. ‘Blake’s gone looking for the rest of the flock. Shouldn’t have too much of a problem with my Laddie to help him. Fine sheepdog.’
‘Anything I can do to help?’ Sapphire asked, handing out the thermos flasks and cups.
‘No. I reckon everything’s under control. Luckily Blake was running your dad’s flock with his own, so we shouldn’t have too many casualties. If this weather had come another two weeks on we could have been in trouble—the first ewes are due to start lambing then.’
‘You don’t think it will last then?’ Sapphire asked, studying the snow-covered landscape.
Tam shook his head. ‘Not more than three or four days, and we were prepared for it.’ He nodded in the direction of the new shelter and the bales of hay. ‘Blake knows what he’s doing all right.’ There was approval in his voice and Sapphire turned away, not wanting the shepherd to see her own bitter resentment. What time had Blake come home last night? He could have had precious little sleep she thought revengefully. Had he arrived before the snow came or had the fact that she had not heard him been due to the fact that it had muffled his return?
What did it matter? It was no business of hers how he spent his time, or whose bed he shared.
She waited until the men had finished their drinks before gathering up the empty flasks.
‘I’ll keep this one for Blake,’ Tam offered taking a half-full one from her and screwing on the top. ‘He’ll be fair frozen by the time he gets back.’
‘Is he up there alone?’ Sapphire frowned when the shepherd nodded. ‘Is that wise?’
‘Blake knows what he’s doing.’
Tam had been right, Sapphire reflected several hours later when a noise in the yard alerted her to Blake’s return. Snow clung to his thick protective jacket and the cuffs of his boots, his skin burned by the icy cold wind. She hadn’t known whether to prepare a meal or not—there was still the Beef Wellington to cook from last night, and she had spent what was left of the morning making a nourishing hot soup, thinking that if Blake didn’t return she could take it out to the men in flasks.
She had also been in to inspect the new foal, now standing proudly on all four spindly legs while his mother looked on in benign approval.
As Blake crossed the yard the ‘phone rang. It was her father calling to enquire about the sheep. ‘Everything’s under control, Dad,’ she assured him. ‘Blake had already got the ewes down to the lower pasture and he’s been up to the top to bring the rest down.’
‘Yes, Mary told me I didn’t need to worry, but old habits die hard.’
The kitchen door opened as she replied, and she could hear the sound of Blake tugging off his boots. ‘Blake’s back now,’ she told her father, ‘would you like to speak to him?’
‘No, I know myself what it’s like. He’ll be frozen to the marrow and tired out—the last thing he’ll feel like is talking to me. I’ll speak to him later when he’s thawed out.’
‘Who was that?’
She hadn’t heard Blake cross the floor in his stockinged feet and whirled round apprehensively. Exhaustion tautened the bone structure of his face, dimming the gold of his eyes to tawny brown. White flecks of snow clung to his hair and jumper.
‘My father. Is it snowing again?’
‘Trying to. God I’m tired. Is there any hot water?’
‘Plenty. Would you like something to eat?’ She saw his eyebrows lift and mockery invade his eyes. ‘Quite the devoted wife today aren’t we? What brought about this metamorphosis?’
‘Nothing … there hasn’t been one.’ Sapphire retorted flatly cursing herself for her momentary weakness. ‘I just thought …’
‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ Strong dark fingers raked through his already tousled hair. ‘That was uncalled for—put it down to sheer male …’ His glance studied her slim body in its covering of jeans and sweater and he grimaced faintly before adding bluntly, ‘frustration … Deprivation of physical satisfaction does tend to make me behave like a churlish brute, and I haven’t even thanked you for your midwifery last night …’
‘Mary’s the one you should thank,’ Sapphire told him, turning away and busying herself filling the kettle. She wanted to scream at him that she didn’t want to know the details about his relationship with Miranda or about his physical hunger for her. Was that why he had made love to her so intensely yesterday? In anticipation of holding Miranda in his arms? The thought made her feel physically sick, but what was even more shocking was the knowledge that she could feel so strongly and primitively about a man for whom she had already told herself she felt only the echoes of an old physical desire.
‘Is something wrong?’
She could feel him approaching and tensed. ‘No, nothing.’ She couldn’t bear him to come anywhere near her right now, not when her far too active mind was picturing him with Miranda, kissing and caressing her. The handle of the mug she had been holding in her hand snapped under the intensity of her grip, the mug falling to the floor where it shattered into fragments.
‘No … don’t. Leave it.’ Her voice was sharper than she had intended, almost shrill in its intensity and she prayed that Blake wouldn’t recognise the near hysteria edging up under it. ‘You haven’t got anything on your feet,’ she added weakly. ‘You go and have your bath and I’ll clean it up. Are you hungry now, or can you wait an hour or so?’
‘I can wait.’ He too sounded clipped and terse, but Sapphire couldn’t look at him to read the reason in his expression. Instead she waited until she heard the door close behind him and then carefully skirting the broken china went to get a brush and pan to clear up the mess.
She was putting the Beef Wellington into the oven when she heard Blake call out something from upstairs. Reacting without
