Page 9 of Tamed By a Passionate Lady
But as soon as the thought entered his head, he dismissed it. Reuben was a player, but he knew his boundaries. His friend might find Adaline attractive, to be sure, but he would never do anything to compromise her. He was sure of it.
He picked up his own wineglass, taking a deep gulp, as he thought about it. He knew his friend very well indeed. Reuben had the attention span of an insect when it came to women, anyway. It was only because there were so few of them here that he was focusing on Adaline, and he would move on quickly. His friend was merely appreciative, that was all.
He put down his glass, gazing at his wife.
He did not know Adaline very well, at all. She was still a stranger to him, in so many ways. But shewashis wife, and he knew enough about her to know that she was the type of woman who took her marriage vows very seriously. She also had a strong moral code. She would never entertain or encourage the attention of his friend. He had nothing to worry about on that score.
As if she sensed he was thinking about her, she turned to him, smiling tentatively.
“Is the meal to your satisfaction, James?” she asked. “Do you think the wine matches the meal? It was the only one in the cellar that I thought would suffice, with lamb…”
“The meal is superb, as always,” he said slowly. “Mrs. Hargreaves has outdone herself. And you have matched the wine beautifully, my dear.”
Her face softened before his eyes at the praise. No; it was almost as if it melted, her large brown eyes turning into pools of liquid.
She picked up her wine glass, taking a sip. He saw that her hand trembled slightly. Then a wide, luminous smile broke over her face.
“Here, here,” said Reuben. “A fine wine, and a fine meal, Adaline!”
Isabel concurred, in her soft voice.
Adaline blushed at all the praise. But he saw that she was giving him quick glances from underneath her long, black eyelashes.
No, his wife would never betray him. And the real reason that she wouldn’t contemplate it wasn’t her strong moral code, nor the vows she had spoken to him in the church that day.
The real reason was because she had romantic feelings for him.
He had suspected it almost from the moment he had slipped the ring onto her finger. And her actions and words, ever since, had convinced him that his intuition was not wrong.
He sighed deeply. Most men would give their eye teeth to have such a beautiful, charming woman enslaved to them.
His heart lurched. Fervently, he wished he was like most other men. He wished, with all his might, that he could open his heart and let her in. He had tried, many times. But just when he thought he could overcome the barrier enshrouding his heart, something always stopped him. So he had given up even trying.
Her face was open to him now, eager for him to continue speaking to her as a man normally speaks to his wife.
His heart lurched again and he turned away, towards Isabel.
“I hope that you will not encounter a storm tomorrow on your beach walk,” he said slowly. “They are common at this time of year…”
Resolutely, he did not look at his wife for the rest of the evening.
Chapter 4
Adaline sighed deeply, gazing at herself in her dressing table mirror. Her personal maid, a small, wiry woman named Tillie, had just left her for the night, closing the door firmly behind her.
Tillie didn’t speak much. She was brisk, always undressing and dressing her like she was a doll, with much pulling and tweaking. Tillie also brushed her hair with a strong hand, often making tears come into her eyes with her firm strokes. But the middle-aged Lancashire maid was devoted to her, often suddenly materialising out of the blue when she was upset or needed something. And when she did speak, the maid’s wisdom was often uncanny.
Tonight, for instance, Tillie had not said a word until she had finished the final brushstroke, staring down at her mistress in a speculative manner.
“You art quiet tonight, madam,” she said, in her thick Lancashire brogue. “Was the evening not a success, then?”
Adaline smiled faintly, thinking about the dinner. It had gone the way of most dinners at Birkenhead Lodge. James had sometimes spoken to her warmly, then pulled back as if he was scalded. All through dessert he had not spoken a word to her, firmly focusing his attention on Reuben and Isabel.
At least his friend had spoken to her graciously, without the lewdness that he adopted when he sought her out alone. But in a way, this worried her even more. If Reuben Montgomery was explicit in showing how he felt about her in front of her husband, maybe James would sit up and finally take notice. Maybe he might even defend her.
But Reuben was too crafty for that. In front of James, he always played the part of the good and loyal friend. There had only been one moment this evening when she had felt his eyes on her in that predatory way. But when she had turned to him, ready to stare him down, he had quickly masked it.
“It was tolerable,” she had replied. “Mrs. Hargreaves’ menu was superlative, as always, Tillie.”
