The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3) by Sahara Kelly (13 ebook reader .TXT) 📕

choice of human companion remained the two of them. So Harry made sure to take Darcy out as much as possible, knowing that come nightfall, the pup would be safest tucked up indoors.

By the time the sun neared the horizon, all was prepared, and Wolfbridge shone with lights. Branches of candles lit the dusk from behind many of the windows, and outside several torches rimmed the terrace, thanks to both Royce and Harry, who called upon their military experience to create them.

Darcy snored by the fire, well away from the festivities.

“How long will they burn?” Gwyneth stared at the torches.

“I have no idea,” answered Royce with a grin. “But a couple of hours at least.”

Harry couldn’t help but think Royce was every bit as excited as the children who were now running freely onto the field. The tables were set, the scrolls ready.

“My Lady.” One of the oldest tenants, Joe Fillwell, approached Gwyneth.

“Mr Fillwell. I’m glad to see you,” she replied, her smile broad and welcoming. “Are you going to light our bonfire for us?”

“Yes’m,” he bowed, cap in hand. “You got a taper then?”

“I do.”

With great ceremony, Gwyneth took the large taper from Jeremy’s hand. “Here you are, Mr. Fillwell. Please light the fire with my blessing, so that we may all be warm during the coming winter.” She touched the lighted taper to the unlit candle and grinned as the two wicks met and flared into brilliant life.

She’d memorised the words, Harry knew, but they seemed natural coming from her lips.

He moved to her side, along with the other men, as Mr Fillwell made his way carefully down the terrace steps and across the lawn to the field.

“I hope he makes it all right,” muttered Jeremy.

“If he takes any longer, the flame will go out,” said Gabriel, worry in his voice. “D’you think I should…oh, there. He’s met the others. They’ll help.”

And within moments a spark could be seen at the base of the bonfire, a glimmer of red that turned gold very quickly and spread upward, finding more fuel from the dry twigs and short branches that had been stacked inside. Within five minutes it was a happy blaze and ten minutes later it was more of a warning beacon, shooting sparks high in the air and bringing cheers to the throats of the crowd surrounding it.

Harry found himself cheering as well, although he had no idea why.

The night shone with the brilliance of the massive bonfire, and it reflected its glow on the Lady of Wolfbridge as she stood between two tables at the edge of the terrace.

Harry watched as the gown she had chosen glittered brightly; her neckline edged with something sparkling, her cape featuring a matching trim, and in her hair some little pins flickered like glowworms.

She handed out the scrolls; a quick word or two to everyone who queued up, a laugh and a nod here and there. If he’d been asked to describe the scene, the word “queen” would have been mentioned. She stood there so calm and happy, not a bit of pretence or snobbery, treating every single tenant as if they were the most important person she would speak to that evening.

It was a natural grace, a charm that could not be taught.

And it impressed the hell out of Harry.

“Amazing, isn’t she?” Jeremy appeared next to him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the like,” he replied, honestly.

Jeremy cleared his thought. “Look, we’ve been talking. The others and I.” He shifted a little as Harry turned to face him. “It’s time you…erm…spent some time with Lady Gwyneth.”

“Some time?” Harry’s eyebrow quirked. “As in have a cup of tea with her?”

“No,” snorted Jeremy. “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

Harry nodded. “So how does it work?”

“Royce didn’t say anything?”

“No. Not directly.”

“Well…” Jeremy gazed at Gwyneth. “Sometimes she’ll make her preference clear. Other times, if she’s tired, she’ll just say goodnight. We’ve learned to understand her signals, and I’m not even sure if she knows she gives them. But there are also times when she needs what one or two of us can offer in the way of support, or sympathy. Royce knows those signs and he will mention them.” He shrugged. “Then there are times when she’ll ask for company.”

“She hasn’t asked me.”

“No, but she is curious about you. So tonight the rest of us will be in the kitchen with Evan, finishing off whatever mulled wine is left and maybe washing it down with a brandy or two. The coast will be clear for you, Harry.” He punched the other man’s shoulder. “Make us proud.”

Harry’s gaze returned to watch Gwyneth.

Yes. He would do his best to make his new friends proud. But beyond that, he’d do his damndest to satisfy this amazing woman. As if she’d heard, her head turned toward him.

And she smiled, a feminine curve of the lips, an invitation to what, he wasn’t quite sure. But by God, he wanted to find out.

*~~*~~*

Gwyneth, unaware that plans for her night had been made, was enjoying every moment of the Hallowmas celebration. Her throat was growing hoarse from the number of conversations she’d held, and although her gentlemen had been with her the entire time, she was still getting quite tired.

She caught Harry’s gaze and smiled at him. He’d been a big support this evening, his first real exposure to something like this.

She had handed out all the scrolls, speaking to every tenant, laughing with some, shaking hands with others, and watching as the increasing number of lighted candles danced like fairies in the darkness around the bonfire. The bread had long since vanished and the mulled wine had been well received by many. Others probably were looking forward to their own beers, but overall the evening had gone well.