“As in why I am here?”
“Precisely,” he nodded. “Although that story begins a hundred or so years ago.”
Adalyn smiled. “Giles told me much of it in the carriage. About the first Lady Wolfbridge.”
“Indeed. Well, not to repeat the tale, but to add to it—you now have control over the house and lands. If it matters at all, our records indicate you are the twelfth such lady to call Wolfbridge Manor home since the inception of its unusual situation.”
Adalyn digested his words, then shook her head. “I cannot fathom such kindness,” she said. “I can only thank the original Lady Wolfbridge, wherever she may be, and pray that she knows because of her, I am not out on the streets of London. Something that seemed all too close to being my only option.”
“There was no mention of anything for you in your late husband’s will?” Daniel tilted his head to one side.
“No,” she replied. “It wasn’t even a se’nnight after our marriage when his heart failed him. I’m sure he hadn’t yet thought of changing any of the details of his will.”
Silence fell for a few moments, and she looked down at her folded hands. How calmly she could say that now. And yet it was so soon after his passing.
“If I may be forgiven a personal question, Ma’am,” Daniel spoke gently. “Was his Lordship a kind husband?”
Adalyn swallowed. How should that best be answered? It was not in her nature to lie, but she’d also learned at an early age to keep her own counsel. She raised her head and met his warm gaze.
“Since he is the only husband I’ve had, I cannot really compare him to others,” she said, a slight smile curving her lips. “But to be honest, Daniel, I do not believe his behaviour would qualify him for that description.” She sighed. “And I have the bruises to prove it.”
The words were out before she realised it, and Daniel knelt beside her chair the next instant, leaping from his seat in a move so fast she barely registered it.
Reaching for her hands, he clasped them in his. “He hit you?”
The emotions in his eyes caught her attention. As if anger and pain were warring each other behind those amber whiskey colours.
“I should not have mentioned it,” she whispered. “Please. That must remain a private matter between me and my late husband.”
His grip tightened as he separated her hands, raising the back of one to his lips. “You can rely upon my discretion, dear lady.” He pressed a kiss to her skin, then turned her hand over and pressed another to her wrist.
A tiny shiver danced over her flesh, tripping down her spine and warming places low in her body. She fought the urge to reach out with her free hand and run it through the thick black hair that showed an inclination to curl around his neck and face. It was cut short, probably to curtail that tendency to cherubic locks.
To her surprise, he rubbed his cheek against her hand, then rose. “I cannot countenance violence against women, my Lady. There are reasons why, and they will never lessen. I ask your forgiveness if I was too forward, but my emotions were aroused.”
“Not at all, Daniel.” She closed her eyes for a moment or two, gathering her muddled thoughts. “Your attentions were most comforting. And in truth, I have not been used to receiving such courtesies, either during my brief tenure as Lady Wilkerson, or before, as plain Adalyn Chichester.”
He smiled then, and it was as if the sun had come out right there in the study.
“You will receive many courtesies from now on, my Lady. Rest assured of that.”
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About the Author
British born and bred, Sahara Kelly has enjoyed writing and reading Regency romances for many decades, beginning in her childhood with books by Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer and Barbara Cartland.
Arriving in America with her almost-complete collection of Leslie Charteris’ Saint novels, all the original James Bond paperbacks, and a passion for Monty Python, Sahara’s new life eventually expanded to include a husband, offspring, citizenship, and a certain amount of acclimation to her new surroundings.
She never quite managed to attain a level of comfort with the American way of spelling, however, and creating a Regency novel offers challenges in that regard. So you’ll see words that British readers will recognize, but American readers might perhaps find unusual. It’s a choice… should one write an English romance using English spelling? Sahara has come around to that belief. She can now enjoy the extra “u” which has always seemed so colourful…
After more than two decades of writing for the digital market as well as for print, Sahara is now enjoying the greater freedom offered to authors by the rapidly expanding self-publishing scene, and looking forward to many more such experiences.
Being freed of external controlling restraints has opened doors—for Sahara and many other writers. There are now no impediments; no obstructions barring the path from writer to reader. Which is, in many ways, exactly as originally intended when that first storyteller sat on a rock outside her cave, tugged her bearskin around her shoulders and smiled at her kids across the open fire with the words “Once upon a time...” (or however it sounded several million years ago.)
To find out more about Sahara Kelly and her writing, please drop by her website and visit her at:
Sahara Kelly’s website
This is where Sahara shares none of the intimate details of her life but will present you with a list of books she'd
