Pauline came out of the loo to find the bedroom dark. Al was already buried under the covers and looked to be asleep. That couldn't be – it was still early and he'd come upstairs only a few minutes before she had, and then snuck into bed while she was changing. Which meant that, once again, he was avoiding her.

She ran her hands along the lacy material of her black negligee, smoothing it over her chest and hips. She'd gone to Wadebridge the day before and spent a small fortune on what was an awfully tiny piece of clothing. Hell it barely covered her tits and certainly left most of her arse hanging out, which she guessed was the idea. The woman in the shop had assured her that it made her look sexy as hell and would drive her guy crazy.

Pauline sure hoped so because, ever since Al had come home from the hospital, sex had been a big zero. He'd barely let her touch him anywhere on his body and definitely had made sure she didn't get close to . . . down there. Hell, he hadn't even let her see him without his boxers pulled up to his waist.

She'd tried to prepare herself for how he'd look with only one bollock – had even glanced at a few pictures on the Internet – just so she wouldn't be too shocked and say something stupid. It really didn't matter what he looked like – she loved him because he was Al. Yeah, it might take some getting used to but so did a new haircut or tattoo. Of course, him being a guy and all, he probably didn't see it that way.

She came around to his side of the bed and switched on the bedside light.

Al blinked with irritation. "Hey, what're you doing? I'm trying to sleep."

"There's plenty of time to sleep," she said, trying to make her voice as seductive as possible. She set her knee next to him on the bed, making sure to show plenty of leg and . . .whatever . . . and reached toward the covers. Maybe, just maybe, he'd stroke her leg, which these days would at least be a start.

Instead, he pulled away, grabbed the blanket from her arms and turned aside. "Let me be."

So much for the slinky outfit. Even so, Pauline decided that, tonight, she wouldn't be deterred. Nothing about Al had changed as far as she was concerned and it was time to prove that to him. She crawled into bed and lay down beside him, letting her body snuggle next to his and gently rubbing her arm against his shoulder.

Al did nothing in response and she felt his tension beneath her fingers.

She let her hand roam further down his body, sliding along his hip and gently caressing his arse through his boxers. "I've missed this," she said.

When he still didn't acknowledge her touch, she slipped her hand under his waistband, massaging his hip. It had no effect. His muscles were taught, as if guarding against letting himself take pleasure in what she was doing.

"Come on, baby," she whispered in his ear. "It's me, Paul. Tell me you're not enjoying this."

"Not tonight," he mumbled.

"You said that last night. And the night before." She let her hand roam further, toward his front, nibbling at his neck and squeezing tightly against his back. "I think tonight's the right night, don't you?"

"Stop it!" He twisted hard, dislodging her hand and nearly tossing her onto the floor. "Just stop it, will you!"

"Al, what's wrong?"

He scrambled to the other side of the bed, holding the covers up to his chest. "What's wrong? How the hell can you ask that question, Paul?"

"Doc said you were okay to . . . you know."

"So you and the Doc have been talking about me, have you? That's just great Paul. Now the Doc knows I can't do it. While you're at it, why don't you just tell all of Portwenn?"

Pauline tried to take in all of the accusations. "I didn't tell anyone. Besides, you know the Doc wouldn't talk about you."

"Right." His tone was bitter. "I bet the two of you had a hell of a time discussing my . . . problem."

"Al, Doc hasn't said nothing about you." She felt the need to defend him and herself. She'd only been trying to understand why Al wouldn't touch her and, of course, the Doc would only talk in generalities. "It's only because you won't . . . I only asked him if I needed to be careful like . . . if you'd need time to recover."

"Of course I need time to recover. I had my ball cut out, Paul. It's not like getting your finger stitched up or something."

"I know that."

"Do you?" There was fire in his eyes. "What have you had cut off lately?"

"That's not fair."

"Well, expecting me to act like everything's normal isn't fair either. Cause it's not and it never will be."

"Don't say that."

"I am saying that."

She sighed. "I don't care what you look like. You're still you. I want to do it with you, Al. Tonight."

"Forget it."

"Please!" God, she was begging.

"I'm tired and I hurt. And I'm not the guy I used to be. Now leave me alone." He pulled the covers over his head and turned his back to her.

Pauline looked at Al then down at her negligee, tempted to tear it off and toss it in the bin.