“I’ll be but a few minutes,” Arthur instructed the driver as he got out of the carriage.
Ducking his head to shield his face from the driving rain, he hurried up the few stone steps and into the house. He ignored the butler’s outstretched hand, the silent request to relinquish his greatcoat. No use giving it up when he would need it back in just a few minutes. He paused and glanced up the stairs. No, he would not have this conversation with Thornton in a bedchamber. Not when he could still feel every place on his body that the man had kissed him last night. The entrance hall would not do either.
“My study,” Thornton grumbled, walking past him.
Arthur did not consider himself a transparent man, but Thornton did possess an uncanny knack at reading his thoughts. He hadn’t had to ask anything of Thornton last night; before the request could form in his head, he had given him what he wanted. So in tune with each other. So perfect. He knew in his bones no future bed partner would ever come close to comparing with Thornton.
Therein lay the source of the regret that had gripped him the moment Thornton had fallen asleep in his arms. And a source of his anger. How dare the man be so perfect yet also so wrong for him? Damn cruel. Like a taunt to his heart.
Following the track of wet footprints, Arthur went down the corridor and entered the room on the right. The door shut behind him. He turned at the sound of a lock sliding home. Palming the key, Thornton leaned a shoulder against the door and crossed his arms over his chest, all pouting insolence. The ride back had taken him beyond merely wet to completely drenched, as though he’d had a swim in a pond without removing his clothes. Not that he would have had many clothes to remove. The black breeches clung to the lean muscles of his legs. The white shirt plastered to his sculpted chest revealed a hint of the copper nipples beneath the sodden fabric. His hair was tousled as if he’d just run a hasty hand through it, his jaw darkened with a morning beard, pale cheeks glistening from the rain… Absolutely gorgeous. Pure sin brought to life.
But a temptation Arthur could and would refuse.
The silence stretched taut, broken only by the intermittent drops of water falling from Thornton and forming little puddles on the wooden floorboards. The conversation was not going to be pleasant, but it was a necessity. He couldn’t risk Thornton continuing his pursuit all the way to London. And he wouldn’t put it past him, given the reckless way he had come after Arthur.
Definitely had not foreseen that turn of events. Apparently Thornton took exception to any change in plan not dictated by himself.
“You have five minutes. Then I expect you to unlock that door.”
“And what if I refuse?” Thornton asked, his chin tipped down and his gaze pinned on Arthur.
They were men, for God’s sake. Almost thirty years of age. Why did Thornton have to behave like a surly adolescent? “You won’t refuse. But if you do, I will simply pry the key from your hand.”
Thornton’s full lips curled in defiance. “You are welcome to try all you like, but—”
“And I will succeed,” he said curtly, cutting off the retort. Thornton’s elegant build would not stand a chance against him. “I am stronger than you.” His hand itched to give Thornton a swift smack on the arse, to knock some sense into him. Clearly his father had indulged him to the point where he couldn’t tolerate someone going against his wishes. If Arthur needed another example of why he and Thornton did not suit, it stood right before him, slouched against the door and glaring daggers at him. “It was a mistake to accept your invitation, and I fully accept the blame for the situation we now find ourselves in.”
“You damn well should. You’re the one who crawled into my bed last night.”
“That was a mistake.” He should not have done it. Shouldn’t have given himself a glimpse of what he couldn’t have again.
Thornton flinched, his eyes clamping shut for a brief moment, unmistakable pain pulling his features. The unexpected reaction startled Arthur, jolting him from the ever-tightening grip of anger. Could Thornton actually have feelings for him, ones that went beyond mere lust?
Oh no. His stomach dropped to somewhere around his knees. That couldn’t be true. Notorious for his exploits, Thornton flitted from lover to lover without a backward glance. He had been certain Thornton hadn’t seen him as any different from the rest. But Arthur was getting a nagging and very uncomfortable premonition that Thornton held expectations that went beyond their short holiday.
Damnation. The one time Arthur indulged with another for no other reason than pleasure, he chose a partner who wanted more. If he had more experience with such matters, perhaps he could have seen the signs and stopped their liaison before they reached this point. He had not intended to hurt Thornton; he well knew what it felt like on the receiving end. But it appeared he had done so, regardless of his intentions. “I apologize if my acceptance of your invitation gave you the wrong impression. But you and I, we do not suit.”
“I suited you just fine last night, and yesterday morning, and the night you arrived.”
“Yes, but I am referring to more than just physical compatibility.”
“I’m good enough to fuck, but that’s all. Is that what you’re telling me?”
When put so bluntly, it made Arthur feel like the worst sort of cad. But as his friend, Thornton deserved to know the truth. “Yes,” Arthur said with a grim nod. “Thornton, we are two completely different men. You don’t understand the concept of discretion. Hell, you didn’t even stop to don a cravat, much less a coat, before you chased after me.”
“I didn’t want you to leave.”
Obviously. “But it illustrates my point. You give little if any thought to comporting yourself in the manner of a gentleman, much less one who has something to hide. I cannot risk word getting out about my preference for those of my own gender. It would destroy my reputation, thus killing my livelihood. No decent man will employ a solicitor who buggers other men. And beyond that, I don’t have the weight of a wealthy, titled father to keep gossip in check and to keep me from swinging from the hangman’s noose. I will be honest with you, Thornton. I do not wish to spend the rest of my life alone. But I cannot accept a…partner,” he said, for lack of a better word, “who does not recognize the value of commitment.”
“Oh, but Amherst was acceptable, and he’s just the model of fidelity. He wanted me to suck him off, but I refused him because of you.”
Suck him off? He should have known there had been more to Thornton’s claim to Randolph’s infidelity. Obviously Thornton had done more than merely notice Randolph at Delacroix’s brothel. When in Town, Thornton practically lived at such establishments. And one time Thornton had said no. That was the proof he presented of his ability to remain faithful to another? Arthur kept the exasperated sigh from making its way past his lips. Enough. Time to cut directly to the heart of the matter. “You drink to excess.”
“So I can forget you,” Thornton shot back.
“You’ll swive anyone.”
“They were all poor substitutes for you.”
Arthur opened his mouth but promptly shut it as the significance of Thornton’s words sank in. Every one of his answers had to do with Arthur. And not just this morning, but even the night Arthur had arrived. When he’d asked Thornton if he needed another glass of whisky… “No. You’re here.” Thornton had been willing to drag himself out of bed before dawn to go shooting “…for you.”
Dumbstruck, he stared hard at Thornton. The man quickly averted his gaze to look out one of the windows in the study, but he couldn’t hide the way every muscle had drawn tight. The way his arms were crossed defensively over his chest, the white tips of fingers biting into his biceps.
His responses, his posture, it all screamed of sincerity, but… Arthur glanced to the clock on the fireplace mantel. No reason to stay. Perhaps if months instead of weeks had passed since he’d parted with Randolph, he would be more open to giving Thornton a chance. As it stood, he simply was not ready to gamble his heart on the possibility of Thornton changing his ways. The memory of the wounds Randolph had left in his wake was still too fresh, too raw. And if this man broke his heart…a pinprick of the pain he had sustained two weeks ago.
“Unlock the door, Thornton,” he said, unable to keep the regret from his voice. “Your five minutes are up.”
“I’ve waited ten years for you. I think I deserve more than five bloody minutes.”
Arthur dragged a hand through his hair. “Don’t exaggerate. It’s in poor form.”
Still staring out the window, Thornton let out a mirthless chuckle. “Everything about me is in poor form. I have no cause to give you yet another reason to find fault with me.” He dropped his attention to his mud-flecked boots, his shoulders rounding, his brow furrowing. “It was April twenty-fourth, eighteen eleven. We ran into each other at Cheswick’s Tavern, and I went looking for you later that night. Decided to finally make my intentions known. Thought perhaps, well…” He harrumphed and gave his head a weary shake. “I went to your apartments. Was just about to knock when I heard his voice.”
Arthur’s pulse skipped a beat. He knew exactly which day Thornton referred to: the start of the last ten long years with Randolph. “How long did you wait outside the door?”
“Long enough to know you hadn’t invited him for tea.”
“I didn’t invite him. He invited himself.”
“Oh.” If not for the rigidity of his posture, Arthur would think he didn’t care. “Had you been seeing him long?” Thornton asked.
“No. We went to university together, were friends of a sort, but I wasn’t aware he preferred men until he showed up at my door. It was our first time together. My first time, actually.”
“With a man?”
“Women never appealed to me. It was my first time with anyone.”
Thornton winced, as if those words caused physical pain.
“My apologies.”
Thornton shook his head. “You don’t owe me an apology. I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, but I waited too long to make my interest known. I didn’t want to rush you.”
“You had no problem doing that this week,” Arthur pointed out.
Thornton’s lips pulled in a humorless smirk. “Didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.”
Where would they be now if Thornton had not been patient? If their friendship had turned to something more before Thornton became a notorious rakehell. Would they still be together, or would London have still sunk its teeth into Thornton, tearing them apart? One thing was for certain. He would not have refused the man then, just as he had not refused him two nights ago. “I wish it had been you. He was a bit of brute, and it damn well hurt.”
Thornton shrugged. “Usually does the first time.”
“But I would have at least enjoyed myself with you.” Arthur paused and passed a hand over the front of his greatcoat, fiddling with a button. “I fell in with Randolph because…he was there. He wanted me. And at nineteen years of age, I was more than a bit primed. Yet I was too young to know how to go about finding a man who shared my interests. I didn’t want to approach anyone, not even an acquaintance, for fear of choosing unwisely and having the tale spread all over Town. I was afraid to go to a molly house—didn’t want to get the pox, and paying a stranger to take my virginity didn’t have much appeal. My options were severely limited, and Randolph was a decent fellow. Attractive, if a bit of a condescending bore. It was easy to say yes to him and even easier to stay with him. If he hadn’t decided to find a wife, I probably would have never left. Yet I’m…I’m relieved that relationship ended.”
Don’t ask, don’t ask… “Why?” Leopold scowled as he heard the word leave his lips. Hearing about Randolph, knowing Arthur had willingly spent ten years with a man who did not love him when he could have had Leopold all along was like having daggers driven into his heart. Granted, he had kept his desires well hidden from Arthur until two weeks ago, but still, it hurt.
“Looking back, it wasn’t as easy, as…comfortable as I had believed. We were more acquaintances who occasionally shared a bed than anything else. And I was reluctant to ask anything of him, to disrupt the waters, so to speak, for fear he would leave me, and then I’d be alone.”
That lonely, hollow note had crept into Arthur’s voice, making his heart ache to hold the man tight and never let him go. “You don’t have to be alone. Ever. If you don’t wish it.” You can be with me.
He could feel the force of Arthur’s stare, measuring him, judging him. Please, let him find something, anything, worthy in me. He shifted his weight and continued to pretend as though his boots were the most interesting things he had ever beheld.
“I understand.” Arthur’s heavy sigh filled the room. “May I still call you friend, Thorn?”
Biting the edge of his bottom lip, he nodded.
“Thank you.” Arthur paused. “Will you please unlock the door?”
How he stopped himself from screaming no, he frankly did not know. He gave a short, tight nod and forced his fingers to unclench from his upper arms. Surely the key had left a permanent impression on his skin, but he was numb to it. It took a couple of tries to get the key into the lock, but it finally slid home, and he turned the knob and opened the door to let Arthur walk away from him.
Holding the door open, he kept his gaze downcast, unable to watch Arthur leave. As Arthur walked past, desperation yanked hold of him.
“Wait.” The click of footsteps on the floorboards ceased. The words stuck in his throat, but he forced them out, unwilling to risk losing Arthur for not being completely honest. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved,” he whispered hoarsely.
He waited for what felt like an eternity, staring at Arthur’s feet, the black leather of his shoes marred by the rain. His heart pounded in his ears, his soul pleading for a response from Arthur. But…nothing. He had laid his heart bare only to receive silence.
The threat of tears stung his nose, his eyes. He gripped the doorknob tightly, willing the tremble from his arm, trying to keep his emotions in check. To keep from the utter humiliation of being reduced to tears in front of the man he loved.
But the effort was in vain. Before the proof showed itself on his cheeks, he snapped, much harsher and stronger than he intended, “Just leave.”
He swore he could hear Arthur’s nod. Then those footsteps receded down the corridor and into the entrance hall. His stomach twisted in an unbearable knot, the noxious taste of bile rose in his throat. At the faint sound of carriage wheels on gravel, he slammed the door shut and darted across the study. He dropped to his knees, flung open the doors on the squat cabinet, and started pushing aside the bottles, disturbing the neat rows. His stomach clenched violently, lurching in his gut. By God, he was going to be sick.
The gin. Where the hell was it? He needed it. Now.
Wine and whisky toppled from the shelf. The bottles rolled past his knees to somewhere behind him as he furiously searched the shadowed depths of the cabinet. Jones better have two bottles in there. One would not make the morning go away.
Oh fuck.
Nothing could make it go away forever.
He swiped his forearm across his eyes, the cold, sodden cloth smearing the warm drops across his cheeks. “Goddamn you, Jones. Where the hell did you put it?”
He took a deep breath, about to bellow for his footman, when he spotted the slender bottle in the back corner. He yanked it from the cabinet, pried off the top and brought the bottle to his lips. Harsh and abrasive, the gin burned his throat, but he kept swallowing great, greedy mouthfuls, needing more, desperate for the blissfully numb void that could only be found at the bottom of the bottle, even if only temporarily.
The sound of a door closing smacked against his ears, pulling his arm to his side. He held his breath and strained to hear. Someone had entered the study. The unmistakable sensation of a pair of eyes on him made the hairs on his nape prick with unease.
Bloody hell. He must be a sight to behold: soaked through from the rain, kneeling before the liquor cabinet, discarded bottles scattered about him with one clutched tightly in his right hand. Goddamn bloody drunkard. Absolutely pathetic.
“I told the driver he wasn’t needed. Should I call him back?”
Arthur. And he did not sound pleased. Leopold wanted to bolt to his feet, to move away from the mess he’d created, to distance himself from it, but all he could do was shake his head.
Arthur stepped farther into the room, the click of his shoes against the floorboards coming ever nearer. Fabric shifted as Arthur dropped to his haunches beside him, so close his greatcoat brushed Leopold’s hip. Leopold instinctively ducked his chin, averting his face, and clenched his left fist to resist the urge to wipe at his eyes. The scents of cool rain and fresh outdoor air, of Arthur, filled his senses. His heart pounded against his ribs.
A large, warm hand covered his, still wrapped tight around the gin.
“Let go, Thorn.”
At Arthur’s soft, gentle murmur, his hand went lax, slipping out from under Arthur’s.
“Gin?” Arthur tsked. “No, that won’t do at all.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur lean forward to set the open bottle on top of the cabinet. “What…what do you suggest?”
“Me.”
He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “For how long?” One night, two nights to finish their holiday, or more? He had to know. Was he only good enough to fuck, or had Arthur seen more in him?
“For as long as you’ll have me.”
So casually spoken, yet it had the power to clamp Leopold’s eyes shut. He pressed the heels of his palms to his closed eyes, struggling to keep his emotions from completely overwhelming him.
“Thornton?” Arthur touched him, lightly and tentatively, on the shoulder.
And it was too much. All the worry, pain and heartache that had rubbed his nerves beyond raw exploded into frustrated rage. Leopold twisted around and punched Arthur square in the jaw.
“Damn you!”
As Arthur’s head snapped to the left, Leopold flung himself at him, teeth bared and fist poised to deliver another blow. Next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, a heavy weight pressing him to the floor, his arms held above head.
“What was that for?” Arthur demanded, looming over him.
With a grunt, he tried to buck Arthur off. An absolutely useless effort. “I thought you left! How dare you do that do me?”
Arthur’s gaze swept over his face. Suddenly so grave, so somber, and not at all comforting. It killed every trace of frustration and rage, leaving Leopold weak and gasping to draw breath.
“I had planned to. I thought it the safest course of action, but I couldn’t get in the carriage. I couldn’t leave you. I couldn’t punish you—us—because of what he did to me. He broke my heart, and it damn well hurt. But it’s not broken anymore, because of you.” Arthur released his wrists. Propping his weight on one forearm, he coasted his other hand down Leopold’s arm. With a light, reverent touch, he brushed the pad of his thumb over Leopold’s wet lashes. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered hoarsely. “Can you forgive me?”
How could he not? He loved this man. Leopold nodded. But lest Arthur believe his forgiveness came easily, he added, “Just don’t do it again.”
“Never. I promise.”
Then Arthur cupped his jaw and took his lips in a soul-searing kiss.
Passion instantly ignited. A white-hot flare, consuming his senses. Leopold worked a hand between their bodies and tugged desperately on the buttons of Arthur’s coat, needing to press bare skin to bare skin. To feel the heat from Arthur’s body. To have the man inside him again.
He twisted his head, breaking the kiss. “The door.” He panted. “Did you lock it?”
“Concerned about discretion, Thornton?”
“Thorn. Or Leopold, whichever you prefer. And don’t be an arse. Just lock the damn thing if you didn’t already see to it.”
“All right.” A quick kiss. “But you have to get out of those wet clothes.” Untangling himself from Leopold, Arthur moved off him and onto his knees. “I’ll be surprised if you don’t catch a chill.”
Leopold sat up. “You just want me naked.”
“Yes, I do.” Arthur arched a brow, his gaze sweeping over Leopold, as if waiting for him to get started.
He matched Arthur’s raised brow and flicked his head toward the door.
“All right,” Arthur said with a chuckle. He stood. “Are you going to get up, or would you prefer the floor?”
Leopold stared at Arthur’s proffered hand. He didn’t need the help, but… He slapped his hand over Arthur’s, and the man pulled him to his feet. He couldn’t suppress the grunt as his knees protested the movement. “Floor’s damn hard,” he grumbled.
“I concur with your assessment.” Arthur turned and crossed to the door.
Leopold whipped the shirt over his head, flinging it in the general direction of his desk. It landed with a wet slap. He had his trousers unbuttoned and pushed down to his hips when he remembered his boots. He glanced about the room. Hell. He looked to Arthur, who strode toward him, dropping his greatcoat onto an armchair as he passed it.
Leopold leaned back against the paneled wall, placed a hand on the top of the liquor cabinet to steady his balance and lifted a leg out before him. “Pull.”
“Shall I fill in for your valet?”
“I don’t have one. There isn’t a bootjack in the study, so if you want me naked, pull.”
Arthur got into position. Back to him, he straddled Leopold’s leg and took hold of the heel of his boot. One tug and his foot slid free. The boot dropped with a thud. Leopold switched legs, and the other boot came off just as easily. Then he shoved his breeches down, kicking them from his feet.
Grabbing Arthur’s upper arm, he spun the man around to face him and slanted his mouth over his. Leopold tugged at the placket of Arthur’s trousers, releasing the buttons, and then reached inside to pull out his hard cock.
Arthur hissed through his teeth. Strong hands covered his arse, jerked him closer. He took a step back, taking Arthur with him, until his bare shoulder blades hit the cool paneled wall behind him. He hiked a leg around Arthur’s waist and hopped up, wrapping his other leg around him.
“Fuck me. Please.” He tilted his hips so the head of Arthur’s cock brushed his entrance.
“I don’t have any…um…with me.”
“Oil,” Leopold filled in for him. “Neither do I, but we don’t need it.” He shimmied, the fabric of Arthur’s clothing rubbing against his damp skin as he shifted his arms around Arthur’s neck to get a better hold. Once he felt secure, he unwound one arm. “Give me your hand.”
Arthur gave him a puzzled look, but he complied. The biceps of his left arm bulged as he held Leopold with only one large hand gripping his arse. As soon as Leopold brought the man’s fingers into his mouth, the bewilderment was replaced with lust. He sucked on Arthur’s fingers, liberally wetting them.
“You know where to put them?”
“In your tight arse.”
Leopold groaned at the crude words from Arthur’s lips. The groan turned into a hiss as those wet fingers pressed against his entrance. One slipped inside, followed by another.
Panting hard through his nose, he sucked on his own fingers and then spit on his palm for good measure. He quickly worked his hand between their bodies and grabbed Arthur’s erection. His fingers slipped over the silken skin in rhythm to the digits thrusting into his arse. His insides fluttered, eager to feel Arthur’s thick cock pound into him.
“Fuck me. Now.”
Arthur pulled his fingers free. Leopold positioned the crown at his entrance, and Arthur pushed inside.
His head tipped back, his mouth falling open on a sigh of utter pleasure. He relished the burn as his muscles stretched to accommodate Arthur’s erection.
“All right?” Arthur asked.
“More than all right.”
The last word turned into a moan as Arthur started stroking. His mouth found Leopold’s neck, sucking on the skin hard enough to leave a bruise. A cravat would easily cover it, but Leopold would know it was there. A mark, a physical sign that Arthur wanted him. Needed him. Trusted him. Could maybe someday love him.
And he would. Leopold felt it in his heart. In his soul. Felt it behind each powerful thrust as Arthur drove them quickly to completion. Arthur’s lips found his, silencing his shout as the orgasm gripped hold. He climaxed, every muscle in his body tightening as Arthur poured deep within him.
Several moments later, they caught their breaths. With a grimace, he unwound his legs from Arthur’s waist. His knees threatened to buckle, but Arthur’s hands on his hips kept him on his feet.
Arthur ducked his head to nuzzle his neck, soft lips gliding across his sweaty skin. “We will be all right, won’t we?”
At the uncertainty in those whispered words, he cupped Arthur’s jaw, brought his face up to his. “I will be the very image of a proper gentleman,” he vowed.
If Leopold hadn’t loved the man already, the smile curving his lips would have stolen his heart.
“But only an image.” Arthur tightened his grip on his arse, tugging him closer. Leopold moaned as the silken skin of Arthur’s semi-erect prick slid against his. “When it’s just the two of us, I want this man. I want you. And I want you often.”
“Does that mean you’ll tear yourself away from your work for me?”
“For you, Thorn…to have you in my life, to have you to come home to, to have you to grow old with…gladly. Willingly. Without a second thought.” He brushed his lips against Leopold’s in a quick, fleeting kiss. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“For giving me you.”