Lady Adalyn (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 1), Sahara Kelly [the best e book reader .TXT] 📗

She gulped, still tasting him within her mouth, panting for breath and wanting so much more than a simple farewell.

But he was right.

“I know. Forgive me…”

“Stop.” He held up his hand. “I should be begging for your forgiveness, cariad bach. I have acted outrageously…” His gaze fell to her mouth.

“And I liked it, Trick,” she interrupted “Very much. But you are right. I must go.”

He nodded. “I will make plans for your pretend accident, then. Shall you have it on Friday? The day of the dinner?”

“I think so.” She tried to marshal her whirling thoughts. “It would be sensible, since I can mention the pain of it. The swelling might be more noticeable the next day.”

His brows drew together. “If you’re even thinking of showing that man your ankles, Adalyn…”

She laughed and shook her head. “I must leave.”

He walked her to the door and opened it. “Let me go first and make sure you don’t fall.” He chuckled. “Yet.”

“Thank you.”  She followed him carefully down the stairs to the ground. “One question, Trick…”

“Of course.”

“What does that word mean? Cariad?”

“It is a polite compliment. In Welsh.” He smiled, dark eyes crinkling. “It means—sweet lady.”

“How lovely. Well, I thank you.” She walked away, then stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Does it apply to a man as well?”

“It can,” he answered.

“In that case, cariad…I shall see you at dinner.”

She smiled all the way back to the house, wondering what cariad really meant.

Chapter Nine

Adalyn found herself with ample time to turn over the matter of Trick’s kiss in her mind over the next couple of days. By Thursday she had told herself to dismiss it from her thoughts and to be extra-punctilious in her behaviour. But that resolution failed miserably and more than a few hours were spent once again re-living the unparalleled pleasure she’d found in his arms.

She determined to avoid the topic—and the gentleman himself—so took herself off on a walk to the tenant cottages in order to visit Mrs. Barnsley.

Giles had nodded his approval, even though she asked to be allowed to go alone.

“I do know the way now. ’Tis but a short ten-minute stroll, and the weather is not too bad this morning.” She glanced from the window at scudding clouds that permitted an occasional ray of sunshine. “It’s not quite spring yet, but I might be lucky enough to find a snowdrop or two…”

“You need a dog,” mused Giles.

She laughed. “I don’t need a dog, Giles. I just need a walk. And it’s all on Wolfbridge lands…”

He bowed his head in acquiescence. “We cannot keep you sequestered away, that is true. And yes, these are your lands and your pathways. So—although I promise to watch your progress from the rooftop—yes, please enjoy your walk to Mrs. Barnsley’s cottage.” He sighed. “I shall worry.”

Adalyn rested a hand on his arm and leaned against him, relishing the comfort and familiarity of his distinct scent. “I know. And it’s rather nice.”

Thus an hour or so later, a small figure could be spied making her way along the lane toward the tenant cottages. Adalyn wanted to skip with delight at her freedom; although she was growing to cherish strong affections for all her gentlemen, there were times when the company of the breeze and the songs of the birds were sufficient, and this was one of them.

She glanced down along the side of the lane and gave a little happy whoop at the sight of primroses presenting their pale yellow faces to the sun. Shortly thereafter, she strolled with a tiny bouquet of the cheerful blooms, holding them to her nose now and again, and breathing in their delicious perfume.

Truly, spring might well be on the way.

Which reminded her of how far she had come since she’d taken the first eventful step into Wolfbridge Manor. And also raised the question of what she was to do with the estate. Keeping it functioning was not as hard as she’d expected, since everything worked like clockwork, thanks to the management skills of its staff. Given the small number of residents, it was no surprise.

But she was the Mistress now. She should be thinking about making her own contribution, something that would live on through the next Mistress and the ones that would come after that.

Twirling her little posy, she turned the corner and walked up the narrow road to Mrs. Barnsley’s cottage. As always, the chimney was smoking, sending puffs into the sky. Adalyn wondered what she was baking, if anything.

The ancient brass door knocker sounded a healthy clang, and she waited for her summons to be answered. A minute or so later, the door opened and a blue eye peered around it from the shadows inside. “Yes?”

Adalyn blinked. “Hullo. I’m from the Manor. Would Mrs. Barnsley be at home?”

“Oh my.” The eye blinked back and a few locks of fair hair waved in the breeze. “Can you wait a minute? I’ll get Ma.” The door closed.

Since it was sheltered on the doorstep, and the sun was weak but warming, Adalyn simply did as she was bid, and waited.

It wasn’t long before she heard yelling, and almost immediately the door opened once more. “Ma says to come in and I’m sorry I shut the door in your face, but I wasn’t to know you were Lady Adalyn, now, was I?”

Half-startled half-bemused, Adalyn just shook her head and smiled. “Of course not. It is always wise to know who is requesting entrance to your home.” She held out her hand. “I am indeed Adalyn Wilkerson.”

“You are most welcome, my Lady.” The woman didn’t seem to know if she should take Adalyn’s hand or not so she touched it and curtseyed at the same time.

Which was quite clever, mused Adalyn, as she stepped further inside and then got her first real look at this stranger.

Slim and fair, the girl—for surely she could not have been much older—had the look of