Deceived

by Megan Derr

  It took some effort (and a fair bit of swearing) to divest them both of their clothing and he was at least grateful that the gallery fete meant they'd not been required to wear boots. Crispin's skin positively glowed in the warm light, looking all the finer as Jude pushed him gently down upon the crimson coverlet of his enormous bed. He had seen all of that lovely flesh before, had become thoroughly acquainted with it in the past weeks…but never quite like this or for this purpose. It should not be so thrilling; he had taken and been taken more times than he could count.

  Smoothing his hands along Crispin's thighs, stomach, and chest, Jude slowly joined him on the bed, making them both gasp at the contact. He took a kiss to distract himself from doing or saying something foolish, and then nuzzled the soft skin of Crispin's throat, stroking his chest and stomach, his fingers sliding through the early evidence of desire smeared there.

  "Ah, pet, you are the finest of students," he repeated yet again.

  "You are the finest of teachers," Crispin murmured breathlessly, twisting and writhing, struggling to touch and pet in his turn—a heady mix of innocence and slowly blooming experience.

  Catching one hand up, Jude pressed a kiss to the palm, the wrist, before trailing his way slowly to one fine shoulder and back to the soft skin of Crispin's throat. Fingers sank into his hair as he moved lower, Crispin groaning low and long, growing clumsy as Jude got the better of him, consumed him. Jude reared up abruptly to kiss him, not breaking it until the need to breathe became urgent, then tore away only to fetch the oil he would need very shortly. He took another kiss as he rejoined Crispin. "Are you certain this is what you want, pet?"

  Crispin nodded, eyes bright and sharp, unflinching even as his cheeks burned hotter than they ever had before, the flush consuming his skin right down to his chest. "I want thorough instruction in everything."

  There it was again, that sudden boldness even as he was obviously embarrassed. Then again, when one was naked and hard, there was little sense in remaining hesitant.

  Jude laughed softly and spread Crispin's legs, settling between them and slicking his fingers. "Here I thought you would be a bit frightened. You are not even overwhelmed."

  Crispin blinked at him. "Why would I be frightened of you?"

  Oh. That was unexpected, and Jude realized that he had well and truly lost the battle against those things upon which he had avoided thinking. He bent to give a kiss, taking Crispin's mouth hard enough to bruise as he pushed one finger inside. He had teased and pressed before, but always halted before matters went too far. Not tonight, and he pressed the finger deeper, swallowing every gasp and cry. Breaking the kiss, he studied Crispin's flushed face, the eyes as dark as an evening sky.

  "Pretty, pretty," he murmured, and added a second finger, beginning to stretch and prepare Crispin in earnest now. Beneath him, Crispin moved and pleaded, a sheen of sweat making his skin glow. He seemed made for pleasure, and something hot and fierce made it suddenly hard for Jude to breathe.

  When he added a third, Crispin's entire body rippled, and he cried Jude's name in a desperate, eager plea.

  A few moments more was all that he could take; Jude shifted to arrange himself properly. "Breathe, pet," he murmured, then slowly began to push inside. The tight heat, the hot eyes watching him even as he saw Crispin struggle with the foreign sensation, the initial pain, was nearly his undoing.

  Nearly. Who was he fooling? Certainly not himself any longer. Crispin had, indeed, proven himself to be a natural at seducing away hearts—even hearts he did not want.

  Shoving back unwelcome thoughts, for they had no place here, Jude finally seated himself fully within and stopped. "Good, pet?" he asked, taking a soft kiss.

  "Uh-huh." Crispin's lips were warm and pliant, but the fingers digging into Jude's shoulders belied the mellow nature of the kiss. "Shouldn't you…move?"

  Jude laughed and kissed him again, then braced his hands and slowly withdrew before thrusting back in. Mm, yes. That was a beautiful sight. "As you command, pet." He began to move in earnest, slowly at first, but rapidly moving faster, harder, as Crispin quickly proved how much of a natural he truly was, meeting every thrust and finding their rhythm so easily.

  It was not long before Jude found his release, wrapping a hand around Crispin's prick and sending him over the edge as well. Their cries tangled together, filling the bedchamber, and the only thing finer was collapsing atop his lover—his student—and inhaling their mingled scents. He stirred a moment later only to fetch a rag to clean them both. After, it was all too easy to bundle Crispin close and let sleep snatch Jude away from those thoughts upon which he still did not want to linger.

  *~*~*

  Jude privately conceded that it was exactly what he deserved.

  Once upon a time, he had met with one of his teachers after classes. Halfway through the interview, the naïve youth he'd been had stumbled upon the realization that his teacher was attempting to seduce him. Surprised, Jude had given in to it. That had opened up a world he had never wanted to abandon. By the end of his school days, he had excelled at lessons precious few knew were on offer. Set loose upon the world, he had only broadened his education.

  The only worthwhile thing he'd ever done with his skills was use them to mark and weed out the rakes and the cads from among his sister's multitude of suitors. Beyond that… Well, up to the very day they'd died, his parents had said that he was nothing but a spoiled brat and they should have taken the strap to his backside a bit more often. Jude had privately agreed, although the devil in him had been tempted to horrify his proper parents by telling them that in school, he'd had a strap applied to his lovely backside many a time. Such games had lost their charm as he grew older, but they had amused him for a time.

  So at four and thirty, Jude supposed that he was long due for a comeuppance. He sighed softly as the hallway clock struck the seventeenth hour, sipping at his brandy and wishing that the night was already over. One last meeting, and then Crispin would be off to seduce the man he loved.

  Jude wished more desperately than ever that he knew the object of Crispin's affections, so he at least had a face to put to the man he hated, but all of his attempts, both subtle and overt, had failed miserably. Well, no matter; he would learn the secret in a few hours. He had told Crispin that he'd no interest in attending the Gala, for typically such events bored him, but he fully intended now to linger just long enough to learn the identity of Crispin's beloved. No doubt it was the poorest of form for the teacher to observe his pupil so, given what Crispin would be about…but Jude wanted to know against whom he had never stood a chance. He was not opposed to fighting a battle, but he was opposed to the idea that he had lost before he'd known there was something worth the fight. But try as he might, for Jude was not above a bit of seduction of his own, Crispin remained unmoved. Whoever held his heart, he held it truly; for all eternity, as the poets would say. The knowledge soured Jude's stomach.

  He listened with a heavy heart as Feathers answered the sharp knock upon the door. Generally inclined toward silence, Feathers was as charmed as the rest of the household by Crispin and Jude could hear them chatting amiably as Feathers escorted Crispin to the study.

  Ah, Crispin did cut so very fine a figure now that he was dressed in clothing worthy of him. The evening jacket was a deep wine red, the breeches a blue dark enough to almost pass for black, pale gold shining from the folds of his intricately knotted cravat. Jude himself wore a shade of green he knew very well matched his eyes, the rest of his ensemble black. He always made certain he looked his finest, but the hot approval in Crispin's eyes was pleasing all the same.

  A sudden, powerful urge rose up to beg Crispin to stay with him and forget the damnable lover too stupid to have noticed Crispin all this time. But he ignored the impulse; many a time had he been called cold, even cruel, although he had always never to stoop that low. It was only one reason that Jude had avoided innocents—they did not know how to hold back, how to remain detached. If he had known
an innocent would prove his undoing, he would have remained firmly against dallying with one.

  But the mistake was made and he would have to live with the consequences.

  "You are a sight to behold, pet," Jude finally remarked, standing and moving around his desk. "A prize pupil indeed."

  True to form, Crispin flushed at the praise, even as he proved that his lessons were well-learned by lifting his head just so in silent request for a kiss. Jude gave it, tasting a hint of wine and sharing the flavor of brandy which lingered on his own tongue.

  "Well, pet, I would say that you have surpassed any lessons I can give you. Tonight, you are on your own and I have not a doubt that you will succeed beautifully." He stepped back, lest he give in to the temptation to touch. Worse, he was yet again dangerously close to begging Crispin to give up this foolishness and remain with him.

  Pathetic, that's what he had become. He was a notorious rake, mothers hiding their sons and daughters from him whenever he drew too close. Only men as jaded as he, or those who thought they wanted to be so hardened, dared approach him. And here he was, disgustingly smitten over a man who saw him only as the means to an end.

  His parents would heartily approve of such just deserts. Were it anyone else, Jude would appreciate the delicious dark humor in it. As it was, he wanted to be left alone to drink himself into oblivion.

  Oh, he was falling beautifully into the role of scorned and heartbroken lover, wasn't he?

  Disgusted with himself, Jude reached out to tweak and adjust Crispin's neck cloth. "Ready for your evening?"

  Crispin nodded, eyes sliding away. Nervous, no doubt.

  "You should not fret so, pet," Jude said. "You have done beautifully and you will continue to shine. By this time tomorrow, you will have your man composing sonnets." That earned him a weak laugh. "Come now, show me that boldness I know hides beneath those flushed cheeks."

  Jude really would miss the way that face turned so red at even the slightest intimacies. It was at the tip of his tongue to ask, to beg, Crispin to stay and he fought them back only with years of discipline. He was a rake, but not a complete scoundrel. If Crispin's heart lay elsewhere, he would accept that.

  Reaching out, he tilted Crispin's face up, dredging up a taunting smirk. "Come now, you should not retreat to your letter-writing days now. I know you hesitate, pet, but you are more than capable of gaining what you want."

  Crispin nodded, but did not look wholly convinced. In fact, he looked rather as though he had already lost the battle. Such a case of nerves would never do—although he hated that Crispin was not staying with him, he wanted more than anything for Crispin to be happy.

  He managed a teasing laugh. "I have taught you better than that. This panic will never do; your man might think he must tie you to the bed in order to have his wicked way."

  The gasp and shudder that extracted were heartbreaking. If Crispin found the idea of such submission to his man so appealing…then he was well and truly beyond Jude's reach. He had known it, but such a hard final blow was more than he could take—was more than he thought it fair for him to endure.

  Jude let go of Crispin's chin and stepped back, wrapping himself in the familiar role of bored rake. "Our time is officially at an end, Ford. You have been an excellent pupil and I like to think that I was a sufficient instructor.

  Crispin was obviously taken aback by the sudden coolness of his tone, but after a moment, he only nodded. "Thank you, Lord Prescott, for all that you have done. I will always appreciate it." He hesitated, and then nodded. "I bid you farewell."

  "Farewell," Jude replied, and allowed himself one last touch, bending to brush the softest of kisses to one warm cheek. Then he withdrew, putting a distance between them that he would never again breach. He watched in stiff, miserable silence as Crispin departed, sagging against his desk only when he heard the front door close. Twisting slightly, he snatched up his glass and drained the brandy all at once. It burned as it went down and he welcomed it.

  When the alcohol had added its warm dullness to his pain, he barked for Feathers and ordered his carriage brought round. A half hour was all that it took to get him to the palace and another quarter hour found him skulking in the shadows of a balcony, looking down upon the fete below. He looked and looked, but nearly an hour later, he still could not spy Crispin. Where was he? Surely he had not given in to his nerves…? No. A man who agreed to lessons in seduction and passion would not at the final hour abandon his plans. He must be about somewhere.

  The scuff of boots caught Jude's attention and he turned to see Bartholomew glaring at him with a level of anger that Jude had rarely seen. "We need to talk, and if you attempt to argue with me, Prescott, you will regret it."

  Jude quirked one brow, but nodded. He was not up to his usual games tonight—although he resented being taken away from his chance to learn who Crispin loved. He followed Bartholomew through the palace, deserted while everyone enjoyed the grand fete in the garden, until they at last stopped in what proved to be a small parlor.

  "You are bloody fortunate that I do not simply call you out, Prescott," Bartholomew snapped, all but bellowing the words. "What you have done to my brother is unforgivable. He is not of your world, you bastard."

  Jude bristled. "I did nothing that he did not want and you know nothing of the matter."

  "Nothing of the matter?" Bartholomew roared. "You seduce and discard my brother, leave him heartbroken, and you say I know nothing of the matter?"

  "What?" Jude asked, dumbfounded. "I have done no such thing! I am guilty of many a crime, but not that."

  "Forgive me if I do not believe you," Bartholomew sneered.

  "No, I will not," Jude snapped. "Your brother claimed that he stood no chance of attracting the man he loved for want of experience. I offered to teach him seduction and pleasure; he agreed. That was our arrangement. It ended this very night, so that he might seduce his man at the Gala."

  Bartholomew opened his mouth, and then closed it with a snap. "That bloody idiot," he finally snarled. "I am going to wring his neck."

  Jude shook his head. "I sense there is something here I am missing."

  "Is that truly what these past few months have been about?" Bartholomew asked. "I could never get two words on the matter out of Cris."

  "That was the arrangement," Jude said stiffly. "If your brother is heartbroken, it has nothing to do with me. He left my home this evening fully intending to come here and seduce the object of his affection."

  Bartholomew's glare reached new levels of anger. "Bloody fool! My brother hates these affairs. He never agreed to go and in fact said quite pointedly not to include his name on the RSVP. Not once did he ever plan to attend the Gala."

  Jude frowned. "That…cannot be… Why would he not come? He agreed that it was the perfect chance…"

  "He's in love with you, bastard!" Bartholomew shouted the words loud enough that Jude swore the glass in the room trembled with it. "He thinks he hides it, but we know him better than he likes to acknowledge. That bloody idiot has pined after you from the moment we dragged him to his first real fete."

  "W-what?" Jude asked, unable to keep the tremor from his voice. That was impossible. He would have noticed, surely… "You must be mistaken."

  "I am most certainly not mistaken," Bartholomew hissed, snatching Jude by the front of his jacket and yanking him close. "He is all too good at hiding his deepest feelings beneath all those he lets surface. Our mother is the same way. Now I ask of you, Prescott—what are you going to do about it? If I do not like your answer, I will put a shot in you here and now."

  He really was the greatest of fools.

  Shoving hard, Jude sent Bartholomew stumbling back, and then bolted to the door.

  "Where in the hell—"

  "To find him," Jude said, cutting through Bartholomew's anger. "Apparently, we are not as finished as I had thought."

  "Truly, Prescott?" Bartholomew asked. "I do not like you or trust you, but I would see my brother happy."<
br />
  Jude nodded. "Truly." He departed before Bartholomew could say anything further.

  Where had Crispin gone? Why had the bloody fool not said something? The better question was: how could Jude have been so blind? Looking back, it now seemed so painfully obvious… Really, it was almost amusing. Poor Crispin, sitting on that bench, struggling to write a letter, only to be startled by…

  Ah. That's where Crispin would be. Of course.

  Eschewing his carriage, or even a horse, Jude made his way as quickly as he could across the royal lawn and finally reached the royal park. Normally he would not be able to resist admiring, if only briefly, the way the long rows of cherry trees looked in the moonlight, but tonight, he could not have cared less about them. At last reaching the end of the trees, he made straight for the pond and the bench where boredom and curiosity had first compelled him to stop. Crispin sat facing the pond, arms resting on his spread thighs, folded hands falling lifelessly between them.

  "You are not penning letters?" Jude asked softly, and almost laughed at the way Crispin startled, yelped, and nearly toppled over as he shot to his feet. "Although I suppose the moonlight is not sufficient enough for it."

  "M-my lord," Crispin said, eyes fastened upon the ground. "I did not expect to see you here."

  "I could say the same," Jude returned slowly, moving around the bench and drawing close, wanting so badly to touch. Was it true? Did he dare believe it? What if Bartholomew was mistaken? "You are supposed to be seducing your true love this very moment. Why are you brooding alone in the park?"

  Crispin laughed sadly. "Because I have already failed, as I always knew I would."

  "How do you know you failed?" Jude asked, moving closer and capturing Crispin's chin as he had so many times before, wishing it was not so late in the evening, for he ached to see the emotions that filled those midnight-dark eyes.

  "My lord?"

  Jude smiled gently. "Perhaps, pet, you simply never realized how beautifully you succeeded."