And then she thought of something else. If Delia invited Adam to her bed, could he say no? Wouldn’t she ask him why? Of course she would. And Adam—who was a cautious man by nature—would feel that he had to make love to his wife, if only to keep her from asking too many questions. He wouldn’t want to do anything that made her suspicious.
These considerations made her feel a little better, but not much. One way or another, it was all the same in the end. Adam and Delia had made love, while she was alone and lonely. She tried to swallow down the hurt, but her heart really did feel as if it were breaking—in a way that Mrs. Crow’s hibiscus tea could not cure.
• • •
ADAM had also a great deal to think about. Mr. Simpson’s call and the encounter with Greta and Delia afterward had troubled him deeply, and the more he thought about it, the more uneasy he became. He had never been a man to take risks, but loving Annie had changed him—changed him inside and out, he thought. He fought with himself, but finally decided. Honorable, dishonorable, it didn’t matter. He had to see Annie and talk with her about Mr. Simpson’s visit and Greta’s misunderstanding. He needed to know what she thought.
Since Douglas’ death, he had been in the habit of doing the occasional chore for their widowed neighbor, as well as dropping off the stable rent once a month. So a day or two after Simpson’s visit, he told Delia that he was taking the rent money to Annie.
“Unless you would rather do it,” he offered, already knowing the answer.
Her reply was predictable. “I’m busy right now.” She didn’t look up from the magazine she was reading. “You do it, Adam. You’re the one who’s using the stable.”
“I’ll tell her you said hello,” he said, adding, “She may have a few repairs that need doing.” Delia nodded absently and he left.
The sky was still light when he took the path through the hedge. Now that Delia was home, he thought, Annie might not want to see him—she might even refuse. But when she answered his knock at the kitchen door, the expression on her face told him all that he needed to know. He shut the door behind him, glanced at the window to make sure the curtain was drawn, and gave up all pretense of being an honorable man. He pulled her against him, kissing her hungrily. For a moment, he gave himself over to the raw pleasure of holding her in his arms, of running his hands over her body, her face, her hair.
“I want you,” he whispered urgently, his lips against her throat. “Oh, God, I want you, Annie. Please, let’s—”
“No,” she said. Flushed and breathless, she pushed him away. “I can’t, Adam. I don’t have any . . . that is, I can’t take precautions right now. We wouldn’t be . . . safe. I don’t think we should risk it.”
“Ah,” he said. Regretfully, he dropped his hands, wondering if perhaps she had changed toward him, and this was a way to put him off—a way she knew he would understand and respect. But he discarded that thought immediately. Her kiss, her body against his, had told him she had not changed.
She went to the window and opened the curtains. “Will you have a cup of tea? It’s already brewed.”
“Thanks,” he said, and pulled out a chair. “I’ve brought the money for the stable rent.” He took the bills out of his pocket and laid them on the table. “I told Delia I was coming, and that I’d ask if you had any repairs that need doing.”
“I don’t, thank you,” she said, and poured their tea. The silence that followed felt, to Adam, oddly uncomfortable. And then he found out why.
When she sat down, she added, “I saw Delia yesterday afternoon.” She wasn’t looking at him. “At Mrs. Crow’s.”
He frowned. “Who is Mrs. Crow?”
“The lady who runs the boardinghouse in the next block. She sells herbs. I went to get some of this lovely tea. Hibiscus. Do you like it?”
He picked up the cup and sipped. “It’s very nice.” He frowned again. “Delia was there? I wonder what she was—”
“Wild carrot seeds,” Annie said, spooning honey into her tea. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Crow didn’t have any. She told Delia where to find them, though. She said the plants are growing in the empty lot behind Purley’s, right next door to your store. Now is a good time to—”
“Behind Purley’s?” Adam asked, frowning. “I’ve never noticed. But I don’t know anything about plants. I wouldn’t know what I was looking at.” His frown deepened. “Wait a minute. Wild carrot. That’s the contraceptive, isn’t it? I wonder what Delia wants that for. We’re not—”
“Please, Adam.” Annie lifted her cup in both hands, meeting his eyes over the rim. Her eyes were dark and troubled, her voice quiet, restrained. “You don’t have to explain. I understand, certainly. After all, Delia is your wife. It’s only natural for you to want to—”
“But I don’t,” he protested. “Even if she asked me, I wouldn’t . . . That is, we haven’t . . . Not since
