Page 16 of Tamed By a Passionate Lady
Hastily she redid her hair, twisting it into a rough bun. It would come down again immediately, but she looked a little bit more presentable, at least.
She studied them covertly. A man, in early middle age, with brown wavy hair, leaning towards a small woman, who looked to be about the same age. The woman had dark hair, streaked with grey, pulled back into a severe bun. Her clothes were plain, and serviceable, without a line of lace or embroidery. To Adaline’s eyes, she looked like a Quaker.
A small boy, around six years of age, was running along the sand by their side. He had bright yellow hair, sticking up in unruly tufts, and was laughing. A small fox terrier yelped at his heels.
The woman was holding the hand of a smaller child, bundled up in a thick grey coat. A little girl, with golden hair, around two years of age, Adaline guessed. She stumbled, as if she was not used to walking long distances. Eventually her mother scooped her up in her arms, fussing with the buttons on her coat.
The man and the woman conferred quietly, before the woman passed the girl to her husband. The girl fussed a little, stretching her arms back to her mother, but the man laughed, throwing her into the air until she was almost hysterical with giggles.
Adaline’s eyes filled with tears watching them. For some reason, the sight of the little family, walking along the beach, filled her with a bittersweet sorrow.
She watched the boy, and then the girl, her heart constricting with pain as the realisation hit her with the force of a brick.
She would never have children. She would never have a family.
She couldn’t believe that she had never faced that possibility before; that she had pushed it out of her mind, far away. But the truth was staring at her in the face now: if her husband never made love to her, then she would never have a child. It was as simple as that. She would be alone, living alongside a virtual stranger, for the rest of her life.
Her chest tightened, and she took gasping breaths as panic overwhelmed her. Up until this point, it had always been about James; about trying to get him to love her. But now she realised that there was another consequence to his refusal to make love to her, and that was that she would never have the family that she had always longed for.
She wouldneverbe a mother.
The fox terrier suddenly scooted away from the boy, approaching her, its tail and ears pricked up on high alert.
Adaline’s heart melted. It was a dear little thing, with its tan and white coat and bright brown eyes. Gently, she held out her hand. The dog approached, sniffing cautiously. The next minute she was petting it, scratching behind its ears.
The yellow haired boy approached shyly, scooping up the dog. “I am sorry he has bothered you, madam,” he said, in a middle class Lancashire drawl.
“That is quite alright,” said Adaline, smiling. “What is his name?”
“Milo,” said the boy, grinning.
“Well, then, and is Milo a good dog?”
The boy nodded. “He is, madam! He is my best friend!” He glanced back at his parents. “Well, I should go. Farewell.”
“Enjoy your walk,” she called after him.
The family passed by. The parents smiled at her, briefly, but did not stop to talk. Adaline let out a silent sigh of relief. She did not think that she was capable of making small talk right at this moment.
Her stomach grumbled. She should get up and head back to the house. She had been down here for over an hour already, and breakfast would be served soon. They would start to wonder where she was.
Her chest tightened again. Would her husband notice if she wasn’t in her usual spot at the breakfast table? Would he even care if she never showed up?
He had told her last night that she was not the problem, that it was him. He had told her that he thought her a beautiful, clever woman, and that she was a good wife to him. He had tried to reassure her that there was nothing wrong with her, and that whatever was keeping him back from intimacy with her was not her fault.
But he would not tell her what the problem was. James seemed content to let things coast along, to not confront what was between them. Or what wasnotbetween them, more to the point. And yet she sensed his deep unhappiness, his terrible struggle. It was as if he was battling a demon that refused to go away.
She sighed. There was no point, was there? She was back to square one. He would never tell her what the problem was, and he would never love her. And now, on top of that, she was forced to live with the fact that she would probably never have children either.
She would be lonely, and alone, for the rest of her life.
Her eyes filled with tears. If only she could have a little boy, like the yellow haired one with the dog, or a little girl, like the golden haired darling in the thick grey coat. At least if she had a child, she would have someone to love, and who loved her in return. It would make the reality of a husband who could not love her more bearable.
She stood up. She should get back to the house.
She felt as ancient as the cliffs high above her. But she could see her life going on, in exactly the same way, forever. She did not know how she was going to bear it.
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