James, Earl of Crofton

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James, Earl of Crofton Page 20

by Rebecca Cohen


  They had play-wrestled as children, and also last summer in the fountains of Chepswake, Marchent’s family home. While Marchent was taller and weighed several pounds more, he was injured and in a position of weakness.

  “Ooff!” James’s elbow caught Marchent in the ribs, and despite his bandaged arm, Marchent somehow managed to flip him over and pin him down. “I’ll teach you!”

  James wriggled, but Marchent was stronger, and instead he started to laugh. But the laughter drained away when he spotted the door to his room open and Adam slip inside, only to stop, his eyes going wide.

  “I…. Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb.”

  James managed to dislodge Marchent, but too late to stop Adam racing away.

  Marchent looked at him. “You better go after him.”

  “Should I?”

  “Come on, James. We know that all I would do is kick your arse, but I doubt Adam will think it so innocent.”

  “Then he should trust me.”

  Marchent huffed and rolled his eyes. “Assurance, James, and sweet words to explain the scene. You can’t tell me you’d have been happy to see him rolling around with another man.”

  “But it’s you.” The idea that he and Marchent would engage in anything sexual was slightly revolting.

  “I’m not sure if that’s an insult or not. Anyway, go soothe your lover before it blows into something you can’t solve on your knees.”

  “You, sir, are an uncouth sod.”

  “But I am not wrong.”

  James knew Marchent was right. Adam would have heard the rumours about James and Marchent that routinely circulated around court, and seeing him with Marchent in a compromising position when their relationship was only in the first bloom would no doubt cause any lingering insecurities to rise to the surface.

  “I will return.” He bounced off the bed and headed towards the door.

  Marchent snatched up his wine. “I hope for your sake you won’t.”

  James thought Adam would’ve made for his room, which wasn’t far from his own. He wished Adam hadn’t bolted. It gave James a sense of unease, but also annoyance that Adam had obviously thought the worse.

  He knocked on the door to Adam’s room but didn’t wait to be invited, instead marching straight in, careful to close the door behind him. Adam was standing at the window; he turned as James entered. He looked lost, something James hadn’t seen before.

  “I’m glad I found you. I wouldn’t want you brooding over something that wasn’t what you thought it was.” James tried to keep his voice neutral. He took a step closer to Adam.

  “What was I supposed to think? You were being pinned to the bed by another man, clearly happy.”

  “That was nothing more than two friends playing around. I know there are rumours about my friendship with Marchent, but they are solely that. I have already told you he is like a brother to me. I have no more interest in him than I would Francis. And Marchent has eyes only for the female form.”

  Adam gnawed his lower lip. “What was I supposed to think?”

  “You could have trusted me.”

  “Why?”

  James scowled. “What do you mean why? What sort of question is that from a man to his lover?”

  Adam stood a little taller, squaring his shoulders. “One that needs answering. I am not being facetious. I simply need to know where I stand. You have a reputation, that I know has been somewhat of an exaggeration of late, but you are no saint, James.”

  “No I’m not. But neither am I a devil.” James stepped closer. “You think that now the thrill of the chase is over I will tire of you? Begin to look elsewhere?”

  A small part of him had expected the infatuation to wane once he’d attained his prize, the thrill of the chase had always appealed; however, Adam had got under his skin like no other had done in years. But he’d allowed that to happen, had given himself the silent permission to get close to someone he hoped to be intimate with, rather than keep potential suitors at arm’s length emotionally.

  “It is not a ridiculous hypothesis. I am nearly ten years your senior.”

  “Eight, if I counted correctly. But that is neither here nor there.” James wanted to grab Adam and shake him, but he knew they needed to finish this conversation. He had to understand Adam’s concerns and why he was acting the way he was. “I have made clear my deep regard for you—that has not changed because you share my bed. I do not believe I have given you reason to doubt me, but perhaps I have not given you enough reassurance.”

  “You are the darling of court, and I have seen people catch your eye. Rupert Fasling, for one—a dashing captain.”

  James remembered the look on Adam’s face when he’d seen James talking to Rupert at court. Adam was jealous. “I don’t deny he caught my fancy once, but not again. And contrary to your belief, I am capable of not sleeping with people.”

  “I am not saying you aren’t,” snapped Adam.

  “That’s what it sounds like to me. Listen, Adam, I know you must think you are in a disadvantaged position, but I have no intention of doing anything that would risk what is growing between us.” He closed the space between them. “I have no interest in any other. You have captured my attention fully, all-consumingly. You do not have a reason to be jealous.”

  Adam reached out and grabbed him by the upper arms. “I want you to be mine.”

  “I already am.”

  “In every way.” Adam pulled him close and into a bruising kiss. James hadn’t expected the ferocity of Adam’s action, but he returned the passion, letting Adam topple them both onto the bed. It was intoxicating, the way Adam’s kiss burned through him, his body thrumming at Adam’s touch.

  He had an idea what Adam had meant by James being his. He wanted to be in control, to take James and consume him in a way that, so far, had been James’s prerogative. For a fleeting moment he thought he should slow this down. The truth was, he had not let a man take him since David, but it wasn’t as if he was against the idea, and he did not want to deter Adam from doing so. He had half a mind to say something about how he had not taken a lover in the way Adam wanted for some time, but his fear was Adam might retreat, and that was the last thing he desired. No, he needed Adam, needed him to consume him and make him his.

  Adam was an experienced man, unlike David. When they had been together they were complete novices about lying with another man. They had been young and fumbling and had not the opportunity to explore further before they had been ripped apart.

  Adam’s touches were sure and masterful, James marvelling at how Adam had stripped him with ease. The constant gentle bites and kisses distracted him no end, his nerves on fires, and before he knew it he was naked and his head was spinning from Adam’s ministrations.

  He was able to catch his breath as Adam sat back and stripped away his own clothes, before grabbing a small flask of oil. Adam kissed him again, and when his oily fingers breached him, James gasped, partly from surprise and partly from the burn. He buried his face into the crook of Adam’s neck as Adam expertly worked him open. Adam knew exactly what he was doing, and James bucked upwards when Adam found the spot deep inside that could have him seeing stars.

  “You are beyond compare,” growled Adam. “The jewel in the court that makes all others dull.”

  The fingers were gone, and instead Adam’s cock was at his entrance. He pushed in, and James took several deep breaths as he adjusted. The speed in which things had progressed made his head spin. Adam’s desire to claim him was beyond what James had expected. Adam’s hips began to move, and James wrapped his arms tighter around Adam’s shoulders, holding on as Adam’s thrusts became faster and faster. Despite how quickly it had come to this, James was more than willing; although, if pressed, he would have slowed things down a little. But Adam’s angle was perfect, and James felt the heat build within him, the crescendo of desire crashing through his release, a blazing heat that overwhelmed him with its intensity. Adam didn’t slow, using James’s willing body to
find his own release. He shouted out as he poured himself into James.

  James’s breathing began to return to normal, his body singing from being so consumed by Adam. He allowed himself to be pulled into the position so his head was pillowed on Adam’s chest.

  A quietness fell between then and James felt he had to say something. Whether it made sense was another matter. “I hope you are convinced that I am not interested in Marchent.”

  “I am sorry. The few longer-lived dalliances I have entertained unleashed a side of me that I am not particularly proud of. I am a jealous man when I think someone may be coveting something that is mine.”

  “You cannot act this way at court. I draw the attention of many eyes. They won’t suddenly stop looking, and you will just have to be assured that I will not act upon it.”

  Adam took hold of his hand and kissed it. “I will do better.”

  “Good.” James yawned. “Now sleep, and in the morning you can tell me and Marchent what you have learnt.”

  Chapter 23

  James blinked awake and wondered for a moment where he was, then realised he was in Adam’s room, with Adam still curled around him, sleeping peacefully, his breath tickling James’s neck. He luxuriated in the warmth, the sense of peace settling over him, feeling protected in Adam’s arms. James couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this, even with David there hadn’t been the cocoon of protection that Adam gave him. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved Adam. It was beyond fondness, beyond camaraderie or enjoying his company; James was in love. But he wasn’t sure Adam was as equally besotted. Last night Adam had been jealous, but that didn’t equate to love.

  Adam was a good man, if a bit too handy with a flintlock pistol for his own safety, and he made James genuinely believe he had a great affection for him. James—not the earl, or his money, but James himself. But fond was the word. Did Adam return his feelings—was he in love, or capable of it? Adam had spoken of escaping marriage, but he had never spoken of love. He had expressed no views on a future, either before or after they had coupled. Perhaps that was because of Adam’s less-than-legal activities, that deep down he thought he would be caught and the law would see to it he had no future. James needed to find out what Adam wanted. Perhaps he thought James would be a finite companion, not believing he would be able to remain at James’s side and so protecting himself for the day James might take a wife or tire of him.

  That would not happen. James needed to make sure Adam knew that, and find out how deep Adam’s feelings ran.

  A soft knock on the door was quickly followed by Remembrance letting himself into the room, carrying a change of clothes. “My lord, here you are. I thought you might have returned to your own room.”

  James sat up and rubbed his face. “Evidently, I didn’t. Leave my clothes. I’ll dress myself and breakfast downstairs.”

  Adam groaned and buried farther under the covers. Remembrance moved from one foot to the other, a habit he’d been cultivating recently when he wanted to say something but didn’t know if he should. It was, in a small way, an improvement, as previously the words would have been out before his brain had thought through his action.

  “Spit it out, Remembrance. I don’t have all day.”

  “It’s the other servants, my lord. They’re gossiping like no tomorrow about you having spent the night in here. One of the maids saw you enter and, well, as you can imagine it’s fuelled the fires about how you’re under Mr Dowson’s thrall.”

  Adam threw back the covers. “Really? How has Clement taken the news?”

  Remembrance scratched the back of his neck. “Smug, like the cat that got the cream, sir.”

  “Excellent.”

  “What?” said James. “How is this excellent by any definition?”

  “We can use this to our advantage. Clement will no doubt ask what is going on. I will say enough to infer your devotion to me, and I predict he will begin planning something bold.”

  James knew Adam was right, but he did not need to like it. “Surely we should not play too heavily on this.”

  “I disagree—it is a great opportunity. I will swagger down there, once dressed, to see the lay of the land.” Adam said to Remembrance, “If you get the chance, confirm the whispers. His lordship being in my bed, rather than the other way around, is something they’d really relish.”

  “Yes, Mr Dowson.”

  “Very well,” sighed James, not happy but understanding the need. “You may leave me to dress, Remembrance.”

  Once Remembrance had gone, James swung his legs out of bed and stood. The exertions of the night before had left him with a ghostly ache, but nothing that wouldn’t quickly fade. He realised Adam was watching him closely, not in the usual way, which was thinly veiled lust, but with a strange calculating look, as if he were a sample for the Royal Society. Instead of commenting, he pulled on his drawers.

  Adam bounced out of bed, grabbing James’s stockings. “Let me dress you?”

  “You are a strange man, Adam Dowson. I thought you would be more interested in undressing me.”

  Adam gently guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, then knelt in front of him. “To help create the gem of the English court—what more could I want?”

  “If your tongue were any more silver it would be melted down to make coins.”

  Adam carefully rolled James’s stockings over his lower legs, tying them in place and sealing the bow with a kiss. He placed his hands on James’s thighs and peered up; James was taken aback by the earnest expression. “James?”

  “Yes.”

  “Last night, I could not help but reflect afterwards that you may have been somewhat, not reticent, but perhaps surprised at the direction of our activities.” He stroked James’s thigh with his thumb. “That I may have pressed you too far.”

  “I would have told you if I were not willing, and I know you are the type of man who would have stopped if I had asked.”

  “James.”

  “What?”

  “Last night a possessive streak bubbled to surface, but even through the desire to claim you as mine, I noticed that perhaps there was a reason why that was the first time you had allowed me to take you. You appeased me, did you not?”

  James looked into Adam’s earnest face and saw a shadow of concern haunting his eyes. “Not really appeasement. I’ll admit now what I should have admitted last night, that it has been some time since I let myself be taken. It is expected I lead, and for many years it was my preference.”

  “Many years?”

  “Yes. And then only for one man, one who is now long dead.”

  “David?”

  James reached out and took hold of Adam’s chin, stroking his thumb across his lips. “We were young, in love and so very obsessed with each other. I was precocious and he more reticent, and neither of us really knew what to do with another man. I deferred to his title. He was a marquis, me only a viscount; although, it became clear his prowess lay in other areas.”

  “That is a nice way of saying he lit your fire but maybe did not stoke it fully.”

  James chuckled. “You have to remember that neither of us had been with another man. It took quite some time to reach the point of intimacy of that nature. And in the end we did not have so much time to explore it.”

  Adam grabbed his hand and kissed it. “I should not have let my jealousy steer me last night. I am sorry.”

  James couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Believe me, you have nothing to apologise for. My experience at your hand was very pleasurable—I might even be persuaded to do it again.”

  “I am being serious.”

  “As am I.” James leant forwards and kissed him gently, but pulled back before it had the chance to become heated. “Now, help me dress and let us see if Marchent is in a buoyant mood, and you can tell us both together what you learnt yesterday.”

  The physician had arrived bright and early—too early if Marchent’s grumbles were to be believed—but Marchent’s ar
m had been examined and he’d been cleared to ride, at least for short distances. James jumped on the news. “Perhaps you would like to ride out with me and Mr Dowson. It would be good to be outside for a while.”

  “I’d rather he tell me about his day yesterday,” Marchent said, taking the final dose of his pain tincture.

  Adam’s tight smile was an expression James had seen several times when he was trying not to show his annoyance at someone’s lack of understanding. “Perhaps a conversation better had in the open, where there is less chance of an audience.”

  Marchent threw the empty bottle to the side and sniffed loudly. “Then I would say the weather is particularly pleasant and I have a full stomach, so now is as good a time as any.”

  “I will have Remembrance instruct the grooms to have the horses made ready while we change for riding,” James said, happy Marchent was finally onboard. “Let us meet in the entrance hall as soon as you are ready.”

  Adam left them, and Marchent pulled on his jacket, which was the last of his wardrobe to be dealt with. “I see all is well with the love birds. You managed to convince him I was not one of your dalliances.”

  “Yes, all is restored, and I will not be drawn further on it.”

  “Such a gentleman,” drawled Marchent. “It must be love.”

  Love was a strong word, and not one James would throw around lightly. There was no doubting his feelings, but he thought best not to respond to Marchent’s flippant remark. “Come, let us get you some fresh air. If you begin to feel any discomfort we will turn straight back.”

  Marchent huffed. “You are my friend, not my nursemaid.”

  “Perhaps you need one!”

  “If I did, it would not be you mopping my fevered brow.”

  They continued their good-natured bantering as they went to collect their horses. Adam was already in the saddle, and James stopped him from dismounting as they approached. “Stay in your seat, Mr Dowson. The sooner we ensure His Grace benefits from the fresh air the sooner we can return.”

 

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