by Sahara Kelly
“Do you have anyone to whom you are committed? A lady somewhere for whom you cherish warm affections?”
He shook his head. “No, my Lady. There have been some in the past, of course, but since the war I’ve not found anyone.” He shrugged. “I’ve not been looking.”
“So you would be free to take a position somewhere, somewhere like this, perhaps, and remain in residence without having to worry about responsibilities elsewhere?”
He lowered his head for a moment, then raised it, looking at her. “I was grievously injured in battle, Ma’am. My recovery was prolonged, and since that time I’ve been alone. Completely alone.”
Her face softened as she looked at him. “We are in desperate need of an estate manager, especially if we are to add to our lands. Royce, who excels at almost everything he does, finds himself at a loss when it comes to the actual estate. It seems that you, with your legal and financial experience, have everything we need.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “So would you be interested in joining us here at Wolfbridge? Becoming one of our…family?”
He looked into her eyes and swore her hand was burning a hole through his jacket down to his bare skin.
She licked her lips and his cock twitched.
He shifted awkwardly in his chair, then glanced around and back to her. “Yes. Yes, please. I think I’d like that very much indeed.”
“Wonderful.” She clapped her hands as the others cheered. “Jeremy will see you settled and Royce will fill you in on what you need to know.”
“One thing, my Lady,” he held up his hand. “If I am to stay, would you all please call me Harry?”
Chapter Six
“How’s he settling in?”
Gwyneth posed the question to Royce a few days after Harry’s arrival. She had deliberately sought out Royce’s company, knowing he’d been instigating enquiries about Fivetrees, not only from Giles, but from others who had also purchased properties.
“As far as I can tell, he’s doing well,” answered Royce, looking up at her as she boldly perched on the end of his desk. “He’s made himself at home in the library, and I have to say that turning over most of the books to him has taken a considerable weight off my shoulders.”
She smiled. “Poor Royce. Giles did rather leave you in the lurch, didn’t he?”
“We managed,” he said with a shrug. “But you, my Lady. How are you dealing with our newest member?”
Gwyneth shot him an amused glance. “I haven’t had him in my bed yet, you know.”
A blush creeping over his face surprised her. “That wasn’t the intent of my question.”
“Well, it seemed a logical part of it. After all, we’re not just any other estate, are we? And soon we will have to help Harry understand the true nature of Wolfbridge.”
“Bring light unto thyself, or whatever it was in Latin.”
She nodded. “It’s quite a large concept to convey in simple terms, because it encompasses so much.” Walking to the window, Gwyneth gazed out over the green lawn. “And yet it has held Wolfbridge together, helped it thrive without hindrance, for so many generations. So many ladies…”
“And, God willing, it will continue to do so.” He rose and joined her. “Are you worried about Harry?”
She thought about that. “I don’t think so. It’s more that I’m not sure how to introduce the matter of our…our…”
“Intimacies?” He looked down at her, blue eyes intense, lit from behind with a fire she couldn’t quite interpret.
“Yes, I suppose so.” She dragged her gaze back to the landscape outside. “I’ve not been in this position, having to let a man know he’s welcome to join the others who frequent my chamber. It’s—um—unique, to say the least.”
“I’m sure he’s wondering about the relationships within Wolfbridge, my Lady. Perhaps you should just give him time to adjust to the physical reality of life here. Then when the moment presents itself, introduce him to some of the pleasures…”
The look that accompanied those words left her in no doubt of the sentiments behind them. Her skin fluttered beneath the warm wool of her gown.
“You’re right. That is the wisest course of action.” She cleared her throat. “I’m glad you are here, Royce. In case I haven’t mentioned it before. I rely on you a great deal, as do we all.”
He casually slipped an arm around her and pulled her close, letting her lean against him. He was warm, so warm, and she fit perfectly just beneath his shoulder. “I have no need of your thanks, Gwyneth,” he murmured.
She moved her head, a soft catlike rub of his jacket that seemed natural to her. “What do you need, Royce?”
She felt rather than heard him swallow. “A way around the rules that prohibit me from fucking you.”
At that, she stared up at him. “You want that?”
He laughed, a harsh sound. “Could you possibly imagine otherwise?”
“I didn’t…I wasn’t…”
“Stop. This is my problem, my emotions. You are everything that is ideal, both as Lady of Wolfbridge and as Gwyneth, the woman to whom we are all devoted.” He stepped away and turned her, setting them face to face before the window.
“But I’m a man and I have longings, my Lady. If there is a way to fulfil them, would you object if I did?”
She raised her hand to his cheek, caressing it as her eyes drifted to his mouth. “No, Royce, I wouldn’t object.” She stood on tiptoe and brought their faces close together. “You know I’d welcome you with open arms.”
He responded to her silent invitation with a kiss, a light touch of his lips. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you, Gwyneth.”
Then he took her breath away, tightening his clasp and returning to kiss her again, this time with all the pent-up fire he’d revealed only moments before.
Desire flooded her, and she moaned, willingly opening her mouth and encouraging his tongue delve inside. Her hands found their way up beneath his jacket and clenched in the fabric of his waistcoat as his slid down to her buttocks and cupped them.
The ground beneath her feet vanished as he lifted her, rubbing their bodies together and making her moan once again as she parted her thighs to get that rigid part of him where she needed it.
“Goddamn, woman,” he swore as he ripped his mouth from hers and gasped for air.
She found her breath and let out a little laugh as the humour of the moment caught up with her. “Yes, yes, indeed.” She nuzzled his chest. “I’m sorry, but I have to find this situation rather amusing. I’ve gone from disgraced young girl, to marriage with an older man, to almost starving to death, to the arms and charms of so many men devoted to my welfare. It feels sometimes as if I’m riding an out-of-control Arabian stallion, and neither of us know where we’re going.”
He laughed too, some of the tension easing from his body as he leaned against the windowsill. “It has been a tumultuous ride for you, hasn’t it?” He took her hand. “And if I can find a way, it’s not over yet.”
She twined her fingers within his. “I’d like that very much.”
“But until then…Harry.”
Recalled to the original topic of conversation, Gwyneth nodded. “Yes. Harry. I suppose it’s time I walked with him alone for a while. I’ve let him find his feet here without doing more than sharing meals and conversations whenever we’ve passed. But now—now he should know more.”
“Would you like me to tell him?”
“Thank you, Royce, but no. I think I should be the one to make the explanations.” She looked at his face again, appreciating the edgy and intense expression that was so much part of his personality. One would never doubt that what he said, he meant.
“If I could send Harry to you, should he have questions I simply can’t answer…will that be all right with you?”
“Of course, my Lady.” He gently tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. “Whatever you want—I want. Don’t ever forget that.”
Flustered and still a little shaken from his
kiss, Gwyneth nodded and left the room.
*~~*~~*
The opportunity to catch Harry and spend time with him occurred the following day as Gwyneth walked from the parlour into the hall.
“Good morning, my Lady,” he bowed as he emerged from the library. “I hope it finds you well?”
She inclined her head with a smile. “Thank you, yes indeed.” She paused. “Harry, would you care for a stroll? The sun is shining and the air still warm…”
“Of course. As my Lady wishes.”
“Then let me find my pelisse and we shall go. Five minutes. No more, I promise.”
His quick grin charmed her, since it conveyed extreme doubt about her statement. Clearly, he was one of those men who assumed every woman needed an hour to prepare. She would prove him wrong.
And she did, returning to the hall in slightly less than five minutes, bonnet tied neatly, pelisse buttoned and pulling on her warm gloves.
The quirk of one eyebrow gave him away as he leaned against the bannister, watching her descend. “You astound me, my Lady.”
She peeked at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. “Confess, Harry. You didn’t believe me, did you?”
“Not for a moment,” he admitted, holding out his arm. “Since you have confounded me completely, allow me to escort you out into the sunshine by way of an apology.”
“Of course.” She linked her arm through his and together they left the house, standing briefly on the front steps admiring the view.
“This is such a lovely time of year,” sighed Gwyneth. “The colours of the forests are superb. Just look.” She nodded at the landscape, trees and fields blending into a portrait of autumn.
“You’re right,” he answered. “And thank you. I can’t say I ever took a moment to truly admire any of this.” He gazed around.
“Well then, I think now might be the time to change that, don’t you?” She tugged a little, and they set off down the gravel driveway to the path that turned from there toward the hills that rose behind Wolfbridge. “If we follow this route, we’ll find ourselves at a perfect spot to see just about everything hereabouts.”
He nodded and followed her directions, matching her pace as they strolled between hedges scented with a touch of dying leaves.
Gwyneth drew in a breath. “You can almost smell the winter approaching.” Harry was silent, which made her look up at him. “You are distracted. Was this a bad notion? Were you in the middle of something?”
Immediately he glanced down and covered her gloved hand with his. “Of course not. Forgive me, my Lady. I was a little distracted, I suppose, but for a second or two that particular scent, that oncoming-winter smell…it took me back to Europe.”
She thought about his words, then leaned against his arm slightly. “You were a soldier, I understand.”
“I was,” he replied. “I was in Spain, in the autumn. It was warmer there, not like autumn here.”
She remained quiet, letting him speak as he wished.
“December came, and that scent…it was just like the one here. I remember it, because a few days later a savage cold swept in. Brutal barely describes it.”
Caught up by the tone of his voice, low and with barely any expression to it, she merely nodded. “Go on.”
“It was a battle. A battle so fierce…”
“Tell me,” she urged.
He shook his head. “I can’t. Not even now, so many years later. You’d have to be a Dragoon to understand it, and a 15th Dragoon to fully comprehend the manner of it.”
Gwyneth’s heart kicked at those words, and she stumbled.
He caught her immediately, his face concerned. “My Lady. Are you faint?” He looked around and found a large rock nearby in the field they were about to enter. “Here. Sit for a moment.”
She couldn’t look at him, her mind whirling as she followed his instructions and sat, trying to catch her breath.
“I’m all right,” she mumbled. “Just give me a minute.”
He knelt by her, holding her hand, looking at her with worry in his eyes. “Shall I go back and get the gig?”
“No, no. I just need a moment here.” She sucked in air. “Harry. Were you in the 15th Dragoons?”
He blinked. “Yes. Yes, I was.”
“Did you…were you…on terms with many of your fellow Dragoons?”
“Well, yes, I suppose you could say so…” His brow furrowed in confusion.
She gulped down the lump in her throat. “Were you at Sahagún?”
The shock of her question was evident in the sudden grip of his hand around hers. “Why?”
It was a struggle, forming the question she so desperately needed to ask. But the habits of all the intervening years made her almost helpless to speak. Her breaths shuddered through her as she found her voice at last.
“Did you know Michael Summersby?”
Harry stilled. “Yes. Lieutenant Michael Summersby.”
She clenched his hand, her fingers white. “How well did you know him?”
Long moments passed before he replied.
“Well enough to know he was going to marry. And the love of his life was…Gwyneth.” He dragged in a harsh breath. “It was you. You’re Michael’s Gwyneth.”
She could only nod, her eyes filling with tears.
She barely realised he had swept her from the rock and into his arms, dropping to the soft grass with her on his lap and the stone serving as a support for his back as he cuddled her into his jacket.
All she knew was that she was surrounded by warmth, protected by strong arms and far away from anyone who would notice and ask why she wept.
He held her snugly, tucking her pelisse around her, letting her cry and cry until she had no more tears left. Her throat felt sore and her head ached, but for some odd reason her heart seemed lighter. At last she looked at him. “Harry,” she said, her voice a croak. “Thank you.”
His eyes were kind. “I did nothing. You needed to get it out. To say a final goodbye.”
She was silent for a moment, resting against him. “I think you may be right. It’s been so many years now, so much I have hidden away, tried to forget…”
“But you never really grieved, did you?” His comforting words made sense.
“No, that’s true. I don’t suppose I ever did. I went from news of his death to losing our babe…”
“Oh Gwyneth, I’m sorry, so sorry.” Harry’s grip tightened as she spoke the words aloud. “He couldn’t hide how happy he was when he learned that. I’m not sure if it helps now, but you must know he was making plans for what he called his soon-to-be family.”
She blinked away more tears. “That does help so much. I never knew if my letter had reached him before… before…”
“It did. He was the most joyous of men when he got the news.”
She sighed then, a long breath releasing pain she hadn’t even realised she carried with her. “Thank you, Harry. Thank you for putting my mind and my heart to rest. Something I never knew I wanted quite so much. Now I can think of him with nothing but happiness and truly mourn his loss. And ours.”
“Then you can settle the past to where it should be in your heart.”
“That’s…absolutely right.” Gwyneth leaned her head back against his shoulder. “A very profound statement.”
“I have my moments.”
She dashed a gloved hand over damp cheeks and managed a little smile. “I don’t know you that well, but I’m inclined to agree with that, most wholeheartedly.”
“Wait until you know me better,” he grinned at her.
That grin, that quirk of his lips and the slight imp of mischief dancing in his eyes—she was charmed. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“And I’m glad you’re so slender,” he groaned a little as he stretched out one leg. “Because this grass is damned hard. Not to mention damp.”
“Oh…” She moved quickly. “I didn’t think.” Struggling to her feet, she found herself caught in his arms again. He s
tood quickly and helped her sort out her skirts before she snagged her boot in them.
“I’m fine,” he said, brushing off his backside. “And for the pleasure of holding you, my Lady, the damp seat is worth it.”
This, realised Gwyneth, was the moment. “Harry, there’s much you should know about Wolfbridge.” She straightened and checked her bonnet, tugging it back into place. “One of the most important things is the informality of our lives here.”
“I noticed that the other men use your Christian name now and again, and that you all dine together,” he answered noncommittally.
“Yes, we do, and I use theirs. We are, for a variety of reasons, more of a family unit than a household.” She accepted his arm as they began to walk once more. “But there is more, and it has to do with Wolfbridge itself.”
So she told him the story of Aphrodite, the first mistress, her troubles and how she came to entail the property to Wolfbridge descendants, women who were in dire need of help.
“I was one of the women. When Giles found me I was…well, as good as dead. Almost.” She shook her head. “A story for another day. But as I healed, I learned that Wolfbridge is about giving. Giving sanctuary, giving health, giving joy to life and giving love to each other.” She took a breath. “It’s motto is Illuminabit ad te.”
“Bring light unto thyself.” He translated the Latin immediately.
Gwyneth nodded in approval. “Exactly.” She kept her gaze on the countryside. “And Wolfbridge is about giving that light as love and joy in all the ways there are. Because in that giving, we all receive, and our lives are brightened by each other.”
“Ah.”
They walked on, their footsteps clear in the silence that had fallen between them.
“So you see,” continued Gwyneth, unsure now whether he’d understood the inference. “It is a very unusual estate with unique occupants. But we are all linked in one way or another. We have left our pasts behind us, yes, but mostly we are connected by the joy and pleasure we give and take from each other.”
He gently pulled her to a standstill. “I believe I understand, Gwyneth,” he said softly. “One cannot miss the deep affections of the other men when it comes to yourself, and even the profound friendships that bond them all together.” His hair blew in the breeze and he brushed it aside. “If I am to stay, which I pray may be the case, would I also be allowed to offer you my affections?”