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

“I think…I think I was angry.” She turned her face to the other side, aware that warm hands were stroking her skin with sensual skill.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t…it seems that there’s always trouble. Worries. Why is that? Why is it when all we’re trying to do is live a good life here at Wolfbridge, something or someone has to try to destroy what we have?”

“I don’t know the answer to that,” he said quietly.

“It’s me,” she replied. “I brought trouble with me. Maybe I should leave. I would do that if it meant saving Wolfbridge.”

Gabriel was quiet for a moment, his hands still rhythmically caressing her back. “Without you, Gwyneth, there would be no Wolfbridge to save.”

“There must be other women ready to take over,” she mumbled.

“They’re not you. And this most recent problem? The Fairhursts and Fivetrees? Nothing to do with you at all. Once you regain your common sense, you’ll see that.”

She took a breath and remained quiet, thinking about what he said. The fire crackled, its glow comforting. But not as comforting as the massage she was receiving from Gabriel, one of the men who loved her.

It settled that gnawing fear, the debilitating worry.

“I think…I want to solve all our problems, Gabriel. I want it all to go away so that we can have a wonderful life here.”

“We already do, my love.” His hands slid to her sides now, softer but with the clear intention of brushing the sides of her breasts. “There cannot be another place in England—or even the world—where there is such joy and love and contentment. If I had to leave you, leave Wolfbridge…my life would end.”

His hands rested on her buttocks and he stroked them, gentling them, moulding them with his fingers.

Chapter Twenty-One

Journal of Gwyneth, Lady of Wolfbridge - December 1818

I cried last night. I’m not sure I’ve ever written those words before, but then again there are a lot of words I’ve never written that are suddenly appearing in this journal.

There is still a little confusion in my mind as to what precipitated my distress, which darted from fear to anger and back again, leaving me on the edge of an emotional precipice. Everything became bleak, and I was angry that Fate seemed to conspire against my happiness. I am afraid of losing what I have, I suppose. How can I not be, when I am surrounded by love and the wonder of the gentlemen who live with me in this beautiful place?

They make it a home for me, the first time I have ever really felt at home. And the thought of losing all of it, or having to give it up for whatever reason - no wonder I was desolate.

But as luck would have it, my sweet Gabriel must have sensed something, because he appeared in my room when I was at my lowest ebb. I should have guessed it would be him - he is uncanny sometimes, understanding me better than I understand myself. Perhaps our similar backgrounds, filled with indescribable pain, have created a unique bond between us. 

Whatever it was that drew him to my side last night, I am grateful for it. He held me, just held me, as I cried. The warmth of his arms encouraged me to let go, and I am distressed now to think how long I sobbed, weeping out my troubles on his strong chest.

But, being the man he is, he made no complaint, and afterward he soothed me by rubbing my back in a most pleasing and relaxing fashion. He ran his hands over my bare skin, pressing against taut muscles that eased at his touch. He is very good at finding the places that are locked amidst emotional pain, and even better at unlocking them.

By the time he had finished, I was no longer distraught, or crying. His caresses had eventually turned my mind toward more pleasant avenues and he lay beside me, welcoming my touches in return.

It is hard to describe Gabriel. He shares his heart and his love for me so openly that at times I feel humbled by it. And I am well aware of how very lucky I am that he is one of my gentlemen.

Last night, with his full cooperation, I explored him thoroughly. His thighs are firm, thoroughly muscled, as are his arms and shoulders. Although when clothed one might be forgiven for not realising his strength.

He has, I discovered, a ticklish spot just above his manhood, and I took pleasure in licking it, making him laugh and squirm, and eventually return the caresses to my body, where he licked me in the way he has learned that pleases me most.

His tongue can find my most sensitive places, and then teases and torments me as he laughs and breathes air onto my wet flesh. I cannot help but smile, even as I feel the tide of lust rising within me.

He never hesitates when we make love. If he wants my legs parted, he will move them to exactly where he requires them, and last night was no exception. He opened me so wide, making me feel more naked, if such a thing is possible. Then he spent some time just looking at me.

It was…strange, and a little embarrassing, but he seemed to really enjoy the moments, telling me how beautiful I was and how he couldn’t wait to feel me around his cock.

Such talk is arousing. I never imagined I would find it so, but when a man is gazing at me, all parts of me, and saying such wonderful things to me - well, my body replies with enthusiasm.

So I was more than ready when Gabriel lay on his back. I do like being astride, riding him, controlling the pace. Taking my pleasure with him rather than from him. But as