by Sahara Kelly
“Yes, Ma’am,” whispered Jane, her voice faint.
“We must discuss wages, of course, but I need Daniel for that, since he has a better sense of the financial end of Wolfbridge matters.”
“Good man, Daniel,” nodded Mrs. Barnsley. “He’ll do right and fair by you, Jane.”
“Yes, Ma,” whispered Jane once more.
“Well, then,” smiled Adalyn. “Would you have an answer for me?”
Jane burst into tears, sobbed her way to Lady Adalyn and staggered into a wobbly curtsey.
Adalyn looked at Mrs. Barnsley. “I will take that as a yes.”
“Good, otherwise dratted girl’s either going to tip tail over teakettle, or drown us all in tears.”
Walking home, Adalyn was still laughing to herself, but happy she’d done what she now knew was the right thing. All that remained was to alert the household.
It was a great pleasure to catch sight of Daniel heading her way.
“My Lady,” he waved his hand.
“Just the man I want to see,” she grinned as he hurried to her side.
“Do you have any idea how happy it makes me to hear that?” He closed the distance between them, lifted her hand to his lips and removed her glove, pressing his mouth to her palm, lingering there and bringing heat to her cheeks.
“Oh Daniel,” she sighed. “Don’t make me forget to tell you I just hired a maid for myself.”
“You did?” His tongue swept across her sensitive skin.
“Yes, I…Jane…Mrs. Barnsley…”
His tongue traced its way to her wrist and laved her pulse beneath the edge of gown. “That is good news, Adalyn.” He raised his head and gave her a look that travelled down to her toes, caressing her flesh along the way. “Let us walk a little.”
Tucking her hand beneath his arm, he turned to escort her back to the Manor, but instead of the lane, he took her through a break in the hedge and into the forest. “It’s a little quicker this way and the ground should be dry enough for us.”
Screened by the trees, Adalyn was struck by how quiet it was, and paused. “It’s lovely.” The boughs creaked a little as the wind stirred them, and the occasional cry of a bird was all she could hear.
“Yes,” said Daniel, looking at her. “Exquisite.”
“Oh…” she blushed. “I didn’t mean…”
“I know,” he whispered, pulling her close. “I also know I have to do this before I die of wanting to…” His gaze fell to her lips.
She knew what he wanted.
She wanted it too.
Dear Diary,
Oh my goodness, these are exciting days. I scarce know where to start when it comes to noting the events that are happening around me - and to me.
Let me begin by relating my foray into the gardens with Evan. Yes, it does seem that all these diary entries of mine revolve about one or other of my gentlemen, but never could I have imagined four such wonderful and caring souls, and all devoted to me and my well-being. Or so it appears…can it be true? Or am I living in a fantasy of my own creation?
I suppose only time will provide the answer to that question, but for now back to Evan.
I am determined to add my mite to Wolfbridge and a kitchen garden seems a good place to begin, since there is scarcely any shelter for the more tender plants. Evan has mint tucked into a tiny niche - from which he creates a mint sauce that is beyond delicious - but there should be more tidy spots for herbs that will over-winter.
Do you see, dear Diary, how fluent I am becoming in household matters? Discussing over-wintering herbs as if I knew which were which. But I’m sure Evan would be happy to help me learn such things. Have I mentioned his eyes? They are green sometimes and golden brown at others, depending on how the light shines on them. Should I call them hazel? Perhaps. But they match the rich red brown of his hair. His smile is as bright as can be; bright enough to almost warm one’s hands in front of it.
And I can attest to the firm appeal of his lips, since he pressed them to my wrist. How strange that such a simple touch stirs so many different parts of me. It would appear that a man’s tongue, when applied the right way to a woman’s skin - well, the result is no less than volcanic. If I may allow myself a small jest, I could easily be a gooseberry fool for Evan. (There, that wasn’t unacceptable, was it?)
That afternoon I met my first neighbour, and I am not sure it was all that it should have been. Giles warned me prior to our meeting that Sir Amery Fairhurst has a long-held interest in owning Wolfbridge. Merging this property with his would create a sizeable estate, dominating the area. And of course increasing Sir Amery’s prestige as well as his holdings.
Since my selling Wolfbridge is completely out of the question, Giles worries that Sir Amery would make an attempt to acquire me. Marriage would ensure the accomplishment of his goals, and he might not be above compromising me in some way to achieve his ends.
Thus we all put our minds together and have created a plan which - I hope - will provide for my safety while at Fivetrees tomorrow night.
Which brings me to Trick. He will be part of the plan, and I visited the stables to speak with him about it. I didn’t realise he has his own very neat quarters at the rear of the building and he invited me to visit, which I did with a great deal of interest. He has a room here in the Manor, but he explained that there is often a need to be near his charges for various reasons. He is wonderful with horses and they seem to love him back.
However - his private space. It was bigger than I’d expected, and warm from a fire in a hearth that looked quite old. He made us tea and allowed me to wander - whereupon I stumbled across some paintings. To my astonishment, he revealed that they were his work. And they were astounding, at least to my relatively untutored eyes.
His landscapes were vibrant, catching the hues of spring and the warmth of the autumn hereabouts. I would like to ask him to do one of Wolfbridge itself, so it might hang in the hall as a welcome to all who visit. Perhaps I might suggest it once spring has finally arrived and the weather improved.
I am not sure how to describe the other pictures. The ones of me.
Worked in charcoal, there were several studies and they shocked me, since they showed a woman I could not believe was myself. Where did my shy but intriguing smile come from? Is it only Trick who sees that in me or do they all recognise it?
Am I alluring? Am I sensual? His simple portraits of me make me seem to be both and perhaps more. If I am these things, it must be the gentlemen themselves who are bringing out those features of my personality. I certainly never imagined possessing them before now. The most interesting picture showed me with my shoulders bare and the way it was posed suggested the rest of me was bare as well.
I confess…for a few moments I felt the urge to ask Trick to finish the drawing. To make a portrait of me, without my clothes. I would be curious to see what his eyes and his talents could create, and what it could reveal about myself that I still don’t know.
Perhaps it was this arousing experience that led me to the most shocking part of my visit. Trick, gentleman that he is, seems to know intuitively how to make me feel…unique. He complimented me, yet warned me of the effect my innocence might have. He drew me close, touched my lips with his fingertips, then slipped an arm around my waist.
It is shocking, but I must go on because the emotions he aroused in me were beyond anything.
His kiss set my body alight and threatened to overwhelm me.
I felt him, hard, thick, pressed against my belly, and to my dismay I wanted to part my legs for him and rub against his maleness. My breasts were squeezed to his chest, but oh what a wonderful sensation; layer upon layer of deliciously exciting touches that inflamed something that I am growing to understand is desire.
I have never felt like this. My husband was not interested in arousing such a thing in me. His lusts were all for his own gratification.
But to be touched, held and caressed by someone who cares only for my pleasure - or at lea
st it seems that way - it is hard to describe the wonder of it.
I inwardly quaked at the joy he invoked and it was almost impossible to stop, but Trick drew back and we realised the necessity of returning to our normal selves.
I have devoted much time dwelling on these matters, dear Diary. There are so many contradictions in my head that sometimes I feel like screaming.
I have spent my whole life trying to live up to my parents’ expectations. I must be a good girl, an obedient girl, never making a fuss, or - God forbid - a scandal. I must not mention gentlemen, nor appear to be forward in any way. And eventually they would choose the right man as my husband and I would obey his every command without question.
And yet here I am, more of a widow than I ever was a bride. I live with five gentlemen, four of whom are the most sensually arousing creatures on the face of the planet. All of them cherish me and I am coming to develop deep affections for each. How contrary is my life now to what my parents had imagined.
And how exciting!
I hired a maid as well, during this turbulent time. Mrs. Barnsley (whom I shall now call Mrs. B, since it seems more friendly) - introduced me to her daughter Jane. Terribly scarred from a frightening encounter at her last position, she will make me an excellent maid, I believe. Her experience as an up-and-coming lady’s maid may well be my salvation in some areas, and I look forward to welcoming her to Wolfbridge.
So I must finish up this entry with one more intriguing tidbit.
Daniel.
He met me as I returned from Mrs. B’s, full of excitement about my newly hired maid. He was happy for me and instead of taking the lane back to Wolfbridge we crossed into the forest and found a path Daniel uses frequently. Once within the trees, we paused - it was quite beautifully silent, but for birdsongs and the sound of the wind brushing against the bare boughs above us. I made a comment about how lovely it was, and he agreed, but the look in his eyes told me it wasn’t our surroundings that he praised.
Another kiss, another explosion of sensation - Daniel took me in his arms so passionately, dear Diary. I am surrounded, it would seem, by gentlemen who seek to engage my affections. To touch me, caress me, to hold me against their bodies and kiss my lips with varying degrees of boldness and warmth.
I cannot compare such kisses, for each is unique, each flavoured by the man himself, each displaying different characteristics. But all of them having the same effect on me.
I am learning of desire, of physical need. I discover a yearning inside me to continue such disgraceful behaviour; to carry it to the next stage where I might find other parts of my body caressed with equal passion and intensity. How terrible a woman I must be to long for such things. How shocking these words are…I can hardly believe I am writing them.
And yet I feel the truth must be told. I am fast developing a deep and abiding affection for my gentlemen. An affection that is going past friendship and into an area where I am unfamiliar with the terrain. Yet I want to walk there, to run there, and find out what lies beneath all the exciting emotions that are now aroused within me.
I am not a virgin. My late husband introduced me to the matter of intimacy between a man and a woman. He did so with crudity, pain and a complete lack of interest about my person. So I am aware of the mechanics involved in such things. I am aware that a man will grow hard when aroused and that the result will be used to penetrate a woman in such a way as to plant his child within her. I use blunt words to describe the act which, up until now, has been - for me - a painful and unpleasant experience.
But I find matters changing, growing, becoming less terrible to my mind and more interesting to my body. If my gentlemen can arouse me with a kiss, a touch, a caress…what would I feel should matters progress?
All I need to do is to wait, see what develops, and be ready should the occasion arise. To my eternal astonishment, I find I am beginning to crave the chance, the wondrous moment, when I can finally know what it is like to he claimed by someone who really cares about me.
Perhaps I might learn at last what it is like to be loved…
Or do I ask too much?
Chapter Ten
Friday dawned to grey skies and the threat of rain—a perfect setting for Adalyn’s pretend accident.
Since all parties knew of the plan, nobody was surprised to see her come downstairs in her warm dress and shawl, as they would be needed on her “walk”.
“Is everything prepared?”
“Yes indeed, my Lady,” answered Giles. “I’m still not convinced it’s the right thing, but we’ve all agreed to support you, so we must forge ahead.”
She smiled. “We will all be guilty of prevarication, but it’s in a good cause, Giles. I’d do anything to protect Wolfbridge. You know that.”
“I do.” He inclined his head. “I would feel more confident if I knew this would not result in broken bones, however.”
“I trust Jeremy. And Trick.” She glanced down at her boots. “I shall miss these, though. Very comfortable.”
“The cobbler is already working on a replacement for them, my Lady. We can’t have you restricted to the house simply for the lack of a pair of boots.” He smiled then, reassuring her, reminding her that he would always anticipate her needs.
“I’ll probably be wanting a cup of tea when this is done,” she sighed.
“It will be here. As will a light repast.”
“Are we set then?” Jeremy appeared from the rear corridor, cloak and hat in hand.
“We are,” answered Adalyn. “As ready as we’ll ever be.”
“How are your dramatic skills, Ma’am?” He grinned at her. “Do you have a good scream?”
“Jeremy.” Giles looked at him in reproof. “Lady Adalyn will not be shrieking like a fishwife. A modest cry or two should suffice.”
“But surely a loud scream would really get the point across…”
“Only if you want every doctor between here and London summoned.”
“Gentlemen.” Adalyn raised her hand. “No squabbling. To keep you both happy, I shall attempt a most ladylike cry of distress. It will be loud…” she nodded to Jeremy, “but in keeping with my status.” She nodded at Giles.
“That will be satisfactory,” approved Giles.
“All right,” added Jeremy. “I might throw in a cry or two myself.”
He clutched his hands to his chest, cleared his throat and tossed his head back on a dramatic shout. “Lady Adalyn. Oh my word. She’s…she’s fallen…”
Adalyn laughed and even Giles cracked a smile.
“Enough, jokester,” she chided. “You’ll be picking me up, not creating a tragedy.”
“Make sure this goes smoothly, Jeremy.” Giles eyed him.
Jeremy sobered. “Of course. It’s Lady Adalyn. I would never ever let harm come to her. You know that, Giles.”
Giles nodded. “Time to go.”
And so, to the casual observer, Lady Adalyn of Wolfbridge Manor set off on a morning stroll, wrapped warmly against the weather and with her footman, Jeremy, as escort.
Their route was preplanned, although it would not seem that way to whoever might be watching. Adalyn headed away from the Manor and out toward the fields, making it appear that her destination was the higher ground of the nearby hills.
It took them over some rough lanes, and conveniently, past several farmers who had gathered with Trick to discuss the upcoming breeding season.
Less than ten minutes from the house, she was waving to them, and admiring the horses as they trotted around the field, displaying their merit.
And then, moments later, she stumbled and fell.
A cry, a shout from Jeremy and half a dozen local farmers rushed to the hedge, to find her on the ground, holding her ankle.
“My Lady,” shouted Trick.
“Oh God,” yelled another farmer. “A gate, we need a gate…”
There was considerable hubbub from the hedge as the men gathered to offer whatever assistance they could.
&n
bsp; “Wait,” yelled Jeremy.
Silence fell as Adalyn moved, slowly lifting her head and looking at the faces staring down at her in concern. “I am so sorry to worry you all.” She gently raised a portion of her skirt. “The heel on my boot seems to have snapped. That must have been what precipitated my fall. So silly.”
She made to rise as Jeremy helped her, then yelped a little. “Oh…oh my ankle..” She reached for the area and held it. “I believe I may have suffered a slight sprain.” Turning to Jeremy she held out her arm. “If you could just…”
“Careful, my Lady…”
He was solicitous and respectful as he bent to help her stand, but caught her against him as she tried to take her weight on her injured limb.
“I cannot,” she muttered. “The ankle…”
“Hush now, my Lady. We’ll get you back to the house in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
Trick, who had vaulted over the lowest part of the hedge, came running up. “Here now, my Lady. Jeremy and I will carry you.” He glanced at the farmers. “Sorry, lads. Can we continue our discussion next week? I must tend to my Lady.”
“Of course…”
“Indeed…”
“Take care, my Lady…”
The well wishes flowed freely as Jeremy and Trick formed a kind of chair with their arms, clasping hands and letting Adalyn sit on them. She placed her arms around each man and held on as they started off, slowly walking back down the lane.
All were silent for the first few minutes, until the field was well behind them and the farmers out of earshot.
“Well,” said Adalyn, trying to hide a grin. “Do you think it worked? Was it dramatic enough for you, Jeremy?”