Read Online The Alpha's Willing Captive (Historical Paranormal Werebear Steamy Romance) by Nikki Wild - Free Book Online
Authors: Nikki Wild
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The Alpha’s Willing Captive
Delia lifted her chin high and tried to disguise the trembling in her fingers. "I am not used to walking on such unsteady ground," she declared, loftily. "I am afraid the roots will snag my ankles."
Tristan eyed her from beneath the lock of hair that had loosened itself from the strip of leather that caught his dark locks behind his head. "I would be honored to help you, my lady," he growled, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips as he reached out his hand to hers.
"I am sure you would, you filthy animal," she said tightly.
In two steps, both men were upon her, eyes blazing. "You are wrong about the filthy bit, my lady," Byrn growled low, his eyes raking across her chest. "But you are correct about us being animals."
*****
When Cordelia Wainwright took it in her head to do something, it was a well-known fact that nothing could stop her. In fact, she prided herself on the tales of her stubbornness. If the bankers, and solicitors and merchants around Devon-on-Highwater wanted to believe the widow Wainwright was difficult to deal with, well then it just made it easier for her to get what she wanted. Other women could try to simper their way through life with genteel manners and practiced curtsies. She was not one to waste time with such notions.
So when her sister, the Lady Lollsworth, delivered a squalling new niece into the world, and Delia decided it was high time she pay her a visit, there was no changing her mind. Never mind that no escort was available for at least a fortnight. Never mind that the highwaymen seemed especially active this season. It was time for her to go pay her respects to her sister and dandle her new niece on her knee, and nothing could dissuade her from that notion.
"Will my lady be needing anything else?"
Delia looked up from her letter-writing and smiled at Ginny. Her serving girl was a bright-eyed, pretty young thing and always seemed eager to please. The prospect of a journey had brought some much needed color to her pale, freckled cheeks. If anything, she seemed almost as excited as Delia.
"Thank you Ginny, tell Stevens to bring the horses round at ten."
Ginny curtsied quickly and fairly ran off to speak with the stableboy. Delia looked at the timepiece on the wall. Half past the hour. She would put the letter in the post on her journey out of Devon. It should reach her sister in due time.
She stood up from her desk and looked around the room. Once she was gone, she would have the servants bar off this wing of the estate. No use having them dust and heat the area while it wasn't in use. Delia was practical above all things.
Her riding clothes were hung out for an airing. She looked forward to wearing the looser corset and the less voluminous skirts that came with it. That was her main reason for wanting to take her own horse rather than have Stevens drive the coach. She could see the countryside and inhale the fine spring air rather than be cooped up in the smelly wagon that always stank of horseshit no matter how Stevens scrubbed it.
Ginny would be riding with her. The serving girl's horse was a dappled mare, a gentle beast used to carrying heavy burdens. They would only be carrying a valise between them, just enough to ride without needing the coach. The trip would be slow, but Delia figured it would be best to give her sister time to get into the rhythm of motherhood before she arrived.
For a quick moment, Delia's heart clutched in her chest. Geoffrey, her lord husband, had passed away three summers ago, thrown from his horse on a hunt. He had left her childless, though not from lack of trying, and for a moment, Delia's skin tingled at the memory of his touch. It had been so long since a man had held her, kissed her, made her cheeks flush and her nethers ache. Sometimes she wondered if she was a withered old crone at the age of twenty-six.
Delia shook her head
Delia lifted her chin high and tried to disguise the trembling in her fingers. "I am not used to walking on such unsteady ground," she declared, loftily. "I am afraid the roots will snag my ankles."
Tristan eyed her from beneath the lock of hair that had loosened itself from the strip of leather that caught his dark locks behind his head. "I would be honored to help you, my lady," he growled, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips as he reached out his hand to hers.
"I am sure you would, you filthy animal," she said tightly.
In two steps, both men were upon her, eyes blazing. "You are wrong about the filthy bit, my lady," Byrn growled low, his eyes raking across her chest. "But you are correct about us being animals."
*****
When Cordelia Wainwright took it in her head to do something, it was a well-known fact that nothing could stop her. In fact, she prided herself on the tales of her stubbornness. If the bankers, and solicitors and merchants around Devon-on-Highwater wanted to believe the widow Wainwright was difficult to deal with, well then it just made it easier for her to get what she wanted. Other women could try to simper their way through life with genteel manners and practiced curtsies. She was not one to waste time with such notions.
So when her sister, the Lady Lollsworth, delivered a squalling new niece into the world, and Delia decided it was high time she pay her a visit, there was no changing her mind. Never mind that no escort was available for at least a fortnight. Never mind that the highwaymen seemed especially active this season. It was time for her to go pay her respects to her sister and dandle her new niece on her knee, and nothing could dissuade her from that notion.
"Will my lady be needing anything else?"
Delia looked up from her letter-writing and smiled at Ginny. Her serving girl was a bright-eyed, pretty young thing and always seemed eager to please. The prospect of a journey had brought some much needed color to her pale, freckled cheeks. If anything, she seemed almost as excited as Delia.
"Thank you Ginny, tell Stevens to bring the horses round at ten."
Ginny curtsied quickly and fairly ran off to speak with the stableboy. Delia looked at the timepiece on the wall. Half past the hour. She would put the letter in the post on her journey out of Devon. It should reach her sister in due time.
She stood up from her desk and looked around the room. Once she was gone, she would have the servants bar off this wing of the estate. No use having them dust and heat the area while it wasn't in use. Delia was practical above all things.
Her riding clothes were hung out for an airing. She looked forward to wearing the looser corset and the less voluminous skirts that came with it. That was her main reason for wanting to take her own horse rather than have Stevens drive the coach. She could see the countryside and inhale the fine spring air rather than be cooped up in the smelly wagon that always stank of horseshit no matter how Stevens scrubbed it.
Ginny would be riding with her. The serving girl's horse was a dappled mare, a gentle beast used to carrying heavy burdens. They would only be carrying a valise between them, just enough to ride without needing the coach. The trip would be slow, but Delia figured it would be best to give her sister time to get into the rhythm of motherhood before she arrived.
For a quick moment, Delia's heart clutched in her chest. Geoffrey, her lord husband, had passed away three summers ago, thrown from his horse on a hunt. He had left her childless, though not from lack of trying, and for a moment, Delia's skin tingled at the memory of his touch. It had been so long since a man had held her, kissed her, made her cheeks flush and her nethers ache. Sometimes she wondered if she was a withered old crone at the age of twenty-six.
Delia shook her head
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