The Inheritance (16 page)

"Yes. Thank
you. That would be very nice," he replied, stepping into the
smallish room.

Glancing
around he spied some surprisingly superior furniture, then looking
back saw the woman close the door as she exited, on her way to
fetch Lydia, he assumed. It was an odd scene. Her accent was that
of a well bred woman but her demeanour and clothing seemed tired
and worn.

He wandered to
the front window. The farmhand had loosened Pandora's girth and the
mare was happily drinking from a large container of water. He
wondered for a moment if he had made a mistake, but his doubt
vanished when he heard the door open and Lydia was standing before
him.

She was as he
remembered her, naturally pretty with reddish brown hair falling in
curls around her shoulders, and bright blue eyes highlighted by a
simple, pale blue dress, under which her figure was easy to
discern. She had a full bust and hips but a small feminine waist.
All in all a lovely picture indeed. But it was her eyes that
captivated him. They were sapphire blue and appeared quite sad.

"Sir?" she
said politely, offering him a small curtsy.

"James
Barrett," he replied, stepping forward. "I believe we have met once
or twice at the village and have seen each other in church?"

"Yes. I
believe we have," she answered, lifting her hand for his
attention.

He took her
fingers in his own and lightly touched his lips to the top of her
hand.

"Delighted to
see you," he continued. "I hope you don't mind me stopping by
unannounced."

"As long as
you don't mind finding me as I am," she answered, as the door
opened and a housemaid brought in a tray with tea and biscuits.

"I find you
most presentable," he said, feeling a little flushed. It was not
normal for James to feel such. He was never lacking in confidence,
and certainly not with the ladies.

"May I pour
you a cup of tea?" she offered.

"Yes. Thank
you. My ride has caused a thirst."

Delicately she
lifted the teapot and expertly poured them both a cup, adding a
splash of cream and some sugar as he requested. He settled in the
chair by the window, and she opposite, expectantly gazing at him
with her large blue eyes. He glanced at the door anticipating the
return of the woman who invited him in.

"My aunt won't
be joining us," she offered. "I understand it would be right for
her to do so but she doesn't care much for social gathering.

"I see. And
it's all right for me to...?" he asked, not quite sure how to
finish.

"Yes," she
laughed. "I'm sure she'll come running with a large frying pan if I
should scream."

Her laugh was
unexpectedly light and lyrical and didn't match the unhappiness he
was sure he could see in her eyes.

"And why have
you come to visit me?" she enquired.

The question
took him by surprise. Not only was it forward for a young lady, but
it seemed to him to be completely self-evident.

"Well -
because I would like to better make your acquaintance," he
answered.

"You say that
as though it should be obvious to me," she replied. "But why should
it be? There are many young ladies in the county much better suited
for a gentleman such as yourself. Young ladies who attend the many
balls and parties that I'm sure you do. Who offer a much greater
social status than one such as me."

James was
shocked. She wasn't just speaking to him plainly, but almost as
though she were speaking down to him. And yet, she was suggesting
that she weren't good enough for him. It was all quite
confusing.

"Miss
Covington..." he started.

"Lydia.
Please," she interrupted.

"Lydia," he
sighed. "I have seen you - and - and the few times we have
exchanged words I found you to be most - uh - interesting. I
thought perhaps we could strike up a friendship. If you would
rather I leave then I shall be happy to do so," he countered,
feeling quite flustered.

"Stay or go as
you wish, Sir," she replied. "I am flattered that you have chosen
to call upon me. I was simply expressing my surprise."

James stared
at her. He had no clue what to say next so they sat in awkward
silence as he sipped his tea. This was not at all the way he had
envisioned their first real time together.

"I seem to
have disappointed you," he finally said, placing his cup and saucer
on the tray.

"You have? You
assume to think for me?" she answered curtly.

"Think for
you? Well no - I was not thinking for you. But you have offered
little in the way of conversation except to tell me that I would
prefer someone of a different ilk. If anyone were thinking for
anyone, I would suggest that it would be you, thinking for me," he
said, quickly standing up. This was very peculiar indeed.

"I am sorry to
have distressed you Mr Barrett," she said sombrely. "I have a habit
of doing such things. I don't know why, but I tend to speak my
mind."

"Perhaps you
speak your mind too well my lady," he said, beginning to feel quite
cross.

She paused,
studying him, and under her intense scrutiny he suddenly felt oddly
oversized for the room and sat back down.

"It seems to
me that you came here expecting me to be thrilled that a gentleman
of your calibre should call upon an orphaned young woman such as
myself," she began. "As I said, I am flattered, but do not assume
that just because fate has caused me to fall into the circumstances
in which I find myself, I am ready to drop at the feet of any
gentleman caller who decides to grace me with their company."

James felt his
face flame. How dare she suggest such a thing?

"I didn't
assume any such thing," he said, standing up again and wishing he
hadn't. "I have seen you in the village and I find you most
attractive and I would like to know you better," he declared. "But
it seems your appearance does not match your character," he said
sharply.

"My
character!" she exclaimed, standing up to match him. "You know
nothing of my character. How dare you? You come waltzing in here
with no advance warning, and now you question my character? What
character might you have, Sir, to call upon a lady without first
offering notice?"

He stared back
at her. A strange and unfamiliar flutter rippled in the depths of
his belly. Her sad eyes were now blazing, sparking fire at him. Her
lips, full and moist and far too opinionated seemed to him to be
craving his kiss. And her flash of temper! How he longed to throw
her over his lap and spank it out of her.

"Sir!" she
snapped. "Have you nothing to say?"

He realized
he'd been standing there silent - gawking at her. He swallowed hard
and stepped forward.

"Miss Covington," he said, attempting to keep his voice calm
and even. "You are a very beautiful young woman."
You are also a young woman who needs to be taken
in hand and soundly spanked
, he silently
added.

He paused,
waiting for the obligatory thank you, but she stood her ground
offering no such response.

"It appears I
have found you at an inopportune time," he continued, pausing
again, but was met with only her unwavering challenging gaze. "I
shall return tomorrow, at exactly this time - do you see the clock
on your mantle? It states it is ten minutes past the hour of two. I
shall be here at two p.m. precisely. We shall take a walk and you
shall show me your property. Does that give you enough notice?"

Had he glanced
down at her hands he would have seen her delicate fingers tightly
twisting a white lace handkerchief into tiny knots.

"It does," she
replied sharply.

"Then I shall
take my leave. Thank you for the tea."

He saw her
swallow and pull her arms behind her back, but didn't begin to
think of what it might mean. He bobbed his head, and striding past
her headed for the door. His hand was on the knob when he
heard,

"You're
welcome."

He turned his
head and saw her smiling at him. His attempts to maintain a stern
visage failed him completely and he found himself breaking into a
broad grin. Moments later as he was tightening the girth on his
waiting horse he thought her the most remarkable creature he'd ever
met.

Standing at
the window, watching him canter across the rolling hills into the
distance, Lydia Covington was trembling with intense fear and
unbridled excitement.

Intense fear
because she had experienced more heartache and tragedy in her
twenty-one years than most people would see in a lifetime, and
couldn't help but anticipate more would befall her in the form of a
broken heart.

Unbridled
excitement because she had been drawn to James Barrett the moment
she'd laid eyes on him several years before. He had been with a
rather rude but beautiful young woman whom she'd assumed was his
betrothed. Whenever she would see them together in the village she
couldn't understand why such an attractive man would put up with
the woman at his side. She caught the tail end of a conversation
once, during which he had scolded his bride to be in no uncertain
terms. To Lydia's shock the young woman spat right back at him. The
scene haunted her for weeks.

It was only
when she discovered the beautiful girl was in fact, James' sister,
that it began to make sense, and her heart was immediately filled
with a quiet, hopeful longing.

That he had
appeared at her door, unannounced and wanting to see her, was
beyond any of her imaginings. Her forthright manner, for which she
had been faulted throughout her life, and about which she had no
control, had almost gotten her into trouble for the umpteenth time.
That he had persevered quite astounded her.

She vowed she
would do her best to hold her tongue the following day, and would
certainly make every effort to look her prettiest.

Later that
evening, after dining alone in the large house and sipping one
brandy too many, the only thoughts on James' mind were those of
Lydia and their extraordinary meeting. He had, with some
difficulty, succeeded in putting her from his mind while working in
the afternoon, but as he lazed in the living room after dinner, the
image of her magnetic eyes and lithesome figure splashed across his
mind.

Yawning, he
carried himself to his bedchamber and stripped quickly. Pulling
back the bed sheets he lay down and stared absently at the wooden
canopy above his head. In spite of his semi-drunken state his cock
was at half-mast, and he knew just stroking it tenderly would
achieve the state he desired.

Lydia
Covington. What a surprise she was. Closing his eyes he pictured
her walking towards him, her dress of a flimsy fabric barely
covering her luscious curves. Her eyes were challenging and her
chin forward. He grabbed her, kissing her fiercely, and she pulled
back and slapped him.

James' eyes
shot open.

No - that's
not what's going to happen. Why would you think that?

His cock was
throbbing, and stroking it ferociously he closed his eyes again and
saw himself reach for her, clutching her hair with his free hand,
pressing his mouth against hers. She bit him lightly on his lower
lip...

...he was
almost at his point, the climax threatening...

...there was a
fallen tree, and grabbing her wrist he pulled her with him. Sitting
on the wide trunk he yanked her over his lap and began spanking her
perfectly round bottom though the silky dress. She wailed and
writhed until he slipped his hand under her skirt and nestled a
finger inside her sex. Her cries of protest became whimpering moans
of pleasure, and suddenly his mind saw her naked reddened bottom,
her juicy excitement glistening against his fingers...

...his member
shot forth, squirting his essence with a powerful convulsion as it
surged its way out into the world...

...sighing
deeply he dropped his hand, his member flaccid and happy.

Lydia wasn't
spoilt and arrogant but she was outspoken and fiercely proud and
challenging. She spoke her mind to a degree not befitting a young
woman. He could imagine the men she had reduced to fawning
sycophants. There was no doubt in his mind she could intimidate the
most daunting of suitors. She needed taming, and he was bound and
determined to bring her to heel.

At exactly two
p.m. the following day he was at her door banging the wrought-iron
ring. It was she who answered, dressed in a very flattering lemon
dress with her hair half up, the sides having been drawn into a
ribbon at the crown of her head. She appeared to have applied some
rouge and her lips were brighter than he remembered. He was
pleased. She had made an effort.

"Good
afternoon," he said, quite formally. "Are you ready for our little
sojourn?"

"I am, Mr
Barrett," she replied, politely.

"Will your
aunt not be joining us?" he asked, concerned that it wasn't proper
for them to be walking alone together at such an early stage of
their friendship.

"No she will
not," Lydia replied firmly.

"She does not
mind me walking with you unattended?" he asked, surprised that her
aunt would be so permissive.

"My aunt has
no say in the matter. I do that which I choose. I answer to no
one," she said curtly, casting her blue eyes directly at him.

My goodness.
You answer to no one? It's about time you did!

Though sorely
tempted he chose not to comment, and taking her hand looped it
through his elbow and started off towards a path that led into a
glade.

"It is a
lovely afternoon for a walk, don't you think?" he commented.

"Yes. I
suppose. Though there is too much sun for my liking," she replied,
squinting as she stared up at the sky.