They sprawled, all of them, in shirtsleeves with buttons undone and legs over the arms of chairs. Gwyneth sprawled a little more elegantly, but she boldly stretched her legs out in front of her and let her arms fall wide, revealing a bodice with a loose ribbon.
“I will say it…I feelwonderful.” She grinned happily at her gentlemen. “And you all are responsible. Thank you for everything you do. And may I also add you are now relieved of your guard duties.” She rolled her eyes. “Perhaps I can now use the chamber pot by myself.”
Jeremy snorted out a laugh. “We weren’tthatbad, Gwyneth…”
“You came bloody close,” she retorted.
“It’s our job,” said Royce, his tone smooth, his words carefully enunciated. “We have to guard your body. And,” he pointed his glass at her. “I will add my opinion that it’s a very fine body, as well.”
“Hear hear.”
The toast was seconded, thirded and fourthed.
Gwyneth blushed. “Why thank you Royce. You are so kind.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Hey. I like your body too,” complained Jeremy.
“So do I,” smirked Evan. “A lot.”
“Of all of them, darling Gwyneth, I hold your body to be beyond anything in loveliness. It is the vision of a goddess, a bounteous feast of magnificence…”
“Ohhh…..”
“Gabriel….”
“Aaaaargh….”
Royce, Jeremy and Evan threw out a barrage of groans and moans and mimicked vomiting noises as Gabriel continued his fulsome praise of the Lady of Wolfbridge.
“It’s only because she took pity on him and let him offer up his virginity,” muttered Jeremy.
“Well, of course,” said Gabriel. “How could she be anything else to me but a mystically magical angel? Ever?”
“The lad’s got a point,” observed Royce, finishing his brandy.
“Don’t empty that bottle unless you plan on getting another one…” Evan shook a fist at Royce. “I am still talking. Therefore I need more brandy.”
Gwyneth looked at them, the wonderful, amazing, handsome men that some quirk of Fate had put into her path. Just the sight of them, happy, a little tipsy, casually clothed…it was enough to make her understand that she had indeed broken a vow to herself. She had opened her heart. And let not one, butfourmen in.
“Why don’t I get the next bottle.” She stood, ignoring the protests. There wasn’t a lot of effort put into them, since it seemed her gentlemen were really quite happy with her suggestion—they just didn’t want to say so openly.
“And I’m taking it upstairs to my room.” She raised an eyebrow and straightened, knowing she put her breasts on display as she did so.
“Can we…”
“Er, Gwyneth…did you mean…”
She chuckled. “Yes, I do mean. And yes you can. If you want to, that is…” Coyly, she lowered her lashes.
“You’re teasing us,” said Royce. “There will be repercussions.”
She turned for the door. “Oh I dohopeso, gentlemen. Be creative.”
The stairs were a slight hindrance; Gwyneth accepted the fact that she had over-imbibed. She clung to the bannister, walked slowly, and reached the landing without incident, although she jumped a little at the portrait facing her. Surely there was condemnation in the sober face looking out at her from under a wimple.
She harrumphed, stuck out her tongue at the painting and hummed all the way to her room.
Aware of the scandalous invitation she’d extended, her hand shook a little as she lit the candles and began to undress. They would come, she knew. All four of them. All four lovely hard bodies, all hers for the taking.
