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

He was all smiles and affability, but Gwyneth knew better. “I see,” she said, managing to hide her revulsion.

Suddenly there was warmth beside her. “A visitor, my Lady?”

She passed Royce the card and kept her gaze on the man in front of her. “My estate manager, Mr Hadley.”

Gylbart moved back slightly with a nod of his head to Royce. “A pleasure. As I was telling Lady Wolfbridge, I will be visiting Fivetrees today, with the full permission of the current owners. I cannot stay, of course, but I have friends a few miles past Ditchley, so I will be spending time at their estate afterwards.”

“And you are here, at Wolfbridge, because…” Royce’s voice was as smooth as cream, but she sensed the underlying tension.

“Merely a wish to reassure her Ladyship, in case we are observed. I would not have anyone concerned that Fivetrees is in any danger.”

“So thoughtful of you, Sir Alfred,” managed Gwyneth. “Should there be any comments or conversation about strangers on that property, I shall be able to settle them thanks to your visit.”

“Indeed,” Royce dipped his head slightly. “Most kind of you to think of it. But we must not keep you. I’m sure your horses will be feeling the chill, since it looks as if you’ve driven quite a way this morning.”

A tad nonplussed, Gylbart blinked. “Ah, yes. Well, from just outside London, actually. We made very good time, since the roads are clear and almost empty of traffic at the moment.” He turned to Gwyneth. “A pleasure to meet you, my Lady. I hope we shall find ourselves neighbours before too long.” He glanced at Royce. “Mr Hadley.”

The slightest nod accompanied the salutation, and then Gylbart stepped away, his servant following.

Neither Gwyneth nor Royce spoke until both men had entered the carriage and driven off.

“That was not a nice person.” Gwyneth shivered. “Was it me or was there someone else with him?” She stared at it as it headed away from Wolfbridge and toward Fivetrees. “I could swear I saw movement.”

“I thought that as well. But I couldn’t see anything other than a bonnet. So a woman. A maid, perhaps? Unlikely though. I don’t know. Come inside,” murmured Royce, shutting the door firmly and locking it. “It’s too cold to stand around out here. I could use a few minutes in front of the fire.”

He led her back into the parlour and they both gravitated to the hearth and the bright blaze.

“I should have been the one to open the door,” began Royce.

Gwyneth stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Don’t be silly. You were working. I saw the carriage drive up, but there were no markings on it. I had no idea who was at the door, since if I had, you can believe I’d have fetched you immediately.”

“I’m sorry.” He slid an arm around her waist and hugged her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I just have to tell you that.”

She leaned against him, taking comfort from his warmth. “You were there within moments. I had no worries on that score.”

“Am I over-protective, Gwyneth?”

She looked up to see him watching her face. “A little perhaps, but all of you are to a certain extent. I’ve not felt smothered by it at all. To be honest, it’s helped me to know you’re there when I need you.”

“Good,” he said softly. “Good.”

His eyes drifted to her lips, and she found herself responding to the head and need she saw there. Lifting her hand to his cheek, she smiled. “You make me feel safe, Royce. Cherished and protected. I know my own strengths and what I can withstand, but still…the knowing is important to me. As are you.”

“Thank you, love,” he whispered. Then lowered his face to hers.

Their lips met in a light kiss that wasn’t enough for either of them.

In moments Royce had her mouth open and his tongue inside, devouring her breaths, clamping her to his chest with arms that banded her into his heat.

She moaned, duelling with his tongue, pressing her breasts to his waistcoat in a vain effort to quell the ache rising in them. She rubbed against him shamelessly, parting her legs, yearning for his body to fit itself to hers in the all the right places.

His hands slid downward, grabbing her buttocks and lifting her off her feet, thrusting his growing arousal between her parted thighs.

She hung on to him, her arms entwined around his neck as he clutched her to him and rubbed himself against the very spot that had begun to weep tears of need.

He backed them both to the wall, his mouth still fierce and wanting, holding her now with only one hand while the other seized her skirts and pulled them away from her leg. Pressing against her, his cool fingers travelled upward, sliding beneath her thigh as he raised that leg, opening her.

“Jesus, Gwyneth,” he tore his mouth free.

“Royce,” she sobbed, lost without the touch of his lips. “Oh Royce…”

His hand delved between them, finding her wet, ready, aching…

“You’re hot. So hot…” his fingers plunged inside her, rough, ready and exactly what she wanted.

“God,” she breathed, eyes closing as he worked her, skillfully finding the right spots with his thumb.

She pushed into his hand, eager for everything he could give her and wishing it was his cock instead.

“I want…” She moaned, the wall hard at her back as he held her where he wanted her and drove her toward her peak.

“I know. I want too,” he muttered, his breath hot on her face.

She opened her eyes, and saw his, fierce, burning deep within. “Do it,” she commanded. “Do it now…”

He did, his thumb rubbing over her slick flesh, pressing and teasing until she knew she