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

She broke, a cry of ecstasy on her lips, her body shuddering as she spasmed. His gaze never wavered as he thrust three fingers into her, stretching her as she came and making her lose her breath completely.

Scarce had one climax finished than he drove her up again, higher, pushing her beyond what she was used to.

His gaze never wavered, and he watched her as she came again, shocking herself to the core.

“Ahhh…” she fought for breath as she finally relaxed around him and he eased away, letting her slide gently downward until her feet hit the floor.

He stood back, allowing her skirts to fall into place. “Gwyneth, ah Gwyneth.” He shook his head and lifted his hand to his mouth, licking away her juices.

Mesmerised, she stared. “Royce…” she whispered.

He gazed at her. “You taste so damn good. Too good.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her unsure of whether her knees would hold up long enough to carry her to the nearest chair.

*~~*~~*

Some miles away, the woman who had been in the carriage with Gylbart, turned to him and frowned.

“I didn’t see him.”

“He was there,” he shrugged off the comment. “I told you I would help, and I will. You must be patient.”

“But…”

He looked at her, his features calm. “Be quiet.”

“But I thought…you said it would be today…you promised…” Her expression turned ugly with anger.

With a casual movement, Gylbart raised his hand and slapped the woman across the face. “My mistresses do not question me. You overstep yourself. Don’t do it again.”

She whimpered, holding her cheek and nodding. “I apologise, sir,” she whispered.

“Better.” He leaned back in the carriage as the wheels bumped along the untended drive. “We will accomplish our goals, my dear. As long as you obey me.”

Chapter Nineteen

The absence of her other gentlemen was somewhat of a relief, thought Gwyneth as she managed to subside into a chair by the fire. It gave her chance to explore her emotions in privacy.

Royce had ignited a similar blaze inside her, and the hands she extended toward the hearth still shook a little.

Why was it that she desired him so much? She had four other men, all of whom pleased her without reservation. She loved them with an overpowering and all-encompassing devotion. They were a part of her heart, her life, her very existence.

Just as Royce was.

But she shrugged to herself as she accepted the truth of the old saying…one always wants what one cannot have. It seemed that Royce himself was suffering from the same malady. However, this morning’s foray into the realms of forbidden passion had answered one question. She knew now that she could love yet another man and yearn for his touch.

Five men.

What have I become?

Restless, she rose and prowled the room, afraid to answer that pointed question. It should have been quite clear; she was a loose and wanton harlot. That was certainly how she would have been viewed by just about everyone in London.

And yet Mrs B had not shied away from the subtle suggestion that Gwyneth try more than one of her men at once.

Was it only the traditionalists of the Ton who would be shocked and horrified at such a thing? And did they have the right to do so, since the Ton itself was notorious for scandalous affairs, broken marriages and illegitimate children by the hundreds? Even the Duke of Clarence had many bastards by his mistress and openly acknowledged them.

She didn’t even want to consider the licentious behavior of the Prince Regent himself.

Was loving more than one man such a very bad thing? Was it a sin? Would she be sent to hell for the feelings she had? She hoped not, because the deep and lasting passions growing for all her gentlemen warmed her, sustained her and gave her great pleasure. How could those things be wrong?

The ancient Bible they had rescued from Fivetrees still rested on the side table. Perhaps the answers might be located in there. She sat next to it and gently pulled it closer, opening it with care since it looked as if many of the pages were fragile.

To her surprise, inside the cover she found—instead of a traditional first page—several loose leaves which had been cut to the exact size and stitched carefully into the binding with the finest of threads.

These pages bore names and dates, and when read together, the family tree was quite clear.

Gwyneth was spellbound, losing herself in the information written there, and raising her eyebrows as she followed the lineage.

But her moments of discovery were interrupted as her errant gentlemen returned from their morning’s expedition.

Harry bore a large pie, given to him by one of the worker’s wives in gratitude for the earnings her husband was bringing home, and the thought that their children would be able to read.

Evan and Gabriel had fresh vegetables and other supplies, so with the pie heating in the oven and a soup in the pot on the stove, they all adjourned to the dining room.

She and Royce rapidly informed the others of Gylbart’s visit, sending Gabriel into a seething fury. He bore the scars, carried the memories of Gylbart’s savagery, and it took some time to calm him down.

“You will not encounter him, Gabriel. Not if I can help it.” Harry looked him in the eye. “That is a bad man. We won’t tolerate his presence.”

“And I don’t believe for a minute that Giles will let the Withersbys sell Fivetrees to him.” Gwyneth shook her head. “He’s probably found a legal loophole or something that allows him—as a potential buyer—to visit, but that’s all.”

“Well, he’s nosing around all right,” sighed Evan. “Someone mentioned him in Ditchley this morning. Said he’d been in the village a month or so ago, visiting friends.”

Gwyneth