Lady Adalyn (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 1)
Page 17
Adalyn thought about it, and realised that good solid hard work would be an excellent way to take her mind off her worries. “I’ll go and change.”
“Wait…wear breeches…”
Her eyes opened wide. “Pardon?”
“A skirt is going to get filthy, plus get in your way. Here…come with me.” He tugged her upstairs to his quarters. “They’ll be big on you, but they are much too small for me.” He passed her a pair of soft buckskins from one of his cupboards.
She took them, looking around at the modest but comfortable room. Jeremy had made it his own, with plenty of books, a couple of branches of candles, and a large chair by the little fireplace.
She smiled at the thought of him reading there at night. “This is a nice room.”
“I like it,” he replied. “It’s smaller than the others, but it’s exactly what I need.”
“And your books…”
“From the library. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Good Lord, of course not. I’m glad they’re being used.”
“Right then. Here’s a shirt that never fit me, so if you can wear that and put something around it all to keep it together, we’ll see if there’s an old pair of boots somewhere. Then you’ll be the perfect stable boy.” He grinned.
Her spirits lifting, she nodded. “I’ll tie my hair out of the way too.”
“Excellent. I’ll be downstairs checking on the boots.”
They separated outside his door, Jeremy to the hall and the large cupboard holding an assortment of outerwear gathered over the years, and Adalyn to her room to change into the unusual clothing.
She tentatively pulled up the breeches and tucked the edges of the loose shirt into the waist. It needed a tie of some sort, so she dug around in her bureau and found a length of ribbon that served to keep everything in place. An old riding jacket that Trick had turned up for her a few weeks ago, topped the ensemble, and she held it to her for a moment, closing her eyes and praying that he was all right.
He’d hadn’t had the chance to teach her to ride yet. She felt tears, but then she lifted her chin and reminded herself that she could not control today, but she could still look forward to tomorrow and believe all would be well. She would try. It wouldn’t be perfect until Trick was back home at Wolfbridge but she would not mourn his loss, just his temporary absence.
Pushing all her troubling thoughts to the back of her mind and feeling quite odd in the breeches, she picked her way downstairs in stockinged feet with her boots in her hand. They were leather, and not suitable for stable work, without question.
Fortunately, Jeremy had triumphed. “I knew I’d seen them somewhere.” He held up a pair of ladies’ boots that had seen better days, but were sturdy and still had their laces. “And no mice living in them either.”
She had been reaching for them but her hand fell back as he spoke and she instinctively stepped away.
He chuckled. “I can assure you we have very few mice, Adalyn. Just a jest to make you smile.”
She gave him a mock serious frown. “Jeremy. Do not ever do that again.” Then she grinned and took the boots from him, sitting on a small bench to put them on. “A bit large, but I’ll manage.”
“You look very nice in my breeches,” he added, a wicked light in his eye.
“Thank you. I think.” She stood and wriggled her toes. “I’m not sure about all of this, but it will be good to know we’re doing something for Trick.” Her fears returned. “I hope Daniel and Giles are all right. Do you think they’ve arrived yet?”
He glanced at the clock. “I truly cannot tell. A lot depends on how bad the roads are at the moment. With luck, they’ve had a good solid ride along dry lanes, but we can only guess.” He held out his palm. “Come on. Let’s get to the stables and take care of our horses. For Trick…”
“For Trick,” she nodded and took his hand, allowing him to lead her out of the front door and around the house. They walked silently down the path to the stables, Adalyn aching as she realised Trick wouldn’t be there with some lighthearted jest or a welcoming smile for her.
Two of the stalls were empty—Giles and Daniel had taken those mounts—and the remaining ones housed a large gelding she recognised as the one that pulled their gig, another dark brown lad with a white blaze, and an older mare, a gentle lady who whickered softly at her as she entered the stall.
“Hallo there,” Adalyn stroked the long nose that sniffed around her shoulder.
“That’s Maggie,” said Jeremy over the wooden wall that separated the stalls. “She’s a darling. Very even-tempered, a stately lady who likes nothing better than plodding over the fields with one of our small ploughs. Rain or shine, she’s always happy for a slow walk, and she'll pull the gig now and again if she has to. Sometimes these other two are needed for the carriage.”
“What a good girl.” Adalyn patted her neck. “What shall I do, Jeremy?”
“On the shelf there you’ll find some grooming tools. There should be a curry comb and a dandy brush?”
“Um, there may well be, but since I don’t quite know what those are…” Adalyn stared at an assortment of instruments that looked foreign to her unschooled eyes.
Jeremy shook his head. “I apologise. Use the one with the brown handle. She’ll love that if you just brush her gently with it. Stay clear of her eyes and nose, and don’t press too hard…”
Adalyn did as she was bid, soon finding that such work was both soothing and easy. The smell of horses, hay and old wood, mixed with a touch of leather was unique but not unpleasant. She stroked Maggie’s coat to a shine, then gingerly took on her mane, easing the tangles free with a delicate hand.
“There, girl, now look how pretty you are, eh?” Crooning softly, she let her thoughts drift, relaxing into the rhythm of the task.
Maggie seemed to enjoy it as well, turning so that Adalyn could administer the same loving strokes to both sides.
From the other stall, she could hear Jeremy shovelling straw around and occasionally taking a barrow load out of the stable.
Time passed, and he looked over the wall. “Let’s change sides? I need to clean Maggie’s stall and this chap would welcome a nice brush, I’m sure.”
She saw the sweat on his face and noted that he’d taken off his coat. His shirt was damp. “I’ve a better idea. Let me start cleaning here, and you begin to give the lad a good brush.”
“No, Adalyn,” answered Jeremy. “’Tis hard going.”
“I need something to put my back into. And how hard is it to fork soiled straw into the barrow and then lay down fresh?”
He looked uncertain.
“Please? I’ll tether Maggie outside for a bit, so I won’t run any risks. And if it’s too difficult, I will tell you.”
“Promise?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Of course,” she lied.
And so the Lady of Wolfbridge picked up her pitchfork and shovelled soiled straw into an empty wheelbarrow, while clad in a man’s breeches, an old shirt and boots that were a little too large for her.
Feeling the muscles moving in her back did Adalyn good. It had been some time since she’d done anything as physical as this, and being used to scrubbing floors, cleaning furniture and living an energetic—if tiring—life, the sensation was not unpleasant.
Her thoughts wandered as she worked.
“Jeremy, what are you going to do about Miss Brockford?” The question popped out of her mouth, more a thought than a question, but it seemed so natural to ask as they toiled side by side in the stalls.
“I’m not planning on doing anything, Adalyn,” he answered. “I do hope she can move forward. I cannot take responsibility for her, although I understand the two of us share a difficult incident that shaped both our lives.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” She heaved another forkful onto the barrow. “This one’s done.” She grabbed the handles and worked it out of the door toward the muck pile at the back of the stables. She kne
w that it would be spread over the fields as fertiliser. Nothing went to waste on a farm. Not even the waste.
She was proud of her accomplishments, even though before half an hour had passed she was feeling the muscles of her arms and shoulders.
As if he could read her mind, Jeremy came into the stall and quietly took the fork from her, giving her the curry comb instead. “Finish him, Adalyn. You’ve done enough of the hard lifting for today.”
Wiping the back of her hand across her forehead, she nodded. “I’m afraid you may be right.” She’d shed her coat and once she stopped moving, the chill air made the damp fabric cling. She shivered and put her coat back on.
The tasks were finally finished less than an hour later, and both Jeremy and Adalyn returned to the Manor feeling they’d accomplished what they set out to do. Walking in through the kitchen entrance, both stopped to remove their boots before stepping inside.
“Good lord,” said Evan, as they stepped barefoot into his domain. “What on earth have you two been doing? Mucking out the stables?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact we did,” answered Adalyn proudly.
“Trick’s not here to do it,” added Jeremy.
Evan closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “An excellent thought, although Giles will probably have your hide for making Adalyn work.” He glanced at her. “Are you all right? He didn’t make you really muck out the stables, did he?”
She lifted her chin. “No, he didn’t. I made him let me do it.” She took a breath. “I needed to do something for Trick, Evan. And yes, I mostly groomed the horses, but I needed a turn at the mucking out. Fair is fair.”
He shook his head. “I’ll heat water. You’ll need to soak your muscles.”
“Good idea,” said Jeremy. “Adalyn, go upstairs and get out of those clothes…we’ll draw your bath for you.”
She stared at the two of them, still astounded that such men could care so much for her well-being. Then she nodded. “All right.” She walked to her room, trying to comprehend the idea of a bath with the two of them present.
The shiver that ran over her skin had nothing to do with her still-damp shirt.
Scarcely had she slipped into her robe than they arrived at her door with several large buckets of hot water. The light was fading, so she lit the candles as Jeremy retrieved a tub from one cupboard and set it before the fire that Evan had stoked to a comfortable blaze.
Within moments the tub was filled and she stared at it longingly.
Evan retrieved cloths and a bar of soap. “Come along, Adalyn. In with you.” He stood ready to help her.
“Er…” She looked at the two of them.
“Would you prefer we turn our backs?” Jeremy’s smile was gentle, but with an undertone of something more than humour.
“Yes. Definitely yes,” she answered.
They obligingly turned away as she unfastened her robe and stepped into the tub, sighing with pleasure as she settled down into the comforting warmth. “Ahhh, so good.”
“There’s nothing better.” Jeremy startled her by rolling up his sleeves and kneeling behind her.
She slithered down beneath the water, but it was to no avail. As Jeremy unpinned her hair, Evan picked up the soap and a small cloth, and without further ado began to wash her, scenting the room with lavender.
Struck dumb, all she could do was close her eyes and let them administer to her.
She should be screaming, she knew. She should at least protest and try to hide herself from their view.
But she did neither of those things, because she wanted their hands on her. She realised her shoulders were tense but as Jeremy gently lathered her hair, the tight muscles eased. Other parts of her ached, but as Evan washed her legs, her calves felt lighter. His hands and the washcloth roamed over her, and no part of her was omitted from his ministrations.
When Evan reached her hips, Jeremy’s hands slipped from her head down to her neck—and further. The two men worked as if by a single direction, washing her most intimate flesh and caressing her breasts at the same time.
She sighed, gasped and then moaned…unable to resist the seductive persuasion of their attentions. Evan’s hand replaced the washcloth and he stroked her mound, touching places that responded with exquisite heat, especially when Jeremy flicked nipples that had hardened into taut buds.
Her back arched involuntarily and water splashed as she writhed and spread her thighs as wide as she could in lascivious invitation to Evan’s hand and fingers.
Two men, four hands, slippery skin and an unquenchable desire for release—Adalyn was drowning, but not in the water of her bathtub.
She was drowning in sensations, in the extraordinary feel of Evan’s fingers as he slid one, and then another into her body. It was amazing, arousing and so much more wonderful than she could ever have imagined.
As if obeying the baton of a conductor, both men touched her in concert, playing with the most agonisingly sensitive flesh, teasing, caressing, even pinching to a point where a scream choked in her throat.
They seemed to know when to touch and when to stroke, and Adalyn gave little thought to the water she might splash all over the place. At last she could take no more and she sobbed out a cry as her world erupted, great shattering spasms of pleasure jarring her body and shutting down her mind.
This. This was what she’d wanted, what she’d craved.
She flew, mindless and blind to everything but the maelstrom of sensations rippling over her.
At last, she eased, sliding back into the now-cool bathtub.
“Adalyn?” Jeremy touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?” He pushed her wet hair to one side and dropped a light kiss beneath her ear.
“Oh God, Jeremy,” she sighed, then lifted her head. “Evan.”
“I’m here, Adalyn.” He was rubbing his fingers over her foot.
“I need to get out now, otherwise I might just sink beneath the water and never come up again.”
Both men chuckled, and within moments they wrapped her in a large cloth that had been warming by the fire.
Jeremy gently dried her hair with a smaller one, and Evan mopped the splashes.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her words falling into the silence. “Thank you both.”
“Our pleasure, Adalyn,” answered Jeremy. “Now here’s your brush. And you’re warm enough here by the fire. Evan and I will empty the tub and then perhaps some dinner?” He glanced at the other man.
“I have a pie baking, and a warming soup. Would you like dinner here? That way you can slip into your nightgown and nobody will know.”
“I think that sounds lovely.” Adalyn stretched her arms wide. “As long as you join me…”
“It would be our pleasure, dearest Adalyn,” smiled Jeremy. “Don’t fall asleep before we return…”
“Oh, I won’t.”
It was a promise she could very easily keep. The thought of sharing an evening with them sent all sorts of exciting tingles through her once again, and she energetically tugged at the tangles in her hair, letting it hang free to dry.
She caught sight of herself in the looking glass as she walked to her bureau.
Yes, that was, without doubt, the reflection of a loose and sensual woman.
And wasn’t it extraordinary?
Dear Diary,
I scarce know where to start - these last few days have been so eventful that sorting it all out in my mind is not an easy task, to be sure. I suppose I should begin with my first foray to our local church, where the sermon was charming, the hymns familiar and I had the delightful honour of being seated in my own Wolfbridge pew, with Giles at my side.
I believe I sat taller and straighter because of those two circumstances; not through pride, but because of my desire to do right by the Wolfbridge reputation.
It was after the service that we were all surprised by a woman who accosted Jeremy. She was a figure from his past, he told us, and he revealed a story I still find hard to believe.
No sooner did we recover from those astonishing tales, than everything turned upside down.
Trick has been arrested in connection with the death of Sir Amery Fairhurst.
I cannot believe I am writing those words, since they seem so outrageously wrong and unjust. Trick has the most honest heart and warmest soul; the mere notion of him poisoning Sir Amery is absurd in the extreme. Even now, Daniel and Giles must be examining the situation with the Lord Lieutenant - they left yesterday afternoon and have yet to return.
I was, and still am, terribly upset by all this, and Jeremy suggested we help Trick in the best way we could by caring for his stables. I agreed, and I’m glad I did, since now I know at least two of the horses there have clean stalls and fresh food and water. I pray Trick will be back soon to take over this job and am determined that should his stay in the Roundhouse be prolonged, I shall visit him and take him some of the things he might need.
How strange it feels to have only two of my gentlemen here at Wolfbridge - as if one of my limbs is missing. It has been so easy to grow accustomed to all four handsome faces smiling at me and with two gone…I am a little lost.
But I must confess that last night, Jeremy and Evan admirably filled the void.
They bathed me, dear Diary. Yes, I was nude before them, naked to their touches and their ministrations. It was - for lack of a better word - amazing, and I’ll admit it eased muscles that had become sore after my brief dally with the world of a stable hand.
I did not imagine life could hold such wonders, and marvelled at the sensations I experienced.
But it did not end there.
Evan brought dinner and Jeremy brought wine. They had both bathed and were in their nightrobes, so we had an informal meal in my chambers, toasting our toes by the fire and listening to the rain as it commenced thundering down on Wolfbridge.