Page 45 of Tamed By a Passionate Lady
She sank back down into the bed, resting her head against the pillow, thinking about it. It was still so vivid she could see it.
James. Lying on the bottom of the cliffs…and standing at the top. One man, split into two.
One of them had loved her, and the other had not. But which was the real one?
Chapter 16
James sighed deeply, staring at the contents of the desk, strewn in front of him. There were so many items cluttering the surface that he had no idea where to start to organise the space. And he was also slightly irritated that he had apparently been the one to leave it in such a state.
He sighed again, leaning back in his wheelchair, staring around the room. This was his study. Apparently, this was the room where he had spent most of his time at Birkenhead Lodge prior to the accident. Adaline had told him that he would spend most mornings here, studying his history books, or catching up on correspondence.
He had smiled at her when she told him. “Did you join me there sometimes?”
She had bitten her lip in the usual way that she did when she did not know quite how to answer him. “You liked to spend the time alone,” she had answered, eventually. “It is your special place, James, where you do not like to be disturbed.”
He had not spent much time in it, since the accident. Once, he had opened the door, peering into the room. A strong musty smell had enveloped him, and he had quickly closed it again with a strange sense of unease. For some reason, he did not want to be in there. He had spent an hour in here another day, staring at his desk, opening and closing drawers. He had avoided it since, almost holding his breath when he was passing by in his wheelchair.
But this morning, he had been at a bit of a loose end. Everyone was busy. Reuben had taken Isabel into the local village for morning tea, as a treat. He had smiled to himself when he had heard the young woman ask her brother casually if they might call upon Dr. Brown.
And Adaline had gone for a long walk, along the beach, claiming that she needed the exercise, as soon as breakfast was over. He had not challenged her, nor asked if he could accompany her. It would have been impossible anyway with his wheelchair, but besides that, he sensed that she needed time alone after what had occurred between them the night before.
He sighed restlessly, his eyes trailing over the bookcase which was stuffed to overflowing with history tomes and quite a few books on birds as well. He had obviously indulged his passions while he was here. But then, he supposed there was little else to do out in this remote spot. He no longer worked, after all.
He wheeled himself over to the bookcase, pulling down a heavy, leather bound book about Lancashire. It was so dusty he had to blow on the cover before opening it. His own handwriting leapt out at him on the first page. His name, and the date that he had bought it, neatly inscribed in black ink.
He gazed down at it, trying to remember, when he had picked up a quill, and written this. But it was all a blank, just like everything was that had occurred here. From the most minor things, like writing in a book, to the major ones, like marrying his wife. It was as if it had happened to another person entirely, and yet here was the proof, lying in front of him.
Just as Adaline was the proof.
He put the book back in its place, turning back to the desk. He felt restless and dispirited. Perhaps he would try to clear the desk; make it his own again. At the very least, it would occupy his mind, and he would become reacquainted with his own possessions. They might even spark a memory.
Quickly, he started to sort items, trying to become absorbed in the task. But the memory of last night was haunting him, and he could not keep it at bay.
Adaline. He had tried so hard to win her trust since he had moved back into their marital chambers. He had known that he would have to go slowly. He had been prepared for it. But he had hoped that as soon as he was ensconced there, that everything would fall into place. That his presence would seem natural and normal to her, and that the intimacy that he craved with her would progress naturally as well.
He knew that she was still feeling uncomfortable with him since the accident. He wasn’t the same person, after all; he had no memory of her, or of their marriage. She was shy, and hesitant, almost as if she expected him to rebuff her at any moment. But she also blossomed with his open admiration for her. He knew that she was enjoying their deepening connection as much as he was.
He sighed heavily. He had been so close, last night, to breaking down that final barrier between them. He had felt her leap of response when he had first pulled her into his arms and placed his lips on hers. The passion was there, just beneath the surface, waiting to break free, but then she had pulled away from him just like she always did.
The bitter disappointment had been sour, indeed.
He sighed again as he crumpled old notes, throwing them into a basket beneath the desk. She wouldn’t tell him why she was reluctant. In desperation, he had wondered if he had been cruel to her. He could not imagine that he could have been, but why else was she so hesitant to let him touch her, and love her, the way that a man should love his wife?
Who had he been to her? What had he been like with her?
Once, he would not have asked himself that question. He knew who he was. But since the accident, nothing was certain anymore. Five years of his life had been wiped from his memory. What kind of man had he become in that time? What had he done, which had led him here, to marry her?
He knew that he had made careful, deliberate plans to leave Liverpool. For some reason, he wanted to cut himself off from his previous life completely. He had sold the family business, in the wake of his father’s death, and bought this beautiful, remote house on top of a cliff, near the sea. But the true reasons behind that decision were beyond him.
He could not remember courting Adaline, nor marrying her. Their life together in this house was completely blank. But he could not imagine that it was anything but a love match. Apart from her obvious beauty, he knew what kind of woman she was now. Kind-hearted, generous, thoughtful…everything that he could ever desire in a wife. He felt himself so drawn to her, he knew it must be how he had felt for her prior to the accident. That even though he could not remember her or their marriage, his heart – and his body – somehow did.
He stirred restlessly. What had she said, the previous night?
I fear it is all too good to be true.
He frowned, his hand pausing in mid-air as he cleared the desk. Why would she say such a thing? The only reason he could think of was that it had obviously not been good before. And yet, she would not enlighten him as to why that had been the case. He was as much in the dark about everything as always.
He sighed. He must not ruminate on it at the moment. It achieved nothing. And he had a job to finish.
