"Very nice to meet you,” she said over her shoulder.
Richard watched the retreating figures hurry into the garden and noted his wife staring intently.
"How very odd," Amanda said, speculation in her voice. "She appears to be hiding something."
"I hope not, my dear." Richard gave her a lazy smile. “It may have escaped your notice, but he is in love with her."
***
Adam ushered Maggie quickly down the terrace steps to a fairly private comer of the garden. The effort to keep up with his long strides kept Maggie quiet. Until now.
"I don't believe this. What a disaster," she said. "I don't know anything about Ohio."
“That was painfully apparent.” Adam crossed his arms and leaned casually against a tree, not bothering to hide his amusement at her tirade. “I believe you mentioned something about trees and bears? It sounded delightful."
Too wrought up to give him the scathing answer his comment deserved, she ignored him. "It's like I'm being punished for something. That's it. I'm being paid back for every time I ever said ‘What do I need to study history for? I'm going to be an artist.’ And the answer was always ‘You need to be a well-rounded person.’ Ha. The real answer is because someday you'll be casually traveling through time and discover you need to know this stuff so you won't look like a total and complete idiot."
She paced back and forth, gesturing wildly. "I never liked history. It was boring. And now here I am living it. What a laugh. What a joke. What a bite in the shorts. And you." She whirled toward him and leveled a blistering look. "You were absolutely no help whatsoever."
He shrugged nonchalantly, obviously trying to stifle a smile. "What would you have me do?"
"What? Oh, I don't know." Her mind raced. "You could have let me know how many states there are in the Union. In America."
"How many are there in your time?" He raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"Fifty."
"Good lord," he said. "I would not have dreamed it possible. Does the country now stretch over the whole of the continent? How did such states develop? Are they autonomous or dependent? Is the republic system of government still functioning?"
Incredulous, Maggie stared at the genuine curiosity on his face. "What are you? Nuts? I can't believe you want to discuss the geopolitical evolution of the United States. Here. Now. I think we have—“
"Twenty," Adam said calmly.
“Twenty what?" She was completely confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Twenty states. The answer to your question." Apparently giving up all pretense at hiding his amusement, he broke into a broad grin.
Too upset for its usual infuriating effect, Maggie simply aimed her best drop-dead look at him. "You have absolutely no idea what I'm trying to deal with here. I feel like I'm in one of those dreams, you know."
He shook his head in obvious fascination.
"Where you're naked and everybody else has clothes on, only you don't know you're naked until it's too late? Haven't you ever had a dream like that? That's how I felt in there. By the time I realized what was wrong it was too late."
A voice inside warned her about overreacting. But she'd developed a good head of steam and wasn't about to let it go. "It's all so mind-boggling." She collapsed onto a garden bench. "And I am so damned confused."
She glared at him for a long moment. Adam seemed to be carefully considering his words.
"You are confused," he said slowly. “I barely understand a word you say. Listening to you is like listening to a foreign language, colorful and exciting, but one needs an interpreter. The words and phrases that pour out of your mouth at breakneck speed make absolutely no sense whatsoever."
“Like what?" Sincerely curious, Maggie didn't grasp his problem. “Like what?
“Like that, although that expression is not too difficult to grasp. Neither is ‘get it?’ But others . . ." He glanced at her sharply. "Are ‘kids’ children?"
She nodded.
“I thought so," he said with satisfaction. "But what is a ‘major—league problem’? Or a ‘bite in the shorts’? How does one ‘boggle one's mind’? Can you actually ‘drive someone up a wall’ in your time? And what in God's name is an ‘oh kay’?"
Throughout Maggie's life she had had a natural, well-developed sense of the absurd that saved her from embarrassing tight spots more than once. Her temper flared fast and burned hot but usually extinguished just as quickly, often replaced by a recognition of the ridiculous.
Maggie stared at Adam and her frustration slipped away. At the definite spark of amusement in his eyes, she laughed and couldn't seem to stop. Within moments Adam joined her, his rich, clear laughter surrounding them. He reached down, clasped her hands in his, and pulled her to her feet. They faced each other, bodies shaking with mirth until a tear danced down her cheek.
"So what do we do now?" She sniffed and smiled up at him.
"Now?" He released her hands and let his slide around her waist.
"Now." Her hands slipped up his shoulders.
His lips descended on hers gently. A kiss light, ethereal. Her lips parted beneath his and his tongue lazily traced the inner edge of her mouth. Desire surged through her. Her fingers crept to his neck and pulled him closer. The pressure of his lips on hers increased. He drew her tongue into his mouth, and any possibility of coherent thought disappeared.
Their lips still joined, he picked her up and swung her around to rest against a tree. The rough bark pressed into her back. She didn't care. Her body molded to his and she felt his hard arousal through the layers of fabric separating them. Lost in a sea of sensation, she moaned, her head falling back. His tongue followed the line of her jaw to her ear and he nibbled on the sensitive lobe, his faint breath sending chills shivering through the very core of her being. Featherlike kisses trailed the line from ear to shoulder, his tongue flicking the heated surface of her skin. He found the pulse point at the base of her throat and his tongue played across the throbbing he discovered there.
One hand was splayed on her back; his other traced the edge of the dress's neckline. Fingertips, playful and tantalizing, brushed the tender mounds of flesh. His hand slipped under the silken fabric, pushing the material down and releasing her breasts to him. He cupped one in his hand, his exploring tongue trailing lower, agonizingly slowly. She strained toward him, nipples erect and hard. Gently his tongue outlined the flushed circle, the sensitive skin taut with anticipation. He drew the hardened bud into his mouth, trapping it lightly with his teeth, his tongue teasing it into mind-numbing arousal. Maggie gasped, her grip tightening around his neck, her breath coming quick and fast. Fire flashed through her veins; passion surged in her blood.
Adam's mouth continued to plunder her breasts, suckling, caressing. His hand dropped and he gathered the fabric of her skirt, raising it slowly an inch at a time until he reached her leg. Delighted, he recognized the odd, one-piece stockings she wore on her arrival. He ran a hand slowly up the silken fabric pausing at the curve of her hip. His fingers found the waistband and dipped inside. Maggie shuddered at his touch.
He withdrew his fingers and trailed them lightly over the flat of her stomach, drifting ever lower. His hand cupped the round curve at the apex of her thighs and she squirmed slightly, increasing the pressure of his fingertips. Through the thin material he could feel her heat, feel her moisture. She was his for the taking but he wanted more from her than mere lovemaking.
Much more.
Reluctantly, Adam removed his hand and smoothed down her skirt. He readjusted the bodice of her dress and gently pulled her back to reality.
“Maggie," he whispered against her ear.
“Hmmm?" She sighed, her eyes still half closed.
“Maggie." He caressed the edge of her ear with his tongue. "We have to go back."
She moaned softly. "Then stop doing that."
He cupped her chin in his hand and looked deeply into her eyes. They seemed finally to focus, the color a satisfying deep forest g
reen.
"Later," he said quietly.
"Later," she said with a tremulous breath.
For a long moment their gazes locked. And Maggie knew in the charged silence agreements were reached, vows traded, promises exchanged.
***
Lydia thought only she noticed their absence and only she was aware of their return. From across the room she noted the high color in Maggie's face, the possessive way Adam held her arm. She smiled at her success and turned her attention back to her current partner. All was going very well indeed.
***
He stood a distance away and noticed Lydia Coleridge's attention turn toward the entry to the garden. His gaze followed hers and he, too, watched the couple’s return. He, too, noticed the woman's flushed face, the obvious ownership in the man's touch.
The woman intrigued him. He did not think she was as insipid as most females of his acquaintance. His sharp observations indicated a rare intelligence she apparently did not want discovered. He sensed she hid something more. Perhaps this venture would be far more enjoyable than he'd anticipated.
Grim satisfaction flowed through him. He no longer doubted that this was indeed what he'd been watching for. His long wait was finally nearing an end.
***
It was an evening out of a fairy tale, and Maggie its Cinderella. The glittering ballroom, the beautiful, elegant women, the handsome, stately men. To Maggie's eyes it was a fantasy come true.
With Adam by her side, she reveled in the scene around her. Her sheer enjoyment of the evening had much to do with the shared passion in the garden. She quivered every time he turned his sensual, caressing gaze toward her.
Later.
Maggie met what seemed like vast numbers of people and handled the conversations as best she could. She kept her mouth shut. Many of Adam's friends commented on how long it had been since he'd seen them. Surprised, she meant to ask him about it.
Later.
Lydia joined them occasionally. She danced every dance with a new partner and rarely gave any man the benefit of a second dance. But she was never without partners, never without a crowd of men avidly pursuing her favors. If she wanted to get married, she obviously had her pick of eager candidates.
Waltzes seemed few and far between and Maggie used the breaks to quiz Adam about people or customs she didn't understand. Her biggest confusion of the night had a lot to do with her own problem remembering names. Here, everyone apparently had at least two.
"I don't get it," she said after they'd finished a conversation with an acquaintance of Adam's. "I thought your name was Coleridge."
"It is."
"Then why does everybody call you Ridgewood?"
“Ridgewood is my title."
“But Coleridge is your name. Why don't they call you Coleridge?"
Adam stared at her with an expression of mild amusement. "I don't know. That's simply the way it is."
"Humph." She snorted in derision. “Well, I’m going to keep calling you Coleridge. We don't have titles in America."
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Perhaps that is what's wrong with your country." The twinkle in his eyes took any sting out of his words and Maggie wrinkled her nose at him.
They stood side by side, watching the dancers. An invisible current of desire and anticipation and growing need arced between them. Maggie did her best to keep the conversation light, not easy when Adam turned his rich, simmering eyes on her. Taut expectation inside her heightened the excitement of the night and sharpened her senses beyond measure.
Later.
They idly sipped champagne, lost in each other's eyes. A stunning woman swooped down on Adam.
"Adam, my darling, it has been such a very, very long time."
Maggie blinked in surprise at one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen. About her own height with ebony hair and eyes nearly as dark, she had porcelain skin and a perfect figure.
"Caroline." He raised her hand to his lips. "Allow me to present a relation of mine from America, Miss Margaret Masterson."
She nodded slightly and flicked her eyes over Maggie with disinterest before returning her attention to Adam.
“I had no idea you would be here tonight. I had heard you no longer come to functions like this as often as you once did."
She cocked her exquisite head to one side and gazed at him inquisitively. Maggie instinctively disliked her. She looked too much like a predatory animal contemplating the next meal. Maggie recognized a killer when she saw one.
Adam shrugged nonchalantly, amusement in his eyes. "It's simply not necessary to accept every invitation. I value my time too highly to waste it."
"But Adam," she said with an obviously practiced pout, "we used to have such a grand time. Although . . ." She sighed prettily. "Now that I am married again I assume it would not be quite the same."
"Regretfully so, I'm afraid.” Adam smiled. "So you are now Lady Hargreave?"
"Yes, but Adam"—she crinkled her perfect nose and tapped him on the shoulder with her fan—"you of all people should know how unimportant names are. You remember, ‘What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’ ”
Shakespeare.
Caroline trailed the fan slowly down his arm and cast him a wistful look. “Do you still know it by heart, Adam?"
Shakespeare?
By heart?
Was this woman saying what Maggie thought she was saying?
Speechless, Maggie turned to Adam. He had the unmistakable look of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Maggie," he said cautiously, as though reading her thoughts.
A huge, heavy knot sank in the pit of Adam's stomach as Maggie's eyes lightened to a vivid green. He well knew that color and braced himself for her outburst. "Maggie, I think we should—"
"Lady Hargreave." Maggie's voice took on a cool, authoritarian tone. "We have some pressing family business to discuss. I hope you understand, but we need to speak privately now."
Caroline turned toward Adam indignantly. "Adam?"
Adam never took his eyes off Maggie. “Delightful to see you again, Caroline, but we really must say good evening."
Caroline threw him a petulant glare and flounced off. Adam paid no attention and concentrated on Maggie.
Why wasn't she screaming? Why wasn't she making a scene? It was what he expected, how she'd reacted every other time she'd been angered. Why was she so calm?
So controlled?
So cold?
"Maggie, I can explain." He regarded her anxiously. Her demeanor was unsettling. Almost frightening. She turned icy green eyes toward him.
"I don't think an explanation is necessary. I think it's all perfectly clear." She spoke with a quiet, crisp precision that chilled Adam's blood. "You used a well-rehearsed routine to get what you wanted. And I admit it was extremely effective. Romeo and Juliet, gazing deeply into my eyes, kissing my hands. Oh, it was good, it was very good. Your technique is impeccable. But I have a few questions."
"Maggie, I . . ." Adam stared at her helplessly. He could take her ranting and raving but he didn't know how to deal with this quiet, cold manner she'd adopted.
"About tonight? The scene outside? Was that step two? Another part of your highly refined seduction? If I asked Lady What's-her-name over there, will I find out you typically have women half—naked in the garden?
Her eyes flashed icy bolts and he winced, her accusation perhaps more true than he wanted to admit.
"I trusted you, Coleridge. You and Lydia are the only people here, literally in this entire world who know who, and I guess, what I am. You alone know what I'm going through, how damned confused and scared I am. And yet you tried to take advantage of that.
"I know how you and your entire world see women: as objects, as possessions. But I thought something special was happening between us. I thought I had your friendship, maybe even your respect, and fool that I am, I thought you cared about me. Instead it turns ou
t I'm just next in line on your list of conquests. Was that the idea? See if you can get the woman from the future into bed? Find out if there are any new developments in the next one hundred and seventy-seven years? Well, let me tell you something pal, tab A still fits into slot B."
She flung a disgusted look at him. "Where I'm from, if a woman wants to sleep with a man, she has that freedom. I admit, moral standards are different than they are here. But I don't care what century it is, I don't like being used. I don't like to be tricked."
Maggie started to leave but turned back to Adam. "The thing that really annoys me is how I almost fell for it."
Maggie marched off, her step measured and sedate, her head high. A casual observer would have thought nothing wrong. Part of Adam admired how firmly she kept herself under control in spite of her anger. And there was no doubt she was angry. Her eyes told him that.
If she'd only let him explain. It wasn't as if he'd planned the night in the library or anything that happened afterward either. Oh, he admitted that particular scene from Shakespeare had come in handy in the past. But it had nothing whatsoever to do with her. Didn't she realize this was different from any of his past liaisons? Surely she would understand if she would only listen to him. He refused to lose her over something as insignificant as this.
"Bloody hell," he muttered.
***
"Whatever did you do, Adam?" A fan tapped him lightly on the arm. Lydia stood beside him, pinning him with a perplexed expression. Another woman making his life difficult. At least he still had some control over this one.
Lydia observed Adam carefully. A sinking feeling warned her she'd just made a mistake. Obviously all was not going as well as she'd assumed. Lydia's gaze caught her brother's, the sudden gleam there increasing her unease.
"You are coming with me." He grabbed her arm and propelled her across the room.
"What are you doing?" Lydia gasped.
Both brother and sister were far too familiar with the ways of the ton to let anyone know there was anything amiss. To outward appearances they looked as if they were simply taking a pleasant stroll together, if somewhat more quickly than normal.
Yesterday and Forever Page 12
