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

Gabriel looked at her, a gentle expression on his face. “Of course we do. Every time you touch us, kiss us, smile at us…you’re letting us know how you feel.”

He shifted his body over hers, pushing her legs apart with his hips. “And every time you take us…like this…” He slid his cock inside, slowly, lovingly, sliding on the mixture of their own juices. They’d already had each other once, but Gabriel had apparently recovered quite quickly. “Each time we feel the heat, the wet slick silk slipping over us…” he glanced at her, “and that look on your face, the one that tells us how much you enjoy it…” Slowly he began to slide in and out.

“Gabriel,” she breathed, as her body came to life once more.

“Every time, Gwyneth, you tell us how much you love us. We know, dear one. We know.”

Swamped with emotions, she raised her hips a little, urging him on, taking him as deep as she could and once again finding that blind, mad ecstasy awaiting them both.

Her doubts put to rest, Gwyneth decided to visit the school herself the next day, accompanying Royce in the gig.

Thoroughly wrapped up against the cold breeze, she leaned against him as they drove away from the Manor. “I have missed you, Royce.”

He looked down and quirked an eyebrow. “I haven’t been anywhere but in the house…”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “I’ve missed you at night.”

“Ah.”

“Well? Are you done with me then?” She teased him with a nudge. “One night and you’ve had enough of me?”

He bit his lip. “Gwyneth, you know damn well I could never get enough of you. Now stop teasing me, otherwise you might find yourself in the ditch with your legs up over your head and me inside you.”

“Hmm.” She looked around. “How about there?” She pointed to a spot beside the lane where most of the snow had thawed, leaving grass and a few leaves next to the hedge.

His hands jerked on the reins, surprising the horse. “No.”

“I could find another ditch if that one doesn’t suit…”

“No.”

“Mayhap you’d prefer one with softer mud…” She barely contained her laughter.

He drew the gig to a stop and turned to her. “Enough, you wicked woman.” He grabbed her, kissed her fiercely and thoroughly, then picked up the reins and moved them onward. “Now. That will have to suffice until later.”

Breathless and trembling, Gwyneth blinked in surprise. “Well.” She gulped. “Um…all right.”

This time it was Royce who laughed as they drew up the school. “Now behave yourself.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The harsh winter winds lessened as January progressed, and there were even one or two days that could be described as ‘spring-like’, but Gwyneth knew all too well that they were merely a distraction provided by Mother Nature, who was erratically unpredictable, to say the least of it.

However, the diminishing snow allowed for more efficient message deliveries and several began to arrive on a regular basis from London.

Giles had established another couple of contacts and verified that Gylbart’s case involving the Mortmain had indeed been refused. The reason cited was lack of verifiable documentation concerning the initial Mortmain, the terms, and details, and many other pieces of information that would have allowed the judges to make an informed decision.

The receipt of that letter had relieved all of them, and Gwyneth voiced their approval on the afternoon that Royce relayed the news.

“Thank heavens,” she sighed. “I hope that means that we need no longer worry about him trying to legally manoeuvre our land out from underneath us, especially since Gabriel’s claim is already on its way to the courts.”

“Possibly,” answered Royce, frowning.

“That doesn’t sound like a thunderous round of applause…” Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

Royce muttered something. “Give me a few moments.” He turned the pages on the letter he was reading.

Evan sighed. “I cannot speak for you all, but I am getting annoyed with these continuous challenges to our right to be here. Is the entire world nothing but greed?”

“It seems like it, doesn’t it?” Harry nodded. “I agree with you. I wish people would cease trying to take away someone else’s property.”

“To view this from another perspective, we probably should be grateful that all this is happening in London and in the law courts. A couple of hundred years ago and we might have an army on our doorstep…” Jeremy pointed out.

The others agreed with the validity of his statement and the conversation wandered down a different path, but Gwyneth kept her eye on Royce, who intently continued to peruse the latest letter from Giles.

Finally, she stood and went to his side. “What is it?” She put her hand on his shoulder.

He looked at her, the rest of the room quietening, as if awaiting his words.

“Gylbart is trying another tack, since his first attempt failed.” He frowned again. “Apparently he is protesting the possession of Wolfbridge Manor and lands.”

“I don’t understand…” Gwyneth raised her hands in confusion. “How can he do that? The records of the last hundred years are quite clear on the ownership. The sale to Jerald Wolfbridge is fully documented…”

“You are correct,” corroborated Royce. “but Gylbart’s claim is an appeal against the way in which Wolfbridge is deeded.”

“You mean to the Lady of Wolfbridge?” Harry’s voice was icy.

“Yes. Exactly.” Royce shot him a look of gratitude. “You understand.” He turned to the others. “Because Lady Aphrodite obtained approval for her rather unusual way of keeping Wolfbridge in the hands of women—distant heirs at best—Gylbart is going to present challenges, asserting that now Wolfbridge should go to male heirs.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Gwyneth was on her feet.

“Absurd.” Jeremy followed her.

“He wants to overturn a document that has been executed faithfully and