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

“I’m glad to hear it,” he answered, his lips twisting into a smile that was as wicked as it was attractive.

It thoroughly seduced her and she made a snap decision. “Royce, would you come to me tonight and let me unburden myself to you?”

“That depends.”

“Oh? On what?”

“Will we be alone?”

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Will you be naked?”

She choked in surprise. “Er…” Her brain scrambling, she answered honestly. “I could be.”

“Good. I’ll be there.” He turned them both toward the house. “And now we must return, lest my breeches reveal the direction of our conversation.”

She wanted to look—oh God, how she wanted to look. But she reminded herself that she could wait for the day to end and then look her fill.

She gritted her teeth and let him walk her back into Wolfbridge, where she could virtuously look the others straight in the eye, then run upstairs and tend to a few body parts that were unusually damp.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Gwyneth counted the hours until it was time for her to retire. Were the others aware of it? She hoped not. Evan cooked a wonderful meal they all enjoyed, and then the evening ended with brandies in the Rose room and a conversation that roamed over a variety of topics…until at last she felt she could reasonably bid everyone good night.

Whether they knew Royce was to attend her later, she didn’t know.

It was still an area in which she was unsure of herself and her gentlemen, but perhaps they had it worked out between them so there wouldn’t be any interruptions.

Even Gabriel gave her a sunny smile and nod as she left. She hoped he’d not pop in unexpectedly, although…she tingled at the memories.

However, her room was silent and empty, and she prepared herself for bed with her usual routine. Having short hair wasn’t stylish, but she had become quite used to the simplicity of keeping it clean and tangle-free. A quick brushing and she was done…no one hundred strokes a night.

Her robe covered her, and she’d donned a nightgown, not knowing if Royce was serious about her being naked for him. She frowned at herself. She was the Lady of Wolfbridge. He should be asking if she wanted him naked, not worrying about herself. Why was it so hard for a woman to demand what she wanted from a man? Why could she not have looked at Royce in the garden this afternoon and said “I want you in my bed tonight” without feeling like the most depraved creature in the world?

The fact that she could have done so and didn’t, showed her that she still had a way to go before reaching her full potential. She needed to take strength from these men, but if she didn’t ask for it, it would take much longer. It was a difficult concept, and she stared at the two candles flickering on the table by her bed as she thought about it.

Four men, dedicated to the service of their Lady, willing to give their all, including their bodies to her as needed. Handsome, charming…and apparently all with secrets of their own. Jeremy’s confession about the incident with the young woman—that would be more than enough to scar him for life. And yet here he was at Wolfbridge, a merry and positive man who gave unselfishly of his time, his laughter and his wit.

It had to be the effects of Wolfbridge. The complete unconcern about the past and the stringent rules of society. Here, a person’s character was what mattered the most.

A tap on the door recalled her wandering thoughts, and she crossed the room, opening it to see Royce standing in the shadows with his robe on. She couldn’t help noticing that his feet were bare. A sensual tingle ran through her—apparently the sight of Royce’s naked toes was some kind of magical arousal.

“Good evening, Lady Gwyneth,” he said, his eyes heated as they looked her over, much as she had done to him. “May I come in?”

“Please do.” She moved aside and waved him through, shutting the door behind him.

“Lock it,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“Lock the door, Gwyneth.”

Slightly amazed at the commanding tone, she simply nodded and snicked the key home, then walked back to her bed. He’d taken a seat on the chair beside it, leaving her no other choice than to hoist herself up and sit on the edge of the mattress. She gathered her robe around her legs.

“Don’t bother. I’ll see all of you soon enough.” His eyes lingered on her calves, then he glanced up at her face. “Now tell me about this blackmail letter? I am very much bothered at the thought of it. If there’s a way to do something about it, I need to know the facts, the situation…anything you can tell me will help.”

Gwyneth swallowed. “This is difficult. It’s not anything I’ve spoken of in many years and it brings back a painful time in my past that I’ve tried hard to put aside.”

“I can understand that. However, someone has dug up that secret past and is now using it as a weapon against you. I’d like to know who, and I’m sure you would as well. So you must tell me, Gwyneth. Tell me everything. I promise you cannot shock me.”

“All right.” She took a deep breath. “I lived a sheltered life near a small village, not unlike Ditchley. My family was comfortably situated—a nice house, a couple of servants, and so on. We were not rich, by any means, but we were…well, comfortable is the best description, I suppose.” She sighed. “I was the only child, I’m sure I was a wilful nuisance to my governess, but overall it was a happy childhood.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming…” Royce raised an eyebrow.

“You’re right. I was seventeen when I met