A Christmas Cotillion

by Ellie Thomas

  Despite these good intentions, he felt unsettled as he tried to concentrate on his reading. He kept reading the same passage again and again and forgetting to sip his brandy, which was nicely warmed by the fire. He was not tired, just oddly restless in a way he could not fathom. As he did his best to focus on his book, he heard the door open and was relieved, rather than irritated, to be interrupted in his increasingly fruitless task.

  He expected it to a Grant family member; an elder seeking some quiet company or a younger wanting him to join the dancing. So he was astonished to find Nicholas standing in front of him, smiling slightly, with the brandy decanter in his hand.

  “I thought you might like a top-up,” he said lightly as he approached Jonathan’s chair. Jonathan wordlessly picked up his glass and dry-mouthed, watched as Nicholas refilled his glass.

  “May I join you?” Nicholas asked, a glass appearing from his coat pocket, giving away that this had been his intention all along.

  Jonathan mumbled assent, feeling inexplicably tongue-tied and lacking in his usual social graces. Nicholas’ ease as he settled himself in the wing chair opposite, only emphasised Jonathan’s sudden conversational ineptness.

  “What are you reading?” Nicholas asked, the curve of his mouth revealing that ready touch of humour lurking beneath the surface. As he wordlessly lifted the volume for Nicholas’ inspection, Jonathan thought uneasily that the subject for such entertainment must be his own boorish manners.

  As though Nicholas sensed his discomfort, he handed the volume back to Jonathan without his usual irreverent smile and asked, “Are you enjoying it?”

  Jonathan found his tongue at last and replied with a crooked grin, “I can’t seem to get through it at all. Although I don’t think it’s the fault of the book. I wanted to have a little peace and quiet and now I have it, I can’t seem to settle to it.” He added hastily, “So it is good of you to join me.”

  Nicholas sat back in his chair and raised his glass in salute towards Jonathan before taking a mouthful of brandy. Jonathan tried not to stare at the motion of that smooth, pale, clean-shaven throat in the flickering firelight.

  Jonathan cleared his own throat as he searched his foggy brain for a neutral subject. “Thank you for your assistance the other evening on the dance floor.”

  Nicholas smiled. “It was nothing. As you were already partnered up you could not have contrived it.” This time, his smile seemed to include Jonathan in the private joke.

  “It was just from what Miss Belinda had said previously, that I thought…”

  “Yes,” Nicholas affirmed. “It was a good notion. Joshua Hammond is a fine man. It’s only his shyness that has kept him unmarried this far.”

  Jonathan glanced up in slight surprise at the confident tone. Nicholas had been such a willing helper at the parties over the Christmas season, he’d almost forgotten, that as a well-to-do local farmer’s son, Nicholas would be of equal status to many of the guests and on easy social terms with those who lived locally.

  Unaware of Jonathan’s thoughts, Nicholas continued in a similar vein, “It had also crossed my mind to encourage those two together, as they seem well matched. Since your cousin decided on pastures new…” he added drily.

  Jonathan smiled openly at that remark. “I think he has bitten off more than he can chew with Miss Corinna.”

  Nicholas laughed. “She is thoroughly enjoying all the unaccustomed fuss, so we can’t grudge her that. She is a feisty one, though.”

  They sat there smiling at each other and Jonathan, taking another sip of brandy, felt himself start to unwind.

  “What about you?” Nicholas asked suddenly.

  Any sense of relaxation fled. “In what way?” Jonathan deflected neatly.

  “In matters of the heart?”

  Jonathan bristled, embarrassed, “I don’t think that is any of your business, Mr.…”

  “It’s Nick,” came the interruption, his gaze suddenly very intense and blue and for once, without a glimmer of a smile. From nowhere, Jonathan thought, Dear God, I could drown in those eyes.

  Nicholas continued relentlessly, “I’ve noticed that despite all the pretty females about the house, that you have displayed no preference whatsoever. So I guessed you might not be in the petticoat line.”

  Jonathan opened his mouth in alarm to defend himself from such a charge, but before he could say anything, Nicholas continued quietly, “As neither am I.”

  His frankness took Jonathan’s breath away. The wind taken out of his sails, he waited as Nicholas carried on.

  “I’ve been watching you,” he said quietly, “and when you are not being the perfect guest, you look so sad, and alone. And so very handsome,” Nick continued with a ghost of a smile.

  Jonathan almost blushed, unused to such openness. Never before had anyone made themselves this assailable to him.

  “So, as you might be leaving soon and you have always been accompanied until now, I thought this might be my only chance,” Nick said quietly, gazing into the fire.

  “I’ve watched you too,” Jonathan said in a rush of honesty that brought Nick’s head around sharply.

  He paused and said in a serious tone, that blue gaze burning into Jonathan’s soul. “Do you like what you see?”

  Jonathan held his breath for a moment, sensing this was some kind of crucial turning point. He met that intense regard as he replied, “Very much.”

  “If I have your permission,” Nick said, his mouth curving in a smile, but his eyes still deadly serious, “I would dearly care to do something about that.”

  He took Jonathan’s gasp as consent and in that elegance of movement that Jonathan so admired, Nick slid to his knees in front of him. His hands were so warm on Jonathan’s thighs, that smiling mouth unutterably tempting and so close to his.

  Jonathan was suddenly unbearably aroused, just by Nick’s proximity. “Someone might come in,” he protested faintly.

  “I locked the door,” Nick said, his eyes smiling. “In hope of, well,” his grin was oddly vulnerable and self-deprecating, “…this.” With that, he leaned up to kiss Jonathan on the mouth.

  His heart almost stopped beating with the sensation of those beautifully shaped lips on his. Nick drew away slightly, his hand cupping Jonathan’s face. “The most sorrowful eyes,” he murmured. “I want to kiss away all that sadness,” he said as he started to kiss Jonathan’s neck.

  A few frantic minutes later, Jonathan’s neckcloth lay in a crumpled heap on the floor while Nick’s hands explored the bare skin below the open shirtfront, tweaking his nipples while that insistent mouth dwelt on the sensitive points of his neck and throat.

  One hand trailed up his thigh and gently squeezed his aroused length, Nick moaned into his shoulder in response to the feel of Jonathan’s hardness as the hand began to rub insistently.

  Aware that the slightest touch would make him spend, he grasped the hand, stilling it. As Nick looked up surprise and a little alarm that he had done something wrong, Jonathan tried to find the words to explain. “It’s been so long, I won’t last any time,” he stammered almost desperately.

  Those deep blue eyes gleamed with understanding and need. “It doesn’t matter,” Nick said, and with a gentle kiss on Jonathan’s mouth, his hands deftly unbuttoned him and delved into his small clothes.

  Jonathan’s cock sprung up rudely, rock hard, and the tip swollen and deep red. “Wonderful,” Nick said, smiling dreamily before he dipped his head in a smooth gesture and swallowed him whole. For a second Jonathan froze before the heat of that warm adept mouth pushed him over the brink almost immediately and he exploded in a blaze of pleasure.

  The sensation was so intense that it took a few minutes to recover himself. He looked down to see Nick tonguing him gently, before rubbing his softening shaft against his cheek in a caressing gesture, his eyes full of warmth.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jonathan began to apologise wretchedly.

  “Don’t,” Nick said gently. “You were perfect.”<
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  With that, he reached up to kiss him tenderly. The taste of Jonathan’s own essence did not seem strange but added to the intimacy of the moment.

  “But what about you?” Jonathan gasped out, once Nick’s mouth had released him. He could not help but notice the admirable bulge straining the fabric of Nick’s evening breeches.

  Nick cupped his face again, as if memorising the line of his jaw.

  “I can wait,” he replied with a dreamy smile. “But for now,” he continued with a sigh. “I’d better return to the drawing-room or I will be missed.”

  As he rose to his feet, Jonathan blurted out, “Perhaps…”

  “Yes?” Nick looked at him, poised.

  Jonathan took a deep breath for courage. “Perhaps, afterwards? Once everyone is in bed, you can come to me?”

  Nick’s eyes blazed with warmth. “Yes, please,” he said simply.

  They heard a shout of laughter from the drawing-room and with a rueful grin, Nick moved towards the door. As he unlocked and opened it, he turned and murmured in a near-whisper, “Later,” before leaving the room.

  Almost in a daze, Jonathan tidied himself up, in case anyone should enter the library and find him in a guilty state of luxurious dishabille. He poured himself another bumper of brandy from the carafe Nick had left behind and picked up his book, his thoughts whirling.

  After that unexpected, wonderful encounter he felt both drained and energised at the same time. It was as though his world had been suddenly turned upside down and he no longer knew how to think or feel. Which is no bad thing, he thought, as even though his normally astute brain felt like it had been stuffed with feathers, his heart no longer felt ashen, empty, and full of nothing but old memories and regrets. Suddenly, his world was full of discovery and budding hope.

  Chapter 11

  Jonathan retired to bed that night in an unaccustomed state of nerves and anticipation. As it was still relatively early, only the elderly had reached their own chambers. As he ascended the stairs, candle holder, book, and glass of brandy balanced in his hands, he could hear music and laughter drifting into the hallway from the drawing-room.

  When he walked into his room, it was as if he was seeing it with another’s eyes. Removing his clothes, he reached for his nightshirt, placing the glass and the candle by the bed. Although the room was comfortably furnished, in the week or so he had been staying there, it had taken on some of his own character. There was his own brand of Spartan simplicity in its neatness that he merely considered as functional. Now he wondered if, to someone else, this might seem cold or unwelcoming.

  As he got into bed, he heard soft ‘goodnights’ in the corridor as other guests began to make their way to their own rooms. General bedtime was evidently now approaching. The knot of anxiety and excitement tightened in his stomach. He settled beneath the covers, took a sip of brandy to fortify himself, and with determined concentration managed to read an entire chapter of his book before there was a discreet knock at the door.

  “Come in,” he said quietly, his voice sounding hoarse and almost not his own. Noiselessly, Nick slipped through the door, closing it behind him. His was smiling but he too seemed on edge. The fact his mood closely matched Jonathan’s made this whole tryst a trifle less nerve-wracking.

  He watched Nick approach the bed. He had evidently been to his own room first to disrobe partially and had donned a dressing-gown over his evening breeches. As he removed the garment, Jonathan gazed on his bare torso for the first time. The flickering candle flame turned pale flesh and finely honed muscle to marble.

  When Nick stripped off his breeches, Jonathan’s throat tightened. Still wearing his underclothes, Nick moved towards the bed. Jonathan automatically moved over to give him room and threw back the blankets in invitation.

  Nick slid in beside him, shivering from the mid-winter cold, despite the smouldering fire in the chamber. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Jonathan to put his arms around him and after a moment’s stillness, Nick’s body started to relax. Their lips met in a kiss. Unlike the wild tussle in the library, this initial embrace was unhurried, not frantic with need or desire, just timelessly leaning each other.

  Then Nick’s tongue flicked his and this time it was Jonathan’s turn to shiver. Nick drew back a little, smiling, his hands clasping the cloth covering Jonathan’s body. “I don’t think you need that,” Nick said, and with his help, the nightshirt was pulled over his head.

  Nick leaned back on one elbow, shamelessly admiring Jonathan’s body, his hand caressing the broad planes of his chest, rippling over hair and skin. It had not occurred to Jonathan for years that his body was to be desired, the farm-honed muscles of heavy work had merely seemed functional up to this moment.

  Now under a lover’s touch, he felt manly, masculine, desired. An Athenian prepared for loving rather than a functional Spartan built for sheer hard labour. He closed his eyes and surrendered to those wonderful wandering hands.

  It seemed natural for their lips to touch again. During this unrushed exploration, the touching and caressing gradually became mutual as the kiss became deeper, more sensual. Jonathan slid his hands down Nick’s back and under his smallclothes to firmly grip those taut buttocks.

  Breathlessly, Nick broke the kiss again, impatiently pulling down and shrugging off the hindering garment. Then they were back in a deep embrace, body to body, skin to skin, Nick’s smooth chest rubbing against Jonathan’s lightly furred torso.

  Jonathan surrendered to the almost forgotten bliss of arousal to arousal, rubbing against each other, urging on their mutual pleasure. Nick started to rock harder against Jonathan, his rhythm suddenly dissonant and uneven. Jonathan felt the tight muscles of Nick’s firm rump flex as he gripped harder for purchase with Nick’s increasing urgency. He felt a sense of profound bliss, as Nick bucked and writhed and spilt his seed all over Jonathan, crying out into the hollow of his neck.

  He let go of his firm grip on Nick’s delectable arse, his hands sliding up that smooth back and held him again, not needing his own release quite yet. With a sigh, Nick raised his head and looked at him, serious for once, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

  “Wonderful,” he uttered. “Even more than I imagined, these long nights this week when I’ve stayed over. If only I had known…” he said with a rueful smile.

  “We know now,” Jonathan said softly, irresistibly running a hand through that head of thick, dark hair.

  “We do,” Nick said. “And I want more.”

  With a wicked grin, he rolled over and sat back on Jonathan’s knees, taking the bedclothes with him, exposing Jonathan’s bare torso and hard cock, glistening with Nick’s seed. “Stroke it for me,” Nick said softly. “I want to watch you.”

  Jonathan felt amazingly unselfconscious, warmed by the naked desire in Nick’s eyes. He slid his hand down to his ready member, slicking Nick’s juices over himself and started to rub, slowly, even lasciviously for his rapt audience.

  Nick watched avidly, his deep blue eyes wide, as his lover pleasured himself in the quiet, dim-lit room. There was no sound but the rhythmical creak of the bed and Jonathan’s increasingly harsh breathing as his climax approached.

  Jonathan tried to match that gaze, but his need overcame him, and he closed his eyes, arched his back, and spurted all over his chest. Rather than a lonely act, it felt like a moment of treasured intimacy.

  Before he could open his eyes, Nick’s body came down on his, and they kissed passionately. Jonathan felt overwhelmed by the feel of their mutual loving sliding their bodies together, the heady aroma, and the warmth of Nick’s skin on his. For a brief moment, Jonathan thought he could stay in that embrace forever.

  They lay silently for a while, recovering, then as Nick lay in the crook of Jonathan’s arm it seemed natural to talk softly together.

  “So,” Nick said, stroking Jonathan’s chest with a wicked grin, “I gather there’s not much in the way of sporting for you ordinarily?”

  Jonathan
laughed, “God, no. It’s been so long, I almost forgot…”

  He trailed off and Nick raised his eyebrows, stroking Jonathan’s chest, the physical closeness inviting shared confidences.

  “It’s been years,” Jonathan began and gradually told him about his doomed love affair. Falling under Sebastian’s spell, the years of increasing compromise, and the blame he took for the relationship finally fracturing as it did. Nick was silent, listening carefully as Jonathan finished. “He went off on the continent travelling and I poured myself into restoring the farm and tried to put it all behind me.”

  Nick looked up, a hint of uncharacteristic anger in his eyes, “He sounds like an idiot,” he said flatly.

  Jonathan bit back a laugh. He knew his past idol had feet of clay but that was putting it too flatly. He shrugged. “He is wealthy and unencumbered by family ties or ordinary needs. He could not understand why I stayed and took it as a rejection of his love.”

  “Like any of us would abandon our families in a time of need,” Nick retorted. Jonathan remembered not only the warmth between Nick and his family but the way in which the Grants treated him almost like a son as he willingly helped them out with their houseful of guests. “He sounds like a spoiled selfish brat who only cared for you as long as you slotted into his chosen mode of life.”

  Jonathan almost winced at that brutal interpretation of his past. He rejected it momentarily. But could there be a hint of truth in the harsh judgement? Considering this created a chink in his armour of self-blame. Had he judged himself too severely for Sebastian’s desertion all these years since? It genuinely hadn’t occurred to him that there might be fault on both sides.

  His hand irresistibly cupped Nick’s smoothly shaved chin, those remarkable eyes gazing at him. He changed the subject to something less uncomfortable.

  “What about you? No lovers hiding under the hedgerows?”

  The humour returned to Nick’s face and he gave a rueful grin. “One has to be discreet, as you know, and living in a country area, safe opportunities are few and far between. It’s been strangers at house parties mainly, the odd guest or visitor that stays long enough to arrange a private ten minutes in an empty room but not long enough to cause disgrace.”