Some Enchanted Waltz (21 page)

The glacial stare he was directing at Edward was deflected by Edward’s ridiculous smile, so he turned his attentions back to his bride. Tara was sitting on his lap with her arm about his neck, running her fingers through his hair in the most casual and relaxed manner, as if they had been married for years. She had a faraway look in her eyes as she gave him her sole attentions, forgetting Edward standing near the parlor door. Adrian could only gaze back into her sweet emerald eyes. She came back to him, after he’d made a fool of himself the night before a thousand times over.

“Egad, I’ve a dinner at the Muckrosses townhouse. Must dash.” Edward intruded upon the magic. He stepped forward, waving his cane at Adrian in warning. “A word of advice, my friend; never drink Jasper’s poteen, its positively wicked. It gives me indigestion for days afterwards.” Lord Edward gave him a pensive blue gaze before  whispering, “I dare not wander far from the chamber pot, if you catch my meaning. I dumped mine in the philodendron planter last night.”

“From what Edward said about that vile brew, I was concerned that you might have food poisoning. The apothecary has never heard of sulfa drugs. That’s what they use in America to treat E-coli.” Tara said as she stroked his long mane.

“Jasper would not poison me.” Adrian assured her. “He’s an old friend.”

“I didn’t mean deliberately. Food can have bacteria in it.” Tara looked from Adrian to Edward, appearing perturbed, as if trying to explain something very simple to children. “When it’s spoiled and you eat it, or in your case, drink it, the bacteria is incubated in your body, it grows, spreads and poisons your blood, your liver, your kidneys . . .”

Adrian looked to Edward, who shrugged, intimating he was also lost by her queer explanation.

Tara sighed with annoyance. “Never mind. I’ll make you some peppermint tea.” 

Lord Edward took his leave. Tara went into the kitchen to prepare his tea. The idea that she would take the time to care for him herself instead of ordering a servant to see to it pleased Adrian.

She returned within a few moments, bringing tea and a tray with sandwiches and milk for them. Adrian balanced a cup of tea on his knee, feeling genuinely blessed by the presence of such a caring, considerate woman in his life. The fire crackled in the hearth. The tea soothed the gremlins in his belly. He knew contentment just sitting here with her, a feeling he hadn’t known for ages.

Tara nibbled at her sandwich and worried about the man beside her. He didn’t wish to eat.  His black velvet smoking jacket only enhanced his pallor. She hoped he wasn’t suffering from food poisoning. The apothecary acted as if she were speaking in another language when she’d explained E-Coli to him. No one here seemed to understand the grave importance of such an illness or the concept of bacteria growing in food and making it poisonous. They all looked at her as if she were touched in the head.

Adrian appeared wrung out. He didn’t have the severe abdominal cramps or diarrhea associated with food poisoning. He just looked very pale, and very tired.

“How is your stomach?”

“Better. This is quite soothing.” He lifted the teacup to his lips. “Thank you.”

They sat together in a companionable silence for some time before Tara realized their tranquil evening was due to the absence of Lady Fiona. “Where is your mother?” She asked in what she prayed was not too hopeful a voice.

“She’s spending the night with friends.”

Tara nodded, hiding her relieved smile.

“Quite pleasant, is it not?”

“Ah . . . yes . . . I mean . . .” Tara stammered, guilty by her own admission.

“Very peaceful.” Adrian continued in a relaxed tone. “Just the two of us, no arguing, no weeping or accusations.” He turned his head slowly to her as he spoke. “A man could come to love to such a serene existence.”

Tara offered him a reticent smile. She wasn’t about to comment further.  

“Thank you for making this.” He lifted the cup and saucer in his hand.

That the simple act should solicit profuse gratitude was not lost on Tara. He seemed deeply affected by her care for him. Hadn’t his mother made him a soothing cup of tea or warmed milk to ease his childhood hurts? Had he been raised by servants, people who didn’t love him, people who were paid to attend his needs? Was that what brought this man to his knees with gratitude when someone treated him with genuine kindness that was not prompted by a paycheck?

A sharp pang of anxiety grew within, a raw undercurrent of remembered pain. Endless loneliness and the yearning for love. For comfort, nurturing and tenderness. The need to belong to someone, the yearning for a family.

Arms wrapped about her, pulling Tara back from the rocky precipice of terror as the overwhelming sensation of vast emptiness threatened to consume her. “What is it, darling?” He whispered in her ear. “You look so . . .
lost
.”

“I don’t know.” Tara said quickly, trying to dispel the horrible feeling of abandonment that had just swept over her. It was so real; so incredibly and frighteningly real. It felt as if she didn’t even exist until she’d come into his world. She allowed him to pull her closer as she sought the shelter of his embrace.

“Did you remember something?” His words were soft as velvet.

Tara shook her head, unable to explain the feeling of utter dread and emptiness that had washed over her moments earlier, of being utterly alone and unloved. It was real, and so painful she didn’t want to face it by admitting it to another.

“Sweetheart, you looked so frightened. Did I say something, or do something to bring such fear to you just now?”

Tara sought his eyes for the answer to the questions he was asking and those in her own heart. “I don’t know how to explain it.” She whispered, her voice shaking. “Just hold me. It feels so good, so right.” Those gentle gray eyes caressed her. Tenderness was reflected in his eyes, tenderness, understanding, and something more complex.

His hand pulled her head to rest beneath his chin. Adrian just held her as she’d asked. Only the fire crackling and sizzling in the hearth intruded upon this rare serenity.

The minutes passed slowly as the clock on the mantle kept a steady beat. Tara kept her eyes closed, savoring the peacefulness of his arms about her, of being close without demands of intimacy as payment for the service. She listened to his heart hammering steadily beneath her cheek, the soft, consistent rhythm lulled her.

At last Tara pulled away to look up at his face. She shifted until her head was resting on his velvet shoulder.

Adrian adjusted his position and his arm to accommodate her. His features were stern. His skin had a bronze cast in the low firelight. “Tell me what is troubling you.”

His words and the gentle rumble of his voice beneath her cheek evoked pleasant, soothing sensations. This man cared for her. He might not come out and say I love you, yet Tara understood that he did care; deeply. If he did not, he wouldn’t be troubled by her melancholy or her fears. He wouldn’t have sunk into seething jealousy when she returned with Edward. The reality brought comfort and fear.

“I’m all right, now.” Tara sat up, allowing him to drop his arm about the back of the sofa and rest his hand on her shoulder.

“We leave for Seafield House the day after tomorrow.”

His declaration brought on a whole new set of fears. She didn’t want to face all those snobbish people. She imagined them all being just like Fiona Dillon, watching her every movement with those cold gray assessing eyes. Tara didn’t know much about Georgian society or the strict codes of conduct a ball would dictate.  And she was weary of their restrictive manners. “I’m not sure I want to go to the ball at Seafield House.”

“We’ve accepted the invitation.”

“I don’t believe I know how to dance, not your complex quadrilles and such.”

Adrian straightened, releasing her from his arms as he took her hand. “Then it’s time to learn, Lady Dillon.” He pulled her to her feet. “Just follow me, and count, one, two, three . . . one, two, three . . . and turn . . .” He whirled her about with his hand raised above her head. “Like so.”

And they were dancing. Simply whirling about the room with Adrian leading her.

After a few exhilarated moments, Adrian paused to explain the steps to the quadrille, a complicated group dance where partners were changed at certain signals. It began with two lines of dancers, with partners facing one another. First, they bowed to the partner, and then in unison the females glided forward to meet between the two lines to press palms with the female directly opposite and walk in a circle before moving to take their place at the opposite side of the line. Next, the men moved so, and then the couples came together again, palm to palm, round about, then darting gracefully back into the line to face one another.

They practiced it over and over. Adrian directed her and had her raise her hand to dance with a ghost partner as he remained in line and directed her. He counted out the steps, and glided into the ‘center’ to dance with her. Under his direction the confused chaos became an elegant, graceful ritual dance. Step forward, palms together, walk in a circle, step back. The clock struck midnight as the chimes of St. Anne’s church could be heard throughout the city. Tara whirled about, mis-stepped, laughed at her own clumsiness, and Adrian patiently began again. And again.

At last, Adrian suggested they try it when his mother was home and she could have real partners to change with instead of imaginary ones as the clock chimed one-thirty. He began to waltz with her, his eyes becoming dusky. “The waltz is frowned upon in the stricter London circles.” He explained, holding her close. “The waltz is popular in Europe. We may have an opportunity to dance it at Seafield House, as Lady White is very stylish and modern in her tastes. She was in Europe last year. “If the scandalous waltz is offered before the supper break, please save it for me, only me.”

A sweet sense of satisfaction welled up in Tara at his request. She nodded softly.

“In Austria, whoever dances the waltz with the lady is expected to escort her into the dining room and partner her at dinner. I shan’t bear it if you dine with another.”

“I had no idea that you possess a jealous nature. I’m flattered, my lord.”

“And I am enchanted, my fairy queen.”

 As they swirled about the room, the firelight gave the walls an eerie, magical glow.

“Do you believe in fairies?” She murmured playfully, entranced by the sultry look in his eyes.  “Have you ever met one, Lord Dillon?”

“Oh, I believe, sweet Tara. You see, I married one.”

Her lips turned up in a smile, as her heart warmed to his sultry gaze. Slowly, his lips descended to meet hers. Adrian lingered, caressing her, savoring her and searching for her soul in the depths of their kiss. Tara wound her arms about his neck as he lifted her about the waist and held her against him.

They were no longer dancing. They were lost in a simmering embrace.

Adrian eyes were hot coals of desire. He lifted her in his arms and strode purposefully into the outer hallway and carried Tara up the stairs. Panic replaced the climbing desire when Adrian carried her across the threshold of his bedchamber.

“Wait, just a minute.” Tara demanded.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

Just outside his bedroom door, Adrian set her on her feet. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You’re not feeling well. You should rest.” Tara protested, hedging for an excuse to postpone the event. She moved around him, intent upon retreating to her chamber, only to find his arms winding about her, capturing her as she made to escape

“What is this, my little warrior? A retreat?” His sultry voice caressed her senses. “I think not.  ‘Tis time for us to practice a real marriage, as you chided this morning.”

“Well, I didn’t mean right now. You’ve been ill, we should wait.” She pushed her hands against his chest to keep him away. His masculine strength overpowered her as he drew her hard against him. “I said
no!
”

“Sweet Tara, why do you fight me? I am not your enemy.” His lips trailed soft kisses along her cheek as he spoke in a raspy whisper. “You have nothing to fear, little sprite. If you are maid, I’ll be gentle.” His moist breath on her neck, just below her ear, weakened her resolve.

“That’s just it. I don’t know if I am or not.” She admitted with uneasiness.

“Shhh, don’t talk.” Adrian moved in to possess her mouth.

“Damn it!” She jerked her face away.  “I will not be forced into complying with your desire when I’m not ready. I said no.
And no means No
!”  Panic rose with her thwarted efforts to escape his powerful grasp. Instinct took over. Tara kneed him squarely in his junk and then sprang away from his cloying grasp as he roared with anguish.

“Oh.” The reality of her gut reaction dawned as she watched Adrian gasp and moan as he doubled over in pain. “Oh—I’m sorry.”

His eyes opened after a moment of torturous silence. They watered. He blinked, and gasped. The fury rising in them was unmistakable as he stared at her with consternation.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” Tara muttered, chewing on her lower lip. Perhaps her reaction had been over the top. Still, he didn’t seem to recognize the word ‘no’.

“What is it about me that revolts you, my lady? He rose from his bent position slowly, his face a mask of pain. “You returned my kisses.”