Page 157 of Rogue of My Heart

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they’d moved back to the smoke and congestion of the city to prepare Mary and Sarah for their debuts, did it all truly start to fall apart.

In London, they were expected to behave and act a certain way so as not to get the gossipmongers prattling behind their fans. There, they had always been the esteemed, Viscount and Viscountess Baine.

In Yarmouth, while they still had a reputation to uphold, things had been so much… simpler. They’d had a good camaraderie with the villagers, their tenants, and their loyal servants. Every year, to celebrate the summer solstice, they would hold an annual party on St. John’s Eve at Beauley Hall, where everyone, no matter their station, was invited to attend. Compared to the London events that were staid and perfectly polite, Beauley Hall’s entertainments were vastly different. From a bonfire, to games that included guests of all ages, to enough food to feed the English army, it was something that was enjoyed by all every year.

Strange, but a part of Albina almost yearned for those days, to return to when her relationship with Chael had been comfortable, if no longer quite as passionate or exciting as when they were newly wed.

But then every year, after the merriment had died down, Chael would lead her upstairs to their chamber, and at midnight of their anniversary, on St. John’s Day…

Albina closed her eyes and released a breath.

The memory of their wedding night came unbidden to her mind. She had been an innocent, but while she could tell that Chael was eager to consummate their union he had been so tender and gentle that tears had sprung to her eyes. Even now, she could feel those strong hands caressing her, the weight of his body on top of her as he slowly entered her…

Her eyes snapped open, and for the first time in years, a familiar sensation as old as time itself stole over her. Desire. It was as if with every turn of the carriage wheels toward Beauley Hall, bringing her closer to her husband, she was inundated by impure thoughts. Her mind might claim to be sensible, but her body was starting to betray her.

This could be a very interesting homecoming, indeed.

Michael didn’t want to admit that he’d been staring out the front parlor window, but the truth couldn’t very well be denied. Especially since he knew the exact moment his wife’s carriage arrived because he’d been pacing about the floor, looking for it for the better part of the day. After night had fallen, he had begun to wonder if she might have changed her

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mind. He’d almost expected it since she seemed to love life in the city so much.

But the moment he heard the sound of horse hooves and the rattle of carriage wheels in the drive, his heart seized in his chest. He hadn’t considered how they might greet one another. He wasn’t sure he could handle a brief, polite greeting, but neither did he imagine Albina wanting him to grab her and kiss her soundly on the lips either. After all, they weren’t in their twenties anymore. Mature men approaching fifty years of age should act in a polite manner toward an estranged wife. Right?

Perhaps he’d just wait for her to make the first move. Let it be her choice how she wanted to approach this reunion. After he’d received her letter, he’d been hoping that her arrival was to be a renewal of their feelings for one another, but just seeing her, sitting across from her at the dining table again — if that was all she wanted, it would have to be enough.

He waited for her at the top of the stone steps that led into the sprawling manor, while a footman assisted her out of the carriage. By the soft light illuminating the lower floors and spilling into the courtyard, he caught a glimpse of a slender, gloved hand, then a dainty booted foot, followed by an elegant straw bonnet adorned with ribbons and flowers. It wasn’t until she lifted her head and Michael caught sight of that familiar face that he found himself sucking in a breath.

For all that he’d mentally prepared himself for her arrival, he hadn’t anticipated this sudden rush of pleasure — and desire — that coursed through his body, the moment those hazel eyes lifted to his. The urge to close the distance between them and crush her body to his was almost overwhelming, but he forced himself to wait.

To hope.

Michael didn’t take his eyes off of Albina as her trunks were unloaded and carried past him. Nothing mattered at this moment but drinking his fill of the wife he’d left behind. With her reticule in her grasp, she walked toward him, proud and just as elegant as he’d known her to be, the epitome of a true lady of the ton, a woman he’d always been proud to hold on his arm.

God, I’ve been a fool for staying away as long as I have — for leaving in the first place.

He clenched his fist at his side as she stopped in front of him. Time melted away, and even though nearly twenty-five years of marriage had changed her features and form slightly, had dimmed the bright luster of her copper red locks into a more subdued strawberry-blond, a few wisps

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framing her face as they tried to escape her bonnet, he knew without a doubt, that if he had a second chance, he would choose to marry her all over again.

She was the love of his life, and it was past time that he told her exactly how he felt.

He started to open his mouth, to finally speak the words clogging his throat.

“Hello, Michael.”

Albina offered him a slight smile, inclining her head slightly, before she turned and walked into the house.

And all at once — let him know where she stood.

Swallowing down his bitter disappointment, he followed her inside.

“I trust your journey was pleasant.”