The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

  She smiled then, knowing he understood. “Should you wish to, then yes. I would welcome them.”

  Their gazes met, Gwyneth facing Harry with confidence, now that there were few secrets left for him to discover.

  “In that case…”

  It was inevitable, she knew, and she eagerly parted her lips as he dropped her arm and cupped her cheeks. Leaning down, he touched her mouth gently, then licked along the seam, encouraging her to admit him.

  His taste was different, but wonderful, and without hesitation, she deepened the kiss. His tongue darted in, learning her slick surfaces, teasing and withdrawing, only to thrust again.

  One arm encircled her as the other slid to her neck and moved her head to where he could best devour her. A groan that began just below her knees made its way to her throat and she sighed it into his mouth as they finally drew apart.

  “Oh my,” she whispered, touching her lips with a finger.

  “My thoughts exactly,” grinned Harry. “I must say, if you’ll allow me the liberty, I’m damned glad I agreed to stay.”

  She couldn’t help an answering chuckle, and as they retraced their steps, she squeezed his arm. “Me too.”

  Chapter Seven

  Journal of Gwyneth, Lady of Wolfbridge - October 1818

  How fast the time flies here, even though we are well-isolated from the hustle and bustle of life. We do receive newspapers now and again, and both Royce and Harry communicate with others outside our little domain. The estate’s business must be tended to, and with the influx of capital I have been able to contribute—thanks to the demise of my villainous stepson—we are in good heart.

  So we face the winter season knowing that our tenants are well-protected and that there will be an adequate supply of food and grain. There are a few new barns, so even the herds can seek shelter if the weather turns bad. I like to know about such things, since I am the Lady and have responsibilities to those who rely on Wolfbridge for their livelihood. In addition, Mrs Barnsley has no hesitation in telling me if anyone is in need or troubled, so we’ve been able to anticipate such situations and prevent hardships wherever possible.

  I think Royce is very pleased that Harry has assumed much of the estate business. His legal experience, along with his ability to manage such a large property, has taken a weight off Royce’s shoulders and he seems more good-natured, although still his commanding self.

  Harry…well, what shall I say about him? I like him. Very much. And he knew Michael all those years ago, sharing a battle that I shudder to even name. The one that took Michael from me.

  It’s strange now, I can write those words without the agonising pain that usually accompanied such thoughts. Knowing he received my letter and that it made him happy—well, that is healing balm to the wound in my soul. I adored him with all the passion I could imagine as a young girl. And there will always be a place in my heart reserved for him alone.

  Had I not loved him, perhaps I might never have found love again, as I have here at Wolfbridge. Especially after the nightmare I suffered at the hands of the deceased Earl of Kilham. But thanks to Michael’s legacy, my heart was not dead, but merely dormant, to be awoken by the passions of my gentlemen.

  Evan, Jeremy and Gabriel are my rocks. My staunch supporters, my lights, my happiness. Their love is unconditional, unquestioning, and I rise each morning knowing that I am twice the woman I would be without them. Royce has become the foundation upon which we all rely, and I have a feeling that Harry may occupy a similar position within our household before too long.

  He kissed me. Our first kiss, in a meadow, after I had cried away my pain and cleared some shadows I’d held within me. It was tender, then passionate…I found it arousing and I must admit, here in the privacy of this journal, that I eagerly await his presence in my bed.

  I shall not demand it, though. Something will tell me that the time is right; it always does.

  In the meantime, I have my three lovers ready at any and all times.

  Gabriel lured me to the attic a few days ago, under the pretext of sorting out some old trunks. His humour was contagious, and when we discovered one full of ancient clothing—and many moths—we laughed as we tried on various hats, cloaks and other fancy accessories. He found a glorious gown, sadly showing the depredations of mice, but still revealing gold thread within the fabric.

  He urged me to try it on, and I was quite willing, admiring myself in the tight corset and voluminous skirts of many decades ago. Such constraints do indeed enhance a lady’s bosom, and Gabriel made it clear that he was very much entranced by mine.

  He loosened the laces and dipped his hands beneath, lifting my breasts above the boning and freeing them for his attentions. His mouth, his tongue, even his teeth…I was quite wild after only a few minutes of such exciting caresses.

  It’s not hard to imagine how we both came to be naked and entangled upon a very ancient couch. He’d whisked away the cover and there it was, deep red velvet with only a few tears and holes. Insisting I should like there, reclining in a suitably artistic pose, Gabriel flattered me shamelessly, touched me everywhere, and finally lay between my legs, his mouth once again driving me up that wonderful path to ecstasy.

  I came, not once, but twice, since he followed up his lascivious kisses with his cock, scarcely waiting for my shudders to decline. Once in me, it was a matter of moments before I rose once more, this time with him inside and driving me with his hips and the force of that thick hardness rubbing sensitive places.

  I think I may have screamed, or perhaps it was Gabriel. Or even both of us.

  The pleasure of such a thing is beyond words, and yet each time my gentlemen love me it seems as if I respond even more wildly.

  I am so very blessed, and I thank the good Lord every day for delivering me from the hell of Kilham to the heaven that is Wolfbridge.

  *~~*~~*

  “It’s All Hallows’ Eve next week,” observed Jeremy as they ate dinner. “The end of October already.”

  Evan nodded and passed the plate of roast chicken to Gabriel. “They’ll build the bonfire shortly.”

  “Bonfire?” Harry paused with a fork halfway to his mouth. “Isn’t that for Bonfire night?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Yes and no. Yes, bonfires are more commonly found on that day, but around here the old traditions linger in one form or another. Mrs B has been filling us in about it.” He took a sip of his wine. “Back in the past, long, long ago, there were all kinds of celebrations built around something called Hallowmas, I think.”

  “Oh.” Gabriel’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve heard of that. All Saint’s Day.”

  “It tends to be regional, doesn’t it?” Royce added his mite. “I had more than a few men serving with me who celebrated, and in different ways depending on where they hailed from.”

  “So what happens here at Wolfbridge?” Harry asked the question that was trembling on Gwyneth’s lips.

  Jeremy laughed. “Nothing until this year. Until Mrs B found out about it from her relatives up north. She has been very detailed in what is supposed to occur.” He glanced at Gwyneth. “I hope you don’t mind...”

  “Of course not,” she declared. “Mrs B is a woman of great sense and has my utmost respect and admiration. If she thinks it’s a good idea for us to celebrate, then celebrate we will. What will happen?”

  Even chuckled. “Well, first our tenants will put out all their fires.”

  Gwyneth blinked. “All of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “But…”

  Jeremy forestalled Gwyneth. “’Tis only for a short while. The embers will barely have chance to cool.”

  “Ah.” Still puzzled, she waited for more information.

  “So after that,” continued Evan, “they will gather candles and come here, to the field just below Wolfbridge. The one you can see from the terrace. They will be building a bonfire there.”

  “And they will…” Royce raised his hand, palm up, in a gesture of encouragement.
“Throw the candles at us, perhaps?”

  Gwyneth laughed. “I do hope not.”

  “No,” Jeremy joined the laughter. “They will wait until you give them permission and then they will light their candles from the bonfire, maybe dance a bit if Old Rex brings his fiddle, and finally go home and re-light their fires from the candles.”

  “Well.” Harry wrinkled his brow. “It sounds like fun, but…is there a point to it?”

  “If there was, it’s been lost in the mists of time,” said Evan lyrically. “I believe that long ago, one of the Hallowmas days had something to do with begging. As in begging a light for a candle?” He looked around. “Truly, I have no idea where it all began, but it’s now going to be part of the Wolfbridge tradition, it seems.”

  “So if I see people building a fire over there, I shouldn’t worry,” Royce’s eyebrow quirked.

  “That’s correct,” Jeremy nodded. “If you see people building one anywhere else, you are quite free to worry.”

  Gwyneth rolled her eyes. “So what about Guy Fawkes Day?”

  “Those bonfires are built closer to their homes. Smaller, but many more of them.” Evan laid down his cutlery with a sigh. “And we don’t have to do anything at all, unless we want to. But all of this depends on the weather too. Rain is not terribly conducive to a nice roaring bonfire.”

  The conversation roamed on for a little while, as Gwyneth’s mind turned over the information she’d just heard. Perhaps this would be a good time to introduce Harry to their tenants. They should know he was now part of Wolfbridge, and she knew Mrs Barnsley would be very upset if she was not informed in person. Then there was Trick, and his wife Jane, neither of whom had met him yet.

  She moved her foot and rubbed Darcy, who had settled comfortably next to one of her shoes. What would be something she could do on behalf of Wolfbridge for her tenants?

  “Royce,” she said slowly, “do you happen to know offhand how many tenants we have? Approximately?”

  He blinked at her. “Uh…” He glanced at Harry. “I’d say maybe a hundred? That includes children of course...”

  Harry nodded. “That would be close to my estimate as well, although I haven’t actually gone from house to farm to do a head count.”

  “Are you including the littlest ones, my Lady?” Gabriel looked across the table at her. “Because I believe there are a couple due before the end of the year. Two, at least, that I know of…”

  “If you must know, I’m trying to think of something we could do for them. Something unexpected. So that when they come to ask permission to light their candles, we could give them—a gift perhaps—in addition to the bonfire.”

  “A lovely idea,” smiled Gabriel.

  “Indeed, yes,” added Jeremy. “That would be wonderful.”

  “I could bake…” Evan looked thoughtful.

  “Better start now, then,” laughed Jeremy, poking his friend in the arm. “That’s a lot of pies. And let’s be honest, Evan, Mrs B knows more about pies than anyone in England.”

  “Hmm.” Harry’s murmured caught everyone’s attention. “Perhaps…perhaps, my Lady, you might consider giving them something they’d never expect.”

  Silence fell for a moment or two.

  “Such as?” Gwyneth watched his face, his hazel eyes golden tonight in the light of the candles on the table.

  “Well, what about a school?”

  The silence following that question was even longer.

  “I don’t…a school?” Gwyneth leaned toward him, curious now, her interest piqued.

  Harry glanced at Royce, who remained quiet, but fixed the newcomer with one of his piercing gazes. Gwyneth saw it and found herself amused that it had no effect whatsoever on Harry.

  “Yes, a school. As far as I can tell, there isn’t one. Which is not unusual, of course, but time is moving on and an education is becoming more desirable. Certainly sons will wish to carry on their fathers’ work. And my intent is not to send a generation of your tenants off to seek their fortune in London. But…”

  “They need to learn more than how to raise pigs,” murmured Gwyneth.

  “They need to learn to read,” finished Royce. “Yes. A very good idea, Harry.” He looked around the table. “How do you all feel about that?”

  “Enthusiastic,” quickly replied Jeremy. “I’m all for education. My time at university taught me so much…”

  “Me too,” Gabriel nodded firmly. “Reading, understanding, learning…it’s all going to become more important as the years pass.”

  “And the world will change,” said Evan quietly. “It is already changing. We have to make sure Wolfbridge keeps up.”

  Gwyneth smiled at him. “You couldn’t have said anything better. I’m convinced.” She turned to Harry. “So how are we going to build a school within a week?”

  The laugh was general, rippling around the table like a twirl of sunlight, and Harry rolled his eyes dramatically.

  “Were I a wizard, I would wave my hands and presto…there it would be.” He demonstrated his version of a magician’s magic spell and nearly knocked Royce’s wine glass over. “Oh, sorry.”

  Royce merely sighed and moved his glass out of the way.

  “However,” Harry continued, pausing to let the tension build. “There is, if my information is correct, a building that is currently unoccupied. And a little isolated from the rest of our tenant homes.”

  Gwyneth narrowed her eyes. “You mean the old Carter house? I thought we were hoping to place a tenant there…”

  “We were,” said Royce, “But as yet, nobody has applied.”

  “It’s rather large, too, my Lady,” added Jeremy. “I went past it a couple of weeks ago and wondered if anyone would care for it.”

  “It needs a bit of attention, but I should think that for a project like this we could count on everyone lending a hand, don’t you?” Harry looked at her and she could see the genuine interest in his eyes as he spoke.

  “All right, then. I am definitely in favour of this idea. Royce? It’s up to you really, since you’re more familiar with the situation here at Wolfbridge than anyone. Can we afford to use this space for a school, rather than a tenant?”

  He pursed his lips for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, my Lady. Yes, I believe we can. And the benefits we would derive from educating the children? I would venture a guess that in a few years they will be considerable.”

  “Excellent.” Gwyneth stood. “I suggest we adjourn to the parlour and celebrate with a wee drop of brandy.”

  Jeremy and Evan stacked the dishes as Harry offered his arm to Gwyneth. “My Lady?”

  She took it with a smile. “Thank you, Harry. Thank you for such a brilliant idea.”

  His gaze swept over her face, lingering on her lips. “My pleasure, Lady Gwyneth. My pleasure.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to invite him to her chamber right at that moment. But she decided to hold off, since she was well aware that sometimes the things one waited for were often the best.

  However, it would definitely be soon.

  Chapter Eight

  Evan had been correct in his assumption—the bonfire was growing apace.

  With a warm wrap snugged around her, Gwyneth left Darcy indoors and stood on the terrace, watching as people trickled in with fuel for the upcoming flames. Sometimes bundled faggots were stacked, at others one or two men would appear with logs. It was thrilling to watch and did a great deal to indicate the sense of community that Wolfbridge had fostered over the years.

  “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Jeremy appeared beside her.

  “It is,” she answered. I cannot wait to see it afire. It should make quite a brilliant display.” A sharp gust of wind plastered her skirts to her legs, and she shivered.

  “’Tis cold,” he said, gently putting his arm around her shoulders. “Come inside, Gwyneth.”

  “I’m warm enough,” she chuckled, leaning into his body. “But you’re right. Winter is definitely on the way.
”

  He seized the opportunity to drop a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Ah, my Lady,” he sighed. “To be tucked away by a fire in a snowstorm…with you.”

  She turned for the door and they headed back indoors. “My last winter was close to hell,” she murmured, “but I have a feeling this one will be more like heaven…”

  “We’ll make sure it is.” Jeremy released her and bowed with a wicked grin. “All of us.”

  She smiled as he left, yet wondered. She had three of the most astounding men in her bed. How greedy was it to yearn for two more?

  And why was she not shocked down to the soles of her slippers?

  Before she had a chance to ponder too deeply about the answer to that question, Royce and Gabriel arrived, the latter with a large, happy smile, and a box clutched in his hands.

  “My Lady,” he sounded excited. “May we show you what we’ve come up with as far as gifts for the tenants at the bonfire ceremony?”

  Royce grinned as well. “Easy there, lad.” He glanced at Gwyneth. “He’s as merry as a boy with his first puppy.”

  “Merrier,” quipped Gabriel. “This doesn’t need to be taken outside every ten minutes.” He lifted the box a little, then set it on a side table.

  Curious, Gwyneth walked to them, her eyebrows raised. “What have you been up to?”

  “Well,” Gabriel began, “obviously you will have to give something to each tenant as they light their candles.”

  “We decided that chicks, ducks or anything live would not work.” Royce’s voice was amused.

  “You decided,” pouted Gabriel. “I still believe a fluffy chick would have been just lovely.”

  Gwyneth sputtered a laugh. “Really? Think of my gloves, Gabriel…”

  “That’s what he said,” replied Gabriel, tossing his head at Royce. “So we came up with something else.” He reverently opened the box. “We had the printer do this for us. The one in Ditchley.”