She peered at him through her lashes. “Are you going to make love to me?”
Bloody hell, yes, his brain shouted.
“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he forced himself to say.
“I didn’t think so.” She collapsed onto the mattress again, yawning languorously. “It’s not Wednesday, after all.”
“What does that matter?” he asked, confused.
She curled onto her side, mumbling drowsily, “You only make love to me on Wednesdays. That’s the schedule.”
He had a schedule for making love to his wife? What kind of godforsakenidiothad he been?
Dumbfounded, Adam stared at his naked, dozing spouse, emotions tangling inside him. Yearning, desire, and more. A recognition that it would take more than a simple seduction to get his marriage back on course. If he wanted this relationship to be real, then he had to get re-acquainted with his wife and vice versa…or perhaps they would be getting to know each other for the first time.
While he couldn’t change the past—hell, perhaps it was for the better that he couldn’t recall what a fool he’d been—he did have power over the future.
Reaching for the coverlet and blankets, he tucked them securely around Gabby. He kissed her brow; she murmured something, looking so sweet and beautiful that it was difficult to leave her.
But he did, his mind on his next move.
19
The next morning,Gabby stopped outside the closed door of Adam’s study.
She raised her hand to knock, pausing at the last second. A part of her was tempted to just sweep the events of last night—whatever they happened to be—into the darkest depths of theBin of Blissful Ignoranceand go on her merry way. That is, directly to the kitchen, where she would ask Chef Pierre for an entire cake and a fork.
A new and wiser voice told her that cake wasn’t the answer. Nor was theBin of Blissful Ignorance, which, frankly, was overflowing. There was no hiding from the fact that she’d awoken without a stitch on and with no memory of how that had come to be. The only thing she did know was what Nell had told her this morning: “The master took care of you last night, ma’am.”
Adam took care of me…in what manner?
Gabby’s marriage had enough uncertainty; her nerves couldn’t handle any more.
Sweet heavens, get it over with.Just as her fist was poised to knock, the door opened. She scooted back with a startled squeak, dropping her hand to her side.
“Good morning, my dear,” Adam said.
Framed by the doorway, he was the picture of elegant masculinity. His dark hair gleamed in its restrained style, his chiseled features radiating vitality. He was in his shirtsleeves, his silver-grey waistcoat hugging his trim torso, his dark trousers perfectly fitted to his sinewy legs.
“I, um, don’t wish to bother you—” she began.
“You could never be a bother, pet.” Was that a knowing glint in his eyes? His slow smile caused her belly to flutter. “After last night, however, I didn’t think you would be up this early.”
After last night.Pulse leaping, she was about to reply when she heard another voice.
“Good day, Mrs. Garrity.”
Henry Cornish, Adam’s portly man of business, was standing behind him. Adam had once told her that the solicitor’s jolly manner and penchant for eye-catching waistcoats—his current one was a florid shade of puce—came in handy during negotiations. Opponents often underestimated him…until it was too late.
He was one of Adam’s long-standing retainers, and Gabby had always liked him.
“Hello, Mr. Cornish,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“I was on my way out, ma’am. It is a pleasure to see your husband back on his feet, all thanks to you, I understand.” He winked at her. “Nothing like a pretty wife to get a man on the mend, eh?”
Gabby blushed.
“If you’re done flirting with my wife, Cornish,” Adam said mildly, “I’ll remind you that I want a report on the underperforming assets as soon as possible.”
