She choked back her amusement. “Let me explain.”
“I think you’d better.”
“I need an excuse to have someone with me or near me at all times on Friday night. Even if he’s desperate to get his hands on Wolfbridge, Giles agrees that it would be most unlikely he’d risk any kind of scandal to achieve it. If I have a—a guardian, shall we say, by my side…it would assure my security.”
Trick nodded. “True. He’d be unable to compromise you, or even hint at such a thing were you in the presence of one of us.”
“Exactly. But I cannot just appear and demand my footman accompany me everywhere. Were I a dowager or someone of high ranking, I might get away with such a thing and have it marked down to the eccentricity of the very rich and powerful. But I’m not. So we must be creative and find another way.”
Trick’s gaze narrowed. “And I’m thinking a nasty sprained ankle might be just the thing?”
She nodded. “Hence my request for your help with my tumble.”
He paused. “I’m going to hope you’re looking for a pretend tumble. I’ll not be part of anything that might actually result in an injury to you, Adalyn. I’ll say that straight to you.”
“Nor would I ask it, Trick.” She resisted the urge to touch him, even though the warmth and concern in his voice had stirred something inside her. “’Twill all be pretence. I shall apparently require use of a Bath chair for a few days, or someone to assist me in moving around.”
“Should it not be Giles or Jeremy?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face.
“Giles thinks not. Both of them have interacted with Sir Amery on more than a few occasions. He might sense some antipathy from them, after his vain attempts to secure Wolfbridge from my predecessor.”
“Giles has the right of it,” he agreed.
“So given that your association with Fivetrees has been minimal, you seem to be the best candidate. He will know of you, but not your nature. And you’re a force to be reckoned with, Trick,” she grinned. “I doubt Sir Amery would wish to arouse your ire.”
He smiled at that, a darkly wicked look that threatened to take Adalyn’s breath right out of her lungs. “He’d better not.”
“So what do you think of the plan?” She finished her tea and put the cup back down on the saucer. “Is it feasible? Will it do to persuade Sir Amery that I am not going to be bullied or persuaded by anything he can do?”
“It will be a start,” demurred Trick, rising from the table.
She stood as well. “A start?”
He nodded. “I’ve heard things. The man has a reputation hereabouts. He’s not well-liked, but he’s fair to his tenants and staff. Single minded as well, they say. And yes, it’s no secret he has a strong desire to be Master of Wolfbridge as well as Fivetrees, and that particular goal has been a thorn beneath his saddle for many years. I recall him trying to court Lady Panthea. She’d have none of it, so eventually I think he gave up. You, on the other hand,” he paused.
“Yes? Me what?”
Trick held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to draw her near as they stood beside the table. “You, cariad, have an aura of innocence that makes a man lose his head and drown in his own desires.”
She swallowed. “I don’t…”
“Yes you do.” His free hand reached for her and he drew a fingertip over her lips, a caress that sent the blood rushing through Adalyn’s body and lightning bolts arrowing down to between her thighs.
“Ohhh,” she sighed against his touch.
“Yes, just like that,” he groaned. “I have to let you leave, Adalyn, but God alone knows how much I don’t want to.”
“I-I-”
“Shh.” He drew her against him. “One more taste, cariad. Just one more…”
She could not have stopped him for the world. She did not want to stop him, because at this moment it seemed essential that she experience the sensation of his mouth on hers again.
His arm slipped around her waist and in a flash she was pressed against him, his body hard and so warm, so pleasing, crushing her breasts in the most breathtaking manner.
Heat rose within Adalyn, a searing flash of need that shook her to her eyebrows. She desperately wanted to be kissed, to find some way to release the flood of what she was coming to recognise as desire.
As if he read her thoughts, Trick slipped his free hand behind her neck, beneath the neat chignon, and gripped her, a firm touch that made her gasp.
“I love those sounds,” he whispered, his breath against her lips. “Those tiny gasps…God, Adalyn, you fire my soul…”
And with that he kissed her.
No tender brush of skin this time. It was a bold, demanding kiss, lasting but a few seconds before his tongue probed her, urging her to open for him and allow him in.
All her instincts were compelling her to obey and so she did, parting her lips and welcoming the intrusion.
With that, he drew her even closer, his hand sliding down from her waist to her bottom, grasping it firmly and pressing their bodies together. The hard maleness of him thrust against her stomach and as his tongue moved sensually within her mouth, she moaned, a soft long sound of yearning.
Her arms were already around him and she felt the softness of his hair beneath her fingers.
More. She wanted more.
Her breasts ached, but not to be free. If only he would ease the ache with his hands, to find her skin and grasp it, take handfuls of her body and use it as he pleased.
But it was not to be.
With a tiny shudder, Trick drew back. His face was flushed with colour, his eyelids heavy, and his lips swollen as she knew hers must
