The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2), Sahara Kelly [best thriller novels to read txt] 📗

I’ll never know. Instead my experience moved to the Earl, who was fairly gentle, and took pains not to hurt me. He was a considerate man, but never seemed to know that I could achieve satisfaction as well as he. I cannot and will not complain about him as a husband, since I hoped for no more than I received.

I miss him sometimes…not his physical presence, but the security I felt when he was alive. Nobody dared touch or insult or act inappropriately with the Countess, not while her husband still lived. All that was ripped away, and I cannot deny it has left a scar.

Perhaps it is that security that I am re-discovering here at Wolfbridge. I cannot imagine anyone being inappropriate with my gentlemen nearby.

Whatever the case, whether it be security or just simple affection, I am finding both - and more - here at the Manor and in the capable hands of my gentlemen, as they proved last night.

I awoke this morning, barely half an hour ago, to the most delightful lassitude. I found myself in a light nightgown, sprawled across my bed in a manner unusual for me…a person who generally tucks herself beneath the covers quite tightly. But today my legs were bare, my arms outspread, and my body still felt soft, sleek and relaxed after last night’s games in our pond.

I should describe it, but I’m not sure if my vocabulary contains sufficient adjectives to do it justice.

Suffice it to say that being passionately and sensually caressed by four men, four sets of hands, four mouths, four tongues, resulting in a release of magnificent proportions under a night sky…well, I heartily recommend it.

And even as I write, I grow hot, needy, my muscles are twitching and my belly roils with desire. I want…I want my gentlemen naked with me, taking me, claiming me, pushing me to that peak and throwing me into the maelstrom. They are the ones to do it; they have the skills and seem willing enough to play such games with me. As to the awakening of this need within me? I am astonished, shocked and forced to wonder if it has always been there, lying dormant, waiting for the right touches to arouse it. For it certainly gives me pleasure and excitement in equal parts. As do my gentlemen.

I must nurture and grow my relationship with them all, and to do so I must take them to my bed. Which returns me to the question of who and when.

Perhaps tonight.

Perhaps all of them at once, although how that would possibly work I cannot envision. But I must choose at least one. I must begin to be the real Lady of Wolfbridge, because I have a feeling that such interactions will bind my gentlemen to me a great deal more than just the words written on a page, or their promises to Giles.

Once they lie with me, they are truly of my Wolfbridge, no other Lady’s. So today I am determined to speak with Giles, to try and hold a neutral and acceptable conversation with him about it, and solicit his counsel. He has been through this with enough Ladies to fully understand, I’m sure.

For him it is probably a routine matter, even though for me it is far different.

On reading over these few paragraphs I have surprised and shocked myself. I let my thoughts run directly to my pen, writing the words that were uppermost in my mind without consideration of content or discretion. I cannot believe I am a loose or perverted woman, nor do I possess whorish tendencies. Many who read my words might think so and condemn me for it. But they have not walked in my shoes, suffered what I have suffered, and been touched the way I have been touched.

They have not felt the agony of loss, the terror of starvation - or beautifully gentle caresses given with care and affection. They would not know how strong and powerful such caresses can be to a woman who has experienced the first two.

They would not understand my desire to enjoy all my gentlemen to the fullest, and thus would be horrified and disgusted at my stated intentions.

So be it. I do hope nobody like that ever reads this journal.

*~~*~~*

“Good morning, Giles,” said Gwyneth as he walked in for breakfast. “I trust you slept well?”

“Thank you, yes. I passed a fair night.”

“I would beg a few moments of your time after breakfast, if I may.” She looked at him calmly, and yet he sensed a certain hesitancy in her words.

“Of course, my Lady. I will be only too happy to share some time with you.” He poured himself some tea as Evan came in with another tray, this one filled with scones. The smell tempted both himself and Gwyneth. “A scone?”

“Yes please,” she grinned. “I couldn’t possibly say no to that wonderful aroma.”

Jeremy, Royce and Gabriel were already there, the debris of their meal scattered in front of them

The conversation turned general, including comments on yesterday’s successful event, some good-natured jests about burned noses and sore shoulders, and an outline of what was planned for the day.

“Mrs Barnsley asked about the Whit Sunday fête,” said Jeremy. “I told her we’d yet to discuss it, but she pointed out—quite accurately—that it is not far off and we should probably…er…”

Evan chuckled. “If I know her, she suggested we get off our arses and start planning.” He glanced wryly at Gwyneth. “Excuse my blunt language, my Lady.”

“I’ve heard worse,” she smiled back. “And I suppose she is correct. Is there a traditional event that happens at Wolfbridge around that time?”

Giles nodded. “There used to be activities every day of Whitsuntide, I understand. But a whole week away from the fields proved to be too much