Page 27 of Irish Thoroughbred
She brought herself back with a shake of the head, surprised by her own words and uneasy under his glance. She groped for some way to turn the subject. “I only had the farm to concern me; she had the farm and me, and I think I was more trouble than the farm.” She smiled, willing him to lighten his features with one of his own. “She told me a time or two I had too loose a grip on my temper, but, of course, I’ve tightened the hold now.”
“Have you?” At last the smile curved his mouth.
“Oh, aye.” She gave him a solemn and guileless nod. “I’m a very mild sort of person.”
The smile spread to a grin as their meal was set before them. As they ate, conversation drifted into generalities, an easy flow of words, as undemanding and soothing as the wine that accompanied the food.
“Come,” he said suddenly and rose. “Dance with me.”
Before she could voice agreement or protest, she found herself being led to the dance floor and enfolded in his all too familiar arms. Her first stiffness at the contactmelted as she relaxed against him, surrendering herself to his movements and the quiet music. Surely, she decided, allowing both mind and body to float, everyone’s entitled to a taste of heaven. Tonight I’m taking mine. Tomorrow will come, all too soon.
The night was magic, as if a fairy had granted her a wish, and the very briefness of it heightened her senses. She tucked all the sights and sensations into a corner of her mind to be treasured and sighed over when day broke the spell.
It was late when they stepped into the warm night, and though Adelia’s eyes were heavy, she wished the evening were just beginning. Clinging to the last enchanted minutes, she made no objection when Travis drew her close to his side in the cab.
“Tired, Dee?” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head so lightly she was not sure she hadn’t imagined it.
“No,” she said in a sigh, thinking how right her head felt cushioned against his shoulder.
He laughed softly, his voice slow and warm, and his fingers stroked through the silk of her hair until her mind drifted into the world of half-dreams.
“Dee?” She heard her name but, loath to rouse herself from the heavenly comfort, she made a small murmur of protest. “We’re back,” Travis announced, lifting her chin with his finger.
“Back?” Her heavy lids opened, and she stared at theface so close to hers, dreams and reality mixed into confusion.
“At the hotel,” he explained, brushing tumbled hair back from her face.
“Oh.” She sat up, realizing the dream was over.
He was silent on the elevator ride to their floor, and Adelia used the time to regain her grip on reality. They moved to her door, and Travis removed her key from his pocket to unlock it as she raised her head to thank him. The smile she meant to accompany her thanks faded as she met his eyes. The concentrated, steady look caused her to step backward, only to find herself trapped against the doorframe, while he closed the distance without seeming to move at all. His hand slipped beneath the curtain of her hair, while he caressed her neck in a slow, lazy motion. They gazed silently at each other; then, very slowly, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was as soft as a summer breeze, unlike the others he had given and ultimately more devastating. She clung to the lapels of his jacket, trying to steady her world, but soon gave up all such efforts and moved her arms to encircle his neck, rising on her toes to meet him demand for demand.
His lips moved to trail along her face, brushing easily along cheeks and closed lids as if savoring the taste. Trembling heat was replaced by a new and poignant languor, a weak giddiness induced by a far more potent potion than champagne. Her hands moved to tangle in his hairas her body melted to his, submitting to whatever he would ask, willing to give whatever he would take.
She felt his hunger when his mouth took hers again, the hardness of his body as he pressed her more urgently against him, and with a moan of pleasure at the new demand, she drew him yet closer. The longing to be possessed, insistent and clamorous, raged through her like fire. She strained against him, her heart throbbing and echoing in her ears as she felt him devour what was offered, then demand more.
Abruptly he released her mouth, his hand moving to brush against her cheek and linger a moment, and she closed her eyes again, inviting his lips to claim hers.
“Goodnight, Dee,” he murmured, and giving her a nudge into the room, he closed the door between them.
Adelia stared at the smooth, empty panel, bringing her hands to burning cheeks. Stunned both by her unprecedented actions and by the sudden rejection, she found it impossible to move. She had offered, and he had refused. Even in her inexperience, she knew her willingness could not have been mistaken for anything other than full surrender. But he had not wanted her, not completely. Her own standards had dissolved in his arms, but he had walked away and left her alone. And how else could it be? she asked herself, shutting eyes tight on threatening moisture. I could never be anything to him but a groom for his horses. Someone who amuses him from time to time. He was only being kind to me, trying to show mea pleasant evening. She trembled once.I should be content with that and stop searching for what can never be mine.Glancing down at the soft folds of her dress, Adelia reminded herself she was not Cinderella, and in any case it was long past midnight.
They boarded the plane the next morning in a warm, light drizzle. Again, reporters hounded them. Adelia scurried up the ramp, leaving the men to deal with them. Shaking raindrops from her hair and her cream-colored skirt, she pressed her face to a window and watched Travis disengage himself from the press.
During the flight, she skimmed through a magazine, reluctant to enter into conversation. Travis’s attitude toward her that morning had been casual, friendly, and vaguely preoccupied, and the stirring need in her that lingered from their previous evening made it a strain for her to mirror his mood.
When he disappeared into the forward cabin with Steve, she let out a deep breath and began to pace the lounge. What am I to do? she asked herself desperately. How can I control the way he makes me feel? I’ll be making a fool of myself over him; he’s bound to see the way I love him. Then he’ll be feeling sorry for me, and I couldn’t stand that. I’ll just have to find a way to keep more distance between us.
Her gaze wandered over to her uncle, all thoughts ofher problem fleeing her mind as she observed the unhealthy cast to his normally ruddy skin.
“Uncle Paddy.” She moved to him, cupping his face in her hands and studying him carefully. “You’re not well. What is it?”
“Nothing, Dee.” The strain in his voice drew her brows together. “I’m just tired.”
“You’re like ice.” She knelt down in front of him so that their faces were level. “You see a doctor the minute we get home. It won’t be long now. I’ll fetch you a cover and a cup of tea.”
“Now, Dee, I’m just feeling my age.” He stopped and grimaced in pain.
“What is it?” she demanded, hands already searching to comfort. “Where are you hurting?”
