Adam's Promise (9 page)

Then, the intensity of it all unleashed a flood of tears.

“Madeline,” Adam whispered, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. She tingled as he spoke her name. “It wasn't your fault. Whatever torment or grief you endured these past years has not followed you here. You're in
my
care now, and I would defend your honor to the death if I had to. I only wish I had known you then. I would have been your champion.”

A rush of new feelings coursed through her: an unfamiliar, steadying sensation that came with the knowledge that someone was on her side. Someone believed her and sympathized with her. For the first time ever in her life, she felt valued and appreciated, as if she were part of something. Part of a family.

God! What kind of fool was she to think she could go on denying that she loved this man? Since she had arrived here and had her dreams crushed, she had convinced herself that he was not real. That whatever she believed him to be was born of her imagination and her illusions of him.

Now that she knew him, now that she had seen who he truly was inside, she knew all of it was true, and more. He was the most beautiful, incredible man she had ever known.

Suddenly, she trembled with grief. It was like someone had died, for she had to remind herself that he would never be hers.

At last she managed to grapple with her feelings and drew away from him. “I'm so sorry, Adam, I don't know what came over me.”

“You have been wronged, Madeline, and no one has been there for you. You deserve a good cry.”

She tried to laugh, even though she felt as if her insides were being ripped out. “I suppose I do.”

She accepted the handkerchief he offered. Madeline wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

Adam reached to brush a few loose strands of hair away from her face. His touch was gentle and loving and filled her with agonizing longing. “You deserve a better life, Madeline. You have suffered a great injustice.”

Lowering her gaze again, she nodded. “That's why I wanted to stay here in Nova Scotia, even after I found out you had wanted Diana, and not me.”

“I do want you, Madeline,” he said softly.

She trembled again. What did he mean by that?

All her rational instincts warned her not to misinterpret his words, not to allow herself any false hopes that he might want her in a romantic way.

At the same time, just thinking about it lifted her hopes and shone a tiny beacon of light into her heart.

Treading cautiously, she managed to get a few shaky words out. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I want you to stay with us. I
need
you to stay.”

Carefully, meticulously, she pressed him for his true meaning, for she had learned her lesson once and learned it well, and she would never again presume anything about Adam. He would have to hit her over the head with a marriage proposal first. “I don't understand.”

He looked deeply into her eyes. “Mrs. Dalton is getting married. She's leaving us in a few days, and
I am desperate. I need you to stay, at least for a while until I can find another housekeeper.”

An angry tightness squeezed around her chest. “You want me to be your housekeeper?”

“Well, that was your plan, wasn't it? To support yourself here? You can be sure this is not a charity position, Madeline. I truly need you.”

“But I've already promised the Ripleys.”

“Whatever they're paying you, I'll double it.” When she made no reply, he added, “I'll triple it, then.”

With a forceful swallow, she pushed down the anger she had no business feeling, for Adam was doing nothing wrong by asking her to stay, and her rational mind knew that. She had buried and hidden any feelings for him, and to him, she was his future sister-in-law, nothing more. She was, as she had always been, invisible.

“You can't leave us now, Madeline, not when you've become such a friend to the children. They adore you.
I
adore you. We could all be so happy together if you will just consider staying.”

She tried to see into the future, tried to imagine how this could possibly turn out well for her.

She pictured Diana arriving and becoming Adam's wife. Madeline would be forced to watch them retreat to their bedchamber together every night, and wish it was
she
in Adam's bed and in his arms.

She would have to listen to them talking and laughing and going off alone like they used to do all those years ago. She could not imagine a worse fate.

Adam cradled her chin in his big hand, and in the
dim flickering candlelight, she saw the pleading in his eyes. Oh, if it were a different kind of pleading—one filled with passion and desire—she would never be capable of resisting what was forbidden to her.

“Please, Madeline, don't leave. I couldn't possibly get along without you, not now. We have become such good…such good friends.”

She felt his thumb stroke her cheek, and she ached to touch him. The delicious, inviting musk of his body overwhelmed her senses.

They stood by the bookcase, staring at each other. Madeline could smell his shaving soap and the dripping candlewax and the books on the shelves beside them. She could even hear her own heart throbbing in her ears.

Adam was still caressing her cheek. She felt so intimate with him! If he thought her a child, he was wrong. She was a woman, a woman who wanted to belong to him, body and soul. Was there a chance he could ever see her that way? What if Diana
weren't
coming? Would he open his eyes to Madeline then?

That thought jolted her.

What if Diana didn't come? Wasn't it possible? Wasn't there a slim chance that by the time she received Adam's proposal, she might have already remarried? Her mourning period had ended months ago, and Madeline had not spoken to her since then. Adam's proposal would take at least six weeks to get to her. Wasn't there a chance? And wasn't there a chance that Adam could fall in love with Madeline in the meantime?

Lord, what was she thinking? She was not a devi
ous person. She loved her sister, and if Diana
was
going to come, Madeline could not steal the true love of her life out from under her.

But Adam was the love of Madeline's own life as well. Why should she sacrifice her happiness for Diana, who had always gotten the best of everything and had
chosen
to throw Adam over for a better catch years ago, while Madeline had suffered and been punished for something she could not control. For being born feet first. That had not been her fault, and the fact that she had never known her mother was as painful and damaging to her as it had been for everyone else.

Still, the fact remained that Adam loved Diana, not Madeline, and Madeline wasn't sure she would ever be able to change that, even if she tried. Diana had been the love of
his
life, after all.

“Well? Will you stay?” Adam asked, still stroking her cheek, and she realized it was a seduction of sorts—maybe not a sexual one, and maybe not a conscious one, either, but an effective one all the same, for it found its mark.

She could not fathom leaving him.

“Yes, Adam, I'll stay.”

T
he sky was blue and the sun warm over the south field as Adam, Jacob and George planted the season's first crop of barley. The boys were spread out across the field, working diligently with their bags of seed slung over their shoulders, straw tricorn hats shading their downturned faces from the sun.

Adam stopped for a moment to kneel down and pick up a handful of dirt. He felt its coolness in his palm, studied its dark, rich color between his fingers.

Glancing upward at a hawk soaring freely overhead, Adam thought about his conversation with Madeline in his study a few nights ago, when he'd remembered what it was like in Yorkshire, farming the land that was not his.

Back in those days, he'd never stopped what he was doing just to touch the earth for pleasure's sake. He'd touched it, of course, to see how wet or dry it was, or how sandy it was, but he'd never felt like this when he did. He'd never felt the physical rush that made him smile. It was as if this land was a part of himself, and to see it flourish was as satisfying as
seeing Penelope squeal with delight when she accomplished something she'd set out to do. Or seeing Jacob smile at Mary with love and pride in his eyes.

Adam was glad Madeline had decided to stay. She understood him and the things he cared about; she made him see all the things he should be thankful for, instead of the things he had lost. He wondered fleetingly who did that for her. Who did she have to talk to?

Just then, Adam noticed a rider ascending the ridge, along the road from the marshland below. Adam let the dirt slip between his fingers, brushed off his palms and started toward the stranger.

The young man stopped on the road and dismounted. “Hello there!”

As Adam stepped over the plowed furrows, he recognized the caller. It was the young man from Fort Cumberland, the fellow who had spoken to Madeline.

Adam reached the edge of the field and greeted him. “Good day to you. John Metcalf, isn't it?”

John's eyes lit up for some reason as they shook hands. “Yes. Did Madeline mention me?”

Ah, the reason for the visit was clear now. Adam felt the muscles in his back stiffen slightly. “She told me your name after she spoke to you.”

“I see.” He glanced around, over Adam's shoulder, at Jacob and George in the field. “Your sons?”

“They are. What can I do for you, Mr. Metcalf?”

John removed his hat. “Well, I'm here for two reasons. I was hoping you might be able to point me in the direction of some land to lease. Someone told me
you had some acreage leased to a fellow on Fort Lawrence Ridge.”

“That I do. Two spots there, actually. As well as another place near Sackville township.” Adam didn't know why he was telling John about the other places. None of them were vacant.

John's shoulders rose and fell with what looked like a nervous sigh. “Are you looking to lease anything at the moment?”

“No, I've got excellent tenants. Hardworking men with families.”

“They're not looking to buy and move off anytime soon?”

“If they were ready to buy, or wanted to, I'd sell them the land they're living on.”

He nodded in understanding. “Do you know of any other farmers who are looking to lease some land? I haven't had much luck finding anything.”

Adam removed his hat and wiped his forehead with a sleeve. “Can't think of anyone offhand. Have you tried the Petticodiac?”

“The Petticodiac! That's miles away!”

Adam paused. “You seem to have your heart set on Cumberland.”

“I'd like to stay near the folks I got to know on the ship, sir, and as far as I know, they're all looking to settle around here.”

Adam watched John perspire in the hot sun. “Ah. Well, you could try River Hebert. Or Maccan.”

John stared blankly at Adam. From the look on the young man's face, Adam guessed those places were a little too far as well.

“I reckon I'll just have to keep looking,” John said, putting his hat back on. He glanced at Jacob and George again. “You need any help? Till I find a place of my own, I'm temporarily for hire.”

Adam cleared his throat. “Not presently, John. I'll keep you in mind, though, at haying time. I usually hire a few hands then.”

An awkward silence rolled around them.

“What was the second thing you came to speak to me about?” Adam asked.

John's face flushed red. He swept his hat off again. “Well, sir, I came to ask your permission to…”

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 court
her.
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? He
wanted
to 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?

He
knew
why, and it worried him more than he cared to acknowledge.

No, it
more
than 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 was
he
who 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.

Lord help him, if he was alone with her now, feeling this new, unbidden hunger, he wasn't sure he'd
be able to resist her as he had the other night when she was gazing up at him with tears on her cheeks and adoration in her eyes. He might very well take advantage of the attraction he'd thought he'd sensed in her, too, for these feelings of his had suddenly become impossible to explain or deny.

How long had it been since he'd held a woman in his arms? he wondered ruefully. Not since Jane had died, and to be honest, he had stopped holding her long before that, when doors were routinely slammed in his face after nightfall.

Now he felt like a bear waking from a long, cold winter in the den. He was ravenous.

He all at once realized with a disturbing torrent of dread, that his world was about to become intensely complicated.

 

Madeline was sitting in the kitchen plucking a hen for dinner, when a knock sounded at the front door. She rose to answer it, but Agnes, who had not left them yet, answered it first.

It was John Metcalf. He was standing on the front step, nervously hugging his black tricorn hat to his chest. He said something to Agnes, and she invited him in. His apprehensive gaze fell upon Madeline, and she knew that she was the reason he had come.

Agnes turned toward Madeline. “You have a visitor.”

“Good morning, Miss Oxley,” John said.

Madeline reached around to untie her apron in the back. “I'll be right with you, John.”

She went into the kitchen, glanced at the half-
plucked hen that would have to wait, then laid her apron over the back of a chair and washed her hands in the rinse bucket. Smoothing some of the loose sprigs in her upswept hair, she returned to the front hall.

“What brings you here, John?”

“I came to see you, Miss Oxley. Mr. Coates said it was all right. Just for an hour.”

Her heart stumbled clumsily over John's answer. “You spoke to him?”

“Yes. I met him on the road just now. He and his sons were planting in the field.”

“And you asked if you could…”

“Call on you, yes.”

Call on me? No one ever calls on me.

Madeline swallowed with difficulty and had to struggle to find her voice.

She wished that her thoughts didn't fly directly to Adam in these circumstances. She wished she wouldn't wonder how he would feel about John courting her. She supposed at the very least, he would worry that he was going to lose another housekeeper.

But maybe, just maybe, John coming to call on her would make her become
visible
to Adam. Maybe Adam would see her as a woman for once, and notice that another man had found her attractive, even though she had a hard time believing it herself. “I see. Would you like to come in?”

John gave her an appreciative smile and followed her into the front parlor.

Agnes headed for the kitchen. “I'll make some tea.”

Madeline sat down on the chintz sofa while John sat on the other side of the room in a green upholstered chair. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke, while John's eyes wandered around the room, looking at the framed paintings on the walls, the brass face on the tall-case clock that ticked away in the silence. He gazed at the piano in the corner, then wiggled in his chair as he reached down to touch the rich, velvet upholstery on the seat.

“Mr. Coates has a fine house,” he said.

“It's very comfortable.”

“It's
more
than comfortable. It's a palace compared to most places around here. Maybe we should start calling him ‘Lord of the Marsh.”'

Not caring for John's cynical tone, Madeline rubbed a thumb over her fingers. This was going to be a very long hour.

 

Adam stood under the warm morning sun, his boots firmly planted in the dirt, and removed his hat to wipe his forehead with a sleeve. The wind was nonexistent today. Everything was so damn still. Everything except the insects, which were humming and buzzing a steady cacophony.

Damn his thoughts, for buzzing a cacophony, too.

He hoped Madeline was all right at the house. Maybe he should go and check on things.

No, surely that wasn't necessary. He was just making excuses to interrupt, to thwart John Metcalf when Adam had no business thwarting anything to do with Madeline.

Whatever improper feelings he had for her, he had
to bury, for Adam had already proposed to her sister. More than proposed. He had sent the necessary documents for a proxy marriage to take place, and it was out of his hands now. The proposal was on its way across the deep blue Atlantic, and Adam could not make the ship turn around. Nor should he want to. Diana was supposed to be the true romance of his life, the one he'd always wanted and the one he continued to want at this moment.

The number of times he'd had to convince himself of that lately was beginning to irk him.

He settled his hat back on his head and tried to return to planting, but despite his desire not to think about Madeline anymore, it dawned on him that perhaps Agnes was not in the house with her and John.

Adam hadn't thought about stipulating that to John or returning to make sure that Agnes was there. What if she was in the barn when John had arrived, and Madeline was alone in the house to greet him? They'd have no chaperon.

Bloody hell, he was no good at this. He'd never played this role before. He hadn't expected to be in this position until Penelope had matured a number of years. A
good
number of years.

When he'd sent for Diana, he'd expected a bride, not a ward.

Hell, he was making excuses again. Madeline was not his ward. She was a woman, and sometime over the past few weeks, he'd become all too aware of that fact.

He gazed across the field at Jacob and George working diligently. For a long time, he watched them,
then he flinched at the direction of his thoughts again as he asked himself: If the proposal to Diana was not pending, would he go up to the house now and interrupt John's visit, then begin to court Madeline himself?