Page 10 of By Marsh and By Moor (Marsh and Moor #1)

Jed left the house in a hurry, stopping only to warn Charlie Hodges to spread the word about the press gang. Then he was out on the road over the headland, walking fast.

He felt heartsick. Other men ran from their ships and managed to settle down quietly. Why couldn’t he? But other men didn’t have the local Squire for a brother-in-law.

A bend in the path brought him within sight of the river mouth far below. The harbour was strangely deserted, save for the men climbing from a fore-and-aft rigged vessel moored along the east pier. The press gang tender!

Jed stopped short. They’d come even more quickly than he’d feared. He couldn’t go anywhere near the village. But if he made for the wooded slopes below the moors, and if the gang came directly up the headland to Penwick’s house, and if Jed’s luck held—

He left the road and headed across the fields, away from the sea. Soon, he was in the woods, running headlong and not stopping until he had gone all the way around the village and was on the far side, on the road to Barnstaple. His breath was coming in gasps, and he slowed to a walking pace.

This road climbed away from the sea, following the course of one of the many steep-sided combes that wound their way down to the Ledmouth.

The river banks would be a luxuriant green later in the year; even now, they grew thickly enough to hide the sea from view, thank the Lord.

Jed rounded a bend in the road, and there was Solomon, coming down the hill towards him.

Jed stopped in the middle of the road, overcome by a rush of pleasure mingled with disbelief.

They hurried to meet each other.

“Didn’t like the look of your brother-in-law,” Solomon explained. “Kept thinking I’d better turn back, and so—I did.”

Jed blinked over eyes that felt oddly damp. Probably it was just the sight of a friendly face. He had to suppress an urgent impulse to throw his arms around Solomon and kiss him.

Solomon raised an eyebrow, lips quirking. Jed’s gaze rose from Solomon’s lips to his eyes and read amusement there, and perhaps a welcome, but no hostility.

Jed swallowed, heart turning over.

A creaking and rumbling from further up the hill recalled him to his senses. A farm cart pulled by two horses came into view, making its slow and careful way down the rocky, pitted road. The old man on the box tipped his head to them as he rumbled past.

“What’s happened?” Solomon demanded. “I hope you found your horse and cart?”

“Ha! Chance’d be a fine thing.” In a few words, Jed told him what had happened.

Solomon’s mouth thinned into an angry line. “I would offer to hold him down while you kick him in the teeth. But instead, I suppose you’ll have to run in the opposite direction.”

“I don’t even yet know where I’ll run to.”

“Come to Barnstaple? You said it was a town where a man could easily find work. Where the press don’t come.”

The hilltop offered an unimpeded view for miles around. In the distance, the sea sparkled pink in the setting sun. At Jed’s feet, the moors spread out gold and brown, shading into dusk.

The moors had always been synonymous with freedom for him. Freedom had a bitter taste today.

He heard a pebble roll across rocky ground, and turned to see Solomon climbing the hilltop to join him. Behind Solomon, down where the open moors met the woods, lay a handful of abandoned mine buildings, their crumbling stone walls overgrown with ivy and creepers.

It had been too late in the day to reach any of the farms or inns where Jed usually slept on the road to Barnstaple, so he had brought Solomon to this old pithead where he used to come as a boy; one of his uncles had worked here when the mine was open.

Solomon picked his way across the rocks, slowly coming closer. Like Jed, he had taken off his hat and tucked it under his arm to save it from the westerly wind that buffeted the hilltop.

“I found an old tin bucket in one of the buildings,” he said when he reached Jed. “Fetched more water from the spring.”

The familiar routine of setting up camp had been a comfort to Jed: finding a building with its roof still intact, fetching water, gathering wood for a fire. But all the while, anger simmered at the back of his mind.

The sun had almost disappeared behind the hills. Wild ponies on the slopes below were dark brown specks that cared nothing for the troubles of man. But closer by there was Solomon, who’d propped himself against a rocky outcrop, hands in his pockets, a steady presence.

Jed took a few restless steps back and forth. Penwick was probably sitting comfortably in his drawing room at this very moment, filled with the righteous warmth of the good citizen and loyal subject.

“Every man must do his duty,” Jed repeated. He spat on the ground.

Solomon’s lip curled. “I’d like to give that fellow a taste of his own medicine.”

“It’s not even Penwick I care so much about, in truth. But Carrie—” His voice broke. “My own sister!”

“It hurts all the more when it comes from someone you love, don’t it?” Solomon said quietly.

Jed turned to face him. Solomon was still lounging against the rock, but Jed knew him well enough by now to see the little lines of tension around his mouth. His gaze met Jed’s, sympathy warming the cool grey of his eyes.

Jed could lose himself in that gaze. Pretend, at least for a time, that they were alone in the world, and no one else mattered but them.

Then Solomon grimaced and looked away. “I’m sorry. This is rotten for you. You thought you were coming home to family and friends. Instead you’ve a poor substitute in me, I’m afraid.”

Jed took an involuntary step forward. “No! Don’t say that. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have here with me.”

Solomon’s eyes widened.

They were very close now. If Jed reached out, he could touch Solomon’s face, tip up his chin. Trace a finger over his parted lips.

He felt again the rush of surprise—of joy—that had filled him when he saw Solomon coming towards him down the combe.

“You came back for me.”

“Yes.” Solomon’s voice was low, with a hoarseness to it that made the hairs rise on the back of Jed’s neck.

It was almost dark on the hilltop now, and the final rays of the dying sun fell on Solomon’s face. A challenge, an invitation, seemed to gleam in his eyes.

Solomon was taller than Jed, but from where he sat, propped against the rock, he had to tilt his head up to meet Jed’s gaze.

Jed leaned in, and Solomon rose to meet him, their mouths coming together almost cautiously.

Then Solomon’s hands were on Jed’s head, gripping him, and they were kissing with wild urgency, open-mouthed, tongues touching, breath mingling.

Solomon made a soft, needy noise in the back of his throat, and something loosened in Jed’s chest. He didn’t think he could have taken another rejection today. But he was here, and Solomon was here—he wasn’t alone in the world. Solomon wanted him.

Jed had both arms braced on the rock, on either side of Solomon’s hips.

Solomon’s gaze flickered down, and Jed’s followed it to where their bodies were pressed together.

Jed’s thigh was between Solomon’s legs, against the long, eager length of his prick, and he moved experimentally, raising his head to watch Solomon’s eyes flicker shut, his face go slack and blissed.

Jed shifted his weight to one hand. With the other, he traced a line down Solomon’s front to press a hand to the placket of his breeches. “Can I—?”

Solomon’s eyes blinked open. Now, amusement sparked there. “Not in this wind. What I have in mind involves rather less clothing than we’re wearing now.”

Jed laughed, another surge of joy bubbling up in him. “You’ll hear no argument from me.”

Stopping often to kiss, they stumbled back down from the hilltop and into the pithead building where, earlier, they had built a fire in the hearth and laid out their blankets for sleeping.

Jed leaned against the doorpost, waiting impatiently while Solomon crouched to light the fire. Tinder sparked, and soon the dry leaves and twigs were blazing up.

Solomon sat back on his haunches, hands on his thighs, looking up at Jed with firelight in his eyes. “How do you want me?”

“God, every way. What do you like?”

“I’ve generally found my tastes to be quite broad.”

Jed let out a strangled laugh. “Thanks to London, the School of Vice?”

“That’s right.” Solomon’s eyes glinted with amusement. His mouth was level with Jed’s straining prick. He came forward onto his knees, nuzzling at Jed through the cloth of his breeches, rubbing his cheek against Jed’s stand.

Jed bit his lip. His head had been emptied of blood, and his knees didn’t seem to want to hold him up. He put out one hand to steady himself against the wall.

Solomon looked up at him, no wry twist to his face for once. His lips were slack, eyes dark with desire.

Jed wanted those lips on his again. He sank to his knees, and they were kissing again, less frantic now, deeper, slower. Jed’s heart soared. The life that had been beaten out of him over many years came flooding back; spreading, needle sharp, along his spine, throughout his body.

With clumsy hands he fumbled at Solomon’s breeches, wanting skin on skin. Solomon put a hand to Jed’s neckcloth, but instead of tugging it open, he traced one finger up the line of Jed’s throat, tipping Jed’s chin up so their eyes met.

“You are a wonder, Jedediah Trevithick. I knew you would be.”

Jed grunted, turning gruff. “Get this shirt off, why don’t you?”

They hurried each other out of their clothes, shivering in the cold air, moving to kneel closer to the fire. But it was worth braving the cold to lay eyes on Solomon’s lithe, sinewy body, tall and thin and hard-packed. His skin was red and gold in the firelight, prick standing proud, eager for Jed.

Jed knelt, motionless, feeling almost lost for a moment.

He wasn’t used to having the luxury of time to stop and look, and he wasn’t used to being on display like this.

He knew he was no oil painting, but he thought he must look good enough, all hard muscle from years in the rigging.

Solomon’s appreciative gaze certainly seemed to agree.

Jed laid a hand flat on Solomon’s chest, so that he could feel Solomon’s heartbeat under his fingertips. He had noticed earlier how readily Solomon went limp beneath him. Experimentally, he gave a gentle push, and Solomon sank back onto the blankets they’d laid out earlier.

“Just you stay there,” Jed said. “I reckon I’m calling the tune.”

He raised an eyebrow, wanting to be sure Solomon was on board.

A flicker of surprise crossed Solomon’s face, soon to be replaced by a pleased look, and he nodded mutely. The trust in his expression gave Jed a strange, tight feeling in his chest.

Jed crawled over him, shivering at the first touch of Solomon’s skin, the first brush of Solomon’s prick against his. He pressed kisses everywhere: shoulder, tendon, jaw, relishing the feel of the long, lean body quivering with impatience under his own.

He’d been waiting for this forever, and he wanted to take his time.

The oddness of the thought struck him, and he let out a huff of laughter.

At Solomon’s interrogatory noise, Jed lifted his head to explain.

“Just thinking—if we were in some back alley, we’d already be buttoning up and slipping away by now. ”

“Mmm. Glad we en’t.”

Solomon licked his lips in a seemingly unconscious manner, his eyes on Jed’s prick. But Jed ignored that inviting mouth and moved down, pressing kisses to the lean stomach, then paused, hands gripping Solomon’s hips, and looked up to meet Solomon’s gaze.

“This all right?”

Again that flicker of surprise. But Solomon nodded. “Reckon so. You needn’t ask twice.”

Jed bent his head and swallowed down Solomon’s prick, full and heavy in his mouth until he groaned with it.

He’d always loved this, and doing it to Solomon— It surpassed every daydream.

Soon he was sucking him and teasing his hole in a rhythm that had Solomon whimpering, hands scrabbling for purchase in the blankets.

It was a rush of blood to the head, the intoxicating feeling of being at the helm, of making Solomon’s lithe body arch against him. Of finally breaking through that cool reserve.

Jed was painfully hard now, balls aching in a delicious anticipation. He didn’t lay a hand on himself, letting the pleasure-pain build. Instead, he pulled back for a moment, just to get a good look at Solomon: head thrown back, eyes closed, lower lip caught between his teeth.

Solomon groaned. “Jed. Christ. You can’t stop now.”

Jed wanted to say something smart, but what came out was, “I knew you’d be beautiful like this.”

Solomon let out a sound that was almost a sob. Jed bent his head again, working with lips and hand, hard and fast, until Solomon’s seed flooded his mouth.

He swallowed and sat back on his heels, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Solomon lay sprawled on his back, panting, spent prick nestled against his thigh. He was thoroughly dishevelled, Jed saw with satisfaction.

After a moment, Solomon stirred. “Jed. My God.” He struggled to sit up. “What do you—”

“No, stay there,” Jed ordered, his hand on his own yard. “Let me—”

Solomon let his head fall back again. His hooded eyes met Jed’s. “Do your worst,” he murmured.

His low voice seared through Jed, raising pebbles on his skin. It took only a few swift strokes, and then he was coming all over Solomon’s chest, watching Solomon’s lips curve in a satisfied smile.

Jed collapsed on him, limp and wrecked, and felt Solomon’s arms come around him.