Her lips twitched, wanting to smile. The bond he and Robby were developing never failed to touch her heart, even if the state of her marriage never failed to be a source of disappointment. After she and Adrian had made love and she had spent the night in his bed, she had awoken to find him gone.
By the time she had pieced her dressing gown together sufficiently to return to her own chamber and dress for the day, the hour had grown late. At the breakfast table, she learned her husband had already eaten and proceeded with his day. Leaving her behind.
Tea time had come and gone. Still no husband.
She had begun to fear he meant to avoid her for the entirety of the day until he had arrived for their standing afternoon appointment to spend time with Robby. As usual, his eyes had only been for their son. The passionate lover of last night had been replaced by a cool stranger.
One who still refused to say her name.
She should not be hurt, she knew. Adrian needed time. She could not expect a sea change merely because they had been intimate, and she knew it. But still—
Pain tore through her.
With a howl, she raised her thumb to her mouth, sucking on it to ease the sting. The coppery taste of blood met her tongue. She had stabbed herself with the needle. Of course she had. She was a dismal hand with such dainty tasks to begin with, let alone when she was distracted.
“What is the matter?” Adrian rose swiftly and limped to her side without the use of his walking stick, concern etched upon his handsome face.
Robby began to wail.
She pulled her thumb from her mouth. “It is nothing. I pricked myself with the needle, that is all.”
Nothing compared to her wounded heart.
But she kept that bit to herself.
Her son was crying because he feared she had been hurt. Tilly supposed she ought to be thankful Adrian had shown some concern for her, but it was not the sort of attention from him she wanted. What she wanted from him more than anything was a sign that what they had shared last night had been more than mere lust.
“You are bleeding.” He extracted a handkerchief from his waistcoat and dabbed gently at her hand.
Their son, meanwhile, continued to cry, toddling toward them with fat tears rolling down his cheeks. The poor darling. He thought something was truly wrong. And whilst something was most definitely amiss, her greatest pain had nothing to do with her lack of grace with the needle and everything to do with the man hovering over her, frowning mightily.
Even frowning, he was handsome. She knew a moment of resentment for his undeniable masculine beauty, along with his rush to fret over her when it was a mere flesh wound. Where had his concern been this morning when he had left her sleeping alone in his bed and then promptly disappeared?
“It shall stop in a moment,” she reassured Adrian, returning his handkerchief to him before rising.
With a heavy sigh, she skirted his presence looming over her chair, and made a hasty path to their son. Robby held his arms up to her, and she lifted him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“There now, my love. Mama is not hurt,” she told him, keeping her voice low and soothing.
Realizing Adrian was without his cane, she bent once more and retrieved it, turning back to him with it as an offering between them. He was watching her with an expression she could not define. So very solemn. She waited for the heat and the spark which had flared to life last night, but all she felt was…uncertain.
So very, terribly uncertain.
He took the cane, his long fingers clasping the gilt hilt. Their fingers brushed. A spark skipped past her wrist, up her elbow, and beyond. Her heart pounded. Their gazes meshed. She wished she knew what she saw in his bright-blue depths.
Had last night meant anything to him? Or had it merely been a carnal release? So many questions, none of which she dared ask before Robby, who was no longer weeping, thank heavens.
“Papa!” he said excitedly, leaning toward Adrian.
Apparently, having been assured of his mother’s safety, he was already turning traitor. She bit her cheek to keep from making a retort as Adrian held out his arms, easily taking their son’s precious weight from her.
“Shall you sit?” she asked, thinking of his injured leg.
“I can stand perfectly well,” he told her, dropping a kiss on their son’s crown, his tone cool.
Had she insulted him? That had not been her intention, vexed though she was with him.
“I did not mean to suggest otherwise. I was merely concerned for your comfort.”
