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

In fact, as the party wore on, that sentiment grew steadily amongst the wedding party. The husbands were eager to be alone with their new wife every bit as much as she yearned to be alone with them.

And much later, when Wolfbridge was quiet once more, the only light anyone might have seen from outside was in the Lady’s bedchamber.

Where Gwyneth and her new husbands celebrated their marriage in a variety of ways that gave satisfaction to them all.

Sated, exhausted and in a state of blissful happiness, she looked at her husbands, naked, beautiful, tired and smiling. “I wish I could paint you all. Right now. Like this.”

That statement was greeted with amusement.

“I would title it…hmm, let me see…” She gazed at Royce, beside her, relaxed, with his head on his arm, watching her. Then Jeremy, tucked against one leg, Evan tucked against the other. Harry was half behind her, his hand caressing her shoulders and Gabriel was in his usual place, stretched full length across the bottom of the bed on his stomach, his head turned toward her and resting on his folded arms.

“I would title my painting The Rightful Lord, and let everyone try to guess which one of you I meant.” She gave a tired laugh. “They’d never know it was all of you.”

*~~*~~*

Early spring…Wolfbridge Manor

“Good morning, love.” Evan held a chair out for Gwyneth as she came into the parlour for breakfast. “It’s a fine day for your visit to the school.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She sat and accepted his kiss. “I am to read them a story today. I’m looking forward to it.”

Jeremy, already at the table, nodded. “I’ll drive you over, Gwyneth.”

She smiled back. “Perfect.”

Harry came in, yawning. “I tossed and turned last night. Missed you, love.” He too kissed Gwyneth.

“Well, I’m only one woman. You have to let me rest now and again.” She touched his hand.

“We know.” Gabriel appeared with a tray of bacon. “And you need a good breakfast to keep up your strength.” He winked at her as he set down the platter.

Gwyneth frowned, swallowed twice, and then froze.

“Gwyneth…?” Harry looked at her.

“Excuse me…” She pushed away from the table, dashed outside and promptly vomited all over the budding azaleas.

“Dear God, are you all right?” Gabriel was right behind her and the others appeared, worried looks on their faces.

“What happened?” Royce hurried out.

“Gwyneth. She is sick.”

Royce grasped the situation and led her back inside. “You need water.”

“I’ll get it.” Evan sped off, returning in next to no time with a glass.

She sipped thankfully and then let them seat her once more. The scent of the bacon curdled in her stomach. “It’s the bacon,” she winced. “Something about the smell…”

Gabriel straightened, and she saw him look at Royce.

“What?”

“Sweetheart,” Royce knelt by her chair. “Have you had your courses this month?”

Surprised by the blunt question, she frowned in thought. “Um…no, now you come to mention it. But I was busy. I haven’t really paid attention. They’re probably just late…” Her voice tapered off as the implications dawned.

“I…I…no,” she stuttered. “I can’t be.”

“I don’t see why not,” said Royce. “To be blunt about it, we’ve been filling you with our seed quite regularly. All of us.”

“But…”

As reality set in, five men looked at each other and began to grin. Big, wide grins turned into laughter and back-slapping.

“We’re going to be fathers,” said Gabriel, his voice filled with awe.

“I still don’t think it’s possible.” Gwyneth raised her chin. “Why now? You’ve been filling me, as you so aptly put it, for ages. Why now?”

“It was time.” Harry rested his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t question miracles, love. Just accept it.”

“No. I still don’t believe it.” She touched her stomach. “Impossible.”

She stuck to that statement for the following months, to everyone’s amusement, even as her belly curved and grew.

She insisted that the odd movements both she and her husbands could feel were just indigestion and it was Evan’s wonderful cooking that had resulted in the increase in her weight. Finally, one day at the beginning of December, she was forced to admit the truth, and took to her bed with Mrs B and Jane at the ready and all five husbands in the room. Nobody was going to miss this major event.

Several hours of hard labour followed, and most of the men were pale and sweating, wishing they could help Gwyneth as she struggled to give birth.

But finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a tiny head appeared, followed by the rest of him. A son.

Royce, who handled the delivery, blinked and paled. “Wait. There’s another one.”

And sure enough, a girl followed.

“Dear God. Twins…” Gabriel’s voice was hushed as the two women cleaned the babies and then put them into Gwyneth’s arms. Her husbands flocked around her, admiring the hair, the noses, the little fingers and toes.

“Yer a wonderful mama, dear,” praised Mrs B. “Cleaned up perfectly, yer did. Lots more of them little ones’ll be on the way soon, I expect.” She shot a grin around the room.

“Let me enjoy these first.” Gwyneth said weakly.

“Now yer rest up, keep to yer bed for a day or so, and you’ll be just fine.” She stared at Gwyneth. “But yer don’t share it fer at least a month, dear.” The look was pointed. “If yer get my meanin’.” The look this time encompassed the five men in the room.

“I do indeed,” Gwyneth nodded. She was extremely sore, and love them though she did, the thought of any man near those places made her wince.

“Yer got names then?”

“We do, Mrs B.” Gwyneth smiled at her gentlemen. “We decided that if it was a boy he’d be named Giles, and since we have a