Intertwine Read Free

wander lust. Perhaps his elbow too. But both his feet and his heart—yes, most definitely his heart—itched for adventure. Ached to stride out the front door of Haldon Manor and keep walking to the ends of the earth.
    It wasn’t as if he were adventure-adverse. Just more normal-prone. The unexpected never found him.
    All of which made his current situation somewhat ironic.
    Wind clawed at the trees and howled around him. Rain lashed against his caped greatcoat, streaming over the brim of his wide hat. James reached up and tucked a sodden lock of blond hair out of his eyes. Lightning regularly flashed through the dark night, brilliantly illuminating the muddy road in front of his horse. Though the lightning itself was actually helpful. At least he could see the road every other minute or so, keeping his horse from wandering into the night.
    James generally appreciated any change from his normal routine. But he belatedly realized that this particular night was one adventure he perhaps could have done without.
    The sky had been threatening when he left his valet and carriage at the inn. He had just assumed that the storm would quickly pass, leaving him to a pleasant summer evening ride home. So he rode into the storm thinking nothing would happen.
    Because nothing ever did.
    But tonight, adventure had arrived in the form of a violent Beltane storm. And for once, James wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.
    He tried to recall exactly why he had been so determined to reach Haldon Manor this evening. Why had he ridden out into the gathering clouds?
    Of course, he worried incessantly over Georgiana’s health when he was away. He could never breathe easily until he saw his sister’s smiling face upon his return.
    And Arthur would probably have been affronted by some small village mishap that James would then have to smooth over. Taking offense was a skill Arthur studied quite seriously—his younger brother practiced it regularly and at great length.
    And then there was James’ persistent restlessness, that constant twitch of his muscles to be up and doing. Sitting still had never been his forte. James knew resting quietly in the inn while the storm raged outside would have been a particularly keen form of torture.
    But still. As of this moment, none of his reasons seemed as compelling as they had three hours ago.
    Wind gusted, buffeting his body with rain, causing his great coat to billow around him. Snatching at the sodden fabric, James wrapped it back around his body, trying to force away the persistent chill. Lightning cracked, providing a flickering glimpse of the sodden road. James sighed and thought longingly of a warm bed and dry clothing.
    His trip to Liverpool to consult with a renowned expert about Georgiana’s health had been generally pleasant, if uneventful (of course). Dr. Carson had been helpful but had not given James the hope he craved. Though amiable, the good doctor’s recommendations for Georgiana seemed alarmingly drastic. Her condition was not so far gone as to demand the risky experimental surgery he suggested. At least not yet.
    A particularly brutal down draft pelted him, sending his horse skittering sideways, but James easily corrected him. Thankfully, Luther was as adventure-adverse as the rest of his life, holding steadily to the water-slopped road no matter how the storm raged.
    Georgiana’s ill health prevented him from attending the Season in London. Not that James felt that to be a problem. The Season—that time of year when all of England’s aristocracy gathered—was a hassle he had never particularly enjoyed. Though his easy manner ensured that James was welcome everywhere, comfortable in any situation—a ballroom, a drawing room, a hunting party, the local pub, pitching hay with his tenants and their pigs. It was those latter activities that his mother had deplored. What he saw as an open, accepting nature, she had seen as something common and vulgar to be stamped out.
    And she had