Davis nodded, a somber expression crossing his face. “They’ll not go back then until I’m sure that has been remedied. I do not know their aunt well…met her a few times through my sister-in-law. I’ll mention it to her soon. What else?”
“Lady Emmaline also expressed a desire for some ponies. She said she used to ride with her mother and she thought Master Donovan and even Lady Charlotte would enjoy it. If you have no objection, I’d be happy to accompany them. I’m a fair horseman, though a bit out of practice. Still, I’m sure I could manage a gentle nag that would not outpace some shorter-legged steeds for the children.”
“Of course. I’ll see to it right away. Not sure why I hadn’t thought of it. With mild weather coming on, some exercise and outdoor time would be good for them. Morgan, my stableman, can locate some docile ponies quickly, I’m sure.” Dylan paused a moment and then continued.
“Emmaline told me you were able to get some art supplies for them. She showed me a couple of her floral studies—quite amazing.”
Another opening, and Martin plunged on, almost dreading both to express his concern and Dylan’s possible response. “Yes, she’s very talented with a brush and the water colors. They all seem to enjoy painting. Lady Charlotte is more exuberant than deft so far, yet already has gained a bit of skill. Master Donovan, though…his work troubles me. Every scene he paints is dark, shadowy, depicting violence and horror. I’ve thought perhaps he was just trying to work out the trauma of his parents’ death, but his drawings seem to be growing even more bizarre, savage, and bleak. If only he could explain…”
He glanced at Dylan then, in time to see the captain’s gaze drop to the ground as a profound mixture of sorrow and worry swept over his face. Finally, he exhaled, almost a sigh. “I hadn’t planned to confide in you…Perhaps, though, this is a sign that I should. I’ve come to suspect the story of the deaths of my brother and his wife, shocking though it was, barely touches on the real truth and horror of it. I didn’t think it possible the children were aware of what happened, at least the more gory details, yet this matter with Donovan leads me to wonder.”
He looked up at Martin, meeting his gaze squarely. “It’s a long and tangled tale. Have you time to hear it all?”
Martin nodded. “Of course. If it may impact my charges, I think it’s important for me to know, however much time it takes.”
Dylan nodded. “Lew, my late brother, and I had—or have—a half-brother, a couple of years older than Lew. Merlan was the result of a youthful indiscretion of our father’s, illegitimate, of course. Although he could not possibly inherit, he always seemed to feel he should…or at least deserved more from our father than he received. He was never in poverty and was given decent schooling, yet he always wanted, almost demanded, more, much more. He also had a streak of pure meanness and took it out on Lew, the heir, whom he resented the most.
“Though I cannot say for sure, I feel he had to have a hand in the tragedy. He was not the one with the children’s mother, I’m sure. Could he have engineered a compromising situation and maneuvered Lew into finding it? I was told the slain lover’s body was disposed of to prevent scandal. Even at that time, such an explanation seemed unreasonable. Was there even a lover at all? The whole thing makes little sense. Perhaps Merlan thought with Lew gone and me off in the military, he could somehow assume control of the estates, if not the title. I shudder to think what might have happened to Donovan in that case.”
He shook his head, his face reflecting a melancholy and anguish that tore at Martin’s heart. “The worst of it is Mrs. Morgan just told me the maids and the groundsmen believe someone has been lurking about the past few weeks, perhaps even slipping into the house, especially the old, closed-off part in the back, which suffered a fire years ago. My fear is that if it is Merlan, he could harm the children or work some other mischief. I’ll not be going off again until I get to the bottom of this.”
Martin’s thoughts went at once to the mysterious horseman. Even if he had sensed no evil or hostility about that man, people could be deceitful, concealing their true nature when it served them to do so. Yet another matter he must share.
“I’ve never had an opportunity to mention it, but I’ve encountered a mysterious man, twice in fact. Is this Merlan a very tall and large man?”
Dylan shook his head. “No, he’s rather shorter than I am, though a bit on the stocky side. Tell me more about your encounters.”
Martin hesitated and then went on. “He seems a large man. Both times I saw him, he was riding an enormous black horse. I would think a stallion. Though the beast is powerful and strong, the rider had no trouble controlling him. Both times, he…Well, the first time was the night I was to arrive. The coach lost a wheel and I later heard a bridge had washed out just ahead. The accident was indeed a blessing. Anyway, he snatched me out of the conveyance and brought me here through a raging storm. The second time, more recently, I’d been hiking while the children were away on their holiday. I became lost and stumbled onto a hut where he was apparently resting or waiting for someone. He brought me home then a second time.”
“No, it’s not Merlan. I can guarantee that much. I know your benefactor and can assure you he means no harm. Quite to the contrary. In fact, Merlan would do well to stay clear of that gentleman.”
“You know him?” The exclamation burst out before Martin could censor it.
Dylan smiled. “Yes, one can say that I do, although I’m not at liberty to divulge his identity. Some call him a modern Robin Hood. He’s something of a guardian in these parts and comes to the aid of lost or stranded travelers as well. There is naught to fear from him.”
Although Martin was disappointed Dylan would not share the mystery rider’s identity, he was relieved his benefactor was not a threat to the folk of Ravensrawn. Still, Davis’s tale of the embittered half-brother had him worried. Any threat to the children was nothing he could take lightly.
“I hadn’t planned to share my worries with you,” Dylan said, after a long silence. “Still, it may be good you’re forewarned. When the ponies arrive, and I am sure my stable master will locate some quickly, I do not want you to ride beyond the grounds. I’d really prefer you went armed, although I do not want to alarm the children. Can you shoot a pistol? If so, I’ll provide you one. Of course, I don’t think I need to tell you not to share any of my concerns with them. God knows, they have suffered enough.”
“I do shoot, though not well at all,” Martin assured him. “And I wouldn’t think of frightening the children, I’m sure they’ll be delighted to have ponies, and I confess, I’ll enjoy riding again myself. I trust your stable master can also find a gentle horse for me? It’s been some years since I rode and I was never a great horseman, even though I enjoyed it.”
“I suspect there’s a suitable mount for you in the stable right now, and if not, Morgan will acquire one along with the ponies.”
Chapter 4
After a bit more talk of horses and the future ponies, Dylan briefly fell into silence again. Martin could tell his employer was troubled and, given the tale he had shared, that was understandable. He prayed the children would not suffer any further horrors.
Finally, Dylan stood and extended a hand to pull Martin to his feet. He managed a smile. “I’ve been very fortunate in my life and most of my decisions. Selecting you for the children’s tutor was one of my best. I sensed something about you…”
He stopped, turned to face Martin, and studied him with an intense and probing gaze. “Perhaps I should not ask…Does it bother you to be so far away from society with little chance to meet and mingle with others near your age? Was there by chance a young lady you fancied and had to leave behind? If so, perhaps I could retain her services as a companion and chaperone for Emmaline and later for Charlotte so you could continue your relationship. If that would be sufficiently genteel…”
Martin felt a blush heat his face as he shook his head. “Oh no, I’ve never been one for a lot of parties and such. I don�
��t care for strong drink and most of the ladies do not interest me, nor I them.”
Dylan studied him a few more seconds. “I’m not sure of the most delicate way to put this…Are you perhaps hinting you prefer the intimate company of your own gender?”
Tearing his gaze away from Dylan’s keen and too-knowing eyes, Martin gave a stiff nod. “What little experience I’ve had, mostly while at school, I felt I leaned in that direction. I know it’s not acceptable, yet there are those among the nobility who practice such. To avoid any taint of scandal or risk a brush with the law, I’ve been content to live a quiet and celibate life.”
“Then we should get on well enough. I am not inclined to socialize, and since the succession is covered with young Master Donovan, I have no intention of seeking a wife any time soon. Were we to develop a discreet connection, I doubt if anyone would know or care. You might think about that. I had a partner whilst in the army, but he was killed in battle at Roark’s Drift. There’s been no one since. And yes, discretion is advisable since, although selectively enforced, there are laws…I trust the staff here, but beyond that, no one should know.”
Martin found his heart in his throat. Such a direct declaration was the last thing he had expected. Maybe even the last thing he desired. No, that was not quite true for he had dreamed about the handsome and masculine captain. Dreams were all they were; though, nothing he intended or expected to act upon. He was nearly as terrified as elated. When he replied, he stuttered worse than did Emmaline.
“I-I-I…uh, yes, I-I-I will…think about it, that is. Right now, I am quite taken by surprise. And for the nonce, the children and their recovery from the tragedy are my primary focus and concern.”
Again, Dylan smiled. “That is exactly as it should be. We would not want to rush into anything. I only wanted to make you aware since I’ve detected a slight hint you might have thought once or twice about the matter.”
He turned with a brisk and abrupt military about-face and strode off toward the nearest door to the manor house. For long seconds, Martin stared at the other man’s back. At last, he recalled himself enough to follow. It was high time he got back to his charges. However, he found it more difficult than usual to concentrate on the afternoon’s lessons.
Dylan—perhaps now he could safely think of Captain Davis in that way—had shocked and surprised him, yet in a most pleasant and intriguing way. What if? Not now, of course, while the threat posed by the diabolical Merlan hung over them, but maybe later. Only not too much later, fate willing!
* * * *
Three suitable ponies arrived in the Ravensrawn stable in less than a week. Emmaline’s was a handsome dapple-gray Welsh pony and Donovan’s Welsh was black with a white blaze and two socks. For Charlotte, there was a smaller skewbald Shetland. Martin had a small chestnut mare, sweet-natured and docile, though not lacking in spirit.
Mr. Morgan, Martin discovered was none other than the husband of the housekeeper and equally astute, capable and upright. The stable master, turned out to be a patient and skilled teacher. It took him two days to get Donovan on his mount. Once the boy got past his fear, he showed all the signs of delight as his sisters, except for their enthusiastic crows of triumph. Although Martin remained alert, once they began to take morning rides around the grounds, he did not see anyone lurking along the hedgerows.
During the busy days, he managed to keep his thoughts on the children, their lessons and the activities he continued to devise to both educate and entertain them. It was at night when Dylan’s amazing words kept returning to taunt and tantalize him. Was it even possible he’d heard and interpreted correctly? More and more, he found himself struggling to fall asleep, only to waken in a state of arousal, which made further sleep impossible. At last he began to get up and wander around the parts of the house he knew, hoping to walk off some of his tension.
His soft house shoes made little sound as he strode along, down the corridor past the library and the schoolroom and, into an area he knew less well. A slight sound caught his attention. Was that a footstep or someone bumping against one of the decorative pedestals that occupied niches along most of the halls? He sucked in a fast breath, thoughts turning at once to the possibility Dylan’s ill-intentioned half-brother might be wandering around the house.
Then he heard a similar sound again. Well, if it’s that miscreant Merlan, I shall catch him! He edged into a recessed doorway and waited. He tried to breathe as silently as possible and hoped his racing heartbeat was not audible. The faint sounds became louder and clearer. He tensed, waiting to spring when the unseen person passed him.
It seemed forever, yet only a few seconds elapsed before a shadowy figure approached, looming large and dark in the dimly lit corridor. As the man drew even with him, Martin lunged, trying a half-recalled move from school soccer days to knock the other off his feet.
Although the other man was taller, it proved not to be a huge advantage when he was taken by surprise. He gave a muffled, “Whuff,” as the impact of Martin’s shoulder against his side drove him off balance. They fell together. Martin soon realized he was going to be outmaneuvered. The man he’d tackled was quick, agile, and very strong!
They rolled together, grappling and struggling, until the taller man managed to pin Martin beneath him.
“Martin?”
“D-D-Dylan?”
Mutual recognition came simultaneously.
“What in the name of God were you doing? You gave me quite a start!”
“I’m sorry,” Martin managed. “I couldn’t sleep and decided to walk off a bit of my restlessness—worry about the children and all, you know. When I heard someone moving around, my first thought was of Merlan. If it was he, I was going to catch him red-handed!”
Dylan laughed. “I was thinking much the same. Before you slammed into me, that is. I’ve regained my old military habit of light sleep in recent days. I get up to investigate any sound, even any hunch something might be amiss. Although I didn’t hear you, I did sense a presence. I wasn’t quite alert enough, though. You almost had me.”
“Until your military training kicked in! I knew at once I’d miscalculated if I thought to keep you down, even before I realized who I’d tackled.”
All at once they both fell silent, aware of each other in a keen and arousing way. Their two bodies now intimately close, entwined as they had wrestled for supremacy before recognition set in. Martin could feel the hard ridge of Dylan’s cock against his thigh, while his own had grown stiff, aching, and insistent as well. Adrenaline, he knew, made a powerful aphrodisiac. He was super-charged with it and his recent dreams and imaginings heightened the effect. Every cell of his body seemed awake, aware and suffused with raw sexual energy.
One of Dylan’s hands reached to twine fingers into Martin’s hair, which had grown a bit longer than he once wore it. Dylan twisted, though not enough to hurt, although with demand and clear intent. At the pressure, Martin found his face turned close to Dylan’s before the other man’s mouth crushed against his. He gave a strangled gasp, parting his lips enough to allow Dylan’s tongue to slide between them and into Martin’s mouth. The touch, both invasive and erotic, felt like liquid flame. He kissed back with every iota of his being.
At last, Dylan raised his head enough they could both breathe again. “We need to take this upstairs to my room. If you’re willing, that is…”
Martin had shot past hesitation and caution. When he had first heard Dylan’s surprising declaration, he’d been determined to exercise restraint. Dylan was, after all, his employer, as well as several rungs higher on the social ladder. Now there was no time for second thoughts, recriminations, or timidity. Need consumed him. It cracked a savage whip to drive him on. “Willing? Oh yes, I’m quite willing.”
Dylan sprang to his feet and held out a hand to pull Martin up. Martin had drawn on his trousers before leaving his room, but wore only a dressing gown in addition. Dylan however seemed to be fully dressed. He kept Martin’s hand in a firm clasp and
led the way to the nearest staircase, one Martin did not think he had ever used. It emerged in another hall where the door to Dylan’s suite was almost directly opposite the landing. Not missing a single hard stride, Dylan towed him through the doorway.
Through a near-dark sitting room, Martin glimpsed a huge medieval style bedstead, illuminated by a pair of lamps on tables at either side. An open book lay face down on the coverlet, as if its reader had abandoned it abruptly. A few more steps and they stood at the foot of the bed. Now Dylan released Martin’s hand as he turned so they stood face to face.
The captain’s eyes gleamed in the lamplight, black as ebony. They seemed alive with avid hunger and fierce demand. Martin could not tear his gaze away. He licked his dry lips as a curl of nervous tension twisted in his belly. Could this be happening, a reality, or was it simply another of his feverish dreams?
Dylan’s hands settled on his shoulders and then slowly peeled the dressing gown aside to shove it down Martin’s arms. For a moment, he was trapped in the sleeves, until he pulled free and let the garment slither to the floor. Releasing one arm at a time, Dylan shrugged out of his jacket. He dropped it, then unbuttoned his shirt and cast it aside as well. Clearly, the hot African sun had left its stamp on him because his skin appeared tawny, not starkly white like Martin’s was. Martin reached to trace his right hand lightly across the other man’s muscled torso. Even his hand looked paper-white against Dylan’s glowing body.
The heat and silken texture of the other man’s sleek skin amazed him. He could not recall the sensations of any of his earlier liaisons, mostly hasty, fumbling connections with school chums. Perhaps it had all been too new then, exciting for being forbidden, as well as awkward and driven more by hormones and curiosity than any deeper feelings. This was different, powerful and terrible, wonderful and beyond belief. Fine tremors shook his body.
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