He paused and swallowed. Things were quiet. That hawk was circling overhead again.
Adam pressed him. “Yes?”
“To call on Madeline,” John finally said.
For a moment, Adam didn’t know what to say. He had suspected this was coming, and wasn’t entirely comfortable with the fact that he’d hoped John would choke on his words before spitting them out.
Quickly Adam told himself that he would feel the same way if Penelope was older and a young man came to courther.Adam would naturally want to refuse him, too. He wouldn’t, of course, unless he had a very good reason to.
Was there a good reason to refuse John?
God, why couldn’t he think of one? Hewantedto think of one!
Adam hesitated for another moment and the awkward silence from a few minutes ago mushroomed into something almost intolerable.
“Was Madeline expecting you today?” Adam asked.
If the answer was yes, he would feel irritated, even though he knew there was no reason to feel irritated. It would be irrational, ridiculous, and he was not a ridiculous man.
“No, sir. I wanted to ask your permission first. I presume you’re acting as her…as her…not her father, but her—”
Father!
“Guardian?” Adam finished for him.
“Yes! Guardian. Thank you, sir.”
Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn’t like the way he felt. He didn’t like this ill-tempered mood, when only moments ago in the field, he’d felt on top of the world.
“When do you wish to call on her?” he asked John, only because he had to.
John’s face went pale, and Adam realized that his tone had intimidated the young man. He should have regretted it, but he didn’t. Wasn’t it the guardian’s purpose to intimidate young suitors?
“I would like to call on her today, sir, if I have your permission.” His voice cracked on the last word.
Adam took a long, deep breath and replaced his hat on his head. “All right. For one hour.”
The color returned to John’s face as he backed away. “Thank you, sir.”
Adam made no reply. He simply watched John’s lively, youthful energy as he practically leaped onto his horse.
“Good day, sir!” John galloped off, down the road toward the house.
Adam stared numbly at the cloud of dust rising behind the ardent, thundering hooves. He suddenly felt an ache in his back from bending to plant the barley. Why was he feeling it now, of all times?
Heknewwhy, and it worried him more than he cared to acknowledge.
No, itmorethan worried him. It damn well scared the hell out of him.
Feeling the muscles in his jaw clench, Adam turned and walked back across the field. Damn that John Metcalf for making Adam wish he was a younger man, and that it washewho was riding up to the house to call on Madeline today.
There was no point denying it. He was jealous!
As soon as he admitted it, however, the other night in the den came hurling back at him. He had been working so hard not to think of it, but now, he couldn’t push the recollection away: his hands on Madeline’s body, the sweet smell of her soft skin and sinuous locks of hair, the enticing moistness of her lips—it all stirred him into a whirlwind of impassioned awareness.
Adam halted in the field and stood there, dumbstruck.
He shouldn’t have held Madeline in his arms, shouldn’t have touched her. Now his mind had something solid to work with—an innocent moment to repeat in his memory, over and over.
