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

“It needs a bit of attention, but I should think that for a project like this we could count on everyone lending a hand, don’t you?” Harry looked at her and she could see the genuine interest in his eyes as he spoke.

“All right, then. I am definitely in favour of this idea. Royce? It’s up to you really, since you’re more familiar with the situation here at Wolfbridge than anyone. Can we afford to use this space for a school, rather than a tenant?”

He pursed his lips for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, my Lady. Yes, I believe we can. And the benefits we would derive from educating the children? I would venture a guess that in a few years they will be considerable.”

“Excellent.” Gwyneth stood. “I suggest we adjourn to the parlour and celebrate with a wee drop of brandy.”

Jeremy and Evan stacked the dishes as Harry offered his arm to Gwyneth. “My Lady?”

She took it with a smile. “Thank you, Harry. Thank you for such a brilliant idea.”

His gaze swept over her face, lingering on her lips. “My pleasure, Lady Gwyneth. My pleasure.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to invite him to her chamber right at that moment. But she decided to hold off, since she was well aware that sometimes the things one waited for were often the best.

However, it would definitely be soon.

Chapter Eight

Evan had been correct in his assumption—the bonfire was growing apace.

With a warm wrap snugged around her, Gwyneth left Darcy indoors and stood on the terrace, watching as people trickled in with fuel for the upcoming flames. Sometimes bundled faggots were stacked, at others one or two men would appear with logs. It was thrilling to watch and did a great deal to indicate the sense of community that Wolfbridge had fostered over the years.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Jeremy appeared beside her.

“It is,” she answered. I cannot wait to see it afire. It should make quite a brilliant display.” A sharp gust of wind plastered her skirts to her legs, and she shivered.

“’Tis cold,” he said, gently putting his arm around her shoulders. “Come inside, Gwyneth.”

“I’m warm enough,” she chuckled, leaning into his body. “But you’re right. Winter is definitely on the way.”

He seized the opportunity to drop a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Ah, my Lady,” he sighed. “To be tucked away by a fire in a snowstorm…with you.”

She turned for the door and they headed back indoors. “My last winter was close to hell,” she murmured, “but I have a feeling this one will be more like heaven…”

“We’ll make sure it is.” Jeremy released her and bowed with a wicked grin. “All of us.”

She smiled as he left, yet wondered. She had three of the most astounding men in her bed. How greedy was it to yearn for two more?

And why was she not shocked down to the soles of her slippers?

Before she had a chance to ponder too deeply about the answer to that question, Royce and Gabriel arrived, the latter with a large, happy smile, and a box clutched in his hands.

“My Lady,” he sounded excited. “May we show you what we’ve come up with as far as gifts for the tenants at the bonfire ceremony?”

Royce grinned as well. “Easy there, lad.” He glanced at Gwyneth. “He’s as merry as a boy with his first puppy.”

“Merrier,” quipped Gabriel. “This doesn’t need to be taken outside every ten minutes.” He lifted the box a little, then set it on a side table.

Curious, Gwyneth walked to them, her eyebrows raised. “What have you been up to?”

“Well,” Gabriel began, “obviously you will have to give something to each tenant as they light their candles.”

“We decided that chicks, ducks or anything live would not work.” Royce’s voice was amused.

“You decided,” pouted Gabriel. “I still believe a fluffy chick would have been just lovely.”

Gwyneth sputtered a laugh. “Really? Think of my gloves, Gabriel…”

“That’s what he said,” replied Gabriel, tossing his head at Royce. “So we came up with something else.” He reverently opened the box. “We had the printer do this for us. The one in Ditchley.”

“Non-fluffy and with no danger of soiling your hands, my Lady.”

She glanced at Royce. “Thank you.”

He bowed, his grin widening into a smile. “I am here to serve.”

“My gloves are, at this moment, sending you their profuse thanks.”

Gabriel sighed loudly. “If you two are quite done…” He opened the box to reveal a stack of small scrolls.

“Oh…” Gwyneth looked in, her fingers itching to see what they were. “May I?”

“Of course.”

She pulled out one of the rolled pieces of paper and stretched it between her fingers, revealing a tidily written notice.

“To you, valued tenant of Wolfbridge.

This note guarantees a position for any and all children of Wolfbridge tenants within a new school. It is soon to be available in the renovated dwelling on the south-east corner lot, formerly known as the Carter house, and our hope is that it will be ready for your children in January.

With our thanks and best wishes,

Sincerely,

Gwyneth, Lady of Wolfbridge.”

Gwyneth rolled the paper up again and looked at the two men. “It’s…it’s so splendid.” Her eyes stung. “To be able to do this for our tenants? I am so very happy at this moment, I could just burst.”

Gabriel came to her side and hugged her. “Don’t cry, love.”

“I’m not,” she sniffed. “Well, if I am, they are happy tears, Gabriel.” She held out her hand to Royce, wondering if he’d take it. He did.

“And you. Managing to put this together. Thank you. Thank you both.”

“Well, don’t thank us yet. You have to sign each and every one,” Royce grinned, giving her fingers a