The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3), Sahara Kelly [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

She thought about that. “I don’t think so. It’s more that I’m not sure how to introduce the matter of our…our…”

“Intimacies?” He looked down at her, blue eyes intense, lit from behind with a fire she couldn’t quite interpret.

“Yes, I suppose so.” She dragged her gaze back to the landscape outside. “I’ve not been in this position, having to let a man know he’s welcome to join the others who frequent my chamber. It’s—um—unique, to say the least.”

“I’m sure he’s wondering about the relationships within Wolfbridge, my Lady. Perhaps you should just give him time to adjust to the physical reality of life here. Then when the moment presents itself, introduce him to some of the pleasures…”

The look that accompanied those words left her in no doubt of the sentiments behind them. Her skin fluttered beneath the warm wool of her gown.

“You’re right. That is the wisest course of action.” She cleared her throat. “I’m glad you are here, Royce. In case I haven’t mentioned it before. I rely on you a great deal, as do we all.”

He casually slipped an arm around her and pulled her close, letting her lean against him. He was warm, so warm, and she fit perfectly just beneath his shoulder. “I have no need of your thanks, Gwyneth,” he murmured.

She moved her head, a soft catlike rub of his jacket that seemed natural to her. “What do you need, Royce?”

She felt rather than heard him swallow. “A way around the rules that prohibit me from fucking you.”

At that, she stared up at him. “You want that?”

He laughed, a harsh sound. “Could you possibly imagine otherwise?”

“I didn’t…I wasn’t…”

“Stop. This is my problem, my emotions. You are everything that is ideal, both as Lady of Wolfbridge and as Gwyneth, the woman to whom we are all devoted.” He stepped away and turned her, setting them face to face before the window.

“But I’m a man and I have longings, my Lady. If there is a way to fulfil them, would you object if I did?”

She raised her hand to his cheek, caressing it as her eyes drifted to his mouth. “No, Royce, I wouldn’t object.” She stood on tiptoe and brought their faces close together. “You know I’d welcome you with open arms.”

He responded to her silent invitation with a kiss, a light touch of his lips. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you, Gwyneth.”

Then he took her breath away, tightening his clasp and returning to kiss her again, this time with all the pent-up fire he’d revealed only moments before.

Desire flooded her, and she moaned, willingly opening her mouth and encouraging his tongue delve inside. Her hands found their way up beneath his jacket and clenched in the fabric of his waistcoat as his slid down to her buttocks and cupped them.

The ground beneath her feet vanished as he lifted her, rubbing their bodies together and making her moan once again as she parted her thighs to get that rigid part of him where she needed it.

“Goddamn, woman,” he swore as he ripped his mouth from hers and gasped for air.

She found her breath and let out a little laugh as the humour of the moment caught up with her. “Yes, yes, indeed.” She nuzzled his chest. “I’m sorry, but I have to find this situation rather amusing. I’ve gone from disgraced young girl, to marriage with an older man, to almost starving to death, to the arms and charms of so many men devoted to my welfare. It feels sometimes as if I’m riding an out-of-control Arabian stallion, and neither of us know where we’re going.”

He laughed too, some of the tension easing from his body as he leaned against the windowsill. “It has been a tumultuous ride for you, hasn’t it?” He took her hand. “And if I can find a way, it’s not over yet.”

She twined her fingers within his. “I’d like that very much.”

“But until then…Harry.”

Recalled to the original topic of conversation, Gwyneth nodded. “Yes. Harry. I suppose it’s time I walked with him alone for a while. I’ve let him find his feet here without doing more than sharing meals and conversations whenever we’ve passed. But now—now he should know more.”

“Would you like me to tell him?”

“Thank you, Royce, but no. I think I should be the one to make the explanations.” She looked at his face again, appreciating the edgy and intense expression that was so much part of his personality. One would never doubt that what he said, he meant.

“If I could send Harry to you, should he have questions I simply can’t answer…will that be all right with you?”

“Of course, my Lady.” He gently tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. “Whatever you want—I want. Don’t ever forget that.”

Flustered and still a little shaken from his kiss, Gwyneth nodded and left the room.

*~~*~~*

The opportunity to catch Harry and spend time with him occurred the following day as Gwyneth walked from the parlour into the hall.

“Good morning, my Lady,” he bowed as he emerged from the library. “I hope it finds you well?”

She inclined her head with a smile. “Thank you, yes indeed.” She paused. “Harry, would you care for a stroll? The sun is shining and the air still warm…”

“Of course. As my Lady wishes.”

“Then let me find my pelisse and we shall go. Five minutes. No more, I promise.”

His quick grin charmed her, since it conveyed extreme doubt about her statement. Clearly, he was one of those men who assumed every woman needed an hour to prepare. She would prove him wrong.

And she did, returning to the hall in slightly less than five minutes, bonnet tied neatly, pelisse buttoned and pulling on her warm gloves.

The quirk of one eyebrow gave him away