Madeline straightened and faced him. His clothes were filthy with ground-in mud, his boots caked with it. He moved to the wash bucket to rinse his big, dirty hands.
Madeline set the heavy bucket on the floor. “I’m taking hot water upstairs for Diana.”
His ebony hair, pulled back in a loose queue and tied with a leather string, gleamed in the late-morning light. Madeline watched him from behind as he rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands and forearms, then reached for a cloth to dry them.
He’d never looked stronger to her, more virile. She imagined him down on the marsh, thrusting a dyking spade into the tough earth with his big boot, using all his strength to haul sod.
His intense eyes cut through the distance between them. He dropped the towel onto the worktable and strode toward her.
She took an instinctive step back and realized uncomfortably that she had barely looked him in the eye since the morning after the accident, when she’d pulled away from him. They had hardly spoken a word to each other since. All they’d done was brush by each other on the way in and out of Diana’s room, or avoid speaking to each other at the dinner table. Madeline had slammed the door in his face six days ago and driven a sharp wedge into their friendship.
Friendship? What kind of aberrant friendship was it? she wondered suddenly as he stopped before her, staring down at her in silence. Her heart was bouncing off her ribs!
Adam was so close she could smell his musky scent. She bent to pick up her bucket.
Adam touched her shoulder to stop her. “Don’t go.”
Her heart jolted at the feel of his strong hand upon her. She could feel the heat of it through her clothes, and it distressed her in every possible way. “I have to. Diana is waiting.”
“She can wait a little longer. You’ve been caring for her continually around the clock. Stay and have some tea.”
Reluctantly Madeline surrendered. She moved to the hearth and poured the hot water back into the pot on the fire to keep it warm, while Adam spooned tea leaves into the teapot.
The silence between them was excruciating.
Madeline sat down, fumbling and grasping for some casual conversation. Anything would do.
“Where is Penelope today?”
“She’s at Jacob’s place, helping Mary with the baby. I believe that child is ready to be a mother, and she’s only eight.”
“She’s a wonderful girl, Adam. You should be proud.”
He gave her an appreciative look. Not that it mattered what kind of look it was. It was alook,an acknowledgment after days and days of disregard that she certainly deserved for being so cold and unfeeling toward him. Madeline felt her insides warm a little.
“Were you able to save any of your hay crop?” Madeline asked.
“None. But the profits from the herd we just drove to Halifax will keep the animals from starving over the winter.”
“What about you and the children?”
He poured water into the teapot. “The crops in the high fields survived, so we’ll have plenty to eat. We just won’t be making any luxury purchases.”
“Thank goodness. What about the marsh? Will you be able to rebuild it?”
“With hard work, yes. All the farmers have been doing their share, and we’ve already begun the repairs. The floodwaters are draining off. Now, it’s just a matter of maintenance over time.”
They talked more about the marsh and the flood and what the future held, and were so deep in conversation, they didn’t hear Hilary descending the stairs. She walked into the kitchen and found Madeline and Adam sitting across from each other at the table.
Hilary hesitated awkwardly in the doorway. “Begging your pardon, Miss Oxley. I don’t mean to interrupt, but Lady Thurston is waiting for her bathwater.”
Madeline cleared her throat and stood. “Of course, it’s ready now. I just have to—”
Adam interrupted. “Hilary, please tell Lady Thurston that Madeline requires a cup of tea, and that she will be up with the water after she’s had a moment to rest.”
Hilary gazed with bewilderment at the two of them. She looked uncomfortable with delivering the message.
Adam stood. “I’ll tell her myself if you like.”
