"Aye," Adelia agreed, unconsciously nibbling on her lip as she turned to gaze out the window. "And so they can get a look at me."
"That too," he answered in solemn tones. "Don't worry, Dee: as long as you don't trip over your feet and fall on your face you should get by fairly well."
She whirled around to rage at him that she wasn't exactly a clumsy fool, but his good-natured grin stopped her. "Thank you very much, Master Grant." She smiled back at him. "It's a great comfort you are to me."
She gasped out loud at the length of the list Travis gave her for the projected reception. There couldn't be less than a hundred, she estimated, staring at the paper.
"You've nothing to worry about," he assured her. "Hannah will handle the details. You're only expected to make polite conversation."
The attempt at reassurance hurt her pride. "I'll have you know I'm not a complete cabbagehead, Travis Grant. I'm well capable of helping Hannah, and I won't be making a fool of myself in front of your fancy friends."
"You're the one who said she was afraid of making a fool of herself, not me," Travis reminded her reasonably.
"It's not what I said that matters," she concluded with her own brand of logic. "It's what I'm saying." Tossing her head, she turned and stalked into the kitchen.
Despite her proud claims, Adelia found herself terrified on the evening of the party. There had been no time for nervousness in the days before; she had been too busy with plans and preparations. But now, alone in her room, with only the prospect of dressing ahead of her, she began to feel the first flutter of anxiety.
She chose the green silk gown that Trish had insisted she buy and slipped it carefully over her head. Its classic lines accentuated her softly rounded figure; its deeply scooped neckline revealed a teasing hint of her firm breasts. The silk glowed against the creamy health of her skin. She arranged her hair on top of her head, trying for a more sophisticated style, but gave up in disgust and allowed it to fall loose and full to her shoulders, a fiery auburn waterfall.
Voices were audible in the living room as she descended the stairs. She took several deep breaths before joining Travis and Paddy.
Travis broke off what he had been saying as she entered the room. He rose from his chair. She sought his eyes for approval, but found them strangely veiled and unreadable. She wished that she had chosen one of the other gowns that now hung in the large cherry wardrobe.
"Ah, now, isn't that a beautiful sight, lad?" Paddy said, surveying Adelia with uninhibited pride. "Why, there won't be another woman here tonight will hold a candle to my little Dee. It's a lucky man you are, Travis."
"Uncle Paddy." She smiled and moved to kiss his cheek. "What wonderful blarney. But don't stop—I need it. I have to be honest and say I'm scared witless."
"There's no need for that, Dee." Taking her hand, Travis turned her toward him. "You'll have them eating out of your hand. You look incredible." He smiled at her, his free hand brushing through her hair briefly before he turned away to replenish his drink.
Love me, Travis, her mind shouted suddenly. I'd give the world and more if you'd only love me half as much as I love you.
As he turned back, his eyes captured hers. He paused, unreadable emotion flickering over his face. "Dee?" he began, his voice questioning, but before she could speak the doorbell pealed and their guests began to arrive.
It was infinitely easier than Adelia had imagined. After the first wave of guests, she felt her tension dissolve and met the few speculative glances with characteristic boldness. The house was soon filled with people and chatter and laughter and the chink of glasses. It was apparent that Travis was well liked and respected by his associates, and his choice of bride met with acceptance and approval, if not immediately, then shortly after exposure to Adelia's natural, honest charm.
One sleekly coiffured woman who had cornered Adelia halted Travis as he passed. "Travis, your wife is refreshing and charming and more than likely too good for you." She smiled with the privilege of old friendship. "I believe it would be a treat just to listen to her read the telephone directory. Such a marvelous accent."
"Careful, Carla," Travis admonished, slipping an arm around Adelia's shoulder in the casual way she had missed in the past few weeks. "Dee claims we're the ones with the accent—and for all her sweet looks, her temper is not to be trifled with."
"Travis, darling!" The trio turned, and Adelia caught a glimpse of swirling white as the owner of the voice embraced her husband. "I just got back in town, darling, and heard about your little party. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not, Margot. It's always a pleasure to see you." He turned, and Adelia noted that he didn't dislodge the red-tipped hand from his arm. "Margot Winters—my wife, Adelia."
Margot turned, and Adelia nearly gasped aloud. She was staring right at the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Tall and slender, she was elegantly draped in a cool white sheath. Ash-gold hair curled softly around an oval face. Her skin was the color of rich cream. Long-lashed gray eyes, as clear and cool as a mountain lake, looked over and beyond Adelia.
"Why, Travis, she's adorable." The gray eyes focused now on Adelia, making her feel small and inadequate. "But she's little more than a child, barely out of the schoolroom." The sweet tone was patently patronizing.
"I'm allowed up with the grown-ups now and again," Adelia said evenly, her chin tilting to meet
Margot's gaze. "I hung up my book strap some time back."
"My," Margot observed over Carla's chuckle. "You're Irish, aren't you?"
"Aye." The quicksilver temper began its swift rise. "As Paddy's pig. Tell me, Mistress Winters, what are you?"
"Dee." Trish spoke from behind, laying a hand on Adelia's arm. "Will you come out here for a minute? I need you to help me."
Adelia was pulled out on the terrace, and after she had shut the doors, Trish dissolved into a fit of laughter. "Oh, Dee," she managed between giggles. "How I would have loved to have left you there and watched you lay into her! I just didn't think it was quite the right time. Oh…" She wiped at her eyes. "Did you see Carla? I thought she was going to explode! She kept choking on her drink and trying to keep a straight face. I wouldn't have missed that for the world! How Travis could ever have been involved with that woman is beyond me! She's a cold-blooded snob."
"Travis and Margo Winters?" Adelia asked, attempting to keep her voice casual.
"Oh, yes, I thought you knew." Trish gave a deep sigh, wiped her eyes again, and grimaced. "I don't really think he was ever serious about her—I give him more credit than that. She would have given one of her Tiffany baubles to have him look at her the way he looks at you." Trish smiled, and Adelia made a valiant effort to respond. "They had this big blowup a few months ago. It seems she resented all the time he spent with the horses." She gave a snort of disgust and straightened her skirts. "She wanted him to sit back and let others do all the work while he spent his time entertaining her. She gave him some kind of ultimatum and took off for Europe in a cloud of expensive French perfume." Trish laughed in pure delight. "Her little ploy failed miserably, and now her nose is out of joint. Instead of pining for her, Travis is happily married to you." She linked her arm with her sister-in-law's.
"Aye," Adelia murmured. "Now he's married to me…" Her tone was melancholy, and Trish glanced at her sharply, but Dee refused to meet her eyes.
Paddy moved back to his own house a few days later, and Adelia missed his presence keenly. He found Finnegan a congenial companion, and the dog divided his time between them. He would accompany Paddy as he grumbled inside for his afternoon rest, and Adelia was never quite sure whether Finnegan's motives were duty or laziness.
Travis made no mention of Margot Winters or Adelia's comments to her, and she found their relationship drifting away again until she felt more like his ward than his wife. When they attended social functions, he treated her with the warm attentiveness expected of a newly married husband; but once they were alone again in their own home, he was
distant, showing her only the casual affection he might give to a favored cousin.
The depression and frustration this caused in her Adelia hid with apparent success, responding as she believed he desired and maintaining the same casualness he directed toward her. Rarely did her temper flare, and she was aware his was under strict control. At times she imagined they were only polite puppets pulled on invisible strings. Desperately she wondered how long they could go on.
One afternoon, as July brought summer's throbbing heat to the air, Adelia answered the summons of the bell and found herself confronted with the elegantly clad form of Margot Winters. Her finely penciled brows lifted at Adelia's attire of jeans and shirt. She glided over the threshold without invitation.
"Good afternoon to you, Mistress Winters." Adelia greeted her, determined to act the part of hostess. "Please come in and sit down. Travis is down at the stables, but I'll be glad to send for him."
"That's not necessary, Adelia." Margot strolled into the living room and seated herself in a wing-backed chair as if she belonged there. "I came to have a little chat with you. Hannah"—she glanced over at the housekeeper, who had entered behind Adelia—"I'll have some tea."
Hannah looked pointedly at Adelia, who merely nodded and moved to join her uninvited guest.
"I shall come straight to the point," Margot began, sitting back and linking her fingers together in an imperious gesture. "I'm sure you're aware that Travis and I were about to be married before we had a slight disagreement a few months ago."
"Is that the truth of it?" Adelia asked with apparently idle interest.
"Yes, it was common knowledge," Margot stated with a regal wave of her hand. "I thought to teach Travis a lesson by going to Europe and giving him time to think things through. He's a very stubborn man." She gave Adelia a small knowing smile. "When I saw the picture of him in the paper kissing this little ragamuffin, I thought nothing of it. The press will blow these things out of proportion. But when I heard he'd actually married some little stable-hand"—she shivered delicately—"I knew it was time to come back and set things straight."
"And may the stablehand ask how you mean to do that?"
"When this little interlude is finished, Travis and I can proceed as planned."
"And by interlude I suppose you're meaning my marriage?" Adelia inquired, her voice lowering to an ominous level.
"Well, of course." Slender shoulders moved at the inevitable. "Just look at you. It's obvious Travis only married you to bring me back. You can't possibly hope to hold him for very long. You haven't the breeding or style that's necessary to move in society."
Straightening her spine, Adelia hid her pain with dignity. "I'm telling you this as a fact, Mistress Winters: you had nothing to do with the reason that Travis and I were married. It's true I haven't your elegance or manner of speaking, but there's one thing I have you're lacking. I've Travis's ring on my finger, and you'll be having a good long wait before you can add his name to yours."
Hannah entered bearing a tea tray, and Adelia rose and turned to her. "Mistress Winters won't be staying for tea after all, Hannah. She was just leaving."
"Play the lady of the house while you can," Margot advised, rising and gliding past Adelia's stiff form. "You'll be back in the stables sooner than you think." When the door closed with a sharp bang, Adelia let out a deep breath.
"She's got her nerve coming here and talking that way," an irate Hannah sputtered.
"We'll be paying her no mind." She patted the housekeeper's arm. "And we'll keep this visit between the two of us, Hannah."
"If that's the way you want it, missy," Hannah agreed with obvious reluctance.
"Aye," she replied, staring off into space. "That's the way I want it."
Adelia's nerves remained on edge for several days and showed all too plainly in increased temper. The atmosphere in the house went from a near-stagnant calm to volatile motion. Travis greeted her change in attitude with absent tolerance that changed to strained patience.
She paced the living room after dinner one evening while he sat on the sofa and brooded over his brandy.
"I'm going to take Finnegan and go for a walk," she announced suddenly, unable to bear the silence between them any longer.
"Do as you like," he answered with a shrug.
"'Do as you like.' " She whirled and snapped at him, nerves as tight as an overwound watch. "It's sick to death I am of hearing you say that. I will not do as I like. I don't want to do as I like."
"Do you hear what you just said?" he demanded, setting down his brandy and staring at her. "That is the most ridiculous statement I have ever heard."
"It's not ridiculous. It's perfectly clear if you had the sense to understand it."
"What's gotten into you? You make more sense when you mutter in Gaelic."
"Nothing," she returned shortly. "There's not a thing wrong with me."
"Then stop behaving like a shrew. I'm tired of putting up with your foul temper."
"A shrew, am I?" Her color rose.
"Precisely," he agreed with infuriating calm.
"Well, if you're tired of listening to me, I'll keep well out of your way." Storming from the room, she flew past an astonished Hannah, out the back door, and into the warm summer night.
She awoke the next morning ashamed, disgusted and contrite. She had spent an uneasy night struggling with the aftermath of temper and the realization that not only had she been unreasonable, she had made a fool of herself as well. One was as difficult to take as the other.
Travis has done nothing to deserve the way I've been treating him, she decided, pulling on her working uniform of jeans and shirt and hurrying downstairs. She determined to apologize and make a study of being as sweet and mild a wife as any man could want.
Hannah informed her that Travis had breakfasted early and gone out, so Adelia sat down in solitary misery, unable to ease her conscience.
She worked hard in the stables that morning, doing self-imposed penance for her faults. And as morning melted into early afternoon, the manual labor began to erase the depression she carried with her.
"Dee." Travis spoke from outside the tackroom where she was busily hanging bridles. "Come out here. I want to show you something."
"Travis." She ran after him as he strode away. "Travis." Catching up to him, she tugged on his arm in an attempt to make him slow his pace. "I'm sorry, Travis. I'm sorry for the way I've been behaving, and for raging at you last night when I had no cause to. I know I've been mean and spiteful and no fun to have around, but if you'll forgive me, I'll… What are you smiling like that for?"
The smile spread to a grin. "You apologize just as emphatically as you rage. It's fascinating. Now, forget it, half-pint." He ruffled her hair and slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Everyone has their black moods. Look," he said simply and pointed.
She gave a cry of pleasure at the glossy chestnut mare prancing around inside the paddock fence. Moving over, she stood on the first rung of fence and scanned the strong, clean lines. "Oh, Travis, she's beautiful—the most beautiful horse I've ever seen!"
"You say that about all of them."
She smiled at him, then back at the horse with a deep sigh of pleasure. "Aye, and it's always true. Who will you breed her with?"
"That's not up to me. She's yours."
Adelia turned wide, unbelieving eyes to his. "Mine?"
"I had thought to give her to you next month for your birthday, but"—he shrugged and brushed a lock of hair from her face—"I thought your spirits needed a lift, so she's yours a bit early."
She shook her head, the still unfamiliar tears filling her eyes. "But after the way I've been acting, you should have been beating me instead of buying me a present."
"The thought entered my mind last night, but this seemed a better solution."
"Oh, Travis!" She flung herself into his arms without restraint. "No one's ever given me such a grand present, and I don't deserve it." She drew her face from his cheek and pres
sed her lips to his. His arms tightened around her, the kiss changing from one of gratitude to one of smoldering passion, and she offered herself, lips parting and bones melting. "Travis," she murmured as his face lifted, his cheek brushing hers.
He set her away from him abruptly. "You'd better get acquainted with your mare, Dee. I'll see you at dinner."
She watched him stride away, biting her lip to prevent herself from calling him back. Finnegan bounded over, and she swallowed the tears of rejection, burying her face in his fur. "I don't have any appeal for him," she told her sympathetic companion. "And I don't know how to go about making him see me as a woman—much less a wife."
Chapter 10
Adelia woke to a blinding flash of lightning and a burst of thunder. The room glowed with brief intensity as the sky was broken with spiderwebs of light, and the wind moaned like a man mourning.
Tossing back the covers, she rose from the bed and threw open the French doors leading to her balcony to let the storm enter the room. The hands of the wind pulled at her hair and whipped the soft material of her thin nightgown, molding it against her. Rain fell in torrents like angry tears from the heavens, and she raised her arms wide, laughing in sheer delight at the raging elements.
"Dee?" She turned her head and saw Travis silhouetted in the doorway. "I thought you might be frightened. The electricity's out, and the storm's loud enough to wake the dead."
"Aye," she agreed triumphantly. "It's wonderful!"
"So much for finding you shaking with fear under the covers," he returned with a dry smile and stepped back.
"Oh, Travis, come look!" she cried as another bolt of lightning illuminated the murky sky and was followed by a deafening roar of thunder.
He watched her slimness outlined against the blackness, the fullness of her hair flying riotously around her bare shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak, but Adelia cried out again.
Books by Nora Roberts Page 13
