‘Where to now, Your Grace?’ Joshua asked while holding her hand to assist her into the luxurious carriage that was parked in the driveway of the surgeon’s terraced house. The very same doctor who had examined her as a child.
‘Home,’ Anita answered, taking a seat on the plush cushion. She couldn’t even muster up a smile. Her hopes had been shattered. They had been too high, and she shouldn’t have done that to herself. It had been an impossible dream, and she’d never been a dreamer. ‘Thank you.’ She nodded for him to close the door. Shut her inside. Alone. Where she could wallow in her pity. She’d refused to do that for years, but things had been different back then. She hadn’t experienced something that she wanted.
Wanted more than anything possible.
That was the problem.
It wasn’t possible. The doctor had said that nothing could be done with her foot. The injury was too old.
Joshua started to close the carriage door but then pulled it back open. ‘I’m sorry, very sorry. I should have done more when you were young. I was afraid. If I’d said anything more, done anything more, I would have lost my job, and then there wouldn’t have been anyone to watch over you. The others who had been at Brunswick then couldn’t tolerate it when your uncle moved in, and left.’
His words, his sorrowful expression, pushed through her own sadness. She pressed a hand over the softening of her heart. Confounded, she asked, ‘That’s why you stayed employed at Brunswick? Because of me?’
‘Yes, Your Grace. I pulled you out of the wreckage that day, took you home and helped take care of you until your aunt and uncle moved in. A doctor examined you after the accident and said you were fine, but when you refused to walk, I begged your uncle to take you to another doctor. He refused and threatened to fire me if I asked again. After a year, when you still weren’t walking, I brought you here. To Dr Potter. He’d said that he might be able to fix it, but there again, your uncle refused. I should have paid for it myself.’
‘No.’ She laid a hand on his arm, truly touched by his dedication. A dedication that she’d never realised had been there. ‘You can’t take any blame, Joshua. You did far more than I ever knew.’ Her heart was aching for him. ‘Please know how much I appreciate what you did. For all you have done for me over the years. I’m sorry for never realising it. I—I never knew any of that.’
‘I know you didn’t. I was instructed to stay away from you.’ He looked over his shoulder at the house. ‘And I’m sorry the surgeon couldn’t help you now.’
The way her uncle had treated people over the years had angered her many times, but she’d never done anything about it. Never said anything because there had been nothing that she could do about it. But she should have tried. Should have said something. ‘I’m the one who is sorry,’ she said, ‘for the way you were treated.’
Pulling up a smile, wanting a way to make him feel better, she said, ‘It’s all right, Joshua, I was just curious if anything could be done, but it doesn’t matter. The new shoes I have are wonderful. My foot rarely hurts any more.’
‘Perhaps another doctor,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘No, let’s just go home.’ Patting his arm, she said, ‘But thank you, for all you’ve done, and for keeping this visit just between us. Your support, you being here with me, means so much to me. It’s time to leave. Go home. We both have a much better life now than we ever did.’
‘We do, Your Grace.’ He bowed his head while stepping back, then stopped. ‘Perhaps His Grace—’
‘No,’ she said before he could say more. ‘No.’ She didn’t want Myles to know what she’d done. How she’d tried to fix herself after she’d accused him of trying to do that very thing.
Joshua closed the door, and she leaned back against the soft, thick velvet padding. Myles had done so much for her. Given her, and Joshua and Olive, a life that was the complete opposite of what they’d known, and she’d wanted to do something for him in return. She truly had hoped the surgeon would be able to do something so she could become a wife that he wouldn’t need to worry about tripping over hay or anything else. It had been too great of a hope, and she should have realised that.
It had been a foolish idea. She just didn’t ever want a repeat of their argument about her being in Dolly’s stall. Never wanted her foot to be the reason someone lost their job. Though Myles hadn’t said that, she had been worried for Mr Gorman because of how employees had been treated at Brunswick.
The sinking in her stomach made her groan. Joshua had almost lost his job years ago for that very reason. Her injury had been affecting others since the day it happened.
A knock sounded on the coach door, and she pulled back the velvet curtain that had been blocking the cold December air and spied the surgeon, Dr Potter, whom she’d just seen.
‘Pardon me, Your Grace,’ the doctor said through the window. ‘I have an idea I’d like to discuss with you. It might be of some help.’ Opening the door, he continued, ‘Would you mind coming back inside?’
She accepted the hand he held out but told herself to not get excited, to not expect too much. ‘Certainly, thank you.’
Once again in his exam room, she sat on the chair while Dr Potter removed her shoe and sock. He twisted her foot in ways that once in a while caused a shoot of pain before he looked up at her, raising both of his bushy grey eyebrows at the same time.
She raised her brows, not to copy him, but in anticipation of what he might say. Nothing had changed in the few minutes since he’d examined her the first time.
He first scratched the shiny bald spot atop his head, then rubbed a hand over his whiskered chin. ‘As I said earlier, surgery could cause more problems than it would fix, and I still wouldn’t advise risking that. But with some concentrated exercises, you might gain more flexibility.’ He held one hand up. ‘You’ll never walk on the flat of your foot, so I don’t want to give false hope, but with more flexibility, especially with the support of these specially made shoes you have, your limp, your chances of tripping, might be diminished.’
‘What sort of exercises?’ she asked, tamping down the hope that was attempting to renew itself.
‘I need to do some research, but if I was to suggest you coming by for an hour or so, for the next few days, for me to show you some ways to move your foot to regain muscles that haven’t been used in a long time, would that be of interest to you?’
He spoke so low and slow that she replied, ‘Yes,’ before his last word was out. ‘Yes,’ she repeated. ‘I’m willing to try anything.’
He gave her a slight smile. ‘Shall we say in the afternoon? Around two, starting tomorrow?’
‘I’ll be here.’
‘Very well.’ He replaced her sock and shoe while saying, ‘Please don’t expect miracles, and you’ll have to continue to practise the exercises regularly.’
‘I understand, and I will.’ It wasn’t what she’d hoped for, but she would try anything if it would ease Myles’s concerns. He needed a wife who he didn’t have to worry about so he could focus on his duties. She wanted to be that wife. Wanted that more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. Not just for herself. The life he’d provided her was wonderful, and she wanted him to have one just as wonderful.
‘Thank you, Dr Potter, very much.’ The excitement inside her was growing, and she had to remind herself to be conscious that nothing had changed with her foot as she stood and balanced herself. ‘I’ll be here tomorrow at two.’
He walked to the door of his exam room. ‘Alfred will see you out, and I will see you tomorrow.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, and smiled at the older houseman waiting in the short corridor.
‘Good day, Your Grace,’ Alfred said a few steps later while he opened the outside door for her.
‘Good day,’ she replied.
Joshua was standing on the stoop, waiting for her with expectancy looming in his eyes.
Smiling at him as they walked to the coach, she said, ‘He thinks some exercises might help. I have to come back for the next few days.’
‘That’s wonderful news, Your Grace. Just wonderful.’
Not wanting to get his hopes up, either, she said, ‘It might not help, but it’s worth a try.’
‘Indeed, Your Grace, indeed.’
Her heart felt lighter when he closed the door of the carriage this time. For a moment. Then another sensation made her stomach flip. She’d never kept secrets, and that’s what this was. It would have to remain a secret, too. It had been difficult to not tell Myles why she’d wanted to go to London with Mary and the girls, but she hadn’t wanted to disappoint him if her plan failed.
The kisses they’d shared before she’d left still lived inside her. To tell the truth, if only to herself, she wanted him to kiss her like that all the time. Every day. She now could relate to the giggling, blushing and swooning women in the books she’d read. Every time she thought about him, that ache in her lower belly made itself known. She couldn’t help but speculate if all wives felt those sensations when thinking about their husbands or if it was just her. If she was just odd, because sometimes, when she was in bed, thinking about him, she had to admit the things she thought about doing with him were not ladylike. They were quite lustful, and she wasn’t certain that a woman should feel that way.
The jolt of the carriage as the wheels began rolling brought her back to her senses. She would have to come up with another excuse to leave the house tomorrow, and possibly over the days following. Today, she stated that she needed to see about purchasing a few Christmas gifts. Before she’d left Redford, Myles had given her a significant amount of money, and had informed her that he had added her name to charge accounts at stores throughout London.
Mary had told her about a favourite store, Fortnum & Mason’s, before she’d left the house today.
Reaching up, she pulled the curtain back and tucked it behind the hook to keep it back as she leaned her head out the window. ‘Joshua?’
‘Yes, Your Grace?’
A hint of dread washed over her, because she’d rarely gone shopping. Practically never, but she would have to, because that is what she’d said she was doing. ‘I’d like to stop at a store, Fortnum and Mason’s, please.’
‘Very well, Your Grace.’
She would have to tell Myles about Dr Potter eventually, to account for the money she’d spent, but hopefully, by then, the exercises would have done some good.
She also hoped that nothing was planned for her to attend over the next few afternoons. Mary had invited her sister and husband for dinner last night, and just as Christina and Maria had said, Uncle Norman and Aunt Tina, as they instructed her to call them, were great company. So were their two daughters, Abigail and Deana, who were close in age to Christina and Maria, and all four of them were very excited to attend the ball.
The ball was still a looming dread in Anita’s future. She had nightmares about tripping, having all of London laughing at her, and a look of disgust on Myles’s face had jolted her awake more than once. She told herself he wouldn’t act that way. He was too kind, too wonderful, but her dreams didn’t seem to understand that.
Pressing a hand to her stomach, she closed her eyes and sent up a prayer that Dr Potter would be able to help her keep that nightmare from coming true. Just that alone would be a miracle.
As luck would have it, an afternoon visit to the doctor each day was very easy for her to attend. No one questioned her desire to go shopping for a couple of hours each afternoon. In fact, Mary said that was smart, because it was impossible to see all the store had to offer in one trip. Or even one day.
Dr Potter had certainly done his research and had shared it with her by pointing at drawings of ankles, legs and feet in a book. For over an hour, he would manipulate her ankle in all directions. It was painful at times and left her ankle aching, but she didn’t complain. The pain was simply a reminder of why she was doing all of this.
By the third day, her ankle was more than achy, it was sore, but that did not stop her. She could already tell that she had more flexibility, and that was exciting.
That was also the day he included walking in her exercises. Not just regular walking, but sideways, backwards and in circles.
‘You’ve trained yourself to take small steps,’ he said, watching every step she took. ‘I want you to take the biggest steps you can. Think about dancing and taking long, smooth steps.’
‘I don’t know how to dance,’ she admitted.
His bushy brows drew together as he frowned. ‘Surely you’ve seen others dancing?’
‘No, I haven’t.’ She shrugged. The few times there had been parties at Brunswick, she’d been in the kitchen. Out of sight. Which hadn’t bothered her. That part of her life was over. She could no longer hide. ‘I did see my cousins pretending to dance, but that was more just fooling around.’
‘But you will be attending the Christmas Ball?’
‘Yes.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘I won’t dance.’ Myles had said she wouldn’t be expected to, but she did worry what others would think or say about that.
Dr Potter looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Would you like to?’
‘I don’t think it’s possible.’
‘I think it might be, if you’d allow me to teach you. It could be part of our treatment.’
‘The ball is only four days away.’ She was counting, not due to the ball, but because Myles would arrive the day before the ball.
‘I’m a very good dancer, a very good teacher.’ His smile was a mixture of pride and teasing. Holding up a hand, he said, ‘Wait here.’
Normally, they stayed in his exam room, but with the walking today, they were in the front parlour of his home. It wasn’t nearly as large as the Wadsworth home, nor as finely furnished, but it was a bright and cheery room, with windows that overlooked the street out front and provided several potted plants plenty of light.
‘Your Grace,’ he said, returning to the room. ‘This is my wife, Martha. Martha, this is Lady Anita Wadsworth, the Duchess of Redford.’
‘It’s my pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,’ the grey-haired woman said, with a slight curtsy.
‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ Anita replied.
‘Martha has agreed to play the piano so I can teach you to dance,’ Dr Potter said.
That was how her doctor visits turned into dance lessons. Each afternoon, when she arrived home, she went upstairs to her bedroom, which, like back at Redford, was connected to a room that Myles would occupy when he arrived.
There, she would lie on the bed with a wet, cool towel wrapped around her ankle until the aching eased. She clearly remembered how badly her ankle would hurt some nights at Brunswick and wished she’d known about the towel back then, for it truly did help. Dr Potter had suggested it, and he’d promised each day the pain would get better. That the muscles were only sore from not being used for years.
He was right. The aching wasn’t as bad as it had been, and she felt a difference, too. In her stride, her balance and in her confidence.
She was still careful to not get too excited, and she was diligent about not taking tiny steps and rotating her ankle as often as possible. Barely a moment went by when she didn’t think about rotating her ankle or walking even just a few steps.
To make leaving the house each day honest, prior to her appointments, she went shopping. It had been intimidating at first, but no longer. So far, she had gifts for the girls, Mary and several servants hidden in her trunk for when they returned to Redford to celebrate Christmas, but she’d yet to find anything for Myles.
Anxious to get to London as quickly as possible, Myles chose to ride rather than take a carriage. It was a long, cold journey, despite the afternoon sun. He’d planned on leaving first thing this morning but had discovered his horse, Donovan, had a loose shoe. Knowing the risks of that, and how losing a shoe during his trip would cause an even longer delay, he’d requested Donovan receive four new shoes.
Then an unexpected buyer had shown up. He half wondered if Wesley, who had returned to London a few days ago, had sent the buyer out purposefully, knowing he was leaving for London today.
The buyer, who had purchased two horses, had been sent by a mutual friend in Cambridge, so Wesley was off the hook, but it had been close to noon by the time Myles departed Redford.
What felt like days rather than hours later, as he entered the city, he was glad to be on horseback rather than in a carriage. It made navigating the traffic far easier, and quicker.
The sooner he set eyes on his wife, the better.
He’d come to the conclusion that he was not in love. He would know if that had happened. However, he was distracted and overly frustrated and had concluded why. He was in lust. Plain and simple. He was very attracted to his wife, and she had said that she wanted what he wanted. His plan was to ask her to consider sleeping with him. More than sleep. He wouldn’t request, simply ask her to consider it, and if she was agreeable, which was his greatest hope, a hope that went beyond all else, he would ask her to come to his room. If she chose not to, he would wait. He would tell her that, too. The choice would hers.
His optimism, one that continued to grow inside him, that she might agree, came from the way she’d returned his kisses, especially the night before she’d left for London. He could still taste the sweetness of her lips, how they’d felt softer than velvet, and how they’d danced in concert with his, until her lips had parted, inviting him into the heat of her mouth. He could still feel the way she’d pressed the perfect curves of her body against him. The way her arms had been looped around his neck and how his hands hand roamed up and down the sides of her body. He’d had to fight hard to not cup one of her breasts, feel the firmness and weight in his hand.
A groan rumbled in the back of his throat, and he shook his head to dilute the memory and shift his seat in the saddle against the blood that had started pounding in his veins and had rushed to his groin.
He also told himself that his patience would be worth the reward. Even if she said that she needed some time to think about it.
However, he also hoped that she didn’t need too much time, because he might die from the desires that filled him day in and day out.
Steering Donovan around yet another slow-moving carriage, he espied a coach taking a corner several blocks ahead. One he knew well. It was his mother’s coach.
It took a second for the next thought to hit. Then his heart nearly leaped from his chest. That was no longer his mother’s coach, it was his wife’s coach. He urged his horse to move faster through the traffic, but as if the world were against him, at the next crossroad, two huge and very slow-moving freight carts blocked his path.
He was cursing aloud by the time the carts got out of his way, and then he had to figure out exactly which corner it had been where Anita’s coach had turned and then gone from there.
Convinced he was on the right street, he rode slowly, looking up and down each crossroad, which now made him the slow-moving traffic that others steered around.
Catching a glimpse of a black carriage with a gold crest on the doors and gold-painted wheels, he spun Donovan around for a second look. He was in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. The modest terraced houses all looked the same.
Turning down the street where the coach was parked a distance ahead, his heart lurched into an erratic beat. That was Anita walking from the coach up to a house. He was certain of it, due to the new dark blue cape she’d worn when leaving Redford. The white fur on the hood had stood out then and stood out now.
He urged Donovan into a trot, but not for long due to the narrow street and the traffic, including a slow-moving milk cart directly in his path that didn’t care if he hadn’t seen his wife in nearly a week or not. The longest week of his life, no less.
By the time he arrived at the house, he was certain she’d entered, her coach was turning the corner at the end of the block. She wouldn’t have had time to walk to the house and back to the coach. It hadn’t taken him that long to get here.
He stared at the house. Why would Joshua have left her here?
Just then, a man, young and tall, with curly blond hair, exited the stable beside the house and practically ran to the house as if in a hurry to see someone. Unless stablemen in the city had started wearing ascots and embroidered frock coats, that man didn’t work here. He lived here.
The very house where Anita was inside.
Donovan snorted and stomped a foot. The horse knew he was in the city and was ready for their journey to be over. The horse was probably also frustrated that others were moving past him and he was forced to stand still.
Myles didn’t know what to think and scanned the houses, the street. He had half a mind to go knock on the door, ask what his wife was doing here, but what if that hadn’t been the house?
It looked very similar to the ones on each side of it. He couldn’t just start knocking on doors, demanding to see his wife. Perhaps this is what she’d meant about needing to do something in the city. Visit an old friend.
As far as he knew, she didn’t have any old friends.
She certainly had never mentioned any.
Joshua would know. He would know which house she was at and why.
Myles scanned the house again, finding that it had a black hitching post in the driveway that was different from any others. Saving that information to find the house again, he gave Donovan his head and began searching for the coach again.
He found it readily enough. Less than eight blocks away, there was a small tavern. A joint that looked as if it were one that drivers visited while waiting for their employers, due to the large gravelled area next to the building, which was where Anita’s coach was parked.
Stopping next to it, he noted the block had been set for the horses, which meant that Joshua intended to be inside for longer than a few minutes.
Myles climbed off his horse, tethered it, and made his way to the door. The place was neither large, nor busy. Joshua was at a table near a window with a newspaper laid out on the table and a tankard sitting beside it.
The driver looked up, then jumped to his feet as Myles approached the table.
‘Your Grace,’ Joshua said, pulling the hat off his head. ‘You’ve arrived. The Duchess will be so happy to see you.’
‘Where is she?’ Myles asked.
Joshua’s Adam’s apple looked as if it had gotten stuck as the man swallowed. He held up a finger and reach down, lifted the tankard and took a drink. ‘Tea,’ he said, followed by a cough while holding the tankard out for Myles to look inside.
Myles couldn’t care less that it looked and smelled like tea; he was still waiting for the man to answer his question.
‘They don’t have proper teacups, but they do make a strong cuppa,’ Joshua said, setting the tankard back on the table. ‘Would you care for one, Your Grace?’
‘No, I would like to know where the Duchess is.’
Joshua shifted his feet. ‘Oh, well, you see, Your Grace, she is shopping.’
‘Shopping?’
Joshua nodded his head while wringing the hat he was holding with both hands. ‘Yes, shopping.’
‘Where?’
A sheen of sweat was forming above Joshua’s brows. ‘Well, um... Fortnum and Mason’s, Your Grace.’
Myles was familiar with the department store but was far more curious to know why Joshua was lying to him. The man had not shown incompetency of any sort since arriving at Redford but, like Olive, was very dedicated to Anita. So dedicated he was clearly lying on her behalf. ‘That is a distance from here.’
‘Yes, Your Grace, it is indeed. She asked me to return for her in an hour, and I came here, on account of how good their tea is. Bought myself a paper to read.’
‘I see,’ Myles said, while deciding how to proceed. He wanted to demand the truth, yet, a part of his memory was reminding him of the last time he’d acted without thinking and how his behaviour had made Anita cry. He didn’t ever want a repeat of that.
‘The Duchess will be home by four, Your Grace,’ Joshua said. ‘All done shopping by then.’
‘Will she?’ Myles asked, still contemplating his next action.
Joshua’s head was bobbing like an apple in a barrel that had just been shaken. ‘The Duchess knows you are arriving tonight.’
He had mentioned it would be evening by the time he arrived in his last message to her about Dolly, so it wasn’t out of the realm for her to be shopping this afternoon. But he knew she wasn’t shopping. He needed more information. ‘Did you visit this establishment while working for Brunswick?’
‘On occasion, Your Grace.’
The hair on his neck quivered. ‘Why? Did Brunswick have family, friends, in the area?’
Joshua shook his head. ‘No, Your Grace. His Lordship was known to visit an establishment just up the road.’
Myles nodded. ‘The gaming house.’
‘Yes, Your Grace.’
‘What about the Duchess? Does she know anyone who lives in this neighbourhood?’
A single bead of sweat trickled down the side of Joshua’s face.
Perhaps it was compassion or that Myles didn’t want to know the true answer, because Joshua was clearly going to continue lying for his duchess. ‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter,’ Myles said. ‘I will see you and the Duchess at home.’
‘By four, Your Grace,’ Joshua said.
‘By four,’ Myles said, then pointed at the tankard. ‘Enjoy your tea.’
As he left the establishment, he contemplated his options. There were several, including knocking on doors to find his wife. He had to think this through, for that might not be his best choice.
In the end, after much contemplation, he did what any man who wanted to know the undeniable truth would do. He returned to the house with the black hitching post, found a discreet spot to hide Donovan in the alley and one for him to hide in the bushes beside the stable of the house across the street.
His nose felt like an icicle, and he was blowing into his hands to keep them warm by the time Joshua arrived. The driver nearly fell off the coach steps in his hurry to get down and get to the house door. Anita exited that very door almost immediately, and the way she grasped a hold of Joshua arm, told Myles that the driver had informed her that her husband was in town.
The two of them practically ran to the coach.
Myles then had another decision to make. Once again, it included knocking on the door of that house. Actually, he was more in the mood for kicking it in. Still, though, he had the common sense to refrain from such actions until he knew more.
Therefore, he ran to Donovan and nearly caused several accidents during his somewhat wild and fast ride to his London house.
Ironically, his mother shared the same lie with him. That Anita was shopping at Fortnum & Mason’s and would be home by four. She also assured him how excited Anita would be to see him and told him that his second cousins, Lord and Lady Ashton would be joining them for dinner. His cousin Dafne was pleasant enough, although a bit feather-headed, but her husband, Gibb, was an arrogant man who pretended he’d been the one who’d brought money into the marriage rather than Dafne.
In other words, Myles now had two things that he wasn’t looking forward to. A dreadful dinner with his cousins and finding out the truth about what Anita had been doing at that house. He wanted to believe it had simply been a visit to an old friend or family member, but was having a hard time accepting that would be true.
Chilled to the bone, he used the time it would take Anita to get to the house to change into warm clothes and then stood before the fireplace in the study until his fingers and toes no longer stung.
He saw the carriage roll past the window, and though the house was large and it was clearly possible that he hadn’t heard anything, he was positive he heard when Anita entered the house.
Moments later, when a knock sounded on the study door, he took a moment to tell his heart to stop acting so foolishly before he said, ‘Come in.’
A second later, he had to momentarily close his eyes, because somehow, Anita had become more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her. Opening his eyes, he noted that she wasn’t wearing the blue cape.
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived,’ she said, quickly entering the room. ‘I was shopping.’
‘I was told that,’ he said.
She set a paper-wrapped package on the desk while asking, ‘Would you like to see what I bought at Fortnum and Mason’s today? But it’s a Christmas present, so you have to promise not to tell.’
He still wasn’t over the sight of her, nor was he prepared to answer, because he was also thinking that she didn’t have time to stop at Fortnum & Mason’s after leaving that house.
Without him having said a word, she folded back the paper and lifted up what looked like a colourful rug. ‘Isn’t it pretty?’ she asked.
‘A rug?’ he asked, with a headshake to get his eyes and mind working correctly. ‘As a Christmas gift?’
‘Yes, for Roscoe.’
‘You bought the dog a Christmas present?’
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’d seen it the other day and thought it would be nice for him to lie on in front of the fireplace on cold days, so I had to go back and buy it today.’
He had to smile. She was so kind and thoughtful that she would buy a present for a dog. That was just one of the things about her that was so endearing. There were more. So many more. Whatever she’d been doing at that house today had to be a minor thing, one she’d tell him about, and he’d feel foolish for wondering about it. He took a step towards her. ‘You have seen how much hair he has, right?’
Smiling, she set down the rug and took a step towards him. ‘Yes, I have, and I bet he still would like a rug to lie on.’
‘Do you want to know what I’d like?’ he asked, taking another step.
‘I would,’ she replied.
‘A hello kiss.’
It was as if she flew across the room and landed in his arms. Hers looped around his neck as their lips met. For the next several moments, he was lost in the world that he’d been dreaming about. Her lips dancing with his, her body pressed up against his. He’d missed her so much. The taste of her. The feel of her. The smell of her.
He wasn’t sure what clicked first in his mind, that she smelled different or that the difference was that she smelled of men’s cologne, and it wasn’t the scent he used. Either way, he stopped the kiss and took a step backwards.
She had on a blue-and-white dress that buttoned all the way to her chin, but that didn’t stop him from noticing her breasts, how they heaved up and down with her hard breaths.
He was breathing hard, too, from kissing her and from the darkness that was filling his chest.
They stood there for a moment, a very long one, looking at each other. Her beauty was still captivating him, but so were dark thoughts. He’d never expected her to betray him in this manner. His chest constricted, several times, and the pain was damn near unbearable. It spread, too, like it had fingers, long fingers that were almost strangling him. He tugged at his shirt collar, but it didn’t help. He’d never felt anything like this. The pain was making it hard to breathe. Hard to think.
Hard to... Hell! It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be in love with her. He refused to be. Refused!
Turning, he looked at the fire blazing in the hearth. He bit down on the tip of his tongue until his focus was only on the pain of that, then he said, ‘We’re having guests for dinner. You’ll want to go to your room and change.’
‘I have plenty of time—’
‘I don’t,’ he said, needing her to leave before he said things he shouldn’t. ‘I need to get some work done.’
‘Oh. Is there anything I can help you with?’
‘No.’ Making his lie viable, he walked to the desk.
She did, too, and picked up her rug and the paper. With a bright smile, she said, ‘Dog or not, I think Roscoe will appreciate his gift.’ The she turned and walked to the door.
He sank into his chair, watched as she walked into the corridor, even gave a one-fingered wave when she fluttered her fingers at him before she pulled the door closed in her wake.
Throwing his head back he stared at the ceiling. This was impossible. He was in lust, not love. But lust wouldn’t hurt like this. The pain was all-consuming. Head to toe, but focused on his heart. So focused.
It was a hell of a lot more than a distraction.
When had it happened? How had he not known?
How had he not known that he was madly in love with his wife?
And jealous as hell!
He slammed a hand down on his desk. Who the hell was that blond man at that house? How long had she known him? Was she in love with him? A slew of other questions hit him like bullets being fired from a gun—several guns, all at the same time.
Some weren’t questions, they were statements. She’d never looked more radiant. Her face had shone. Her eyes had held a twinkle. Her steps had...
A shiver raced down his spine and he snapped his head forward, stared at the door again. Her steps had been longer than usual. It was an odd thing to notice, but not for him. He’d been aware of her steps, her walk, since the first day they’d met. Even with the fitted shoes, her steps were still short, circumspect.
Was she so happy, so in love with someone here in London that she practically had a spring in her step? She’d never had that with him.
This couldn’t be happening! But it was. There was no denying that. There was no denying the utter despair washing over him, either.