Too bloody bad. Adam might have lost his memory, but he wasn’t going to have more stolen from him. As far as he could tell, he lived like a king, and he was going to keep it that way.
Land on his feet. Assess the danger.Claim his territory.
Now that Adam was well on the mend, he had three priorities. The first was getting back to work. Dr. Abernathy had advised Adam not to return to the office for another week. Since the doctor had helped to save his life and to avoid another gently scolding lecture from his wife, Adam had agreed…but that didn’t mean he hadn’t started getting the lay of the land.
Henry Cornish, his man-of-business, would be coming in a couple of days with a full summary of Adam’s holdings. He wanted to know, down to the penny, the extent and nature of his fortune. Wickham Murray, his right-hand man, had made weekly visits during his recuperation, and Adam had taken those opportunities to grill the other about the moneylending business.
To Adam’s amusement, Murray had become as tight-lipped as a clam whenever Gabriella came in to check on things; clearly, Murray had also been treated to one of her lectures on Adam’s need for rest. Adam would have smiled but didn’t want to risk getting nicked by Quinn’s sweeping razor.
When it came to protecting those she cared about, his soft kitten of a wife had claws.
Not being a fool, Adam was well aware that his greatest fortune wasn’t his earthly goods: he’d been given the gift of a family. Something that, from what little he knew of the past, he hadn’t had before. Something that he knew he wanted now. Once he got over the shock of learning that he was a father, he’d made it a priority to get to know his children. He’d found it no chore for his daughter and son were charming tots.
Fiona was a headstrong chit who did indeed tickle the ivories like a maestro (she’d insisted on playing the piano for him the very minute he’d made it down the stairs). Indeed, she seemed to excel at everything she did, from dancing to singing to playwriting. Adam couldn’t deny that he liked her ambitious spirit…even if, at times, he needed to curb it. It was oddly gratifying to see a part of himself in his daughter, who also had the blessing of her mama’s beauty.
Max, on the other hand, looked like Adam, but had his mama’s good-hearted nature. He was always thinking of others, trying his best, yet he lacked self-confidence. The lad needed less coddling and more toughening up. Adam planned to coach the boy in some manly sports. Boxing would be a good start.
Adam was discovering that his body remembered things that his mind did not. Take sparring, for instance. He’d tried a few moves. The jab, hook, uppercut…his muscles coordinated with practiced ease. He was confident he could give a good accounting of himself in a fight. Those faded scars on his manicured hands hadn’t come from shuffling papers around on a desk.
His body recognized more than fighting moves. When he was around Gabriella, his entire being reacted with instantaneous hunger: to her scent, the inviting curve of her neck, the unique, bubbly cadence of her speech. While he had no conscious memory of making love to her, his body couldfeelhers: her soft, firm tits overflowing his palms, the sweetness of her lips against his…her hot, wet pussy gripping his cock.
Now that his wound was healed, his body had started clamoring for other things. Which led him to his most important goal: getting his marriage back on course. And by on course, he meant getting his wife into bed.
Every time he looked at Gabriella, he felt a surge of lust and possessiveness he couldn’t deny. And why should he? He had a wife who was beautiful, tender, and loyal. She attended to him with a devotion that he knew in his gut he’d never experienced growing up as a guttersnipe. And she’d given him a pair of fine children to boot.
And yet…there was a distance between them. An invisible wall. Despite her attentiveness and wifely care, Gabriella shied away from the physical aspect of their marriage.
He didn’t know what to make of it.
He’d tried to bridge the gap between them. To communicate his interest in resuming bedroom activities with her. He’d given her compliments, letting her know how attractive he found her, thinking she would take the hint.
She’d responded like an uncomfortable virgin.
Last week, she’d been pouring him tea, an everyday ritual she performed that never failed to get him into a lather. What aroused him was her attention to detail, the graceful precision with which she prepared his beverage: each cup she served him was the perfect balance of creamy, bitter, and sweet, just the way he liked it. When he expressed his approval of her efforts, she’d looked pleased.
Then he’d taken it a step further, commenting on the pretty color of her eyes and said eyes had widened in obvious distress. An awkward silence had fallen as she dropped her gaze, fumbling with the tea service while he wondered what the hell he’d said wrong. Yesterday, he’d tried another compliment, telling her that her hair was brighter than roses, and her face had turned the same shade to match. To his terror, her bottom lip had wobbled as if she might burst into tears.
If he told her what he thought of her breasts and arse, she’d probably expire on the spot.
Not a man to give up, he’d tried other means of sparking their marital flame. Last evening, for instance, during a game of charades with the children, Adam had positioned himself next to his wife on a sofa. Less than two feet separated them yet that distance felt as vast as an ocean. As Fiona nearly tore her hair out pantomiming to Max (Adam couldn’t blame her: the poor lad had been utterly confused despite her excellent acting out of falling rain and tying a bow to represent the word “rainbow”), Adam decided to test the waters by sliding an arm casually around Gabriella’s waist.
She’d jolted as if she’d touched an electrifying machine. Cheeks crimson, she’d jumped up, startling them both. She’d mumbled about having to attend to something and all but ran from the room.
He didn’t know how to read her reactions. Had he offended her delicate sensibilities? Was she shy…or a cold-natured sort of female? Given her warm, generous spirit and sensual looks, he had a hard time believing the latter to be true. Perhaps she was worried, then, that he wasn’t ready to resume his husbandly duties? But he was communicating quite clearly that he was ready.
Was her reticence related to their past? Not having any memory of their sexual history was the damnedest thing. What had their marital bed been like before? He couldn’t imagine that he could have been around his wife and not tupped her at every available opportunity. In every room, on every surface of this bleeding mansion, if he’d had his way.
Yes, he was more than ready to get intimately reacquainted with his wife. The problem was getting Gabriella on the same page. He felt like a bridegroom fumbling about on his wedding night…Good God, he hoped he hadn’t been a fumbler. Could that be why his spouse was so shy about sexual matters? Had he not satisfied her in bed?
“Is the shave satisfactory, sir?”
With a shudder, Adam relinquished that unwelcome theory and opened his eyes. He saw no nicks or redness in the looking glass. When he touched his jaw, he found it as smooth as a well-made bed.
“Very,” he said. “Don’t know how you manage such a close shave cutting with the grain, Quinn.”
“Experience, I expect, sir. The shaving soap from Truefitt & Hill helps as well. You had them blend this custom formulation for you.”
No wonder he found the spicy scent so pleasant.
