Dreamspinner Press Year Five Greatest Hits

by Tinnean

  Lying across the foot of my bed was a nightshirt that wasn’t mine, and abruptly, Kincaid’s words and glance at his employer made sense.

  I couldn’t prevent a groan. “Dear God, sir, do you hate me that much?”

  “What are you talking about? I thought you would be pleased!”

  “Pleased to know that by the morrow, servants who have never had the least liking for me will be taking great pleasure in spreading it about the countryside that I am a sodomite?”

  “Why would they do that?”

  I looked away from him, reluctant to speak of the events that followed my parents’ deaths.

  “Explain, if you please, Ashton.”

  “I was a very unhappy child. The servants who have been here since I arrived remember me as that child.” The words tumbled from my mouth. How was it that this man could get me to say or do things that I’d had no intention of saying or doing? “The younger servants, who have come since then, have taken their tone from the older ones.”

  He frowned. “And you allowed that?”

  “What say do you think I had in it? Granted I was the heir, sir, but I was a pensioner as well, here at the good will of Sir Eustace and his wife.”

  “But you’re Sir Ashton Laytham, Seventh Baronet now!”

  I shrugged. “What matter the title?”

  “They still dare to treat you with disrespect?” His expression darkened. “They will not do so in my presence!”

  “Are your attics to let? Of course they will not!” That didn’t mean the water they brought me in the morning wouldn’t be cold by the time it reached me, or the chamber pot emptied and my fireplace raked out in a timely manner.

  “Very well, I will grant you that, but how will they learn that I’ll be spending the nights in your bed?”

  “Do you truly think your man will keep silent on this score?” It was too juicy a tidbit. All too well I remembered Fosby, Sir Eustace’s man, gossiping with Colling about how once their employer had returned from a night on the town so bosky he’d mistaken Fosby for his barque of frailty and had tried to tumble him. I could picture Kincaid gleefully imparting the news of Geo bedding me to one of the maids in hopes he’d impress her enough that she’d allow him into her bed.

  “Yes. Trust me, Ashton. Kincaid has been with me since before I was at Sandhurst. He’s as much a friend as a servant, and he won’t betray our secret.” It was more than just the assurance in his words that tempted me to believe him. In order to make a success of my lands and the intended stud, I must have the good will of my neighbors. I had no choice but to believe him. “Now come. Let’s to bed.” He propped his walking stick against the wall and began removing his clothes.

  In spite of my best intentions to undress slowly, I was naked and on the bed before he, my spectacles still in place so I could watch him.

  “Well done, Ash.” He sauntered to the bed and trailed a fingertip from one nipple to the other. I was startled by their responsiveness, by the way they tightened and almost ached to be pinched, and my prick grew swollen. He sat beside me on the bed, his hip hard against mine, and his palm followed the path of hair down the center of my body to where my prick rose from the thatch of curls that grew around it.

  I raised a hand to touch his hair. “Let me….”

  “No,” he said. “Let me.” And his mouth came down on mine.

  I wound my arms about his neck and drew him closer. If it had been anyone else, I would have been embarrassed by the low, hungry sounds I made as I fed on his mouth. What was it about his kisses? I’d had more than a week to mull over my reaction to them but had been unable to come to any satisfactory conclusion beyond the fact that he was the first ever to have kissed me.

  Distracted by his mouth, I was startled to feel him working a slicked finger into me, followed by another and then another.

  “You’re tight,” he murmured against my lips. “I want you loose enough to enjoy this.”

  I turned my head so I could free my lips to speak.

  “No.” His voice was hard as he turned my face toward him. “You will not attempt to deny it is I who is having you!”

  I rested my palm on his cheek. “I would not do that, Geo. I simply wanted to tell you that in spite of my stiffness after the last time we did this, I did enjoy it. I should have thought the evidence spattered over my loins would have proved it so.”

  “A man’s body can be manipulated by his mind.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “No matter, it’s of no consequence. How is your back?”

  “It’s fine. I would have said something if there was any discomfort.”

  “As you did the last time?” He shook his head and curled a hand around my thigh, tugging it up. “Wrap your legs about me, Ash.”

  I did as he said and suddenly found his prick sliding into me. His lips on mine once again, he swallowed my moan as he stretched my back passage, his possession of me burning, and he began a slow, steady, rocking motion that gradually built in speed and intensity until I was gasping with the need for air, and more air.

  I held on to Geo, so lost in the sensations his movements were eliciting from my body that it didn’t occur to me that I should be touching myself, bringing myself closer to bliss. He was doing that quite by himself. He growled something in my ear in that foreign tongue, bit down on my earlobe, and I cried out and went spinning into the universe, holding tight to him so that we might spin out of control together.

  Geo continued plunging into me a few moments longer before he stilled, his teeth bared in a feral grimace, and I held on to him ever more tightly as the heat of his essence filled me.

  He panted harshly as he endeavored to bring his breathing to something like usual. The dark curls that clustered over his scalp were damp from his exertions, and I ran my fingers through them, enjoying the feel as they clung to my fingers. I nuzzled his throat, tasting the salt of his sweat.

  “Ash,” he whispered. “You didn’t….”

  “Spend?” I laughed giddily against his throat. “I did, could you not tell? And very splendid it was; I must commend you.”

  “No, I knew that. You have a way of growling deep in your throat….” He was softening.

  “I do?” I squeezed my inner muscles in an effort to keep him deep in my body, and he hummed in pleasure.

  “Didn’t you know?”

  “Obviously not. I beg your pardon.” My efforts to keep him within me were to no avail, and he slid from me.

  “Don’t. I like it. I must tell you….”

  I was not to know what he had to tell me, for his breathing evened out and between one moment and the next he slept. I sighed and eased him off me carefully, not wanting to disturb him, although it would not have mattered. He was so deep asleep a cannon could have been fired within the room and it would not have roused him.

  This time it was I who rose and fetched the dampened flannel. It must have been an arduous week for him—what was it that he did in London?—for he made no sound when I turned him over to wash the residue of our passion from his loins.

  I studied his features for a moment, relaxed in sleep, so youthful and so without a care. He was like an enchanted prince from the fairy tale Mama had been wont to read me as a child.

  “Goodnight, sweet prince,” I murmured, and leaned forward to lightly kiss his lips. I laughed quietly at my folly, for while Geo might indeed be considered a sleeping beauty, I, certainly, was no prince to awaken him with a kiss.

  I blew out the candle, then with a sigh, removed my spectacles, climbed into bed, and pulled the covers up over us both.

  It would have been bliss to sleep with him in my arms, but I knew I must not be greedy, and I settled myself beside him.

  SOMETIME DURING the early morning hours, an arm was flung across my chest, and I came awake with a start to find I was not alone in my bed. Confused, I fumbled for my spectacles, needing them as a barrier, a shield. John hated when he fell asleep beside me, not that he did very often, a
nd he’d be out of reason cross!

  Well, so too was I, for I’d been having the most extraordinary dream in which someone actually cared for me, and his inconsiderate action had woken me from it.

  “John….” I reached out and roughly shook his shoulder. “Wake up!”

  “Who is this ‘John’?”

  “G… Geo? I b… beg your pardon!” I stuttered, now fully awake.

  “And so you should! I thought we were agreed that you would not have anyone else in your bed!”

  “You were agreed, sir, but you needn’t fear. I did not break my word.”

  “Yet you thought I was someone else. Who is he?”

  “It is not important.”

  “And if I beg to differ? I do not enjoy being called by another man’s name.”

  “It was simply because I awoke confused. I am not used to another spending the night in my bed.”

  “Who is he?” Geo pressed, becoming impatient. “Ashton.”

  “He is no longer in England.”

  “But you think of him still.”

  “Do you plan to put a curb on my thoughts as well as my desires?”

  “I will not permit others to use what is mine.” He sat up and lit a candle.

  I rubbed my forehead. “I have no wish to argue with you, sir. I have acquiesced to your decree. What I had with… with that gentleman is well and truly over and done with. Forgive me for waking you.”

  “Tell me about him.” It was obvious he would continue to worry it like a dog with a bone.

  “There is nothing to tell. He is gone, and I have given you my word that I… that I will be faithful to you. I fail to see how it matters.”

  “It matters because although you say you have given me your word, you still expect the man lying beside you to be him.”

  “I do not…. Can you not accept that it is simply because I did not have many men in my bed?”

  “I find that surprising.”

  I was inundated by a wave of hurt. “You take me for a harlot!” After what we had shared earlier, he could think that of me?

  “Ashton, you are deliberately misconstruing my words! I find you appealing, and to learn that you have not had more men in your bed is surprising.”

  “But… but….” All that went round in my brain was the thought that he…. Could it be possible that he liked me?

  “No matter. Tell me about this lover of yours.” He was indeed like a dog with a bone.

  I tightened my lips, obstinately refusing to speak.

  “Ashton.”

  “Oh, very well.” I surrendered gracelessly. “What did you wish to know?”

  “Who is he?”

  “That I will not tell you, for it is germane to nothing.”

  “I beg to disagree. However, we will set that aside for the time being. How long did you know him? How long were you lovers?”

  “From the time I was a boy, and for four years.”

  “How would he feel upon learning that I was now in your bed?”

  “He’d most likely pity you.”

  “What?”

  “He would assume it was for the same reason he had been in my bed: because he couldn’t have the one he truly wanted.”

  “He told you that?”

  “No, but then he didn’t have to. I’m not stupid, you know. I can read between the lines. He allowed me to… he allowed me the use of his body, but that was all.”

  “But you loved him in spite of that.” He gazed down at me, his expression a mixture of pity and exasperation.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ve some acquaintance with unrequited love.”

  I was startled by the unexpected pang that tore through me. It was not that I’d expected… dreamed… wished… that the man in my bed would love me—I’d learned my lesson too well with John Hood—but to realize that I would never even have that opportunity dashed any possible hopes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “That you loved someone who did not return your affection.”

  He laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound. “Oh, no, it was not I who loved unwisely but too well.”

  “Who then?”

  “My mother, poor lady. She loved but one man her whole life, my father, and her devotion was rewarded by his indifference.”

  “I have heard she went into a decline.”

  “A decline? Yes, I suppose it could be called that. She could no longer bear to be the object of pity and derision.”

  “Who would do that?”

  “Have you no experience of the ton? They commiserate to your face and mock and sneer behind your back. Even here in the country they will not let her be!”

  I wanted to put my arms around him and hold him, as I had yearned to be held when I’d realized Mama and Papa would never be coming home, but I was afraid he would rebuff my silent offer of compassion, so instead I said, “I understand she was quite lovely.”

  “Yes, she was. She had russet curls that flowed down her back and eyes the color of violets. Such beautiful eyes, fringed with lashes as thick and black as soot. She could have had any man she wanted, but the only man she wanted was my father.”

  “It must have been difficult, with him being away so frequently and for such long periods of time.”

  “Such long periods of time.” He laughed harshly. “He would come home, stay with us for a fortnight or so, and then with the excuse that he must attend to business, he would disappear into the country, where he would spend the rest of his leave. When he returned, there was only time for him to re-outfit himself, and what a mad dash that was. Then he would be off, gone from our lives for two or three or four years, she and I left behind.”

  “Was it not a fact that she did not travel well, and so your father sought to spare her the travails of an ocean voyage?”

  “That was the reason he gave when he returned for her funeral. I have my doubts as to its veracity. Have you any brandy? If I must tell this maudlin tale, I may as well have a drink.”

  “There’s no need, Geo.”

  “Yes, there is. I can see you’re agog to hear all the details.”

  I wasn’t, but what I could see was that for some reason he needed to speak of this.

  “I’ll have to go down to the study to get the decanter.”

  He raised a questioning eyebrow, but I wasn’t going to tell him of my stupidity.

  John’s birthday was the same as mine, St. Stephen’s Day, the day after Christmas. The second winter after the start of my affair with him, I’d commissioned the jeweler in Guilford to craft a tiny silver bugle to be worn on his watch fob.

  He and Robert came down from Oxford for the holiday—William had as yet to complete his studies at Harrow, but he’d be arriving shortly as well. No matter where else Robert might spend the rest of the holiday, he was always here with Aunt Cecily that day, and so were his brothers, for where one was, there, generally, were the others.

  I gave John the gift on his birthday, when he came to me that night. “Oh, er… thanks.” He tossed it on the lowboy and stripped off his trousers. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

  We “got on with it,” but when he left shortly after he regained his senses—because yes, I had loved him into insensibility—he left the bugle behind. The next morning after breakfast, I found him in the conservatory, staring broodingly out at the barren winter landscape. “You forgot this, John.”

  He looked around frantically, afraid someone would see, but I’d already made sure we were alone.

  “No, I didn’t,” he snapped at me.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t you understand? I don’t want it! Men don’t give men gifts!” And he stormed out, leaving me feeling as if he’d struck me. None of my uncle’s physical blows had ever hurt to such a degree.

  I found a cache of brandy in the wine cellar that I knew my uncle wouldn’t miss and took the bottles to my room. After throwing the bugle into the f
ireplace, I began drinking.

  I drank steadily throughout the rest of the holidays, but John never came to me and said, “You’re dipping too deep, Ashton. I want you to stop.” I doubted he even noticed. Certainly no one else did.

  Finally, I grew tired of waking each morning to cast up my accounts, with a headache and a vile taste in my mouth. I bathed and shaved, returned the remaining bottle to the wine cellar, and vowed to treat John as if the incident on St. Stephan’s Day had never occurred.

  Now I started to get out of bed, and Geo gripped my wrist and peered into my eyes. For what was he searching? “Geo?”

  “Pay me no heed. Don’t be long.”

  “I’ll be back quicker than the cat can lick her ear.”

  That made him smile. “Will you have a glass with me?”

  “If you like.” I drew on my dressing gown and stepped into a pair of slippers, then went down to the study, placed the brandy and two snifters on a tray, and returned to my room.

  He had the pillows stacked behind him, but he must have risen to rekindle the fire, for it was burning brightly, casting shadows on the wall.

  “Was that quickly enough for you?” I set the tray down on a small table and poured a measure of brandy into each snifter.

  “Yes. You must be anxious to hear this pathetic tale to rush so.”

  I tried once more. “Geo, if you’d rather not—”

  “The matter is of no great importance, but if you would hear it….” He shrugged and took a snifter. He raised it to his lips, and I couldn’t take my eyes from his throat; I watched his Adam’s apple ripple as he swallowed. “Would you mind?” He held the snifter out to me. It was already empty.

  “Here; take mine, if you’re in such a rush to get drunk.” I scowled at him when he actually did take it. “I see I had best keep my dressing gown on, since I’ll most likely need to go down to the wine cellar for another bottle.”

  “Fill the glass for yourself. I promise you this will be my last.”

  I wasn’t sure if I believed him. I’d never seen him like this before, although granted, I’d only known him a little longer than a sennight.