Deceived

by Megan Derr

  "You seemed so interested," Gideon said slowly, "that I thought you might like fencing lessons of your own. I am a bit rusty, but I thought I could give you the lessons myself."

  Pierce burst into tears. "But it's my fault you're not a champion! I remember, she said 'if not for the b-b-brat'."

  Gideon strode forward and stooped to catch his brother up in a tight embrace. "I did not know you felt so, Pierce. Listen to me: quitting fencing had nothing to do with you. Nothing. I chose to stop. I wanted to be here, with you, more than I wanted to swing swords. The decision was mine. Nobody made me do anything. And if I had to do it all over, I'd still make the same choice."

  "But she said—!"

  "I don't know who 'she' is, but she's a nasty, evil liar," Gideon said fervently, pulling back and putting his hands on Pierce's shoulders. "It is not your fault. Now, do you want to learn to fence?"

  Pierce nodded and wiped futilely at the tears on his cheeks. "Uh-huh. You were the b-best. I used to watch you duel, even when nurse said I wasn't allowed."

  "Well, it's much more fun to do than watch," Gideon said with a smile. He gave Pierce another quick hug. "Run along now; I need to speak with your tutor about adjusting your schedule to fit in fencing lessons, hm?"

  Bobbing an eager nod, Pierce shyly gave Gideon a hug back, and then bolted from the room. Tem smiled softly as the door closed behind him. "I confess I am jealous. My big brother never hugged me, not even at the funeral of our parents." No, his brother had ignored him utterly, save when administering a beating. As a child, he would have given anything to be Pierce for one day. As an adult, his feelings were anything but brotherly.

  "My parents were nothing but scandal," Gideon said quietly, closing the box holding practice fencing swords and leaning against the table. "One thing after another; I do not even want to think about how many bastard children there may be that would explain why Pierce and I are twelve years apart in age. That I am not snubbed by all of society…" He shook his head. "It's mostly dumb luck, in that I happened to make powerful friends while I was still pursuing my fencing career." He sighed and moved to the window, fingers tangling in the curtains. "I have worked very hard not to add further scandal to the family history. To not behave as my parents did. Pierce will have enough to endure when he joins society properly. I did not want him to have to endure gossip about his brother on top of everything else." He let go of the curtain and turned to face Tem. "Your note that night said that you'd never given in to such impulse before."

  Tem forced himself to breathe, to stand calmly in place. "I hadn't. I learned the hard way to behave or be bloody discreet about misbehaving. You…" Made thinking straight impossible.

  "I generally pay for my pleasure," Gideon replied. "I had never before broken my rule about avoiding all risk of scandal before that night. You were temptation incarnate." He stalked toward Tem. "You are still temptation incarnate. Having you here, but not being able to touch, has been sheer hell." He stared into Tem's eyes. "But you are in my employ."

  Tem stared into those mist-fine gray eyes. "If you were the type of person to use your position to force me to accept any offer you made, you would have already done so and I would be long gone. I would never mistake you for your parents. I just thought…well, you seemed to have left it all behind. I had resigned myself to it being one-sided."

  Gideon groaned, and suddenly Tem was pressed right up against him, surrounded by heat, the intoxicating scent of the man who'd stalked his every thought. He ceased to do anything but feel as Gideon's mouth crashed down over his, as hot and consuming as it had been all of those months ago. He moaned and opened completely to the heated kiss, fingers wandering through hair, over those fine broad shoulders, and tangling in the fabric of his afternoon jacket.

  The world shifted, shook, and then steadied abruptly as Tem found himself pressed up against a wall, Gideon flush against him as greedy hands searched beneath his clothes for skin. Tem stiffened as those hands explored his back and sought to distract Gideon. His greatest shame…he did not want to see the horror and disgust in Gideon's eyes upon seeing those horrible scars.

  In his agony over not having, he'd let that old fear fall to the wayside; now it came back full force. Tem sucked on Gideon's bottom lip as he let his hands roam the splendid chest that he had not forgotten in the slightest. Through the fine lawn of Gideon's shirt, he rubbed and pinched the hardened nipples, then let one hand drop to tease across that fine, flat stomach before dipping further to explore a hard heat that he remembered with perfect clarity. He moaned into Gideon's mouth. "My lord…"

  "Please stop calling me that," Gideon interrupted, dipping his head to trail sharp, biting kisses along Tem's throat. "I swear, I am sick of calling you Clark…please…"

  Tem dragged his head up for a proper kiss, wishing the world would stop so he could do this forever. He wondered how he'd gone so long without tasting, without touching. He moaned low as knowing fingers touched and tormented while that hot mouth continued to devour his. "Gideon…"

  "Tem." Gideon said his name like it was something precious. "You make me want to do scandalous things."

  "Do them," Tem urged against his mouth, licking his lips.

  Gideon chuckled, breaking apart far enough to shove Tem's jacket and shirt from his shoulders, and then toss them aside. "How did I resist you for so long, Tem?"

  "I am trying to figure out how I behaved myself," Tem gasped as teeth fastened around one nipple, Gideon biting hard before soothing the sting with his tongue. "What changed your mind? I was resigned…" He shuddered as the eager, passionate assault continued.

  "You. Pierce. I am tired of punishing myself for the deeds of others. You are worth a scandal, so long as you are truly willing." Gideon opened the placket of Tem's trousers and pushed his hand inside. Tem bucked, muffling his shout against Gideon's shoulder.

  "I think…you know precisely how…willing I am."

  Gideon kissed him hard and Tem was left bereft as Gideon let him go—but then he was gently grabbed and guided toward the wide, leather couch on the far side of the room. Just as suddenly, he was halted and a horrified gasp brought him up short, made his blood run cold.

  "Tem…" Gentle fingers traced the scars covering his back.

  "I'm sorry. Usually I'm not so careless." Which confirmed exactly just how much trouble he was in. Tem looked around for his shirt and coat, dismayed that they were so far away. He curled his arms around himself, feeling the scars, the pain that had created them, the shame of having them. "They're unseemly—that's why I didn't let you see them before." He pulled away and went to retrieve his clothes, shame making him feel both hot and cold. "I can go."

  Gideon growled low and shoved him toward and onto the deep leather sofa. The kiss he gave Tem was slow, sweet, and soothing. "Why would you go?"

  "They're ugly. Shameful. No one likes them. Why would they?"

  Giving a soft, derisive snort, Gideon turned Tem over and pressed soft, tender kisses to the tangle of scars. "Tem, you're not going anywhere. Ever. Except perhaps to my bed; I'd only let you leave that for Pierce's lessons if I had my way."

  Tem laughed softly, hands attempting to find a grip and able only to slide across smooth, warm leather. He groaned as a warm tongue bathed his skin, his scars. "Gideon…"

  Gideon turned him back over. "Who did that to you?"

  "It doesn't matter. He won't ever again. I'm employed, have my own income—he no longer has a hold on me."

  "Who?" Gideon demanded. "I want to make certain that I am never accidentally polite to the bastard in public should I encounter him."

  Tem smiled sadly and stroked Gideon's cheek. "My brother. I was wild as a boy; he tried to break me. I learned to hide. It doesn't matter anymore. I don't want to talk about him. I would prefer you to remember how willing I am and take full advantage."

  Growling, Gideon pressed him deeper into the couch and took his mouth in another dizzying kiss, making the rest of the world vanish. Hands slid between h
is back and the couch, rougher than the leather and a thousand times warmer. Moaning into the kiss, Tem lifted his own hands in search of skin, wanting badly to see the fine muscles he'd dreamed about for so long, the memory of how Gideon looked dueling his own shadow across the ballroom making him ache more than ever. He tugged impatiently at the cloth that was in his way, nipping sharply at Gideon's throat when he only laughed at him.

  A moment later, though, the impediments were gone and Tem was able to lavish attention upon the skin and hard muscle beneath that he'd ached to touch and taste again. Greedy for all that he could get, Tem shoved hard, reversing their positions and straddling Gideon on the wide couch, ducking his head to enjoy the feast before him.

  The sound of the door opening struck him a moment too late and he looked up in time to see a maid drop the tea tray she held, the crashing of silver and shattering of porcelain jarring. Face bright red, the maid let out a squeak and bolted from the room, slamming the door behind her. Tem stared after her, completely frozen.

  Gideon's soft chuckles finally brought him back to his senses. "I guess that settles that; we are well on our way to causing a scandal now."

  Tem stared down at him, and after a moment, shared Gideon's grin. "With all the fuss people make of scandalous behavior, I did not think it would be quite so pleasant."

  "Pleasant? Gideon repeated. He narrowed his eyes at Tem. "If all you feel is pleasant, then I clearly am not being scandalous enough."

  Laughing, Tem leaned down until there was barely a breath of space between them. "Then I suggest that you try harder, sir."

  "Oh, I intend to," Gideon replied, and closed the remaining space between them.

  From Afar

  You did it!"

  Pierce laughed as he caught the bundle of silk and ribbon that flew into his arms. "Of course I did it, goose. You're being unseemly again."

  "Pish posh," Cressida replied, slowly releasing him and either ignoring or oblivious to the way the enthusiastic embrace had crushed the various bows and frills of her afternoon dress. "You're my best friend and you've just won the most prestigious duel in the kingdom. Marlbeck is over there looking like he drank soured wine." She reached up to kiss his cheek.

  "Cress!"

  She grimaced and rolled her eyes, then turned to greet her father, who continued to berate his only daughter while Pierce found himself attacked by all of his fans and friends. He fought his way through the crowd, accepting compliments and chatting briefly here and there. He should be loving the attention, but all he wanted was to find his room and a bit of quiet.

  And maybe a letter, of course, but…

  "Pierce."

  He looked up and broke into a genuine smile, not hesitating to embrace Gideon, and then Artemis. "You made it."

  "Of course we made it," Artemis said. "The carriage suffered a broken wheel, but we had spare horses for just such an occurrence and rode the rest of the way. I think Gideon was ready to simply run the whole way here, but thankfully we weren't forced to resort to such methods."

  Gideon snorted and shook his head, regarding Artemis with amused exasperation. "Stop trying to humiliate me."

  Artemis merely smirked and continued speaking with Pierce. "I would imagine you'd like to rest a bit before the ball tonight, hm? The girls will insist on dancing your shoes to pieces."

  Pierce groaned. "Can't the champion beg off?"

  "No," Gideon said with a grin. "I'm afraid you had best resign yourself to your fate." His gaze shifted to just past Pierce's shoulder. "Miss Cressida," he said, sketching a bow. "I see you are as unique and lovely as ever."

  Cressida flashed a grin. "Thank you, my lord. Master Artemis, it is good to see you again."

  "My lady," Artemis replied, accepting her hand and bowing over it. "Has your father not packed you off yet?"

  "He can never catch me long enough to do it," Cressida said breezily. "At that, Pierce, let me escape with you."

  Pierce shook his head, laughing. "If you want help, go pester your brother. That's what brothers are for."

  "Oh, he'll just take Daddy's side," Cressida said, wrinkling her nose. "Honestly, I wish he were more like you. It's just rules, rules, study, study with him. Let's talk about something else."

  "Yes, princess," Pierce replied. "Come along, we shall make our escape. Gideon, will I see you before you go home—beyond the ball anyway?"

  "Of course," Gideon said. "I didn't come all this way just to laugh at you being danced to death."

  Pierce made a face. "So kind of you, big brother. Very well, I will see you tonight and we can work out further arrangements. Come along, poppet."

  Cressida smacked his arm, and then slipped her own through it. "Do not call me that."

  He only laughed in reply, but the amusement tapered off into one of their comfortable silences as they continued through the halls. A soft sigh broke it, Cressida's fingers tightening slightly. "Daddy is beginning to make more and more noise about marriage," she said, expression as tight as her hand. "He hinted that he would like to hear an offer from your direction."

  Pierce grimaced. "I told you that would happen if you insisted upon using me for your mischief."

  "Well I could hardly count on Silver's help," Cressida said bitterly. "I told you, he would just take Daddy's side. Anyway, it will all be over shortly…won't it?"

  He smiled. "I hope so. If you are angling to know if I've received another letter for you, the answer is yes. I will bring it to the ball this evening."

  Cressida's eyes lit up. "Really? I was beginning to fret. He said in his last one that he will be returning soon. Very soon." She worried her lip, blue eyes dark with worry as she looked up at him. "He sent me a ring, too. I dare not wear it until he comes…"

  Pierce laughed. "Seymour finally sent the ring, eh?" He winked. "He has been saving for it for quite some time, poppet. I am happy for you."

  "We could not have done it without you, Pierce. I wish I could do something to repay you. I do hope Daddy and Mama do not prove too stubborn when he returns…" She bit her lip again. "I would hate to estrange myself, but Seymour…"

  Pierce stopped walking and drew her close for a brief embrace, planting a chaste kiss on her cheek. "You will have me, poppet. We've been friends nearly as long as we've been alive, after all."

  Cressida laughed. "Ever since the War of the Creek! Oh, I think Mama is still upset about what I did to that frock."

  "You are rather rough on your clothes; I will give your mama that." Pierce halted as they reached the hallway in which her rooms were located. "Fare thee well, poppet. I will see you tonight—I may even be willing to dance with you."

  Lifting her chin, Cressida stared down her nose at him and intoned, "You will most certainly dance with me."

  Pierce laughed and swept a deep bow. "As my lady commands." He turned away and headed for his own rooms, leaving her laughing in the hallway.

  His own amusement faded as he walked, and he replied to the compliments and congratulations cast his way only from habit. The Royal Fencing Championship was something he'd been trying to win for years, ever since he had taken up fencing at the age of twelve. Even now he still felt that first burst of joy when he'd realized that not only did his adored big brother not hate him, but wanted to teach him fencing.

  Now he had won the championship in which Gideon had never had the chance to even participate. He should be running through the halls in ecstasy. And he was delighted and would likely get carried away with drinking once he had endured the ball and could sneak off to carouse with his friends elsewhere… However, right now he wanted to see what his secret admirer had to say.

  Pierce's heart beat rapidly despite his orders for it to remain calm. The letters had flustered him right from the start. The first one come mere days after his arrival in the palace, where he'd been invited to stay for as long as he liked by Prince Benedict himself. That letter had been rather decorous, if obvious in the less than casual emotions provoking it. The second and third had als
o been…contained. The fourth had forced him to lock his door halfway through reading it, and after that he had learned to lock the door before even opening them.

  Reaching his room, Pierce opened the door and immediately looked down at the floor. A hot rush thrummed through him, satisfaction and anticipation, lust and longing. Stepping inside, he closed the door and locked it, then bent to retrieve the letter. Thick, cream-colored vellum; high quality, but no way to tell from which maker it came—he'd tried. Plain, unremarkable sealing wax closed it, stamped with a simple star.

  Pierce was hot and sweaty from the dueling, for it had gone on for most of the morning and well into the afternoon, but his discomfort faded entirely as he broke the seal and opened the letter. The first paragraph, and even most of the second were mild enough, but by the end of the third, his pants had grown uncomfortably tight. He stroked himself through the fabric, eyes fastened to the carefully written words, addicted to them and this admirer who was so heated, yet dared not reveal himself.

  Finishing the letter, Pierce dropped it to the floor and fell back on his bed with a long groan, fumbling to get his pants open and take himself in hand as he recalled everything his admirer had ever said, conjuring a thousand images that failed to satisfy because his admirer could be anyone at all. All of the heated words and wicked promises flooded his mind as he continued to stroke himself, and he closed his eyes to focus, burning to know, needing to know, so hopelessly addicted was he to his admirer.

  Pierce came with a hoarse cry, spilling into his hand, his cheeks flushed as he slowly regained control of his breathing. After a few minutes, he sat up and moved to strip and clean himself up at the washbasin in his changing room. He'd have to call for a bath soon, but could stall for a bit longer.

  Returning to his bed, he retrieved the letter from the floor and looked over it again, focusing on the signature. It never changed, the same now as it had been with the first letter.