Page 15 of Tamed By a Passionate Lady
Chapter 6
Adaline pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she navigated the path descending to the beach. The wind was howling around her. She would be lucky to keep the pins in her hastily done hair, at this rate.
She sighed, as she eventually got to the sand, watching the sea in the distance. It was a wild, grey morning; clouds scudded the sky, and over in the far distance, almost to the horizon, she saw a flash of sheet lightning. There was a storm at sea, but whether it would come inland was debatable. She had lived here long enough to know that sometimes those storms simply blew away.
She stopped, gazing at it in dismay. She’d had the wild notion to watch the sunrise, down on the beach, but she realised now that it had already risen, and it would not have been spectacular anyway. There were too many clouds.
She hesitated. Perhaps she should turn back. Perhaps she should return to bed and try to sleep for a little longer. But even as the thought entered her mind, she dismissed it. She did not want to go back to bed.
She had set off from the house, telling no one where she was going. It had been easy to avoid the servants – she knew their movements, and they were not very active so early in the morning anyway. Only Nellie, who would be lighting the fires for the day ahead.
Her heart tightened as she gazed out over the grey, hissing sea. She had slid out of bed, dressing quietly, without waking James either. He had not stirred a muscle. For a moment, she had gazed down at his sleeping figure, overwhelmed with sorrow, before she had quietly let herself out of the room.
She inhaled, feeling slightly invigorated as the salty air hit her lungs. And then, she slowly started walking along the beach, wrapping the shawl tighter still.
It was beautiful out here. A wild, desolate beauty to be sure, but it spoke to her heart in a way that she had never experienced before. She was happy with her home, on this remote stretch of Lancashire coast, and she desired no other. She did not feel the siren call of cities. She had visited London only once and had no desire to go back again. Even smaller cities and towns held no appeal for her.
She smiled faintly. Yes, she loved the house and the location. But a house was not a home without love in it, nor the possibility that there would ever be love.
She took a deep breath. She was ready, now. She was ready to think about what had happened last night, between James and herself. It was as if the sea air had swept the last of the cobwebs out of her mind.
She had risked, and she had failed. Her heart tightened again, thinking of it. Now, it all seemed so pointless. Why had she even tried to show him that perhaps they could proceed differently, that there might be another way?
She frowned, veering towards the sea, standing as close to the lapping tide as she dared without getting her shoes wet.
Her eyes filled with tears, recalling how he had pushed her away, telling her that he couldn’t make love to her. She had been so hurt that she simply hadn’t been able to look at him, for the longest time. And the worst of it was the fact thatshehad done it, this time.
She had felt his enthusiasm, the wild stab of excitement when she had kissed him, and her heart had leapt with hope. A man could not manufacture such a thing, she was sure of it. Hedidfind her attractive. But as soon as she had made the mistake of speaking, telling him she wanted him to love her, he had pulled back, away from her.
The tears suddenly spilled over. She wiped them away, fiercely, with the back of her hand.
She had always been scared that he did not find her attractive; that she was simply an undesirable woman. Why else would a man never want to make love to his lawfully wedded wife? It was the only explanation that she could think of.
She knew that her looks were not fashionable. She was too tall, her figure too womanly. Her skin was too dark. When she was young, she would despair when she attended balls and parties in Coventry. She would wish, with all her heart, that she was petite and fine-boned, with a porcelain complexion, like most of the young ladies on the circuit. Standing beside them she had felt like a heifer, purchased from the stockyards.
It did not matter how many times her parents told her she was beautiful or called her their dark Spanish princess. She knew she was different to the norm, and that most people could not see past that. She would never be an English rose, with peaches and cream skin and golden hair.
She had felt beautiful on her wedding day. That was until she realised her husband was not interested in her in the slightest. Then, she had known the truth of it: that an expensive gown could not make her lovely to him.
She yearned to be beautiful in his eyes. She wanted him to desire her, to stare at her in open admiration. Last night, for a moment, she had briefly felt that, before it had all disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Her lip trembled. What was the use? He would never tell her what the problem was. He would never reveal why he could tremble with desire for her but refuse to make love to her. None of it made any sense.
She inhaled deeply. She must get over it, make a life at Birkenhead Lodge around him. He had done it. Why couldn’t she?
But she knew the reason why.
Because she loved him.
The wind howled around her, catching her hair, sending it streaming around her face. She sighed heavily, glancing back at the large house, standing like a sentinel, looking over the ocean.
She didn’t want to go back there. She would walk, for just a little while longer.
***
She was sitting on a rock, gazing out to sea, her mind blessedly empty, when she saw the family walking towards her along the beach.
She stiffened. She did not want to talk to these unknown people, to have her solitude interrupted. But it was too late to get up and walk in the opposite direction; it would look deliberate, and rude. Better to just nod and smile as they passed by.
