The Letter by Sandra Owens Read Free Book Online Page B

dinner choices be offered. If allowed, he was certain Diana would accept whatever was put in front of her. But he had given her submissive manner a lot of thought after he had left her and Jamie earlier and planned his strategy.
    Eleven years ago, she hadn’t hesitated to speak her mind. It had been one of the things he had loved about her and he wanted to find that girl. He meant to see this timid mouse afraid of her own shadow banished to the Outer Hebrides. Even if he had to coerce her to do it, she was going to start thinking for herself again.
    The innkeeper’s plump wife arrived, poured wine for him and Diana, and lemonade for Jamie. She grinned at them, showing a missing front tooth. “I’m Mrs. Goodman and I hope you are hungry, my lad, because I’ve plenty of food for a growing boy like you.” She gave Jamie a pat on his head.
    “Now, I’ll start with you, my lady. We have roasted duck, beef and potatoes, or trout caught only hours ago and cooked in a nice butter sauce.”
    She looked at Diana and waited. Michael looked at Diana and waited. Diana looked at her lap. Was she truly incapable of deciding on her choice of a meal?
    “Allow my lady a moment to decide, Mrs. Goodman. Jamie, what is your preference?”
    “I cannot decide between the beef and the trout.”
    Mrs. Goodman patted Jamie’s head again. “Well, laddie, no reason you should. We’ll just bring you some of both. Would that please you?”
    He gave Mrs. Goodman a big smile. “Oh, yes, please.”
    Michael ordered the duck and looked again at Diana. “Have you decided, my dear?”
    “The trout?” she said so softly he had to strain to hear her.
    Was she asking permission? Was she afraid her choice would displease him somehow? Leo would probably have used something as simple as a dinner choice to train her not to think for herself.
    Getting her to think for herself might be more difficult than he’d imagined. “My lady would like the trout.”
    The woman left and Michael turned his attention to Diana. Her eyes were downcast, her stare directed at her lap. She must have sensed his regard. Her gaze rose to meet his, her look one of fear. How long was it going to take her to understand he was not Leo?
    Mrs. Goodman returned with a loaf of crusty bread and butter. She bustled around the table, refilling his wine glass and Jamie’s lemonade. Diana hadn’t touched her wine. When Mrs. Goodman left again, Michael lifted his glass, tempted to drink the contents down in one long swallow.
    “Do you not like your wine?” he asked. “Would you prefer a cup of tea?”
    She shook her head and reached for her glass, bumping it and spilling a small amount. She froze with her hand in midair. When she spilled the wine, Jamie tensed, moving to the edge of his chair as if ready to spring up and protect his mother.
    Michael ignored the spill and Diana’s outstretched hand. “Have you been taught to ride, Jamie?”
    Jamie relaxed back into his seat, and Diana lowered her arm.
    “No, sir. Father said I am not agile enough to ride.”
    Michael clenched his teeth. “Did he now? Well, that had to be well over a year ago and you have grown since then. I daresay, along with that growth, you have acquired some agility. I think while we are at Wyburne we should give you a few lessons and see how it goes.”
    “Truly, sir? I would like that very much.”
    He smiled. “Yes, truly.”
    Their dinner arrived, and he and Jamie talked about horses throughout the meal. The boy was full of questions, and Michael patiently answered each one. Diana ate a few bites, but never touched her wine again. If they had been alone, he thought he might have confronted her with his suspicions, but Jamie’s presence prevented it, which was probably for the best.
    After dinner, she attempted to beg off from an evening stroll, but Michael didn’t allow it. He held out his arm again and waited for her to take it. As before, she lightly touched him with the tips of her fingers. The