After a bit more talk of horses and the future ponies, Dylan briefly fell into silence again. Martin could tell his employer was troubled and, given the tale he had shared, that was understandable. He prayed the children would not suffer any further horrors.
Finally, Dylan stood and extended a hand to pull Martin to his feet. He managed a smile. “I’ve been very fortunate in my life and most of my decisions. Selecting you for the children’s tutor was one of my best. I sensed something about you…”
He stopped, turned to face Martin, and studied him with an intense and probing gaze. “Perhaps I should not ask…Does it bother you to be so far away from society with little chance to meet and mingle with others near your age? Was there by chance a young lady you fancied and had to leave behind? If so, perhaps I could retain her services as a companion and chaperone for Emmaline and later for Charlotte so you could continue your relationship. If that would be sufficiently genteel…”
Martin felt a blush heat his face as he shook his head. “Oh no, I’ve never been one for a lot of parties and such. I don’t care for strong drink and most of the ladies do not interest me, nor I them.”
Dylan studied him a few more seconds. “I’m not sure of the most delicate way to put this…Are you perhaps hinting you prefer the intimate company of your own gender?”
Tearing his gaze away from Dylan’s keen and too-knowing eyes, Martin gave a stiff nod. “What little experience I’ve had, mostly while at school, I felt I leaned in that direction. I know it’s not acceptable, yet there are those among the nobility who practice such. To avoid any taint of scandal or risk a brush with the law, I’ve been content to live a quiet and celibate life.”
“Then we should get on well enough. I am not inclined to socialize, and since the succession is covered with young Master Donovan, I have no intention of seeking a wife any time soon. Were we to develop a discreet connection, I doubt if anyone would know or care. You might think about that. I had a partner whilst in the army, but he was killed in battle at Roark’s Drift. There’s been no one since. And yes, discretion is advisable since, although selectively enforced, there are laws…I trust the staff here, but beyond that, no one should know.”
Martin found his heart in his throat. Such a direct declaration was the last thing he had expected. Maybe even the last thing he desired. No, that was not quite true for he had dreamed about the handsome and masculine captain. Dreams were all they were; though, nothing he intended or expected to act upon. He was nearly as terrified as elated. When he replied, he stuttered worse than did Emmaline.
“I-I-I…uh, yes, I-I-I will…think about it, that is. Right now, I am quite taken by surprise. And for the nonce, the children and their recovery from the tragedy are my primary focus and concern.”
Again, Dylan smiled. “That is exactly as it should be. We would not want to rush into anything. I only wanted to make you aware since I’ve detected a slight hint you might have thought once or twice about the matter.”
He turned with a brisk and abrupt military about-face and strode off toward the nearest door to the manor house. For long seconds, Martin stared at the other man’s back. At last, he recalled himself enough to follow. It was high time he got back to his charges. However, he found it more difficult than usual to concentrate on the afternoon’s lessons.
Dylan—perhaps now he could safely think of Captain Davis in that way—had shocked and surprised him, yet in a most pleasant and intriguing way. What if? Not now, of course, while the threat posed by the diabolical Merlan hung over them, but maybe later. Only not too much later, fate willing!
* * * *
Three suitable ponies arrived in the Ravensrawn stable in less than a week. Emmaline’s was a handsome dapple-gray Welsh pony and Donovan’s Welsh was black with a white blaze and two socks. For Charlotte, there was a smaller skewbald Shetland. Martin had a small chestnut mare, sweet-natured and docile, though not lacking in spirit.
Mr. Morgan, Martin discovered was none other than the husband of the housekeeper and equally astute, capable and upright. The stable master, turned out to be a patient and skilled teacher. It took him two days to get Donovan on his mount. Once the boy got past his fear, he showed all the signs of delight as his sisters, except for their enthusiastic crows of triumph. Although Martin remained alert, once they began to take morning rides around the grounds, he did not see anyone lurking along the hedgerows.
During the busy days, he managed to keep his thoughts on the children, their lessons and the activities he continued to devise to both educate and entertain them. It was at night when Dylan’s amazing words kept returning to taunt and tantalize him. Was it even possible he’d heard and interpreted correctly? More and more, he found himself struggling to fall asleep, only to waken in a state of arousal, which made further sleep impossible. At last he began to get up and wander around the parts of the house he knew, hoping to walk off some of his tension.
His soft house shoes made little sound as he strode along, down the corridor past the library and the schoolroom and, into an area he knew less well. A slight sound caught his attention. Was that a footstep or someone bumping against one of the decorative pedestals that occupied niches along most of the halls? He sucked in a fast breath, thoughts turning at once to the possibility Dylan’s ill-intentioned half-brother might be wandering around the house.
Then he heard a similar sound again. Well, if it’s that miscreant Merlan, I shall catch him! He edged into a recessed doorway and waited. He tried to breathe as silently as possible and hoped his racing heartbeat was not audible. The faint sounds became louder and clearer. He tensed, waiting to spring when the unseen person passed him.
It seemed forever, yet only a few seconds elapsed before a shadowy figure approached, looming large and dark in the dimly lit corridor. As the man drew even with him, Martin lunged, trying a half-recalled move from school soccer days to knock the other off his feet.
Although the other man was taller, it proved not to be a huge advantage when he was taken by surprise. He gave a muffled, “Whuff,” as the impact of Martin’s shoulder against his side drove him off balance. They fell together. Martin soon realized he was going to be outmaneuvered. The man he’d tackled was quick, agile, and very strong!
They rolled together, grappling and struggling, until the taller man managed to pin Martin beneath him.
“Martin?”
“D-D-Dylan?”
Mutual recognition came simultaneously.
“What in the name of God were you doing? You gave me quite a start!”
“I’m sorry,” Martin managed. “I couldn’t sleep and decided to walk off a bit of my restlessness—worry about the children and all, you know. When I heard someone moving around, my first thought was of Merlan. If it was he, I was going to catch him red-handed!”
Dylan laughed. “I was thinking much the same. Before you slammed into me, that is. I’ve regained my old military habit of light sleep in recent days. I get up to investigate any sound, even any hunch something might be amiss. Although I didn’t hear you, I did sense a presence. I wasn’t quite alert enough, though. You almost had me.”
“Until your military training kicked in! I knew at once I’d miscalculated if I thought to keep you down, even before I realized who I’d tackled.”
All at once they both fell silent, aware of each other in a keen and arousing way. Their two bodies now intimately close, entwined as they had wrestled for supremacy before recognition set in. Martin could feel the hard ridge of Dylan’s cock against his thigh, while his own had grown stiff, aching, and insistent as well. Adrenaline, he knew, made a powerful aphrodisiac. He was super-charged with it and his recent dreams and imaginings heightened the effect. Every cell of his body seemed awake, aware and suffused with raw sexual energy.
One of Dylan’s hands reached to twine fingers into Martin’s hair, which had grown a bit longer than he once wore it. Dylan twisted, though not enough to hurt, although with demand and clear intent. At the pressure, Martin found his face turned close to Dylan’s before the other man’s mouth crushed against his. He gave a strangled gasp, parting his lips enough to allow Dylan’s tongue to slide between them and into Martin’s mouth. The touch, both invasive and erotic, felt like liquid flame. He kissed back with every iota of his being.
At last, Dylan raised his head enough they could both breathe again. “We need to take this upstairs to my room. If you’re willing, that is…”
Martin had shot past hesitation and caution. When he had first heard Dylan’s surprising declaration, he’d been determined to exercise restraint. Dylan was, after all, his employer, as well as several rungs higher on the social ladder. Now there was no time for second thoughts, recriminations, or timidity. Need consumed him. It cracked a savage whip to drive him on. “Willing? Oh yes, I’m quite willing.”
Dylan sprang to his feet and held out a hand to pull Martin up. Martin had drawn on his trousers before leaving his room, but wore only a dressing gown in addition. Dylan however seemed to be fully dressed. He kept Martin’s hand in a firm clasp and led the way to the nearest staircase, one Martin did not think he had ever used. It emerged in another hall where the door to Dylan’s suite was almost directly opposite the landing. Not missing a single hard stride, Dylan towed him through the doorway.
Through a near-dark sitting room, Martin glimpsed a huge medieval style bedstead, illuminated by a pair of lamps on tables at either side. An open book lay face down on the coverlet, as if its reader had abandoned it abruptly. A few more steps and they stood at the foot of the bed. Now Dylan released Martin’s hand as he turned so they stood face to face.
The captain’s eyes gleamed in the lamplight, black as ebony. They seemed alive with avid hunger and fierce demand. Martin could not tear his gaze away. He licked his dry lips as a curl of nervous tension twisted in his belly. Could this be happening, a reality, or was it simply another of his feverish dreams?
Dylan’s hands settled on his shoulders and then slowly peeled the dressing gown aside to shove it down Martin’s arms. For a moment, he was trapped in the sleeves, until he pulled free and let the garment slither to the floor. Releasing one arm at a time, Dylan shrugged out of his jacket. He dropped it, then unbuttoned his shirt and cast it aside as well. Clearly, the hot African sun had left its stamp on him because his skin appeared tawny, not starkly white like Martin’s was. Martin reached to trace his right hand lightly across the other man’s muscled torso. Even his hand looked paper-white against Dylan’s glowing body.
The heat and silken texture of the other man’s sleek skin amazed him. He could not recall the sensations of any of his earlier liaisons, mostly hasty, fumbling connections with school chums. Perhaps it had all been too new then, exciting for being forbidden, as well as awkward and driven more by hormones and curiosity than any deeper feelings. This was different, powerful and terrible, wonderful and beyond belief. Fine tremors shook his body.
After a moment, Dylan lifted his hand and ran his fingertips gently down the side of Martin’s face. “You’re so young…I tend to forget. You seem very mature. Your concern for and care of the children has nothing of careless youth about it, but I know you only completed your own schooling not long ago. I’ve no intent to take advantage of your inexperience, your youth. Do you really know where we’re going?”
Martin turned his head and pressed a swift kiss into Dylan’s palm. Then he looked up to meet the taller man’s intent gaze. “I’m three-and-twenty. While I realize I haven’t been as many places and seen as much as you have, I’m not a child, even a youth. I consider myself a man. When the last of my relatives fell on hard times, I took charge of my own life and sought a means to support myself. That means just happened to lead to this post with you.”
The tenderness of Dylan’s smile went straight to his heart. “Yes, that’s true. I believe your father was a baronet who died in India, did he not? Since your mother’s demise followed not long afterward, you wound up the ward of a maternal uncle whose lifestyle was anything but prudent. At least you got schooling, if little else. You’ve done an admirable job of making your own way. I admire that. And I did not intend to demean you by reference to your age. It’s just that I’m thirty-four. I’ve seen death and brutality in war, and treachery in many circles, enough to know life is harsh and unforgiving. I fear I may be too old, jaded, and cynical for you.”
“No! I won’t accept that. You’re a fine man. Everything I would aspire to be myself, other than your rank, of course. I suppose I’ll never be in the military. Beyond that, though, I’ll not turn into a clinging, whining sort of lover or behave in a juvenile and foolish manner, I promise. Nay, I swear.”
With a shake of his head and a somewhat wry twist to his smile, Dylan drew Martin into his arms again. “Very well, then. If you’re that sure, I’m not going to send you away!”
Any reply Martin would have made was silenced with another passionate kiss. After that, only a few moments passed before they tumbled together onto the bed. Little more time was needed before both of them had shed their trousers and came fully together, skin-to-skin.
Breaking another kiss, Dylan again looked at Martin intently. “What have you done before, or had done to you? I need to know what you expect.”
“We—a friend or two and I—fondled each other, sucked and got each other off by hand. I never spent the night with a lover or took it in the arse. I think we were all a bit afraid to try that. Buggery seemed somewhat extreme.”
Dylan laughed. “Yes, I expect it would. I’m not much for that myself to be truthful. We can start by caressing each other. Don’t be shy about touching me, and I can promise I will not hesitate to handle you.”
Martin accepted the invitation, reached down, and wrapped his hand around Dylan’s prick. Its heat and hardness delighted him. It felt so vital, full of power and energy. He stroked, hesitated, and then, as Dylan made a deep growling sound, continued with more confidence. Vague memories came back, enhanced now by his mounting desire. One slid like this, tugged like that, moving sleek skin over the iron-hard core within…
When Dylan grasped him, Martin gasped and went still for a few seconds. The other man’s strong, long-fingered hand seemed to take charge, promising mastery, and yet with a touch both gentle and sure. Martin squeezed his eyes shut and surrendered to the sensations as they grew overwhelming.
“Slower, please. I’m going to embarrass myself!”
Dylan laughed. “What’s to be embarrassed about? If you come, that’s only natural and right. And young as you are, you’ll be back, ready for another in no time.”
“B-b- but…” Martin fell silent. Was he catching Emmaline’s stutter? He felt like a fool, though a blissfully happy one. Moments later he did come, into Dylan’s waiting hand. The captain rolled over and pulled a large handkerchief from somewhere. Turning back, he gently wiped up the mess. Martin felt a blush fire his face, although he could see no censure or dismay in Dylan’s expression.
“Now, perhaps you can return the favor?”
“Oh yes!” Martin rolled up onto his knees at Dylan’s side. “I’d love to taste you, feel your beautiful prick in my mouth. May I?”
Dylan, lolling back on a pile of pillows, gave him an indulgent smile. “Whatever you fancy, dear lad. Whatever you fancy.”
Martin stared avidly at Dylan’s magnificent cock, dark with engorging blood, twitching eagerly with every heartbeat. Oh yes! He wrapped his hand around it, barely able to encompass the girth with his grip. The heat almost scorched him. Then he bent forward and began to explore with lips and tongue. Dylan tasted marvelous, spicy and enticing, exotic and totally male. He began to suck. In a short time Dylan’s indolent and careless pose disintegrated. He clawed at the coverlet, his whole body going rigid, taut as a violin string. He gave a low-pitched growling sort of groan.
“Oh. Ah. Yes!”
And then he came in an explosive series of bursts that seemed to go on and on. Martin rode it out, savoring the pungent scent and flavor of cum, salty and a bit alkaline. The very essence of his hero, his love, and now a part of him. No dream had ever been better.
* * * *
From that night on, Martin often found himself in Dylan’s bed. Fear and caution had been thrown to the wind, come what may. He never went seeking his employer-lover and if he was not invited, he spent the night alone in his own room. Still, the invitations came often enough to assure him of his place—both his formal job and his newer role as Dylan’s lover. He valued both, almost equally, although the latter was the most appealing and exciting on a personal level.
He always left before morning, just in case one of the children might seek either him or their uncle. Even Dylan did not seem to want the youngsters to find him and Martin together, and of course not in an intimate embrace. Martin lived in horror of that very thing taking place. How would he explain? It was an appalling thought. They must never find out!
Although the servants still mentioned vague sightings of someone wandering in the more deserted parts of the rambling house, neither Dylan nor Martin had seen anyone. Then these reports began to mention a woman as well as a man.
Mrs. Morgan confided to Martin that one of the chambermaids swore she’d seen Angela Mahan, who had been the former lady’s personal maid. The housekeeper was normally not given to gossip, so her next words surprised him.
“She was never up to any good, that one. I have no notion why Lady Caroline kept her on. I happen to know the girl stole and she made eyes at the earl behind her mistress’s back. I’m sure he never responded to the minx’s sly overtures. She was a clever and nasty wench! Her back again? Oh dear, I pray not. His Honor wisely turned her out when he came back to take the reins. Thank heavens she’s not involved with the children after all that happened…”
After this disclosure, Martin started to wonder if the housekeeper possessed more knowledge of the tragedy than she had ever let on. He was not sure how to extract any further hints from her because she’d not been given to answering questions or revealing much up until this point. Had she finally begun to trust him or were the issues too much to continue to conceal? At any rate, she clearly thought little of the one-time lady’s maid. He filed that bit away.
Then came the night he would never forget, one that came so close to a new installment to the old tragedy that it left him with nightmares for several weeks.