Wild Passion (7 page)

She couldn’t breathe at times, she felt so trapped in
this world not of her making. Why couldn’t she be grateful? Why
must she always want more? She stumbled down the gravel path and to
the large, scraggly Oak at the back of the garden. Taking in a deep
breath of clean country air, she sank against the rough trunk. She
would be happy here. She was determined. And one day she’d forget
James. Perhaps someday she’d even meet another man who made her
blood heat the way he had. A man who wouldn’t run at the idea of
being committed to her. She closed her eyes and thought of France.
She thought of India. She imagined the warm waters of Greece, a
place she’d always wanted to travel to and probably never
would.

“You don’t look well.”

The deep male voice, startled her, sent her senses
spinning. Adelaide opened her eyes. The trees in the distance
wavered in and out of focus. She was mad. Surely she was imagining
things for she could not have truly heard the voice she so
desperately wished to hear all these months.

“Have you missed me so much then?”

Her heart slammed wildly in her chest. Slowly, she
turned.

James leaned against the tree, so close, she could
touch him if she wished. And she certainly wished to. Dressed in
fine English riding clothes of a dark brown jacket and tan
trousers, he looked elegant. An English Lord. He had come for her.
Shock, excitement and leeriness swirled through her body.

She focused on the rolling hills in the distance, her
fingers curling into her light blue muslin gown. Six months, yet it
felt as if no time had passed since last seeing him. Her body
trembled, her emotions a jumbled mess. “What are you doing
here?”

He was quiet for a moment, as if surprised she would
ask such a thing. The entire time, she held her breath…waiting. “I
came for you, of course.”

Such tempting words. Such silly thoughts. She
couldn’t have him. What had she been thinking? She released a harsh
laugh. “It took you six months?”

He shifted into a patch of sunlight, his brown hair
warming with streaks of amber. “I came as soon as I knew you were
no longer in danger.” He looked confused by the sharp tone of her
voice.

She held up her hands. “I don’t know what you think
we had, but I assure you, it was nothing. Go back to where ever it
is you’re from.”

She surged forward, setting one foot in front of the
other with determined steps. Her gaze was focused on the clump of
red tulips ahead. Truth was, as much as she had dreamt of a life
with James, it couldn’t happen. It was for the best, a person like
her couldn’t have a relationship, couldn’t have children. People
feared her, feared what she would see. Everyone eventually turned
on her, the moment she told them bad news. It had been a silly
dream to wish he would come for her. So why did every step further
away from James, make her feel nauseous and unnatural?

Strong fingers gripped her arm and jerked her to a
halt. “I did not imagine anything and neither did you.”

She pulled away, turning to face him. That had been
her mistake. The moment she stared into his warm, dark eyes, she
was lost. “You don’t know me, so don’t pretend you do.”

She started toward the house, needed the reprieve.
She couldn’t be near him. Her entire body was trembling with
emotion, her soul begging her to stop and wrap her arms around
him.

“Truly? You think I don’t know you?” he said, his
footsteps quick as he caught up to her. “Your mother is in London,
and adoring the fact that she now has enough money to snub
society.”

“You saw her?” She flushed. Blast Colin for indulging
Maman.
They were not a charity to be handed money!

“I had tea with her. Your mother came from a titled
family, but was disowned when she left with your father, a man who
was more interested in finding treasure than being a husband.”

Merde,
he knew she was a bastard? How much
more humiliated must she be?

“And you…you’ve taken care of your mother since your
father left. Since you were eight years of age. You’re stubborn,
you’re intelligent, you’re adventurous, but you’re nothing like
your father.”

She froze. How did he know it was her fear to become
the very man who had abandoned her? “How can you be sure?”

He paused beside her, his eyes kind, gentle in a way
she’d never seen on him. “Because you’ve stayed with your mother
for how long? You’re staying here, with your new siblings, even
though you don’t want to. Even though you despise being
trapped.”

“And how do you know we’d be happy together?” she
whispered.

He took her hand and pulled her close, so close her
breasts crushed to his chest. She could feel his heart beat so
strong and sure. “Concentrate on me, on my touch.”

She frowned feeling the warnings of fear. “What do
you mean?”

“I know what you are capable of. I know what your
brother is capable of and I’m pretty sure your sister has the same
amazing abilities. Concentrate. Read my future.”

Panic swelled inside her, blinding. Adelaide tried to
pull away, the urge to bolt overwhelming. “No!” She didn’t want to
admit her powers to him and she sure as hell didn’t want to see his
future when that future might be one of darkness and death.

“I won’t release you until you do.” His jaw was set
stubbornly. “I know, Adelaide, what a wonderful life we will have
together. I don’t need to see the future. But you do.”

Her entire body trembled, so much rested on her
visions. “And what if it isn’t wonderful?”

He smiled, his face softening. “It will be. Trust me,
trust in life.”

He wouldn’t give in. She could see that in the
determined glint in his gaze. She released a frustrated sigh and
closed her eyes. For a moment, she merely saw darkness, merely felt
the cool breeze. Then the pictures started, swooshing, bursting
through her mind so fast she could barely catch them.

She and James at a beach of white sand and pure blue
water, cuddled on a blanket. His hands moving up her thighs as his
mouth found hers. Heated warmth swept through her body, an aching
need pulsing in the pit of her belly.

“
I love you,” James whispered as his fingers moved
to the junction of her thighs and slipped between her damn folds.
Adelaide gasped, arching her back and taking him deeper.

“
Please James,” she begged, her nails biting into
his bare back. He shifted and she felt the tip of his erection
slipping into her tight sheath.

Much to her dismay, the scene disappeared. Only to
have another take its place.

She and James laughing as they rode an elephant. She
and James on a train chugging through white capped mountains.
Adventures. Life.

She and James smiling down at a baby with dark
hair.
Adelaide’s heart swelled.

Their baby.

She and James and a little girl laughing as Ella,
Leo, Colin and Bea strolled beside them in the gardens.
Children…children playing in the gardens, siblings and cousins.
Family. Life.

Adelaide jerked her hands away, her breathing harsh,
her heart racing. She’d never known her future before, but she
could see it through him, through James. Her future husband. Her
future life.

“What did you see?” He cupped the sides of her face.
But he wasn’t truly curious because he knew. He’d believed all
along they would be together.

She smiled through her tears, turning her head to
press a kiss to his palm. “Life. Love. Happiness.”

“Adelaide?” Colin’s voice sounded hesitant,
unsure.

Hearing her name, she stepped back, putting proper
distance between them, when she wanted to do nothing more than
throw her arms around James’ neck.

Colin appeared, strolling through the garden. Seeing
James, he froze. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I said I’d return for her.”

Colin frowned. “I didn’t expect you to mean it.”

That determined glint was back in James’ gaze. He
latched onto Adelaide’s hand, pulling her close. “We’re going to
Gretna Green.”

Adelaide stiffened. She might be French, but even she
knew why English people went to Gretna Green… to get married.

“Adelaide,” Colin started toward them, his steps
hurried. “You don’t have to do this.”

He was right, she didn’t have to. For the first time
in her life, she actually felt like she had a choice in the
direction her life would head. “I want to, Colin. I love him.” She
looked up at James. His eyes had taken on that soft look that made
her insides melt. “You understand me, don’t you?”

“More than you know.”

“Tell me you love me.”

He cupped the side of her face, his other arm
wrapping around her waist and drawing her close. “I fell in love
with you the moment I stole that bloody statue and you stole my
heart.”

“Hell,” Colin cursed, pacing beside them. “You’re
both serious, aren’t you?”

Adelaide nodded, so sure, it hurt.

“I had to have sisters,” he muttered.

Shocking Adelaide, Colin reached out and drew her
forward into a quick, no-nonsense embrace. “Best go then, before
Bea and Ella find out, or you’ll be having a wedding in Westminster
with five-hundred guests.”

Adelaide smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes. Hope
welled within. Hope and love and acceptance.

“Remember, you’ve always got a home here,” Colin said
softly.

Adelaide nodded. “I know.” And for the first time,
this place really did feel like home. She stepped close to Colin.
“Tell Beatrice that it will be a boy.”

Confusion clouded his gaze, then just as quickly he
went pale, understanding dawning.

“We will return.” Grinning, Adelaide stepped back. “I
promise. I
know
.”

As the soft wind whispered promises of summer’s
return, James took her hand and pulled her through the garden. She
didn’t know where she was going, but for the first time in her
life, she didn’t care.

Enjoy
Wild Passion
? Read
Wild Heart
and
Wild Desire
, books one
and two in the
Wild Series
!

About Lori Brighton

Lori has a degree in Anthropology
and worked as a museum curator. Deciding the people in her
imagination were slightly more exciting than the dead things in a
museum basement, she set out to become an author. She sold her
first book,
Wild Heart,
to a New York Publisher and has since started
self-publishing.

To find out more about Lori visit her at:
www.LoriBrighton.com

Interested in more? Read an excerpt from book one in
The Night Series,
A Night of Secrets
below!

A Night of Secrets

Prologue

1855

She knew she wasn’t alone.

It wasn’t the shiver of unease that caressed her skin
like an unwanted touch, nor the slight tightening of her gut that
indicated someone’s presence. No, it was something she couldn’t
quite explain.

A
knowing
.

Papa would call it a whispered warning from God.
Whatever it was, the sensation pierced her very soul, warning that
someone was nearby. Meg’s fingers curled against the crate she’d
been pushing into the back of the wagon, the rough wood piercing
her woolen mittens and scratching her fingers. A box of clothing
for the destitute. Now she was the one in need of assistance.

A bitter gust of wind burst down the road. A ruthless
spirit attacking, tugging and pulling at her woolen skirts. Caught
off balance, she slipped and stumbled forward, her boots whispering
across the icy cobbled road. Desperately, she grasped onto the
wagon edge. For a brief moment she played with the thought that
perhaps Papa had returned to help her load the crates. Or perhaps
she was merely fishing for an excuse because deep down she knew,
she knew,
someone was behind her.

Her breath came out in clouds of white that hung
suspended in the chill air as she wrestled with her fear. This was
London, a place full of people so desperate they’d do anything for
a coin or two. Hadn’t someone snatched her reticule from her hands
only yesterday?

Flurries, caught by the wind, kissed the back of her
exposed neck, urging her to turn…turn. Her breath hitched and her
pulse thumped a dance in time to the flickering street lamps that
lined the cobbled lane.

Ridiculous, she was being utterly ridiculous. It was
merely a beggar, down on his luck. She’d seen Papa deal with needy
men hundreds of times. She knew from past experiences that she
could handle whatever situation the good Lord threw her way.

Meg cleared her throat. “H…Hello?” Her voice, hollow
and mournful, bounced against the stone cottages that lined the
street, and echoed through the town.

No one answered.

Unable to resist, she pushed away from the wagon and
turned. A cloaked woman stood in the middle of the lane, a small
girl by her side.

Shock gave way to relief, sweet and swift. How silly
she’d been! Meg pressed her hand to her racing heart and resisted
the urge to laugh at her own ridiculousness. Not an evil man in
search of innocent prey, but merely a woman with a child who
couldn’t have been much more than six years of age.

Still, shocking all the same. Although the hood of
the woman’s fine cloak hid her face, Meg knew by the cut of her
gown the woman was from wealth. Dressed in a blue velvet gown, the
child was her miniature version.

“Good eve,” she said in an overly cheerful voice,
although it was much too late to be considered evening.

Meg pushed a dark lock from her forehead, her
amusement fading. Yet they were still…so incredibly still that one
could mistake them for statues in Hyde Park. What were they doing
here in the east end of London in the middle of the night? Were
they lost? In need of assistance? They were certainly no
washerwomen or hawkers.