The Shepherd and the Solicitor

by Bonnie Dee

  He thought about the suspicions he’d once harbored—that Tobin was only after him because of the wealth. Now that he’d seen Tobin’s house, he suspected the man had plenty of money of his own and no extravagant tastes to support. If Tobin came north, it wouldn’t be for the possibility of money. He could make his pounds more easily and comfortably by staying in his London life.

  Tobin covered his hand with his own. “I don’t know what will happen, but if I don’t invite myself to your part of the world, I won’t see you again, and that would be awful.”

  Pierce smiled at last. “Yes. I imagine you’re right.”

  “As usual,” Tobin said. “It’s one of my greatest curses, being accurate so very often.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tobin was not accurate when he supposed it would be a simple matter to adjust to a practice in the country. He hung up his shingle in Faircliffe, and people came to him from all around for all sorts of problems, wills, boundary disputes, even the scandal of a divorce, but very few of them had money to pay him. When he found himself thinking that a cured ham equaled an hour’s consultation, he understood that he’d accustomed himself to this new system.

  Although his office was in Faircliffe, he traveled all over the county and spent more time on the road than in a warm, cozy building. His face became quite chapped and sunburned from all his time in the wind and sun, and he now rode his mount like an experienced equestrian. He visited clients from Bramble Moor down to Harrowvale and every other village in between, and his arrival in any of those hamlets roused a welcome and someone sure to stand him a glass of ale at the local tavern.

  If anyone in the village wondered about his frequent overnight visits to Daniel Pierce’s farm, they never said a word. Since the villagers were used to his frequent absences, perhaps they didn’t know where he often went for days at a time. Really one couldn’t ask for a more amiable situation in which to pursue a clandestine love affair. There were no witnesses but sheep in the wild open spaces of the North Country.

  Tobin reminded himself of the more positive elements of his new life as he accepted a handwritten offer of a fine suckling pig for his holiday table—payable when the Yuletide season arrived. That was yet months away, yet he accepted the promissory note from a Mr. Quentin Cuthbert, for whom he’d drafted a will.

  The grizzled farmer gave a sour chuckle as he saw Tobin off. “I’ll laugh from me grave when the thankless lad learns I left nowt to him and all to his brother.”

  It was a pleasure to ride away from the rundown farm. Gregory couldn’t imagine either of Cuthbert’s progeny caring whether they possessed the place.

  “Doubt I’ll ever see my suckling pig,” he commented to his horse as the young mare trotted primly down the road. Tobin reached to pat her thick black mane. “You’re a darling love, Phoebe. And you know where we’re headed next, don’t you? That’s right. Your favorite stable.”

  By the time he neared Daniel’s farm, the breathtaking panorama of a sunset painted the horizon. Tobin never ceased to be amazed by the paint box of colors and the golden light that suffused the air every afternoon at this time. Well, perhaps not every—many days provided sufficient overcast skies or pissing rain to prevent perfection.

  Like life itself. He scoffed at his profound ruminating. Autumn brought out a pensive streak in him. He’d be as introspective and dour as Daniel if he didn’t take care.

  Laughing, Tobin dug his heels into Phoebe’s sides. She cantered over the rolling land until the cluster of buildings was in sight. Home. He felt the meaning of the word as he never had before. And it wasn’t only because he’d soon launch himself off the horse and into Daniel’s embrace. The land and the farm itself, those sheep grazing on the hill, the dogs that raced out to greet him, meant something to him. Good Lord, could he be turning into a farmer? Soon he’d exchange his suit for Wellington boots and a wool jumper.

  In the yard, Tobin slid off Phoebe and took her bridle to lead her to the barn. He glanced at Daniel leaning his shoulder against the door frame, arms folded. The man’s thick, wavy hair had grown long again—past his collar—and he’d begun to cultivate a beard once more. Trimmed neatly around his lips and jaw, it enhanced rather than hid his face, and God, what a handsome face it was. Tobin’s heart rate increased as his anticipation grew. He gave Daniel a little salute.

  “I’ll be in directly,” he called and led Phoebe to her hay and oats and the glum company of Lethe.

  A few minutes later, Gregory opened the door to the delicious scent of hot stew and fresh-baked pastry and the delicious sight of Daniel bending over to peer into the oven. That well-shaped backside was no longer completely shrouded in loose-fitting trousers. Tobin had insisted on a couple of new pairs with a somewhat tighter fit. Naturally, Daniel had grumbled throughout the shopping trip to Pickering but conceded to Tobin’s demands.

  Tobin moved up behind him as Daniel lifted a pan from the oven with a piece of sacking. He grasped lean hips and pressed his rising erection against the firm arse jutting toward him. His demanding thrust made Daniel grumble, “You’ll have us both falling into the oven.”

  But the moment he’d set the pan down, Daniel leaned back into him and reached behind himself to hold Gregory’s body close. He glanced over his shoulder with those beautiful, long-lashed green eyes. “How was your trip east?”

  Tobin kissed the soft hair on his lover’s cheek, then nuzzled underneath his jaw. “Tiring. Over the past couple of days, I saw four clients and traveled about thirty miles. And every mile I rode, I thought about returning to you.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” Daniel admitted. “Perhaps not as much as Jeffers does, but a fair amount.”

  Tobin laughed. “How is my woolly son?”

  “Bigger and fatter every day. He’ll be ready to stud by autumn. I’ll be renting him out to service Huckaby’s flock.” Daniel turned to face him, and his arms encircled Tobin.

  “Nice for Jeffers. Should be quite a holiday.”

  “You do realize that ram is not actually Jeffers, don’t you? I think it’s the one you named Childs. I sold the other two in that trio.”

  “Shh, leave me my illusions.” Tobin pressed a kiss to his lips to stop further talking.

  Daniel chuckled and kissed back, and for several minutes they did nothing but blend mouths and touch and reacquaint themselves.

  At last, Gregory broke off and exhaled. “Something to be said for all the traveling and days apart. Every time we come together feels fresh and new.”

  “I expect it would anyway.” Daniel stepped back and peered at him. “Even were you with me every day, I should never grow tired of this smile. Never.”

  Which only made Tobin smile wider, so much happiness rising in him, he felt he might explode from it. “What have we for supper tonight? Let me guess. Does it involve, perhaps, mutton?”

  “Not this time. A surprise for you.” He moved aside to reveal a pie on the counter. “Chicken in the meat pie for a change.”

  Tobin clapped his hands together. “Ah, a feast fit for a king. Two kings.” And then, lest Daniel thought he took his cooking for granted, he wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and gave him another swift kiss. “Thank you for the meal. And…thank you for making our home.”

  A lump filled his throat as emotion overcame him. He truly was a sentimental fool since he’d fallen in love with Daniel. He hardly recognized himself as the Gregory Tobin who’d invested little true emotion in any of his sexual partners.

  He cleared his throat. “What can I do?”

  Daniel waved him off. “Nothing. Just sit yourself down at the table.”

  His stomach growled, and Tobin put aside his inclination to let the meat pie grow ice-cold while he had his way with Daniel bent over the kitchen table. Instead, he sat down properly and waited to be served.

  A glass of home-brewed ale—courtesy of one of Tobin’s
clients—complemented the rich flavor of the pie nicely. It was a feast for an empty belly and more satisfying than any fine dining Tobin had experienced in London. Nothing like fresh air and exercise to pique an appetite. He realized he was quite content with his new traveling lifestyle.

  “What are you smiling about?” Daniel asked.

  “Thinking about my last client today. His payment was a promissory note for a suckling pig at Christmas.” He chuckled, then sobered. “Actually the story is quite sad, so I don’t know why I’m smiling. I can’t mention names, but this man has two sons and just cut one of them from his will. He gloated over it. How does a man become so divorced from his own child?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I don’t begin to understand people’s determination to hurt each other. That’s why I kept away from them for years.”

  “But now you’re becoming friendlier with your neighbors and almost polite to those in the village,” Tobin reminded him.

  He smiled. “Almost. A work in progress.”

  “There’s to be a grand harvest celebration at the end of the month. Craft booths and competitions and a dance. You must come. It’s a perfect opportunity for you to show Faircliffe you wish to be part of the community. You can enter the sheep-shearing contest, or perhaps a test of muscle. I understand there will be a caber toss. I’m thinking of entering Phoebe in the horse race.”

  “That would be worth seeing.”

  “I think I’m ready for it. My riding is much improved.”

  “Yes, it is.” And as so often happened in their conversations, the sentence suddenly took on a different meaning when Daniel lowered his voice and his eyelids.

  Tobin choked down the last of his chicken pie and rose from the table. “Is it time? Have we exchanged pleasantries long enough?”

  “Oh yes. It’s past time.” A hard hand grasped his and dragged him off to the bedroom.

  Their coming together never failed to feel like Christmas morning to Daniel—the sense of something nearly magical happening and the exploration of presents underneath the tree. He unwrapped Gregory’s lanky body and examined every part of it with hands and mouth, tasting, touching, testing. And then came the excitement of joining their two bodies into one—akin to opening that very best gift, the one he’d eagerly awaited—like the Christmas of his ninth year when he’d received a fleet of model sailing ships exactly as requested.

  Entering Gregory and grappling his body close was far better than the sailing ships. Daniel closed his eyes and pressed his front against his lover’s back, drowning in the sensation of his cock surrounded by heat and the exciting sounds of Gregory’s pleasure. The grunts, groans and sobbing breaths made an earthy music which soon crashed to a crescendo of crying out as Daniel tugged Gregory’s cock to conclusion.

  It didn’t take many thrusts beyond that for him to achieve the same goal. Later in the night they would take their time, but the first union after a separation tended to go quickly. Shimmering colors burst through Daniel, and he went rigid before melting into a boneless heap against Gregory’s back.

  He continued to hold the warm, damp body that smelled richly of man and sex, a heady blend, and he pressed kisses to the back of Gregory’s freckled neck below the clipped ends of red hair. “I was taken by your hair from the moment I saw you,” he murmured. “It glowed in the sunlight like fire. And when I looked into your eyes, so clear and direct, I was lost from that moment on. You changed me completely.”

  Gregory spoke, muffled, into the pillow. “No. You changed yourself because you wanted to. Perhaps I was a catalyst, but I believe you were ready to end your mourning.”

  “Maybe.”

  He didn’t believe it. If this man hadn’t come along, he would still be muffled inside himself and pushing the world away. He might have continued that way for years, content enough to tend to his sheep and the farm, yet miserable in his solitude. No matter what Gregory said, Daniel knew he had saved him.

  “It was a miracle you came here. You and not some other lawyer.”

  “Jeffers, perhaps. You were meant to have been his case, you know, but he asked me to go in his stead.” Tobin laughed. “And it would not have ended up with you two tumbling in the hay, I promise you.”

  He moved from underneath Daniel, turning to look at him with those amazing blue eyes. “I’ve never been a man to think much about destiny, but in this case, I have to believe in it. Life arranged itself to bring us together, and isn’t that a marvel?”

  There was no other answer Daniel could give besides “It is.”

  Sometimes life was horrible, and people were demons, but then there were moments of grace when one could almost believe in a benevolent God again. Daniel looked into the face of his personal angel. “I shall have to do what I can to make your sacrifice of your London life worthwhile.”

  “You dragged me away from a dreary practice in a smoky city to sheep, sweet air, and the greenest fields I’ve ever seen. The views alone from this farm are enough to make a man sing with joy.” Tobin stared at Daniel, somber for once. “The view I’m seeing now makes me wish to sing as well.”

  With that, he sat up, placed a hand over his heart, and broke into a terrible rendition of None Shall Part Us from a Gilbert and Sullivan production.

  “None shall part us from each other,

  One in life and death are we;

  All in all to one another

  I to thee and thou to me.”

  Daniel’s laughter at this performance grew so loud, Bets began to whine outside the bedroom door. As Gregory reached the chorus, he nudged Daniel, demanding he join in—and the dog howled along with their boisterous, off-key love song.

  “Thou the tree and I the flower-

  Thou the idol; I the throng

  Thou the day and I the hour

  Thou the singer; I the song!”

  About the Authors

  To learn more about Bonnie Dee go to www.bonniedee.com. Send an email to Bonnie Dee at bondav40@yahoo.com. Join her Yahoo! group at groups.yahoo.com/group/bonniedee. Her Facebook address is www.facebook.com/people/Bonnie-Dee/1352577313 or you can follow her on Twitter: www.twitter.com/Bonnie_Dee.

  Summer Devon is the alter ego of author Kate Rothwell. To learn more about Kate/Summer, go to www.katerothwell.com or www.summerdevon.com.

  She is on Facebook: www.facebook.com/S.DevonAuthor. Her twitter account is: www.twitter.com/KateRothwell.

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