Good God. She was openly flirting with himandfishing for information about his matrimonial status. The awareness of her interest and possible shared attraction caused fiery sparks to prick at his skin. A warning bell sounded inside his brain. The path he was on was hazardous to be sure, and it was high time he stepped off it. Before he did something stupid like lure her into a private corner somewhere and kiss her senseless.
The very idea…
He shook his head and forced his mind back to her question. Was he married? “Not any longer. My wife died quite unexpectedly eight years ago.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Hewitt’s eyes dimmed. “I’m so sorry.”
James was too, though only for Michael’s sake. In spite of Clara’s unfaithfulness she’d been a doting mother, and Michael had suffered tremendously from the loss.
“It was especially hard on my son.” He knew she had a daughter so it only seemed fair to give her similar information about himself.
“And is this son of yours also in attendance this evening?”
“He is.”
“Then you must also have married at a young age, Mr. Dale, for I swear you do not look a day over five and thirty.”
Her teasing manner – the infectious gaiety with which she spoke – ignited his blood like nothing else. For the first time in more than twenty years, he experienced pure desire. It wasn’t something he thought he’d ever know again after the wretched pain and humiliation Clara had caused him. He’d thought himself closed off from physical want and need forever. Until this very moment, when he found himself trying to think up ways in which he might see Mrs. Hewitt again.
Which wouldn’t do at all.
This had to stop.
And it would.
As soon as they reached the refreshment table.
Only three more yards to go. Give or take.
He dreaded each and every one. “I was one and twenty when I married. A year later, Michael was born.”
They were finally at their destination. Was it just his imagination, or did Mrs. Hewitt give his arm a gentle squeeze before she removed her hand?
Before he had a chance to properly savor the gesture, his closest friends, Grayson Grier and Colin West, made their presence known. James introduced them both to Mrs. Hewitt, then turned to fill a glass of lemonade for her while Grayson’s and Colin’s curious gazes burned into the nape of his neck. There would be questions to answer later. For now, he ignored his friends as best he could and handed Mrs. Hewitt her glass. Her fingers brushed his, ever so briefly, but it was enough for every cell in his body to feel as though it exploded with pleasure.
Lord help him.
Unable to tear his gaze from her, he watched as she set the edge of her glass to her mouth and drank. A sheen of moisture remained on her lips afterward, and a wicked desire to lick it away with his tongue overwhelmed him. He gritted his teeth and tore his gaze away, only to find his friends watching him with unabashed amusement.
Damn.
“Are the three of you longtime friends?” Mrs. Hewitt inquired when no one else spoke.
“We met at Eton and went on to study at Cambridge together, but it was the army that forged a truly unbreakable bond among us,” Grayson said.
“War does have a curious way of bringing men closer together,” Colin added in a somber tone.
“I know what you mean,” Mrs. Hewitt said in a way that suggested she’d suffered great loss once. James hoped she’d expand on the matter so he could learn more about her. Instead she asked. “Which battle did you engage in?”
“The Battle of Aboukir,” James said. “Under the command of General Abercromby.”
Their commander had been killed in action, but it was the death of their friend, Richard Hughes, that had made a truly lasting impact on them all. In merely the blink of an eye, their quartet had been reduced to a trio. James shuddered in response to the memory, which remained as clear as ever in spite of all the years that had passed.
“Aboukir is close to Alexandria, is it not?” Mrs. Hewitt asked. She took another sip of her drink. James did his best to refrain from looking at her this time.
“It is,” Grayson confirmed.
“And if memory serves, General Menou was in charge of the French army,” Mrs. Hewitt added.
