Free Adrienne Basso by The Ultimate Lover Page B

their relationship. It was blossoming into a rare friendship, something Gareth thought far more valuable and lasting than a few weeks of spirited bedsport.
    An ironic smile flickered over the viscount’s mouth. He had no idea that being noble could be so damn difficult.
     
     
    Amelia drew the reins and paused at the divide in the well-worn path, biting her lower lip as she considered which road to take. The woods were hushed and silent this afternoon, a reminder that she was very much alone. She had successfully broken away from the party of guests that had set out for a spirited ride about the property as soon as she realized that Roger was among the group, but there was a purpose to her solo journey other than just avoiding her odious brother-in-law.
    The viscount was also a member of that riding party. He, too, had disappeared, just before she made her escape, and Amelia had a suspicion he had come this way, for it was in the general direction of the folly. Besides, on their previous visit he had as much as told her he would be returning.
    On one level she was well pleased with the subtle, fundamental way that things had changed between them over the past few days. She knew she did not possess the sexual attraction to peak his interest, so instead had concentrated on becoming his friend.
    It had been a successful strategy. While he still openly pursued Mrs. Fairweather, with limited success, Gareth now also made a point of spending time with Amelia. It pleased her no end, while at the same time infuriating both Roger and Mr. Bascomb.
    To Amelia’s way of thinking, that was real progress. Initially she had been tongue-tied and nervous when near the rakish viscount, especially when considering that the underlying motivation for advancing the relationship was to become his lover. She had solved that problem in a rather clever fashion by using dear Charlotte as her inspiration.
    Whenever she was stuck searching for the appropriate attitude or phrase, Amelia tried to imagine how Charlotte would react. That notion had carried her through the first few encounters with the viscount, but the technique was needed less and less as time progressed, for it had somehow freed the spirited part of Amelia’s own nature that had been systematically crushed for years as George’s wife.
    It was a warm and slightly breezy afternoon and Amelia knew she could not let her horse stand too long in the warm sunshine. Selecting the path she thought would lead to the folly, she steered the mount down the road, paying careful attention to the hanging branches and menacing tree roots that appeared on the path. This was hardly the place to have her horse come up lame, since it was so secluded and far away from the main house.
    Soon the sound of lapping water let Amelia know she had chosen the right direction. She sighed with delight when the ornamental lake and formal gardens came into view, but somehow took a wrong turn and was unable to find the narrow bridge that led to the folly.
    After several failed attempts Amelia found herself approaching the sturdy cottage from the opposite side. This vantage point afforded her a clear view of the inside of the building through the large windows. As best she could tell it was empty.
    Good. It would appear more coincidental if she was alone when Gareth arrived. Amelia imagined herself settled casually on that lovely settee, perhaps with a volume of Shakespeare in her hand. Hopefully the intimate, familiar scene would give her the courage to push things between them beyond a mere kiss.
    Fraught with nerves and a tingling excitement, Amelia approached the cottage. The moment she opened the door she realized her initial assessment was incorrect. The cottage was not empty.
    Two individuals were seated on the settee. Her settee. One male, one female. Actually only the male was seated, the female was perched upon his lap. Though their backs were toward her it was clear from their entwined positions that they were