Madeleine by Emma Nichols

Author:Emma Nichols
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Britain's Next Bestseller
Published: 2018-12-12T23:00:00+00:00

17.

Madeleine eased the spoon around the large pot, her regular rhythmical movements made erratic by her thoughts, her gaze unfocused, and seemingly unfazed by her mother observing from across the kitchen.

She had kissed Claude! A wave of exhilaration passed through her and instantly flushed her cheeks. She could still feel the tenderness etched on her lips, the heat that suffused her then, as now, the softness and thrill combining to form an overwhelming sensation, the like of which she had never experienced before. A gentle hum still vibrated through her.

She had left the bathroom in a flurry, consumed with emotion, and stood in the kitchen, her hands trembling against the work surface, her heart pounding for some time. She had tried to occupy herself by preparing the meal, but the knife shook in her hand with the image of Claude’s pert breasts, the smooth muscular stomach and lean hips, and then there was the unique scent of her that had lingered even in her absence. She had never been drawn to another in this way. She had felt giddy over a boy when she had been very young, but it was nothing like this. This was deep, enduring, and so desperately compelling.

Aware that her musings had brought her work to a halt, she started to stir the pot again, but thoughts of Claude came to her through the rhythmical movement of the spoon and she drifted too easily.

Claude had stood in the kitchen after the bath, her hair damp, her face fresh, the bruising around her eye and cheek raw. Madeleine had felt her deeply then, in the pressure in her heart, and the urge to take Claude into her arms and kiss her again had been all consuming. Claude had stared at her and asked if she was okay, and she had lied unconvincingly. Madeleine had continued to cook, served the food, and entertained the children, and after Claude had left the house, she felt her again in the hollow emptiness that remained. Even the children’s voices hadn’t filled the space.

Madeleine could feel Regina still studying her from across the kitchen, drawing her awareness to the present, the pot and the spoon in her hand, and pricking her conscience. She released a deep breath, looked down at the bubbling beef, and stirred with vigour. She tapped the ladle on the side of the pot and rested it on the stove. Turning, she caught her mother’s eye, cleared her throat, picked up the knife, and started to chop.

‘Gosh it’s cold out there,’ Beatrice said, easing through the door with a crate of supplies.

‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Madeleine said, thankful for the chance to move from her mother’s intense stare.

‘The snow is heavy already. They think it will block the main road,’ Beatrice said.

Regina’s eyebrows lifted a fraction as she nodded.

Trays stacked, Beatrice stood, chest rising and falling with a wheeze. ‘They say the dam’s finished,’ she said. ‘And the Prime Minister is coming. It’s confirmed.’

‘That will be good for business,’ Regina said.

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