“Then thank you, sir. I would prefer to use the other room. I’ll just get my things and move, if you don’t need me.”
“Excellent. In fact, putting on a nightshirt is such a simple thing. Once the room has been prepared, you wouldn’t need to be here when I retire either.”
Baxter paused. Apparently, the other room was a treat, but being deprived of his duties was worrying. “You’re not displeased, are you sir?”
That was what he’d been afraid of. “Not at all, but a trip to the country is supposed to be a bit of a rest for me. There’s no reason for you not to have one too.”
“If you’re certain, sir.”
“Let’s try it, at least. You might find me in the morning still tangled in my evening cravat and shirtsleeves.”
Baxter nodded as if that were a real possibility. “Of course, Mr. Smith is just across the hall; you could seek assistance from him if needed.”
“There is always that.” Lionel tried to sound casual as he said it. How much did Baxter suspect?
“Then I suppose this is a good time to experiment. If you don’t need anything else this evening, I will gather what I need for the evening myself and retire.”
So he did suspect something if he was only taking a few things at the moment. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
As soon as he heard Baxter leave the adjoining valet’s room and his footsteps fade away down the hall, Lionel started listening for other footsteps outside his door. Not that Jim would come again tonight. He’d be tired after his day outside in the garden. Sending Baxter away was really just a kindness to Baxter. He was a good valet; he deserved a bit of a rest while they were in the country, particularly as he was more comfortable in the city. There was nothing else to the suggestion at all.
Chapter 11
***
AS JIM PACED BACK AND FORTH ACROSS THE CARPET in front of the fire, he kept stroking the sleeve of his coat. Fine merino wool. He’d felt such fabric before, at Madame Rosamond’s when he helped his clients undress, but he’d never thought to have something so fine against his own skin. And he couldn’t help feeling a bit proud that Lionel had seen him looking proper and polished in the fine suit, even if the suit was one of Lionel’s cast-offs. And Lionel had known about Mrs. O’Brien’s involvement without being told, which very likely meant he was behind at least some of the curtain-twitching Jim had noticed. And Lionel seemed to think Jim was doing something of value in the garden, which made him feel even better.
Between their evening together and Lionel seeing him working in the garden with one of the servants, Jim had been worried that dinner would be awkward. If he hadn’t wanted to show off the new suit so badly, he would have suggested he dine in his room. But it had been more like their travels together than the night before. Jim had described the garden and what he’d done, teasing Lionel about the state of it whenever Lionel joked about his inability to grow anything. Then Lionel had told him about a letter from dear old Randall that had started out about a duel and ended in a request for a loan to buy a new gig, which explained Lionel’s eagerness to deal with the post that morning. If he’d recognized his brother’s handwriting, naturally he would want to find out what he’d written as soon as possible. Jim’s first reaction had been to say, “You’re not giving him the money, are you?” His second to be mortified, but Lionel had seemed pleased, almost as if he’d wanted Jim’s opinion or even his approval. It had left Jim wishing this could be permanent, that he could work in the garden here and talk to Lionel in the evenings.
But that didn’t help him decide what to do now. As long as he could hear the valet moving around, he didn’t have to decide. But as soon as the valet left, he would have to choose. Did he stay here and keep the memory of what had been a pleasant day safe, or return to Lionel’s room and show him how grateful he was for the night before, and everything else really, and risk being rejected, or worse, having Lionel look at him like the whore he was?
It didn’t take long. Jim hadn’t come close to a decision when he heard the door open then close and footsteps going down the hallway. Jim sighed and took off his jacket. He’d known all along what he was going to choose. His shoes followed, less to carry back in the morning. He considered leaving his cravat behind for the same reason but thought better of it. Lionel had found unexpectedly interesting uses for his the night before; Jim didn’t want to put a damper on his creativity.
The distance to Lionel’s room felt longer than he remembered it, even though it was only across the hall. He hesitated outside of Lionel’s door. If he went back, would Lionel think that was all he was interested in? All he could do? He knew there would be no chance at friendship once he left, and certainly not if Lionel ever connected him to Lord Dixon. And with Lord Dixon having bought a house not far away... He sighed. He’d have little enough time with Lionel. Perhaps he shouldn’t risk it.
Jim was just about to turn away from Lionel’s door and return to his own room when the door opened a crack and Lionel peered out. He spotted Jim and quickly opened the door the rest of the way. “I thought I heard you out here,” he whispered.
That seemed to answer it then. Lionel had been expecting him. Why was the question, but not one he dared ask. For the moment, Jim would pretend it was because Lionel was hoping he’d come. Jim stepped into the room and closed the door.
He felt Lionel’s arms slide around his waist almost before the latch caught, and turned so they were facing each other. It was wonderful in Lionel’s arms. He felt like he was the only one Lionel wanted, him specifically, not just some body to warm his bed. He tipped his head back so Lionel’s lips could find his mouth and relaxed as Lionel’s tongue brushed against his lips. He nipped at it then slid his own tongue along Lionel’s bottom lip until he was able to draw it into his mouth and suck gently on it. Lionel moaned against his mouth. Jim drew back and whispered, “You’re overdressed again.”
Lionel rested his forehead against Jim’s and chuckled. “This time you’re more so than I am.”
“Then let’s remedy that, shall we?” Jim smiled and drew back. As long as he could joke and make Lionel smile, they could still be friends. At least he hoped so.
Jim pulled off his cravat and held it for a moment, wondering if he should comment on the night before. It had been so unexpected and yet so wonderful. He was surprised when Lionel’s hand darted out to take it from him and toss it over the footboard of the bed. Jim grinned. Maybe Lionel had been thinking along the same lines. He was going to say something when he realized Lionel was only wearing a nightshirt, which he quickly pulled over his head and tossed over the nearest chair, leaving him naked and Jim clothed. He could see how interested Lionel was already, and that was enough to push aside Jim’s worries, at least for the moment. Instead, he remembered the idle daydreams he’d had at the inn on the way to Hensley House. He stood very close to Lionel, close enough to lean forward and brush his lips against Lionel’s. While Lionel was still breathless from the kiss, Jim dropped to his knees and ran his tongue along the length of Lionel’s cock, eliciting a soft moan and the tangle of fingers in his hair.
Jim took his time exploring the most intimate parts of Lionel’s body with his mouth, running his tongue along the underside of Lionel’s cock, taking his balls into his mouth and sucking lightly, then sliding his tongue farther back along Lionel’s arse until it was circling the tight little hole. How odd he’d thought this would be too intimate for Lionel, and yet Lionel had done the very same for him the night before. Jim rolled his tongue and poked at the hole until his tongue darted inside. He kept at it until he heard Lionel’s moans become desperate and his body tensed. And then he heard Lionel murmur, “Jim, please,” and he wanted more contact, more skin against Lionel’s, more of Lionel. Jim got to his feet and pressed a kiss to Lionel’s shoulder then started to strip away his clothes.
Jim was used to undressing quickly, so it didn’t take him long to get out of his own shirt and trousers. Lionel took each piece from him as soon as it was re
moved and draped it over the seat of the same chair. When Jim was naked, Lionel pulled him close for a kiss that ended with them in a tangle on the bed. Jim rubbed against Lionel, wanting to feel his skin everywhere, pressing kisses wherever his lips landed. He felt Lionel’s hands everywhere, stroking and caressing every bit of skin. He wanted to melt against, be part of him, do anything for him.
He felt the heat of Lionel’s breath against his cheek then heard him whisper, “Tell me what you want, Jim.”
Jim couldn’t think of anything but the body pressed against his and hands sliding over his skin. He knew he should give some clever answer, one of the phrases that had come so easily to his lips at Madame Rosamond’s, but all he could manage was, “You. I want you, Lionel.”
He felt Lionel’s lips brush against the nape of his neck, just behind his ear. “I think I can manage that.”
Jim arched up towards Lionel’s lips. He felt Lionel nuzzle his neck, kiss the curve of his jaw, pull him close. Jim pressed his hips against Lionel and felt Lionel’s hard cock brush against his own. Lionel groaned softly against Jim’s ear and thrust his hips to rub against Jim. Jim twisted until he could press his lips against Lionel’s shoulder, following it until he was pressing kisses along Lionel’s neck. He felt Lionel’s hand slide down along his chest and hip until Lionel could grasp their cocks and hold them together as he thrust his hips, rubbing himself against Jim. Jim matched the motion, rubbing against Lionel until all he could think of was Lionel on top of him, rubbing against him, moaning softly against his neck. And then he heard Lionel’s strangled cry and felt Lionel’s warm, wet spend spilling over his cock. Knowing Lionel was taking as much pleasure from this as he was was enough to make Jim’s body tense and then add his spend to Lionel’s, dripping over their now sensitive cocks.
Lionel collapsed beside Jim and pulled him close. Jim allowed himself to be drawn on top of Lionel, his head resting on Lionel’s chest as they waited for their breath to slow. He wanted to say something, some clever thing, but no words came, and he couldn’t organize his limbs enough to do anything, even to move off of Lionel. Vaguely, he felt Lionel stir under him and then a cloth brushing his skin. The last thing he thought as he drifted to sleep was that Lionel had clearly had the cloth ready, and must have been planning for something like this to happen between them, must have wanted it as much as Jim had.
--*--
Lionel held still and cradled Jim’s head against his chest. It had been amazing again. Jim was amazing. Somehow he made Lionel feel that he was what Jim wanted, just him as he was. Not as a second to Randall’s firstborn status. Not as someone who could be counted on to do their duty if it was to negotiate a contract for the family business he was no longer a part of or settle a debt that wasn’t his or fill in as magistrate at the drop of a hat. Jim made him feel wanted just for being there. It was the same when they’d sat at the dinner table and Jim had told him about the plans for the garden and seemed genuinely interested in what he thought of them, not because it was his garden but because he valued Lionel’s opinion. It had been in the same in the carriage. The same every time they’d spoken, every time they’d been together. Jim had been interested in him, focused on him. It was a heady feeling, especially from someone as clever and handsome as Jim.
Jim stirred in his sleep, fidgeting in the grip of some dream. Lionel wrapped his arm around Jim and pulled him closer. Jim rolled towards him but didn’t wake. Lionel was glad; Jim looked so content asleep in his bed. He could almost pretend it was where he preferred to be. But he was sure Jim was good at pretending. He’d have to be if he’d done that sort of thing two and three times a night at the brothel, as Lionel was sure he had. How had he managed that? Lionel pressed a small kiss to Jim’s hair. That must have been why Jim wanted a place in the country, away from that life. He’d help him find it. He’d help Jim find anything he wanted.
When Lionel woke, there was no one in the bed with him, but this time he didn’t worry. Clearly, Jim had once again remembered to leave before the staff came to light the fire and draw the curtains. Lionel roused himself from bed and was soon being dressed by Baxter, who seemed much cheerier in the morning now that he wasn’t sleeping in a room facing the woods.
When Lionel entered the breakfast room, Jim was already there again, wearing another set of clothes borrowed from Mrs. O’Brien’s stash, it seemed, a green coat also from Savile Row, although he couldn’t remember where he’d had it made, and a fine linen shirt. Jim looked up and smiled. Lionel felt a little thrill even though he couldn’t tell if the smile was meant to be friendly or simply that he was enjoying the meal. Either way, Lionel couldn’t help smiling back as he went to the sideboard and filled his plate. When he sat beside Jim, he fumbled for something to say. All he could come up with was, “More of Mrs. O’Brien’s work?”
Jim stroked the sleeve of the coat as if it were the finest thing he’d owned. Perhaps it was, Lionel realized. “Mrs. Barton’s, actually.” Jim looked sideways at him. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Lionel had just taken a large bite of a sausage, so he was able to consider his answer as he swallowed it. “Of course not.” He leaned in and murmured, “Especially when I get to enjoy the view.” He worried if Jim would take it as the compliment he intended it to be.
Jim grinned slowly back at him. “Then I should consider it repayment for all the lovely views I’ve gotten.”
Lionel felt himself blushing, which was only made worse by Jim grabbing up one of the sausages and sliding it suggestively between his lips. Lionel thought he ought to say something, but the game was quickly brought to an end by Harrison coming into the breakfast room.
“The morning post, sir.” Harrison bowed sharply and left the stack of letters on the edge of the table.
“Thank you, Harrison.” Lionel turned his attention to the post and sorted the letters into neat little piles. Once he saw what he had, he’d know how long to tell Jim it would take him to finish. But he’d barely started when Jim got out of his chair and started towards the door. Lionel dropped the rest of the letters in a heap on the table. “No need to leave.”
“I can see you’re busy. I’ll go and see if Mrs. O’Brien would like some more help in the garden.”
Lionel shoved the letters away. “No, no, I was just seeing what was there while you finished.” It wasn’t entirely true, particularly as he’d barely started on his own breakfast and Jim had been there earlier, but close enough. “If you’re ready to go see the grounds...”
“I don’t want to be in the way. You have a business to run and...”
“But you’re not in the way.” Lionel fumbled for something to make Jim stay. “And you were going to help me with the grounds. And I’ve already told Garrett to get the gig ready for us.” The last was a lie, but he was desperate enough not to care.
Jim stared at the floor. “In that case, I suppose I should say yes.”
“Excellent. I’ll just put these letters in the study so they don’t get misplaced and meet you in the hall in a few minutes.” And on the way, he could send someone out to tell Garrett to get the gig ready. It was a perfect plan.
“All right. I’ll get my coat.” As Jim passed him, he said, “And I know you didn’t already talk to Garrett; he only got back half an hour ago, according to Mrs. Barton anyway, so if you want to finish your meal, I’ll wait.”
But Lionel was too impatient to finish breakfast. He was almost too impatient to get the letters as far as the study. Jim had gone out to the stables and told Garrett they’d be needing the gig, so it was ready and waiting when Lionel went out to request it. Jim was waiting there too, chatting with Garrett and Peters. Lionel couldn’t be certain, but he didn’t think Jim was listening to them with the same attention he paid to Lionel, but that was most likely wishful thinking. He waved as he got closer, and there was the bustle of getting them into the gig and on their way. Apparently, Mrs. O’Brien had been informed as well, as a hamper of food had been loaded into the gig, which ple
ased Lionel as it meant they wouldn’t have to go back until it was time for dinner.
Lionel twitched the reins and got the horses underway; the only question was where to have them go. He’d suggested they look around so Jim could give his opinion on the gardens, but as almost everything was in need of help, almost any direction would do, and Lionel hadn’t gotten far enough in planning to have a destination in mind. He noticed Jim turning in his seat to wave to Garrett and Peters—a quick, friendly wave, and then he turned his attention back to Lionel and the road ahead of them. Lionel knew it was ridiculous to be pleased by that, but he was. Although it didn’t solve the idea of where to go.
Lionel still hadn’t decided on a direction as he guided the gig out of the drive, until he spotted Farmer Curlew coming up the road. The man had probably thought he’d seen another poacher. Lionel knew if Curlew spotted him, he’d be obligated to stop and deal with the matter, and he’d just contrived to spend the day with Jim. Of course, if he wasn’t seen... Lionel turned the gig towards the woods and started off in whatever direction was away from Curlew.
The route ended up being a good one—a nice drive through the woods around the edge of the grounds that would come out near some nice views. It would give Jim a look at some of the prettier parts of the immediate area, and there was always the chance he would be enchanted by a fine view and decide to settle somewhere nearby. And it was fairly private, so they could talk freely, possibly even kiss a bit, not that he would expect that of Jim, not during a friendly ride.
Unless Jim might enjoy kissing. Lionel tore his mind away from that thought before it could obsess him and his interest become impossible to hide. Speaking, that would help. Conversation. He fumbled for the first thing he could think of. “This is still my land down into the woods for a ways. About half a mile that way.” He pointed farther into the trees.
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