The heated promise in his eyes stirred an answering heat that flashed through Martin’s body. “Although no thanks are necessary, I look forward to that day with unseemly eagerness.”
Shaking his head, Dylan laughed. “Nothing unseemly about that at all, my dearest lad. I think we’ve found something precious and wonderful. Sharing that in the most direct and elemental way can hardly be improper.” He winked then. “Come and give me a kiss. I need to refresh my memory of the delights of our liaison.”
Martin bent down, intending only to bestow a tender and chaste peck. He soon realized Dylan was having none of that. With his good arm, he reached up, wrapping his right hand behind Martin’s neck and bearing down, nearly crushing their faces together. His strength took Martin by surprise.
“Stop. No! You’re going to hurt yourself. We nearly lost you or it seemed so. You must slow down and be careful.”
Dylan chuckled. “I’ve survived worse and lived to fight another day. I’m here and will be back to normal soon. I’m starved for food, for life, for us.”
Still, Martin tried to pull back. “Patience! There’ll be tomorrow, thanks be to all the gods. Let me see about getting you something to eat, even if it’s late.”
“No, that can wait. Just come and lie down beside me here for a little while. I need to feel you close to me, even if you’ll not consent to anything more intimate.”
Martin hesitated until the earnest plea in both Dylan’s tone and his gaze won him over. “Oh, all right. I guess that can’t cause any harm. If I hear anyone coming, though, I’m back in my chair in a trice.”
He climbed carefully onto the bed and stretched out at Dylan’s side, atop the counterpane. “There, are you happy now?”
Dylan grunted. “As much as I can be with such a strict nurse,” he grumbled. “How long was I unconscious?”
“Only three days. Dr. Lloyd insisted you remain sedated for the first two to allow the healing to proceed and dampen your pain. You were feverish most of the time, until this morning. He said then you could begin to waken naturally.”
“Much too long, but I’ll be up and about tomorrow.” When he sighed, Martin sensed Dylan still felt some weakness and perhaps pain. Both distressed him. He knew the other man well enough now to realize he hated to admit to any lack or inability. Reaching slowly, he laid his right arm across Dylan’s body.
“Don’t fret over it. This will pass quickly and the worst danger is over. You’ll have time to enjoy the children and get better acquainted with them. They’re delightful, truly, all three of them. Now that the tragedy is behind them and the shadows put to rest…”
“And to enjoy us. I would like to get to know you better, too. You’ve intrigued me from the start, and I envision a very long and pleasant friendship, sharing many adventures and delights.”
Martin nodded. “Yes. You’ve intrigued me as well. I must ask one question, though, that has troubled me from the first. The night I arrived and a mysterious rider snatched me from the coach and brought me here…was that you in a secret identity you assumed?”
This time Dylan’s chuckle sounded a bit wry. “Aye, I must admit it was. I found myself with energy and time to burn when I returned. I missed the action and danger of the military life. I was also determined to get to the bottom of the events of my brother’s death and that of his wife. I suspected Merlan was involved. I wasn’t sure how, so I roamed about in disguise quite often and managed a few small deeds to win the trust of some of the folk around. Morgan knew and, of course, his wife, but no one else. I prevailed upon them to keep my secret.”
Martin exhaled. “I was quite taken with the mysterious dark rider. I’d have gone almost anywhere with him, obeyed his least command. Such a dashing and picturesque figure…”
“Well, perhaps we can both ride in the dark at times then and spend some private hours in huts like the one you stumbled into from your hike while the children were away. Some of them do have a cot or even a loft bed, you know.”
The images Dylan’s words stirred in Martin’s mind created a delicious shiver of heat and arousal. His imagination took flight as he pictured a dozen scenarios of the two of them together in such private and rustic settings. Ah yes, although dark and stormy might haunt them no more, as a game if not for real, they could still don such disguises for whatever purposes they might choose.
The next thing he knew, dawn was peeking in around the edges of the heavy drapes. He could hear the household beginning to stir. For a moment, panic set in. He must not be found in Dylan’s bed, even if they were quite properly separated by the bedcovers as if bundled like some courting couples were said to do to preserve chastity.
He fought free of Dylan’s hold and had just leaped off the bed when a soft knock sounded. “Come,” he muttered in a strangled voice. He made a production of rubbing his eyes and seeming to just be waking.
Dylan awoke at about the same time.
“You’re back with us,” the housekeeper cried. “Prayers are answered. What would ye be wanting, Yer Honor?”
“A huge cup of Earl Gray and some of your delicious scones would be a great start. After that, send Jack in with my shaving gear, and I’ll see if we can make me presentable. I feel like I’ve been on a ten-day dry march.”
Mrs. Morgan slid a glance at Martin and gave him a small smile. “Ye should’ve let us know he was waking up last night, Mr. Martin,” she said. “And the children will want to come up as soon as ye be ready,” she continued, turning back toward Dylan.
“Send them up as soon as they’ve had breakfast. I know they’ll want to see with their own eyes that I’m still here.”
Martin stood and started for the door, glancing back to see Dylan lever himself up to lean against his pillows. “I’ll be back when the young ones come,” he said, by way of explanation. “I need to tidy up and make myself presentable as well.” He looked at the housekeeper as he passed her. “I fear I fell asleep on the job. I didn’t really know myself until just now. I’m sorry.”
With a final look back, he saw Dylan’s gaze held a sly knowing and a trace of tenderness. “Yes, that would all be well done. You can tell them that today we will do nothing the five of us do not want to do and will not enjoy. Plan on it. No lessons, no tasks at all.”
And that is exactly how it went, right up until the quiet hour near midnight when Martin slipped up the back stairs after everyone else had gone to bed. It had taken a good deal of persuasion before Dylan had finally convinced him that they could enjoy some gentle erotic activity not risky for Dylan’s wound. Martin found he was more than ready. He had no doubt Dylan could show and teach him things he had not even dreamed were possible.
Perhaps the tutor could use some further tutoring, too.
THE END
ABOUT DEIRDRE O’DARE
A lifelong reader, Deirdre learned to write—poems and stories—as soon as she could print the letters and try to spell words. She went pro with women’s fiction as Gwynn Morgan after she retired from a US civil service job and switched to erotic romance some years back. A confirmed desert rat, she sets most tales in her beloved southwest and slips in her ranch and outdoor background with adventures and ‘critters’ as secondary characters.
Although all of Deirdre’ s tales are explicit, she emphasizes she writes love stories and not just sex stories because she believes Love in all its forms is the One True Thing. She also believes that every human deserves to find and enjoy it. She currently resides in central New Mexico and serves as chauffer and household staff for two amazing dogs. She enjoys many creative hobbies and spending time with friends and her spectacular grandkids when she can escape from the keyboard.
For more information, visit deirdredares.blogspot.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
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Deirdre O'Dare, Dark and Stormy
Dark and Stormy Page 7