The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2) Sahara Kelly (book club recommendations TXT) 📖

“I did,” she felt a slight blush as a trickle of pleasure skipped over her skin. “I was…tired.”

“I’m not surprised,” he chuckled. “What a lovely night it was. May I hope we can repeat it?”

“Uh…” She swallowed. Oh, why not? “Yes, Gabriel. I hope we can.”

“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, let’s see to getting my Medieval Lady into her garments, shall we?”

Gwyneth went through her morning toilette, drank her tea and slipped into a long cotton chemise. Originally she had planned on wearing the velvet over dress with an accompanying homespun gown, but the impending warmth of the day persuaded both of them that the lightweight cotton would be a better choice.

Gabriel stood behind her, lacing the velvet. “Not too tight?”

“No, that’s ideal, thank you,” she watched him in her tall mirror. The green brought out the chestnut hues in her hair, and the white puffed sleeves of her chemise were a perfect foil to the elegant embroidery that edged the shoulders and hem of her overdress.

“Now, let’s see…” Gabriel reached for the silk flower arrangement that would fit over her curls and trail ribbons down her back. He tucked it in, twining her hair around it, adding a few pins and then stepping back to survey his work. “There. I think that’s perfect…”

She turned side to side. “Oh yes. It’s the finishing touch, isn’t it?” She lifted a finger and pushed in a pin, just to make sure it was secure. “I hardly know it’s there,” she smiled.

“In that case you won’t worry about it,” said Gabriel practically. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I must be off. I have tight stockings to get into.” He grimaced. “It was a good idea when I thought of it, but in reality it’s not terribly comfortable.”

“You’ll be sweating too,” she tossed back at him.

“Good point.” He nodded. “Some extra lavender water today, I think.” He winked at her and hurried from the room.

She shook her head. He would look wonderful in his tights, she knew. Gabriel had fine legs. As did all her gentlemen.

Eager to see said legs on said gentlemen, she left her chamber and went downstairs, wondering if Evan had had time to put any food together.

“There’s toast and jam…”

Evan’s words rang through the hall as she walked to the Rose room. “I’ll be back up with fresh tea…” He vanished toward the kitchen.

Gwyneth had opened her mouth to tell him not to worry but he’d already gone. She sighed and continued on, knowing that today was probably going to be much the same, a lot of running around and not enough getting done.

Church would come first, of course, a chance for everyone to gather and give thanks on this Whit Sunday which had originally been the much more sober day of Pentecost.

Besides giving thanks, they’d be showing off their finery and parading from the Church to Wolfbridge in a long line of happy smiles and trailing ribbons.

Gwyneth and her gentlemen would leave first and drive back, thus giving themselves a head start on organising everything. Mrs B had elected to come directly to Wolfbridge with Jane; neither was dressing in costume, and Jane said she would appreciate the chance to stay inside if it was a hot day. The two of them would attend to various things in the kitchen with Evan’s full approval, and the plan seemed logical and effective.

Gwyneth took a piece of toast, slathered butter and jam on it, and prayed the rest of the day would go as smoothly.

“Good morning, my sweet Lady.” Evan returned with the teapot and leaned over Gwyneth, kissing her upturned face much as Gabriel had done, earlier. His simple shirt was open, showing his magnificent chest. His tight breeches were also effective, showing other magnificent things. He wore a heavy belt and what looked like a leather sheath. She guessed some sort of sword would go into it during the day.

She decided she rather liked being kissed in the morning, especially when she could run her fingers over rippling muscles.

“You smell divine.” He took in a deep breath. “Mmm…lily of the valley and lilacs, isn’t it?”

Gwyneth nodded. “Yes, it is. Mrs Smart sent a little bottle over just yesterday. I mentioned I loved those two blooms, and she promised me she’d see if she could create something especially for me.”

“It’s unique. And lovely. Just like you.” His eyes dropped to her lips and she lifted her face for another, slightly more passionate, morning kiss.

“I say, I’d like some of that too…” Jeremy jingled into the room, the bells on his short cape sounding his every move. He carried the traditional jester hat in his hand.

“Oh my,” Gwyneth’s eyes widened. “You look marvellous, Jeremy. The perfect jester.”

“Do I get a kiss, my kind Lady?” He swept her a magnificent bow.

“Of course, Sir Fool.”

He took his reward, generously, lovingly, with her full cooperation. “Ahhh,” he sighed. “It’s not bad, being a fool for a lovely lady.”

“More Puck than Falstaff, one would hope…” Royce strolled in, his country outfit of a farmer’s smock over light breeches suiting him perfectly. “May a humble countryman join the fun?”

Gwyneth rolled her eyes and beckoned him. “Come here.”

He walked to her, his smile warm, his eyes roaming over her body. “May I say I much admire your bounteous charms, my sweet?”

Since he was eyeing her bosom, she was in no doubt as to his reference. “Kiss me. It’ll take your eyes off my chest.”

“The sacrifices I’m required to make,” he sighed dramatically. “But for a touch of your lips, dear Gwyneth, I’ll do my best to obey.”

He did so, and she discovered that the heat of the day was as nothing compared to the heat engendered by being kissed so often and so thoroughly