The Shepherd and the Solicitor

by Bonnie Dee

  Bennet, swollen with need, silently cursed himself and his finicky ways as he turned and walked away.

  Tobin silently cursed the man walking away from him. He should be thanking him. Tobin didn’t get involved with anyone who could make life complicated. Stephen had been the closest thing to a complicated lover he’d had, and he’d managed to entirely forget about him and his upcoming marriage—or close enough to entirely—thanks to the lust Bennet woke in him.

  His first lover, a man he’d met at a party in a country house, had drunkenly kicked him out of his bed in the middle of the night. The next day, the man almost apologized. “Allow me to give you advice. If you’re going to travel too riskily with your sexual perversions, best to do it as alone as possible.”

  Tobin wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it seemed to fit his life now. Tangling with someone he would be required to meet with in his work life was a mistake. He should keep the ties as loose as possible so escape would be easy.

  He slumped against the bale of hay and heaved a dramatic sigh. He’d witnessed the answering lust on Bennet’s face and the way the farmer had shifted position. If Tobin remained here on this solitary farm, it was only a matter of which of them would break first, lunge at the other or perhaps climb into that narrow little cot while the other slept.

  Even with all the work they had to do—and Lord God, were they busy—the hum of desire wasn’t drowned out.

  He walked to the door and gazed up into a sky of astonishing bright blue. The smart move, the one that would advance his career and get him out of the sheep shit, would be to go to a telegraph office and inform his clerk and head of chambers that the lost heir was found. But sending a telegram was a chore for tomorrow.

  Tonight, he was here and so was Bennet, and Tobin was not going to let the opportunity slip between his fingers. The isolation of this country life ensured there was no fear of discovery by anyone of anything two men might choose to do together. This simmering thing between them was about to boil. Tobin would increase the heat to make sure of it.

  He nodded at the sky, sealing his pact, and turned to go back into the gory, musky sheep barn to corner his quarry. He found Bennet in yet another pen, watching another sheep that was doing the job just fine by herself.

  Tobin came up beside him. “Care to take a break?”

  Bennet jumped as if he’d been stung and swung toward Tobin. “Don’t sneak about like that.”

  “Sorry. I just wondered. It’s well past dinnertime. Things seemed to have calmed in here for the moment. Could we walk up to the house, get cleaned up and have a bite? I don’t know about you, but with all the walking and sheep midwifery, I’m starving.”

  He was certain Bennet would growl an irritated no. But after another long look at the nursing lamb and a quick glance at Tobin, Jacob nodded.

  He led the way into the well-trampled yard situated between outbuildings and house. There was a pump and trough to catch the water in the middle of the open space.

  Bennet gestured. “Wash yourself up there. I’ll get a cloth.”

  “All right.” Tobin had never cleaned himself at an outdoor pump in his life, but he was quite happy to take off his filthy shirt, still encrusted with yesterday’s mud now mingled with sheep effluvia. He pumped the handle until water gushed out, then plunged his head, shoulders and arms into the cast-iron tub.

  Straight from some underground stream, the water was icy cold. Tobin let out a growling brrrr as he came up out of the water, flinging his head back and scrubbing his hands up and down his arms.

  It felt so good to have that much of himself clean that he decided to take off his dirty trousers too. Once he’d shed almost all his clothes, he stepped right into the knee-deep trough and began rubbing his legs.

  He glanced up after a few seconds to find Bennet had returned with the sackcloths. The man stood frozen in place, staring at him. Tobin quite liked that hungry gaze and he preened a little, making a show out of getting his skin clean. He looked over one bare shoulder at the farmer. “You didn’t happen to bring a bar of soap with you?”

  Bennet’s lips compressed to a thin line as he apparently shook off his shock. He stepped forward and handed Tobin a cake of yellow soap, then hung the two rough cloths over a post right beside the pump. He folded his arms and faced the other way until his guest got out of the trough.

  “Go on. Your turn.” Tobin injected a note of challenge in his voice as he toweled his hair and body dry. Would Bennet refuse to remove his clothes until he was alone, or would he take the challenge?

  Tobin smiled and waited, and at last Bennet pulled his shirt and undershirt over his head in one swift move. Tobin stopped smiling and swallowed. There was a lot of mouthwatering solid muscle on the man’s chest and shoulders and arms just as he’d thought there would be, and a smattering of brown hair on his chest. Just the right amount to ruffle one’s fingers through, but not enough to be bearish.

  Oh how those biceps and triceps flexed when Bennet began moving the pump handle up and down. Tobin bit his lower lip and tried not to think about other things he’d like this man to pump. As Bennet doused himself with water and began to wash, Tobin’s cock grew stiff and his bare skin burned with desire.

  Water matted the hair on Bennet’s chest and slid down those amazing arms. He tossed some over his back and beads of moisture glistened on his skin. Then he ducked his entire head under the gushing water and straightened, droplets scattering from strands of hair and hitting Tobin, who stood close by.

  He blinked and stared some more as Bennet lifted an arm high and washed beneath and all the way down his side. The lift of his chest, those nipples Tobin wanted to seize between his teeth, and the ridges of rib cage banded by flesh made a vision Tobin couldn’t look away from. He took a step closer, then another, reaching out a hand.

  But when Bennet snapped his head around to stare in his eyes, he stopped. If Tobin had thrown down a gauntlet, asking Bennet to strip down and wash in front of him, the other man had fully answered that challenge and now offered one of his own. Are you going to do it? Touch me, his eyes seemed to beg.

  “Let me get you a…” Tobin suddenly, ridiculously shy, scurried around Bennet to get the towel from the post. He held it out to his host. For a moment, they both held the rough material, and their eyes met over the top of it—two men with few clothes on and much desire boiling between them.

  We can have this right now, Tobin telegraphed with his gaze.

  No turning back once it’s happened, Bennet’s more doubtful expression seemed to say.

  I don’t care. Tobin let go of the cloth and lunged toward Bennet, gripping his slick wet arms and pulling him closer. He stared at those beautiful lips hidden by too much hair until he was too near to focus on them any longer. His eyes closed. He leaned in and pressed his mouth against Bennet’s.

  The hair of the man’s moustache and beard tickled Tobin’s upper lip and chin. But when Bennet’s lips opened slightly beneath his and their mouths were nestled together… Oh, it was just right. He relaxed into the kiss, teasing his tongue gently over those lips and between them. Every caress seemed to waken Bennet’s desire more until any tentativeness melted away and he hungrily devoured Tobin’s mouth. His thick arms went around Tobin’s body and clung to him. The battle was won.

  But not the war, for after only a few moments of kissing and gripping each other, Bennet broke off with a gasp. “No. Wait. I can’t.”

  Drat. Tobin had pushed for too much too soon, and now he may have ruined any chance of getting close to this mysterious man. If he’d held back, been content with the mere touch of hands or something minor like that, he might actually have had a chance to get Bennet to open up and reveal the man who lay beneath. Funny that he cared more about losing that possibility than any physical connection. It wasn’t like him to choose a deeper knowledge of a man over simple sexuality.

  To
bin held up his palms in surrender and made a soft shushing sound as if soothing a startled animal. “We don’t have to. We’ll do nothing you don’t wish to, I promise.”

  For several very long moments, Bennet stood staring at him, his chest moving quickly with his shallow breaths, and then the man growled, “Oh bloody hell” and leaped at Tobin, dragging him against that damp muscular body once more.

  Chapter Nine

  All Bennet’s hesitation and worry about getting physical with a man he barely knew evaporated the moment Tobin pounced on him and gave him that bone-shaking kiss. Except it wasn’t really Tobin who’d kissed like a starving man, was it? In fact, his kiss had been gentle and quite polite. It was Bennet who’d turned it into a passionate, deep-delving attack.

  And then he’d gotten cold feet and pulled back.

  But one good look at Tobin’s mussed hair, shining red-gold in the sunlight, and his pale skin, flushed rosy, and those wonderful freckles sprinkled like red pepper all over his face and arms, and Bennet was lost. He threw caution and doubt aside and reached for what he craved—warm skin, a steady throbbing heartbeat, soft lips, strong hands touching him, and, oh yes, underneath the scanty drawers Tobin wore, the bulge of a thick erection.

  Both men were damp, so their skin stuck rather than slid together, warm and chilled at the same time. Bennet wrapped his arms around the lawyer so hard, Tobin grunted, and when Bennet thrust his tongue into the hot depths of his mouth, the man gave a muffled groan. The satisfying sound made Bennet’s cock grow harder. He pushed against the unyielding body in his arms and found a spot of softness. Tobin’s groin beside his hipbone made a perfect groove for Bennet’s erection to nestle in, and in return, the other man’s cock pushed insistently against Bennet’s groin. Annoying drawers were all that stood between Bennet and the supreme pleasure of rubbing his length against ginger hair and soft skin. But if he took that next step and removed them, he would cross the point of no return.

  For now it was enough to stroke his hands up Tobin’s back, smooth skin and muscles flexing beneath his palms. Bennet grasped Tobin’s shoulders from behind and pressed his body close while their kisses ignited a fire that raced through him. God, he’d forgotten how amazing it felt simply to touch another person. Over the past four years, he’d experienced no more than an occasional handshake. Having this man in his arms was like feasting after fasting. He wanted to bolt mouthful after mouthful, swallow Tobin whole until he could hold no more.

  The sun beat down on them and a cool breeze blew, drying their skin even as they stood clasped in an embrace. The pure decadence of kissing underneath a wide-open sky spurred Bennet’s lust to greater heights. This wasn’t London, where a man was surrounded by watching, judging eyes and only dared touch in the privacy of a locked room. Here in the farmyard, with no neighbors for miles and Dickon off with the flock, there was no one to see but Bets, who came waddling over, sniffed Tobin’s leg, then plodded off again.

  A powerful surge of liberation mingled with Bennet’s desire. He was ready to drag Tobin to the ground, tear off his drawers and finish what they’d started. He reached between them and wrapped his hand around the length of Tobin’s erection, squeezing hard enough to make the man gasp. Dragging his mouth away from Tobin’s, Bennet stared into his eyes from so close he could see the dark outer ring of indigo surrounding pale blue.

  Those damned eyes were so clear, it seemed impossible they could hide any secrets, and they were the first thing about Tobin that had attracted his attention. But what did he really know of the man? If they were to indulge in secret vice, would Tobin find some way to use it against him in some way? Impossible without implicating himself, and yet Bennet found himself worrying—which made him question the wisdom of going further—which led to letting go of Tobin and stepping back. Not a good idea to indulge in sex when he had so much doubt in his mind.

  Tobin’s arms remained outstretched for a moment, then dropped slowly to his sides. His lips were red and his cheeks flushed from all the kissing. A frown flickered over his face. “That’s it, then?” He looked at Bennet and nodded. “Fair enough. I said we’d do nothing you didn’t wish to do.”

  He stooped to pick up his discarded clothes.

  “You might as well dunk those in the tub to soak,” Bennet advised, feeling a fool talking about something so mundane when the world had just blown up around him.

  Tobin did as he suggested, then squatted to swirl the trousers, vest and shirt around in the water. “I may as well see how clean I can get these. You don’t have to wait for me.”

  Bennet glanced down at his ridiculous arousal tenting his drawers and hurried to gather his own clothes. “I’ll bring you something clean to put on.” More small talk. More pretending that they hadn’t just been pawing at each other like wild things.

  As he went inside, got dressed and found Tobin something to wear that wasn’t filthy, Bennet felt embarrassed at his erratic behavior, encouraging then discouraging Tobin. What a tease the man must think him. But when he returned to Tobin with the pile of clothes, his new acquaintance appeared quite unruffled and good-natured. He chatted up a storm as he stepped into the fresh pair of too-big trousers.

  “I’ve never spent more than a day in the country in my life,” Tobin said as he buttoned the shirt. “My family were city dwellers through and through. Mother couldn’t bear to think she might have missed some social event by being gone, and Father, well, he couldn’t be dragged away from his work. The closest I came to nature was walks in the park with my nanny, and the one time we went to the seaside.” He tipped his head back to look up at the sky. “It really is beautiful here, isn’t it.”

  “Aye. Lovely.” But Bennet couldn’t drag his gaze away from Tobin and his tousled copper hair long enough to look at the landscape.

  Tobin felt as if he’d had a fish hooked and was reeling it in, when it broke free and swam to deeper water. Not that he’d ever been fishing or had more than a vague idea of what it was like, but he could imagine the disappointment of a lost catch.

  He wanted Bennet more than ever now, and not only because he enjoyed a challenge. His body yearned for more of that muscular form pressed against it, and his mouth tingled at remembered kisses. But evidently Bennet wasn’t as simple a man as Tobin was, easily giving in to need. Clearly, he was full of conflicted feelings. So Tobin would put him at ease by sharing something about himself.

  “After my sister passed away, my mother mourned so deeply that I believe she never got past it. Some might have thought her callous, the way she almost immediately resumed her schedule of parties and soirees and high teas, but I believe she hid in those activities to keep from cutting her wrists,” Tobin blurted. “And the same with my father spending more time than ever at his office. Work was his saving grace.”

  “And what was yours?” Bennet asked as he watched Tobin awkwardly wring water from his clothes and toss them on the grass to dry. “How did you mourn?”

  “I…” He hesitated, wishing he’d hadn’t started down this path. This was more than he wanted to confide. Things he’d never told anyone. “I built rather a shrine to her at first. Gathered odds and ends of things that were special to her—a small doll, a picture she’d drawn, one of her little shoes—and placed them in front of her photograph. I would light a candle and say prayers and imagine that if I prayed hard and showed enough devotion, God would be impressed and make a miracle. He’d bring her back to life, and I’d be the hero of our family for saving her. Children make up such silly things. Of course, I eventually grew past my obsession and went on to live my life.”

  Bennet, who’d dressed in yet another shapeless jumper, dug his toe into the earth. “Not only children daydream about magic and miracles. Death can twist the mind into thinking mad things.”

  “You lost someone important to you.” Tobin didn’t bother to make it sound like a question. “Tell me about him.”

  “There�
�s nothing to tell.” Bennet didn’t mean to snap. For once, he wasn’t annoyed by Tobin. He even bothered to explain himself, “I mean there is nothing I can say that will be of any use to either of us.”

  The ache of that loss was smoothed over, not healed, but far less sharp. He had no interest in allowing the pain to emerge unnecessarily.

  “Have you told anyone about it? Because only I, or someone like me, can understand what the loss of Jacob Phillips might have meant to you.”

  Bennet shivered—hearing the name spoken was like being hit with an unexpected and icy wind. “What do you mean by someone like you?” Bennet desperately wanted to change the subject. He’d turn the conversation back to Tobin.

  “I could have meant a sweet sympathetic soul, of course.” Tobin spoke with his usual comic air, then, just as quickly, he grew serious. “But in truth, I mean someone who understands love between men the way you do. No point in pretending that isn’t your nature, you know. Not with me.”

  Now anger did hit Bennet, hard. “You won’t blackmail me with what just occurred between us. I have been alone for years. I haven’t touched anyone for years.”

  “No! You poor creature.” Tobin sounded shocked. “Of course I won’t blackmail you, idiot. Recall I was right there with you.” The ghost of a smile passed over his face. “It’s been a matter of days for me, and I’m feeling bereft of touch. I’m hungry for skin too.”

  Days? Was the man some sort of insatiable animal? “Who were you with just days ago?”

  Tobin ran his fingers through his still-damp hair, then tugged on his borrowed waistcoat. His middle was slightly larger than Bennet’s. “A man. He wasn’t anyone important. Not like Jacob Phillips must have been to you.”

  The name again. It was already less shocking to hear Jacob’s full name on someone else’s lips, but still, Bennet backed away, bumping against the wooden rail of the barnyard’s fence.

  He wasn’t used to spending so much time around another person. That had to be why simple words left him feeling so exposed and raw. He stared up at the clouds scudding across the deep blue bell of the sky rather than look into Tobin’s concerned face.