Dreamspinner Press Year Five Greatest Hits

by Tinnean

  “Could you not have at least sent regrets? Do you have any idea what that ‘There is no response’ was like? You could have written that it was an inconvenient time, but later in the spring…. Even a scrawled, ‘Our association is at an end,’ would have been more acceptable.”

  His arms tightened around my waist. “Would it, Ashton? Do you want so much to be rid of me?”

  “No, of course not, but at least it wouldn’t have felt as if I were less than the dirt beneath your feet.”

  “Ah, lamb, I’m so sorry. It… it was a highly secretive mission. No one could know. Even Father thought I was simply in Baden taking the waters for my leg.”

  “It wasn’t a pleasure jaunt.”

  “No.”

  “Was it successful?”

  “To a degree.”

  “Will you have to go on other missions like that?”

  “No. My leg…. It would be too precarious.”

  “And our… our association isn’t at an end just yet?”

  “No, lamb. Not for a very long time to come.”

  I sighed in relief. “I… I had a gift for you….”

  “I know. I regret so deeply that I couldn’t be here.”

  “You know? What do you mean, you know? Only Mr. Ruston and Jem knew the colt was for you!”

  He gave me a droll look. “As did Lady Laytham, and as I’m sure you’ve discovered, a secret is not a secret once more than one person knows of it. I chanced to come across Miss Marchand the other day whilst crossing Berkeley Square.”

  “Oh? I trust Arabella was suitably chaperoned?”

  “Her maid followed along behind her, weighted down with numerous purchases.”

  I sighed, wondering if anything at all was left of the letter of credit Aunt Cecily had still possessed and if I’d hear from her soon requesting another.

  “I plied her with ices at Gunter’s, and she was quite happy to unveil her grievances toward you. You are not her most favored person, I’ll have you know, Ashton.”

  “I’m quite aware of that. Nor is she a favorite of mine.” My shin throbbed in remembrance of the many times she’d kicked it in our youth. “You would have liked the colt very much. He was a sweet-goer with a very soft mouth.”

  “Didn’t you name him?”

  “No, he was yours. That was for you to do.”

  “I’m so sorry I was out of the country. I’m so sorry I was unable to spend my birthday with you. I’m—”

  “Enough, Geo. You’re here now.” That was what mattered, and I wasn’t going to let a spate of ill temper drive him away.

  “May I… may I spend the night with you?”

  “Of course. You’re always welcome in my bed.” I could feel his prick against my knee.

  “Where were you tonight?”

  “I went to Colonel Whittemore’s.”

  “Why?” He didn’t sound too interested. He was busy pushing the hem of my nightshirt up over my thighs, following the material with his lips.

  “You were there. I was going to drag you home if I had to.” I laughed, even as I spread my legs wider for him. “I burst into the Colonel’s bedchamber.”

  “I imagine that didn’t go over very well.” He nibbled along the inside of my thigh.

  “N… no. He… he had company.” My testicles were exposed now, and he licked a path over them to the rigid length of my shaft.

  “Like warm velvet, lamb. What happened then?”

  “I thought it was you, and I demanded he unhand you.”

  “And when you realized it wasn’t me?”

  “I offered to meet him at dawn.”

  “A duel?” He reared back. “Are you mad, sir?”

  “No, but it was all I could offer to make amends. An apology didn’t seem to suffice.”

  “Dammit! Whittemore is one of the best—have you chosen someone to be your second? Never mind, I’ll do it. I’m a crack shot, and if it looks like he plans to do anything but delope, I’ll stop him.”

  “Thank you, Geo, but it’s not necessary.” He would do that for me? I was more touched than I wanted to reveal. “He called me cork-brained and declined my offer.”

  “Thank God. And I hope you’re pleased. You’ve completely put me off the mood!”

  “I beg your pardon, I’m sure.” I smiled into his hair.

  “Ash, do you realize if word of your action ever got out, you risked being shunned by all your neighbors?”

  “It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to let him debauch you.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “No.” I didn’t tell him Colonel Whittemore had even more to lose than I—not only the respect of his neighbors, but his friends, his fellow officers, Miss Petre.

  “Ashton, would you… would you make love to me?”

  “Of course.” I wasn’t going to tell him that I always did. Hopefully now, things would be better between us, but….

  “No, I mean… would you sodomize me?”

  I couldn’t catch my breath, and my hands began trembling. John had never cared for anything but to be mounted by me. Geo had never wanted more than to mount me. It had seemed there would be no happy medium, and I’d resigned myself to that state of affairs.

  “Are you very sure?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  I ran my palm over his hair, then tipped up his chin and pressed my lips to his, catching a hint of the whisky he’d been drinking. “I’m a good cocksman, Geo. You won’t regret it. I promise you.”

  I rose to my feet and helped him up. The bed was already turned down, and I made quick work of undressing him, enjoying the feel of the crisp hairs that covered his torso, the sharp points of his nipples that peeked through the hair, the narrow trail that led down past his navel to his prick.

  “Lie down.” I took the jar of lotion from the bedside table and scooped up some with my forefinger.

  I didn’t have to tell him to bring his legs back. He caught his legs under his knees and left himself exposed to my eyes and my touch.

  I stroked my fingertip over his opening, dipping in, and suddenly found the opening very tightly closed. “When did you last do this?”

  “Er… not recently.”

  I could ascertain that much. “When, exactly?”

  His mouth took on a stubborn twist, and I was afraid he wasn’t going to answer me, but then he admitted, “Never.”

  “Are you sure you want me to do this?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, ‘why’?”

  “Geo, please don’t be obtuse. You’re turned twenty-eight. You’ve been about in the world and had numerous opportunities. Why have you chosen me to take your virginity?”

  “I just have, all right? If you’d rather not….” He was becoming irate, and I decided it didn’t matter just then why he’d chosen me.

  “Very well.” I pressed a kiss to his lips. “Turn on your side.”

  “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

  “It’s going to be uncomfortable. I want to make it as pleasurable as I can for you.”

  He rolled to his side, and I could see the long ridge of scarred flesh along his thigh. I kissed it, then began toying with his fundament, rubbing the sensitive spot below it, and soon I had him moaning in pleasure.

  I slid a finger into him, and he stiffened. I replaced it with a finger of my other hand, and teased his prick with feather-light touches.

  That distracted him, and he was soon moaning again, unaware when a second finger joined the first, and then a third, each with a goodly quantity of the lotion on it.

  He jerked and yelped when I found that spot within him and paid particular attention to it. He began thrusting his hips back at me, taking my fingers deeper into his body.

  I coated my prick with the lotion and carefully withdrew my fingers.

  “No, Ash! Don’t—”

  “Hush, dear one. I’ve no intention of leaving you.” I
raised his leg, parted his nether cheeks, and put the head of my prick to him. With slow, careful movements, I slid into him, always taking care lest he give me any sign that I was hurting him.

  He lay still, clenching around me, and it was all I could do to keep from plowing into him and exploding in a wondrous display of fireworks.

  His prick had softened. I ran my thumb over its crown, catching the liquid that oozed from it and rubbing it ’round and ’round, then bringing it to my mouth and sucking it off.

  “You always taste so delicious, Geo.”

  “What?” He stared at me over his shoulder, eyes wide, and shivered and loosened a bit around me.

  “That’s right, gently, dear one.” I altered the angle of my prick and eased forward, knowing I had found the exact spot when he groaned.

  I brought my hand back to his prick, which was once again in glorious tumescence, and resumed rubbing and stroking.

  I nipped at the skin where neck and shoulder joined, licked a path up the side of his neck, nibbled on his earlobe. His breath came out in soft grunts, and I held on to my control by a whisper.

  And then he began thrusting back against me once again.

  “No! Geo, don’t!”

  “Yes! Ash, please!”

  And it was too late. My control unraveled and I began thrusting into him, my groin slapping against his arse—his lovely, firm arse that no one else had ever got to enjoy—and within moments I was spending.

  And he was a heartbeat behind me, filling my hand to overflowing with his essence. I endeavored to contain it, and laughed when I couldn’t.

  “Hmmm?” Geo’s voice was drowsy.

  “May I ask how long it’s been?”

  He yawned. “When was I here last?” he asked absently.

  “You’re not funning me?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You were on the continent, and you found no one to your taste?”

  “It was more that no one found me to their taste.”

  “What?”

  “The scar, my limp. Women aren’t the only ones who look for perfection in a mate.”

  “They’re all mad. To bypass a man such as yourself—”

  “Thank you, Ash.”

  “I simply speak the truth. How are you feeling?”

  “Quite the thing, dear boy. A trifle stretched, but beyond that….” He turned his head and kissed the corner of my mouth. “I’m pleased I waited for you.”

  “Ah, Geo.” I sighed, pleased as well, and replete. I brought my hand to my mouth, licked it clean, then twined my fingers with his.

  Within moments we were both asleep.

  THINGS CHANGED after that. Geo still only stayed with me at the week’s end, but he began to look for excuses to be with me. I had always made sure that by week’s end there was nothing to divert my attention from him, but now he insisted on coming along with me, meeting my people as I made the rounds of the estate, seeing to the business of running Fayerweather, pleased to note that I knew what I was about.

  The seasons passed with content, and I began to hope that what we had together might last, hoped that it might be more than just a means to satisfy that damned debt.

  I realized then that it had gone far beyond that, for me at any rate.

  SPRING HAD come round again, the air warm and balmy and fragrant with the scent of all the newly blossoming flowers. The crops had been planted, and my people all seemed to be in fair health.

  From time to time young Burt Johnson would cross my path, grinning cheerfully up at me. He was such a happy lad, much as I had been at his age, and I couldn’t help but grin back at him.

  Best of all, Fayerweather Stud was starting to be noticed.

  Geo was away—he had some business in the Americas—but this time he’d asked me to come to London to see him off.

  “I’VE SOMETHING for you.” He handed me a catalogue from Tattersall’s. “Earl Malemayns must needs auction off his cattle. I know you’re looking for a stallion for your stud.”

  “Yes.” If we could find one carrying the blood of the Godolphin Arabian. If ever one came on the market. If we could afford him.

  So many ifs.

  “There may be something in here that interests you.”

  The catalogue was folded in two, and when I opened it, an opera-length strand of black pearls was revealed.

  “Geo?”

  “I believe this belonged to your mother.”

  I’d thought it was gone forever. “How did you find it?”

  “Knowing the sort of man your uncle was, I simply inquired of all the men with whom he’d gambled.”

  “Th… thank you!” My voice quavered, and I cleared my throat and stiffened my upper lip. “Words can never express my gratitude, but—”

  “No words are necessary, Ash.” He squeezed my arm. “I must be off.”

  “Godspeed, Geo. Don’t be gone too long.” I stood on the dock, a hand raised in farewell, and murmured under my breath, “But I’ll be waiting however long it takes.”

  At Fayerweather once more, I summoned Mr. Ruston, and we sat in my study, pouring over the catalogue.

  He leaned forward in his chair and tapped the page with the bowl of his pipe, indicating the listing for a brown colt. “This one, Sir Ash?”

  “Yes. However, I imagine everyone at Tatt’s will be bidding on him as well.”

  More than ever I regretted the loss of the Flame.

  The pearls were lovely, but even if I could bring myself to sell them, they wouldn’t bring in a fraction of what was necessary to claim the colt, as became obvious well before the end of the bidding.

  We returned from London without any addition to our stud.

  “Forgive me for asking, Sir Ash,” Mr. Ruston said that afternoon as we once again examined a catalogue from Tattersall’s, “but might Mr. Stephenson advance you the sum?”

  I felt myself flush and hoped it wasn’t noticeable, or that if it was, Mr. Ruston would simply put it down to distaste at being obligated to another. Little did he—did anyone—know just how obligated I was to Geo.

  “He’s still away.” Although this time I heard from him regularly, missives that described the six-week ocean voyage in droll detail, the bustling dock at a city called Hoboken, the search for decent mounts and a guide to take him west past the mountains. There was no mention of why he needed to make this journey, and in my return letters I didn’t inquire.

  “Never mind, sir. If it’s meant to be, ’twill be.”

  “We can but hope.” I decided it would be best to change the subject. “The Colonel has asked if you might be willing to take a look at one of the horses in his stable.”

  He chuckled. “Never tell me it’s that dark chestnut gelding.”

  Colonel Whittemore had gone with another chestnut in hopes of winning the fair Miss Petre, but apparently the animal hadn’t realized he’d been gelded and persisted in trying to mount any mare that came into his vicinity.

  “No, it’s a brown mare.”

  “Hmmm. I don’t seem to recall…. Well, no matter. I’ll be pleased to—”

  There was a tap on the door, and Colling entered. “Begging your pardon, sir, but Mr. Stephenson has arrived….” I knew he meant Geo’s father, since here in the Hall, Geo had become Mr. George to distinguish between the two. “And Lady Laytham wishes your presence in the drawing room.”

  “Very well. Mr. Ruston, if you’ll attend the matter of the Colonel’s mare?”

  “Yes, sir.” He regarded Colling coolly for a moment, then left the room.

  “I’ll bring tea shortly, sir.”

  “Yes, thank you, Colling.” I made my way to the drawing room. “Aunt Cecily, you wished to see me? Good day, Mr. Stephenson. You’re looking….” I could hardly say “well.” There was a grey cast to his face, and his mouth was tight.

  “I’m… I’m afraid I have some news for you. I felt you should be present when I imparted it to your aunt.”

  My heart began a slow, p
ainful beat. “Geo?”

  “Eh? Oh, no, no. The boy is hale to the best of my knowledge.”

  I breathed out a silent sigh of relief.

  “You’re making me nervous, George.” Aunt Cecily tried to smile, but she looked… frightened? What was going on?

  “We’ll just wait for Miss Arabella, shall we? This concerns her as well.”

  Colling rolled in the tea tray and set it before Aunt Cecily. “Will there be anything else, m’lady?”

  “Thank you, no, Colling. I’ll ring if we should need anything else.”

  He bowed and went toward the door, holding it open as Arabella came bustling in, her arms filled with flowers—roses, peonies, lilies of the valley.

  “Oh, Colling! Bring a vase, if you please?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Mr. Stephenson.” She gave a brief curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, sir.”

  He nodded, but it was clear he was distracted.

  “If you would be so kind as to pour the tea, m’dear?”

  Aunt Cecily turned a trifle paler, but didn’t protest. Whatever Mr. Stephenson needed to divulge to us, it was obvious he didn’t want to be interrupted by the arrival of any of the servants.

  And it was equally obvious he wasn’t in any great hurry.

  Aunt Cecily filled the delicate cups. Arabella left the flowers on the pier table and took a cup, the only one of us to do so. She also helped herself to a cucumber sandwich.

  “I…. It’s… it’s been some time since we last saw you, George,” Aunt Cecily murmured. “I must say when you didn’t come to call on us while we were in Town, I worried that someone younger and more attractive might have caught your eye.”

  “Highly unlikely, m’dear. You know Stephenson men love but once in their lives.”

  My heart turned over at those words. Might Geo—but no, I was being foolish. He liked me well enough, and I must be satisfied with that.

  “Oh, George! My very dear!” Aunt Cecily’s eyes welled with pleased tears, but Mr. Stephenson scarce seemed to notice, and she looked down at her hands.

  Arabella grumbled, “One could wish all men were as steadfast!”

  Colling entered just then, with an off-white Chinese porcelain vase and a pair of scissors, and they fell silent. He placed them beside the flowers on the pier table and left, closing the door quietly behind him.