Page 4 of Tamed By a Passionate Lady
An almost olive complexion, with rich brown eyes, the colour of molasses. Her raven black hair would be swept back into an elegant chignon, on the nape of her swan like neck. Sitting down, he would never know – if he didn’t already - how tall and curvaceous his wife was; her ample bosom, small waist, and wide, womanly hips were obscured beneath her flowing gowns.
No, Adaline did not dress to attract attention in that way. He knew many women who would have taken advantage of that bosom, making sure the bodice was low for ample effect. But Adaline was naturally modest in that way. He could imagine those olive cheeks turning rosy with embarrassment, if any man’s gaze lingered too long in that area.
He smiled sadly to himself. Adaline was a beautiful woman – any fool could see that. Averybeautiful woman, with her exotic Spaniard colouring, and silky black hair. An alluring woman, too, with her curves. And yet…every time he gazed at her, it was like he was looking at a painting, rather than a flesh and blood woman.
“Sir,” said Groves, coughing slightly. “Dinner will be served soon.”
He took a deep breath, and the vision of Adaline, gazing at him sadly, suddenly disappeared, as if in a puff of smoke.
He didn’t want to think of those sad brown eyes, rather like a puppy’s. He didn’t want to think about them at all.
“Of course, Groves,” he said. “I am just on my way.”
***
He opened the door to the dining room. Everyone was seated, exactly as he had envisioned them. Their eyes swivelled to face him.
“Good evening,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I apologise for my tardiness…”
“What were you doing up there, old chap?” grinned Reuben, picking up his wine glass. “I thought you may have fallen asleep in the bathtub.”
James grinned sheepishly, quickly taking his place. He unfolded his napkin, placing it across his lap, before turning to the two ladies.
“Ladies,” he said, taking a deep breath. “You both look lovely this evening, as always.”
Isabel smiled shyly, almost blushing. He knew he made her feel uncomfortable with his compliments, even if they were generic in the extreme.
Adaline, on the other hand, did not blush. Nor did she smile. She simply gazed at him, her large brown eyes limpid. Then her eyes dropped, staring down at her place setting, picking up the knife and fork restlessly.
He felt a tiny stab of dismay. Why did she always make him feel guilty in some way? As if everything that he said to her just wasn’t good enough.
He had complimented her, hadn’t he? Yes, it had been a sweeping one, that he would have said to any lady at the table. But it was enough, wasn’t it? He had done his husbandly duty.
The door opened, and the first course arrived. Dinah, one of the maids, carried a large silver container, containing soup. Everyone was silent as she poured the steaming soup into their individual bowls.
Reuben picked up his spoon, staring into his bowl. “This is an interesting colour,” he said, a little doubtfully. “What type of soup is this?”
Adaline smiled slightly. “It is leek and barley, Mr. Montgomery. A speciality soup of this area. I was unfamiliar with it when I first came here, too.”
“It is rathergreen,” said Reuben, wrinkling his nose. “I usually do not like anything with too much green in it.”
“You have been ever thus, brother,” said Isabel. Her voice was like that of a baby bird: high pitched, squeaky, and a little tremulous, thought James. “I well remember how you used to throw a tantrum when we were young, if you were forced to eat your greens. I remember it would often frustrate Mama…”
“I do not think that I wasthatbad,” said Reuben, frowning at his sister. “You do exaggerate, Isabel.”
“I think that we should start,” said James, smiling. “The soup shall get cold, and it is best eaten hot. I think you will like it, Reuben, if you give it a chance.”
“If you say so,” said Reuben, doubtfully.
“Oh, yes,” said Adaline. “Mrs. Hargreaves is a wonderful cook, and this soup is one of her masterpieces.” She paused. “For the main, she has made her famous Lancashire stew, which is delicious. I guarantee that everyone will want second helpings…”
James smiled at his wife. “Her Lancashire stew is superb, is it not?”
Adaline’s smile widened. “It is the best stew that I have ever tasted,” she said. “Simply astonishing! Poor Mrs. Gillam, our cook at my family home, does not hold a candle to our Mrs. Hargreaves, I am afraid. Watery casseroles and limp vegetables were the order of the day at Harcourt House.”
James laughed, leaning forward in his seat, gazing at his wife. She really was the most charming woman, and when she was animated, as she was now, it was as if her whole face lit up. Her velvet brown eyes sparkled vivaciously, and her cheeks were rosy.
He studied her in the candlelight. The swell of her bosom, rising from her bodice. That elegant, long neck. Her jet black hair, coiled at the nape of her neck. He knew that when it was undone, it hung to the bottom of her back, as straight as a curtain. Beautiful…
