Read Online Brittle Bondage by Rosalind Brett - Free Book Online

egg, Venetia?” enquired Thea.
    “Blake, I’d really rather have the milk-and-soda,” she said apologetically.
    He gave in more readily than she had anticipated, but she would have swallowed whatever he ordered rather than argue. When Thea had gone out, he pulled forward a chair and sat down. He crossed his legs and plunged a hand into his pocket, apparently in no haste to speak. In fact it was Venetia who ended the silence.
    “Please smoke if you want to.”
    “I don’t,” he said. “I’d rather talk, if it wouldn’t make your head worse. Does my being here distress you?”
    It did, but his nearness in this mood was worth quite a bit of suffering. At the moment Venetia was not concerned with herself.
    “No—please stay. Blake,” her tone dropped, “Thea doesn’t know you were going to turn her away, does she? You ... you haven’t said anything to her?”
    He shook his head. “Don’t upset yourself over it any more. When I remember that it was my churlishness which sent you into the sun without protection I could shoot myself. Sometimes I get into a frame of mind when I can’t help being a swine.”
    “It was my own lunacy,” she protested; “the same sort of idiocy that prompted me to wade through the storm and fib about it. I’m an awful trial to you, Blake.”
    His smile was a little grim. “You are—more than you realize. Possibly all young women are somewhat unpredictable, but you seem to be more so than most.”
    “I never mean to behave so crazily. I feel first and think afterwards, when it’s too late.”
    “I know you do.” His interest centred on the silver bedside clock which gleamed in the glow from the table-lamp. “Cling to that habit as long as you can—it’s one you’ll eventually lose—but for the love of Pete cultivate a respect for the sun ! ”
    The soda-and-milk arrived then, and she had to sit up to drink it. Blake helped her, but her head knocked and her vision blurred. She leaned against him with tears of weakness glistening on her lashes.
    “My poor sweet,” he murmured. “Sunstroke is always like this. It’s hell for a day or two, and after that you’ll still have to be careful not to get up from a chair too quickly. It’ll be a week before you’re right. I oughtn’t to have let you talk.” With unwonted tenderness he lowered her. “It won’t hurt for us to be quiet for a while. Forget everything, and if you slip off to sleep, so much the better.”
    After she had lain for a few minutes the pain diminished into the former ache of pressure. Her arms rested outside the cover and Blake stroked the fingers nearest him with an abstracted, soothing motion. His warmth and strength, so lightly bestowed, reached and encompassed her heart.
    “Your dinner will be ready,” she reminded him presently .
    “No hurry,” he said. “Thea arranged for a cold meal. She’ll be having hers now. I’ll go when she comes.” Another tranquil half-hour ticked by before Thea entered the bedroom.
    “It’s time Venetia was tucked in,” she announced.
    “Mind if I ask you to say good night and go, Blake?” She turned and made a casual complication of arranging windows and curtains.
    “Good night,” Venetia whispered.
    He bent over and kissed her forehead. “Good night, my dear. Sleep well.”
    He was gone, and Venetia found herself braving the effort of twisting her head rather than have Thea inspect her face by lamplight.
    Durin g Sunday, Venetia had ample opportunity of admiring Thea’s poise and charm, and she even contrived a degree of enjoyment from the relationship between Thea and Blake. Yesterday, for some reason, Blake had acquiesced to the soda-and-milk diet, but today he was back in form. Useless for Thea to insist that a healthy young woman laid out by a slight indisposition could get along with practically no food and recover the quicker for the temporary abstention. Blake remained unconvinced. He ordered a boiled egg for Venetia’s breakfast, some steamed