Page 40 of Madly Deeply

When they returned home,he walked her to her front door. In the porch light, his expression was deadly serious.

"Thank ye for a lovely evening."

"Thank you for dinner." She fumbled with her keys. "And for the song. It was...perfect."

"I'm pleased ye liked it, since I wrote it with ye in mind." While she stuttered in surprise, he stepped closer and brought his hands up to cup her cheeks. "Alexandra..."

When his lips met hers, they were warm and gentle. She should have stopped him, but instead, she leaned into the kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers, then he kissed her again, deeper this time.

Finally, he stepped back, as breathless as she was. "Goodnight, lass."

Her cheeks and lips tingled as he walked away. At the edge of the drive, he turned back to give a little wave and a wink.

She didn't remember opening the door or going inside, but once she was in her room, removing her dress, she wondered why Spreag wasn't there to watch and drill her about her evening. Worn out, she didn’t call for him, just went straight to bed, her mind full of fairy lights and music.

In the morning, when she sang his name, Spreag didn't come...

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Alexandra knew what Spreag was doing. He was staying away on purpose. He said he'd be jealous when she came back from dinner. Maybe this was his way of doing just that.

She wandered around the patio, touching petals and leaves to help ground her in reality. The flowers were thriving despite the winter chill. And surprisingly, so was she.

"Spreag?" She called softly, then waited.

Nothing.

The doorbell rang around noon. Callum stood on her porch with a container of soup and fresh bread. The man liked to know when his next meal would be, and must have thought she was the same.

"Thought ye might need somethin' light," he said. "And I wanted to make sure ye were all right."

His genuine concern warmed her. "I'm fine. Just queasy."

"Aye, well. That's normal enough." He handed over the food. "Call if ye need me. Someone to hold yer hair when ye're sick, ashoulder to cry on if ye want to greet. Any part of me ye need, just say." He stared at her lips to make his point.

She laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

She watched him walk away, appreciating how well he moved despite his injury.

"Spreag?" She tried again, after closing the door. "Are you there?" Just in case he was having a hard time hearing her, she shouted his name one more time.

Nothing.

The silence in the house pressed on her, so she turned on the TV just for background noise.An Affair to Rememberwas playing and Cary Grant was wandering around the Empire State Building, trying not to give up on Debra Kerr. She immediately turned it off.

"If you meant that as a sign, it's not funny," she said to the ceiling and anyone listening.

She spent the afternoon curled on the window seat, remembering all the times she'd sat there with Spreag, all the books they'd read together. Now she wondered if she'd ever want to read without him.

"Please," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

But what was she sorry for? Living? Breathing? Accepting some affection?

He'd said he understood. Besides, it wasn't like she'd slept with Callum.

Night fell and still no sign of her husband. She tried to sleep but ended up watching the shadows move across her ceiling, counting the hours until dawn, trying not to think about the funny and gentle man next door with an open heart, a good soul, and a smooth-as-chocolate voice all gift-wrapped with her name on it. A man who could so easily win her heart if that heart was ever free.

But she didn’t want to be free to love Callum. She was already all-in, and she was never going back.

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