Chapter 10

But Meredith’s job did interfere with their marriage. Her autographing session was the first indication of it. Blake and Sarah had gone to the bookstore Saturday to watch, and Blake had been fascinated by the number of people who’d come to have her sign their books. Dressed in a very sexy green-and-white ensemble, with a big white hat to match, Meredith looked very much the successful, urbane author. And she was suddenly speaking a language he didn’t understand. Her instant rapport with people fascinated and disturbed him. He didn’t get along well with people, and he certainly didn’t seek them out. If she was really as gregarious as she seemed and started to expect to throw lavish parties and have weekend guests, things were going to get sticky pretty fast.

As it happened, she wasn’t a party girl. But she did have to do a lot of traveling in connection with the release of her latest book.

Blake went through the ceiling when she announced her third out-of-state trip in less than three weeks.

“I won’t have it,” he said coldly, bracing her in the study.

“You won’t have it?” Meredith replied with equal hauteur. “You told me when we married that you didn’t mind if I worked.”

“And I don’t, but this isn’t working. It’s jet-setting,” he argued. “My God, you’re never here! Amie’s spending most of her time baby-sitting Sarah because you’re forever getting on some damned airplane!”

“I know,” Meredith said miserably. “And I’m sorry. But I made this commitment to promote the book before I married you. You of all people wouldn’t want me to go back on my word.”

“Wouldn’t I?” he demanded, and he looked like the old Blake, all bristling masculinity and outraged pride. “Stay home, Meredith.”

“Or what?” she challenged, refusing to be ordered about like a child of Sarah’s age. “What did you have in mind, tying me to a tree out in the backyard? Or moving to your club in town? You can’t, you know, you don’t have a club in town.”

“I could use one,” he muttered darkly. “Okay, honey. If you want the job that much, go do it. But until you come to grips with the fact that this is a marriage, not a limited social engagement, I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

“Go ahead,” she said recklessly. “I don’t care. I won’t be here!”

“Isn’t that the gospel truth,” he said, glaring at her.

She turned on her heel and went to pack.

From then on, everything went downhill between them. She felt an occasional twinge of guilt as Blake reverted to his old, cold self. He was polite to her, but nothing more. He didn’t touch her or talk to her. He acted as if she were a houseguest and treated her accordingly. It was a nightmarish change from the first days of their marriage, when every night had been a new and exciting adventure, when their closeness in bed had fostered an even deeper closeness the rest of the time. She’d been sure that he was halfway in love with her. And then her traveling had started to irritate him. Now he was like a stranger, and Meredith tossed and turned in the big bed every night, all alone. In the back of her mind, the knowledge that she had failed to conceive ate away at her confidence. As the days went on, Blake was becoming colder and colder.

Only with Sarah was he different. That was amusing, and Meredith laughed at the spectacle of Blake being followed relentlessly every step he took by Sarah Jane. She was right behind him all weekend, watching him talk to the men, sitting with him while he did the books, riding with him when he went out over the fields in the pickup truck to see about fences and cattle and feed. Sarah Jane was his shadow, and he smiled tolerantly at her attempts to imitate his long strides and his habit of ramming his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels when he talked. Sarah was sublimely happy. Meredith was sublimely miserable.

She tried once to talk to Blake, to make him understand that it wouldn’t always be this way. But he walked off even as she began.

“Put it in your memoirs, Mrs. Donavan,” he said with a mocking smile. “Your readers might find it interesting.”

In other words, he didn’t. Meredith choked back tears and went to her computer to work on her next book. It was taking much longer than she’d expected, and the tense emotional climate in the house wasn’t helping things along. It was hard to feel romantic enough to write a love scene when her own husband refused to touch her or spend five minutes in a room with her when eating wasn’t involved, or watching the news on television.

“You’re losing weight,” Bess commented one day at lunch when Meredith had escaped to her house to avoid the cold silence at home.

“I’m not surprised.” Meredith sighed. “It’s an ordeal to eat over there. Blake glares at me or ignores me, depending on his mood. I tried to explain that it wasn’t going to be like this every time a book came out, but he refuses to listen.”

“Maybe he’s afraid to listen,” Bess said sagely. “Blake’s been alone a long time, and he doesn’t really trust women. Maybe he’s trying to withdraw before he gets in over his head. In which case—” she grinned “—it could be a good omen. What if he’s falling in love with you and trying to fight it? Wouldn’t he act just that way?”

“No normal man would,” Meredith grumbled.

“Bobby did. So did King, according to Elissa. Men are really strange creatures when their emotions get stirred up.” She cocked her blond head and stared at Meredith. “You might put on your sexiest negligee and give him hell.”

“There’s a thought. But he’d probably toss me out the window if I dared.”

“You underestimate yourself.”

“All the same, it’s his heart I want to reach. I can’t really do that in bed,” Meredith said with sad eyes. “He’s always wanted me. But I want more. I’m greedy. I want him to love me.”

“Give it time. He’ll come around eventually.”

“Meanwhile I’m miserable,” Meredith said. “At least he and Sarah are getting along like a house on fire. They’re inseparable.”

“Camouflage,” Bess said. “He’s using her to keep you at bay.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“You greenhorn.” Bess sighed. “I wish I could make you listen.”

“Me, too.” Meredith got up. “I’ve got to go. I have to fly to Boston for a signing in the morning. And I haven’t told Blake yet.” She grimaced. “He’s been in an explosive mood for two weeks. This will sure light the fuse, I’m afraid.”

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded. “It’s the very last trip, but I did promise, and the bookseller is a friend of mine. I can’t let her down.”

Bess searched Meredith’s face. “Better Blake than her?” she asked quietly. “It seems to me, from an objective standpoint, that you’re running as hard from this relationship as he is. Do you really have to make these trips, or are you doing it to spite him, to prove your independence?”

“I can’t let him own me,” Meredith said stubbornly.

“Good for you. But a man like that isn’t going to be owned, either. You’re going to have to compromise if you want to keep him.”

Meredith felt herself going pale. “What do you mean, if I want to keep him?”

“Just that you could drive him away. He isn’t like other men. He’s been kicked around too much already. His pride won’t take much more abuse. You see these trips as simple tours,” she explained. “Blake sees that you prefer your work to him.”

Meredith felt sick. “No. He couldn’t think…”

“I did with Bobby,” Bess said simply. “I was sure that he would walk over my dying body to get to the office. I very nearly left him because of it. I couldn’t bear being second best.” Her eyes narrowed. “Neither can Blake. So look out.”

“I’ve been blind,” Meredith groaned. She wrapped her arms around herself. “I thought it was important not to be led around like a dumb animal, so I was fighting for my independence.” She closed her eyes. “I never dreamed he’d think I considered him less important than writing.”