Lady Adalyn (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 1)

by Sahara Kelly

“You were perfect, Adalyn,” he chuckled.

  “Scared me half to death, Adalyn,” added Trick. “And I knew it wasn’t real.”

  “My trusty sedan chair,” she settled herself more comfortably. “I have to confess that this is not the most unpleasant way to travel.”

  “I could carry you,” said Trick. “It would serve as well as this…”

  “That would be my job, Adalyn. Trick is more used to horses than ladies.”

  “With me, they learn the best way to derive pleasure from the ride, you know…” Trick’s grin was pure sensual mischief.

  “But I find being ridden just as pleasurable,” retorted Jeremy. “Putting a lady on top? There’s nothing quite like it.”

  Adalyn found herself breathing rapidly as Jeremy and Trick goaded each other with ripostes that became increasingly ribald. Her mind drifted to the firm shoulders beneath her hands and she shocked herself by wondering what it would be like to have them both. Together. With her.

  She struggled to maintain her balance as her thoughts wandered into uncharted and erotic territory, so much so that she nearly fell off when they reached the bottom of the front steps to Wolfbridge.

  Giles was there, of course, with the door wide open awaiting her return.

  “The plan worked?” He hurried down to Adalyn.

  “Exactly as we anticipated,” she nodded.

  “Come then.” He lifted her from Jeremy and Trick’s improvised transportation. “Let’s get you inside and into the Rose room with as much fuss as we can. There are one or two maids still finishing up and we need their story to back up the farmers’.”

  Settling comfortably into Giles’s arms, she nodded. “Thank you Jeremy. Trick. I think we have all accomplished what we set out to do.”

  Trick walked back down the stairs. He would return to the horse field and if he saw any lingerers, he’d share the broken heel story with them. “Rest up now, my Lady,” he called loudly. “No weight on that ankle.”

  She waved in reply and let Giles take her inside.

  Jeremy followed, slipping into his worried footman pose and scurrying around to make the path to the Rose room as easy as possible for Giles and his precious burden.

  Adalyn leaned into Giles’s chest, sighing with pleasure. “Are you all right?” He whispered as he glanced down at her. She gave him a quick warm smile. “Oh yes. Very.”

  Daringly, he winked. “Here we are, my Lady.” The overstuffed chair by the fire was the obvious place for a lady with a broken ankle. “Now, let Jeremy here take a look at your injury.”

  There was a tiny noise outside the door, and she guessed whoever was there listened to the conversation. So as Jeremy began to untie the laces on her damaged boot, she managed a quick sound of pain.

  “My Lady,” said Jeremy, also a bit louder than usual. “I am sorry. Did I hurt you? I must remove your boot…”

  “No…no,” she said plaintively, managing a little quiver. “It is tender though. My fault entirely.”

  Giles leaned over. “There is some swelling, there,” he said, his voice firm. “I shall fetch tea, Ma’am, and perhaps some cold cloths will help.”

  “That would be lovely, Giles, thank you.” Adalyn allowed her voice to fade away, in contrast to the wide smile crossing her face at the play-acting.

  “Now, my Lady, let’s see if we can make you more comfortable.”

  As Giles left the room, Jeremy removed her boot and cradled her foot in his hands. It was quiet but for the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.

  “I should remove your stocking.” His fingers danced over her calf and upward.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, you should.”

  Her dress moved as his hand kept its northward journey, finding the ties to her garter and pulling them free. But instead of pulling down the white stocking, he moved closer and touched her thigh, bare and sensitive, running his fingertips over it until she squirmed, the delicious sensation both shocking and arousing.

  Kneeling beside her chair, Jeremy locked his gaze on her face as he touched her, reaching the top of her thigh as she gasped.

  “Don’t close your eyes, Adalyn,” he whispered. “Just feel…”

  And her breath all but left her lungs as he found his way between her thighs to the soft hair and the damp, heated folds of flesh beneath.

  “Jeremy,” she whispered as his blue eyes remained fixed on hers. “Oh, Jeremy…”

  The strangest feelings made her shiver, her pulse raced, and she found it hard to restrain herself from parting her legs to encourage his plundering fingers…

  But the clink of dishes recalled them both, and Jeremy pulled away, straightening her skirts and resting her foot on a low stool. “There we are, my Lady. Are you more comfortable?”

  “No,” she breathed. “But my ankle is fine, thank you.”

  The desire in his eyes as he caught her response threatened to overset her completely, so she blinked and looked away.

  Giles appeared with the tea tray just in time and Adalyn settled with tea and blankets, feeling rather pampered and enjoying it even though it came under false pretences.

  A short while later, he returned with an envelope in his hand. “There is a message, my Lady. From Fivetrees.”

  Raising her eyebrows in surprise, she took the missive and unfolded the letter inside. “’Tis from Sir Amery. He has heard of my accident—goodness that was fast,” she flashed an amused glance at Jeremy, “and he wonders if I am well enough to join them this evening, or whether I would rather postpone until a more convenient time.”

  “Ha.” Jeremy snorted. “What he means is a better time for him to try and seduce her into marriage.”

  “That’s as may be, but it does tell us he knows of our little performance.” Adalyn turned to Giles. “I think we should thank him for his concern, but assure him I am well enough to dine with him, although I may leave a little early.” She shrugged. “Will that do, do you think?”

  Giles smiled. “Very nicely indeed, my Lady. Very nicely indeed.”

  ~~~~~

  It seemed that Adalyn had barely finished her tea, and enjoyed a light lunch—appropriate for a lady recovering from an injury—when it was time to consider her attire for her evening’s outing.

  Thanks to her attentive gentlemen, her wardrobe was expanding, slowly but surely. So for this evening she had chosen a dark grey heavy silk, modestly cut, with long sleeves and a lovely piece of beadworked embroidery on the bodice. There was a white lace chemise to cover her décolletage, tied with a matching grey ribbon at her neck and the cuffs were edged with the same white lace.

  It was elegant, suitable for her status as a widow since she preferred not to wear black, and clearly not the kind of gown a woman would wear to entice anyone.

  Her shoes were dark and sensible, and one ankle swathed in a bulge of bandages beneath her stocking. A smart cane completed her ensemble, and she had taken half an hour out of her toilette to learn how to walk with it and not look too silly.

  Jeremy had come to her aid, since this gown laced at the back.

  She knew that this was a man who made his feelings clear, not by words so much as by deeds.

  He’d pinned her hair for her, tidying the loose strands and while doing so she felt the slightest touch of his lips on her neck.

  Her shiver of delight had made him smile, but he said nothing, simply turning to the gown and lacing it over the chemise. If his hands brushed her now and again, well, accidents will happen. She leaned back to see if any more might occur.

  He was so close to her that the merest breath would bring their bodies together and she could not help taking that breath, finding his warmth a comfort.

  “Will you be all right, tonight, Adalyn?”

  She let herself relax fully against him. “Trick will be there, Jeremy. Of course I’ll be all right.”

  “I hope so.” He turned them to her mirror. “You are so beautiful. How will Sir Amery be able to restrain his impulses?”

/>   “The only thing he wants from me is Wolfbridge. My beauty, such as it is, has nothing to do with it.”

  “You are wrong.” His arms slid around her and she watched him touch his lips to her shoulder. “Your beauty can inflame and inspire a man to do rash things…”

  She fought with herself—and lost. “Like what?”

  His hands moved, curving, shifting upward until they held her breasts, lifting them.

  “Like this.” He cupped her, then let his thumbs brush over the tender peaks, budding beneath her bodice.

  “God,” she kept her cry muffled, but it was a cry nonetheless. Her nipples had taken on a life of their own and were sending darts of lightning arrowing down through her body to the centre of her desire between her thighs.

  “Jeremy,” she choked, “that feels…ahh…”

  Her head fell back as she pushed her breasts further into his hands. Behind her she could feel his hips, pressing his hardness into her bottom. It was erotic, arousing and she wished with her entire being that she did not have to make this damned visit.

  She wanted to stay right where she was. In her bedchamber. With Jeremy.

  Sadly, it was not to be. Jeremy’s chest rose and fell with a sigh and he slowly withdrew from his daring caress of her breasts.

  “Your beauty is unsurpassed, Adalyn. Do not ever underestimate the power you have over mere men.”

  She struggled for breath. “Jeremy…I…”

  He put a finger on her lips. “Hush. Time to go to your party, my Lady.”

  “I…I don’t want to go…” Realising she sounded like a petulant child, Adalyn shook her head. “But I know I have to. I’m sorry.”

  “Do not apologise. I cannot apologise either. You have stolen my heart, Adalyn. Your beauty, your charm, your innocent and giving nature…you’ve brought light back into my soul. There is nothing I can say or do that will ever come close to matching what you’ve given me.”

  She turned and touched his face. “Dear Jeremy. You and the others surround me with such deep affections. There are no words to thank you for that. ’Tis all I could ever want.”

  “Then let us brave your dragon, my Lady.”

  “With my weapons to hand,” she reached for her cane.

  “There is your sword. Trick will be your shield.”

  She nodded. “I am ready. But I could wish it were already over.”

  He touched her hand briefly. “As do I.”

  “Will you help me when I return?”

  Jeremy’s face flushed. “It will be up to Giles. But if I can…”

  She knew what she was asking, and trembled inwardly at her outrageous suggestion. But her time spent at Wolfbridge had already awakened a side of her that craved the touch of a man’s hand, a man’s lips…

  And now that craving was growing to a need, a desire that could not remain unfulfilled for much longer.

  Trick helped her into the gig, then leaped onto the seat next to her as Giles tucked a blanket around her knees, and she wondered if the other Wolfbridge women had been treated to such a display of kindness, attention and sensual affection.

  If so, had they chosen just one of their gentlemen or had they, as Mrs. Barnsley so aptly suggested…tried them all?

  It was a question that kept her thinking during the short journey to Fivetrees.

  But upon their arrival, she pushed it to the back of her mind. The drive up to the house was quite impressive, given what she could see in the faint light of dusk. Lights blazed, and the square solid facade of the building was accentuated with tall columns nearly reaching the roof.

  A sound attracted her attention upward as Trick lifted her from the gig, and she caught sight of a flag fluttering over one wing.

  Doubtless it was the Fairhurst crest, and it signalled Sir Amery was in residence.

  Good lord, the man had a very high opinion of himself…that was for sure. She would need all her wits about her this evening, even with Trick’s presence.

  He carried her gently up the steps to the door, where Sir Amery appeared to welcome her.

  “Dear Lady Adalyn, you have arrived. An accident, I heard? How terrible…and yet you have still done me the honour of accepting my invitation, and here you are on my doorstep. A miracle indeed. Won’t you come in?”

  Thus bid, she nodded and crossed his threshold in Trick’s arms. She had entered the lair of Sir Amery Fairhurst.

  Chapter Eleven

  The mansion that comprised the seat of the Fairhurst estate was as intimidating as one might imagine. And the interior reflected the elegant and stifling superiority of the owner himself.

  Clad in scrupulously correct evening garb, Sir Amery’s cravat was a thing of beauty, rising in waves of flawless linen folds above a waistcoat that borrowed heavily from some long-past Chinese dynasty. His hallway was also rather overwhelming, with an abundance of dark wood panels, beams that criss-crossed the ceiling and a fireplace that could have roasted not only an ox, but several sheep and more than a few chickens, all at the same time.

  The floor shone, the servants’ buttons were buffed and polished to a fare-the-well, and the whole picture was so intimidating Adalyn wondered if she was terribly underdressed for the evening.

  While trying to phrase an appropriate response to the florid welcome, Judith Fairhurst appeared, setting Adalyn’s mind at rest. Her gown was also stylish, but much less so than her surroundings.

  “Dear Lady Adalyn,” she smiled shyly as she crossed the hall and dropped a quick curtsey. “I am so glad you could join us.”

  “As am I, Miss Fairhurst. I was about to thank your uncle for the honour of an invitation.” She returned Judith’s smile and turned to Sir Amery. “I must also express my gratitude for your kind note of earlier today, Sir Amery. Fortunately, as you see, other than my needing this cane and my trusty helper—” she threw a quick glance at Trick, “I am able to move around reasonably well.”

  “We are thrilled to hear it, Lady Adalyn. Let us celebrate with a little sherry before dinner. Can I tempt you?” He gave her a warm look, his eyes drifting over her gown in a way she found slightly disconcerting.

  “How lovely.” Before he could extend his arm, Trick was at her side. “Ma’am.” He picked her up without further ado.

  “Oh my,” whispered Judith. “What a helpful servant.”

  “My Lady is not to put weight on her ankle if she can avoid it, Miss,” said Trick respectfully. “I have my orders from Mr. Giles.”

  “It is easier this way,” added Adalyn. “The cane is for support, should I need to stand for more than a moment or two…but moving around…” she paused and tilted her head toward Trick, “this has proved to be the most effective method.”

  “Well, in that case,” harrumphed Sir Amery. “Follow me.”

  To say he strode away in irritation would be overstating matters, but Adalyn felt a quick squeeze from one of Trick’s hands and knew he had interpreted the situation just as she had. Sir Amery was not best pleased.

  Judith walked beside them, chattering about mundane topics and asking Adalyn if she was using a poultice on her ankle.

  Such kind inquiry warranted a like response, and so the two young women arrived in the parlour in mutual harmony with each other.

  “Judith, do stop your inane prattle. Lady Adalyn must not be burdened so early in our evening.” Sir Amery poured the amber liquid into sparkling crystal glasses. “My Lady?”

  Trick set her down and handed her the cane, bowing and retreating to the side of the room, where he stood still with his hands crossed low in front of him. The perfect servant. She seated herself.

  Sir Amery paid him no attention at all, but poured a glass for Adalyn.

  She accepted it with a polite smile as he brought it to her chair. “I thank you, Sir. Most kind.”

  He passed one to Judith without comment, then turned back to Adalyn. “It is a pleasure to see you here in this setting, my dear. I have long awaited a guest whose beauty would outshine her surroundi
ngs, and here you are.” He raised his glass to her.

  She knew she should have been flattered, but all she wanted to do was laugh at the effusive encomium. However, with effort, she managed to nod in acceptance of his compliments.

  “You are too kind, Sir Amery. As if anyone could outshine such an intriguing room. Pray tell me, sir. The lady over the fireplace—a beautiful portrait indeed. An ancestor perhaps?”

  Nothing loth, he launched into a detailed description of both the lady—a Fairhurst great aunt—and the technique of the painter, who Adalyn had never heard of. Since the subject herself had a formidable nose, a fierce expression and a dog on her lap whose eyes bulged more than they should have, Adalyn could only school her features to reflect a fascination she did not feel.

  “I believe poor Pudgy passed on shortly after this portrait was painted,” observed Judith.

  Adalyn’s keen hearing caught the merest hint of a choked snort from Trick. She gulped, and attempted sympathy. “How sad. But a wonderful remembrance. You must be very proud of your lineage, Sir Amery. To be able to trace it back so far…”

  “Well,” he tried to look modest. “One does what one can to keep the name going.”

  “Indeed,” she nodded.

  What he was about to say, she had no idea, but the gleam that had entered his eyes when speaking of keeping the line going was enough to warn her she might not like it. Fortunately, the butler chose that moment to appear with a small gong.

  “Sir Amery,” the man bowed. “Dinner is served.”

  “Very good. Thank you Wandsworth.”

  Although Trick moved toward Adalyn, she shook her head at him. She wanted to make an obvious point of her injury without alienating anyone, and Trick’s readiness to sweep her into his arms might be a little too much for this moment.

  So she slowly made her way with the help of her cane and Sir Amery’s arm. Since she was planning on leaving as soon as she could, she felt it was the least she could do to maintain an illusion of politeness and courtesy.

  She allowed him to seat her, smiling her thanks, grateful that a smaller table had been set, and the three of them were able to converse comfortably and not avoid either overflowing épergnes or massive candelabras.