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

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