Page 46 of A Family Of His Own
They blinked, then stared at each other, shock and surprise etching their expressions. Both equally uncertain.
Neither sure of what they wanted.
Much less what they could have.
She recovered first, or perhaps her shock cut deeper. She mumbled an excuse Toby only half heard—something about checking on Evelyn—then she turned and walked quickly back to the room.
Still dazed, he watched as she opened the door and glanced through the shadows at him, then she whisked through the door, and it softly closed.
He continued to stare as his brain started working again, started calculating, evaluating possibilities, assessing the odds.
Despite the flaring attraction having been there, between them, from the moment they’d met, he had to wonder if tonight’s escalation—the impulses they’d both clearly felt and to which they’d nearly succumbed—had been brought on by the charade.
Their necessary charade of being husband and wife, parents to three children.
He narrowed his eyes as he considered that.
In the end, when he pushed away from the alcove’s side and made his way to his room and his bed, he was in much the same state as when he’d left the room in search of… self-understanding.
He really wasn’t sure. And he honestly couldn’t tell.
CHAPTER7
The following morning, Toby felt decidedly out of sorts, not least because he was abradingly aware that, in the wake of the night’s exchanges, Diana was keeping a very high albeit intangible barrier between them.
Given that she had been as involved as he, he didn’t think that was fair.
Over breakfast in the dining room, she didn’t meet his eyes once.
Unfortunately, he had no idea what to do about her reaction, any more than he knew what he wanted. From himself or from her.
How had he ended up in such a tangle?
Again, he honestly didn’t know.
And that was very unlike him. Uncertainty wasn’t normally in his repertoire.
He clung to his role as papa to her mama, helped marshal their troops, and got them packed and down the stairs.
This morning, the staff, including the concierge, were all smiles and good wishes; while he paid their shot, the children stood beside him, smiling angelically.
Finally, he had his family loaded into the coach for the short trip to the station.
As the coach rolled off, Diana briefly glanced his way. “Surely we’re too early? I thought you said the train doesn’t leave until noon.”
Trying not to grump, he replied, “Boarding commences at eleven, but until then, I thought we could spend our time at that park we passed yesterday on our way into town. It had a swing and a seesaw and space to run.”
He glanced down at Bruno, who had again spent the night with Gunter and was now stretched out on the floor between everyone’s feet.
Diana followed Toby’s gaze and admitted, “Wearing out Bruno”—and the children—“before spending hours sitting in a train would be a very wise move.”
She was trying her damnedest to ignore her awareness of the man beside her and not allow her mind to dwell on what had so nearly happened the previous night. Even now, she wasn’t sure what had occurred—what had changed, much less how or why.
Her reaction to him confused her. He irritated but also intrigued her.
Simultaneously annoying and enticing.
Inwardly, she shook her head, and when Gunter halted the carriage beside the park, she determinedly kept her mind and her senses focused on the task of getting the children out of the coach and distracted with the swings and seesaw.
