Autumn's Wild Heart (Seasons #4) - Laura Landon Page 0,23
her into the small dining room. “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Cook to prepare something light for dinner.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
He sat her at her usual place at the table.
“How do men do it?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Drink night after night. Have too much to drink one night and repeat the process again the next night?”
A footman arrived with a light soup and a warm loaf of sliced bread. James buttered her a piece of bread then handed it to her. She thanked him and took a small bite.
“It takes years of practice,” he answered. “That’s how we do it.”
“How do you survive until you become used to it?”
“I think one simply tires of feeling like bloody hell every morning when they wake.”
She took another nibble of her buttered bread. “I dare say you won’t have to worry about me relying too heavily on wine on a daily basis.”
He laughed. “I’m glad.” James dipped his spoon into his bowl of soup. “So, why did you drink like you did last night?”
She stopped with her bread halfway to her mouth, then continued eating as if he hadn’t spoken. He was sure eating was a tactic to stop from having to answer him.
Before he could ask her again, a footman came in with a platter of cheeses, more warm bread, and a bowl of fruit.
“You haven’t answered my question, Nella. What were you upset over?”
“I wasn’t upset.”
“Liar.”
She looked at him with a cross expression on her face.
“I wasn’t,” she repeated. “I was angry.”
“With whom?”
“With myself.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she answered. “Just because.”
“I’m not going to get an answer from you, am I?”
She lowered her gaze and ate a few pieces of fruit. “No.”
James gave up questioning her until she finally finished nibbling on her cheese. With a heavy sigh she dropped her linen napkin on the table and rose. “If you will excuse me.”
James rose and pulled her chair back. She laid a hand on his arm, a companionable thing to do.
“I’m glad to see you feeling so much better.”
She huffed.
“Well you are,” he insisted. “But I’d feel better if I could see those dimples.” He raised a finger to lightly touch her cheek.
His easy quip and gentle touch seemed to do the trick. James lowered his gaze and caught the smile he’d been hoping for. It changed her features. Made her seem younger…happier. Prettier.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her from the dining room. “I will leave on Thursday for London. If you will have your invitations written by then, I will take them with me and see they get delivered.”
“Oh, thank you, James.” Her voice elevated with a measure of excitement. “I can’t wait,” she said, then lifted her head and kissed him on the cheek.
Every muscle in her body stiffened when she seemed to realize what she’d done. She separated herself from him as if she thought something as simple as a kiss on his cheek was a step too far. As if she didn’t have the right to show him unsolicited affection. As if he could come to her bed every night and use her body, but she didn’t have the same rights.
Suddenly, James realized that he’d never kissed her. He’d lain with her. He’d made love to her. But he’d never kissed her, as if kissing her on the lips would indicate that their relationship had gone another step. As if kissing her on the lips represented an intimacy he wasn’t ready to show her.
“I think I’d like to retire now,” she said.
James turned with her. “Would you indulge me for a moment?” he asked as they made their way from the dining room.
“Of course.”
“Would you play for me?”
“The piano?”
“No. TiddlyWinks.” He winked. “Of course I mean the piano.”
“Of course. What would you like to hear?”
“Whatever you’d like to play.”
They strolled to the music room where James poured himself a glass of brandy and sat in the corner of the sofa. His wife went to the piano and sat. She breathed in deeply, then placed her hands on the keyboard and started the most beautiful, most melancholy melody he’d ever heard.
James couldn’t speak. He didn’t have the heart to interrupt something so pure, so elemental, so heart-wrenching.
When he had decided to ask her to play he’d wondered what song she would choose. He wondered whether it would be some fast-paced heart-pounding song that represented the frustration he knew she felt, or the slower, more melancholy song that tore at her heart and exposed her