Page 11 of Seduced by a Scoundrel (Tales from the Brotherhood #1)

Eleven

J eremy Wilkes was a tease and a flirt, and the man did not even know it.

For days after their near consummation, Derrek ambled around, kicking himself for not taking action to put both of them out of the sensual misery they quickly fell into. Now that Derrek knew what it felt like to have Jeremy panting and ready underneath him, now that he knew the taste of Jeremy’s lips, the pinch of his grip, and the sound of his moans of pleasure, he wanted more.

At the same time, he had to admit there was a certain sweetness in merely sitting close on the settee together, enjoying each other’s company as they took turns reading from one of the cottage’s few books. What they’d found on the small shelf beside the fireplace were mostly moralizing tomes or old collections of sermons, but they’d read them aloud to each other all the same, giggling over their contents and how deeply the authors would have disapproved of everything they were doing and who they were at their cores.

If he’d known what was good for him, Derrek would have taken Jeremy to bed after their silliness was done. Or in the morning, before they sprung up to face the myriad tasks in their new day. Or that night, once they’d returned home to each other’s company. He did nothing, however, even though Jeremy looked at him with a far away look at times, as if he would not use the excuse of burning sausages to stop Derrek from taking what he wanted should he try again. Everything Derrek wanted and usually took without thought was right there, on offer to him, but he hesitated.

He hesitated. For ages. Him. Derrek Talboys, who had been in love once, had his heart broken, and now made it his habit to enjoy the sins of the flesh without remorse whenever he wanted. He was not the sort of man to hold himself back when his cock pointed the way forward.

But Jeremy was different. Jeremy was sweet and brave. He was clever and more innocent than he knew himself to be. His smile did more to arouse Derrek than the glimpse of backside he’d caught when accidentally spying on Jeremy bathing out in the garden on a particularly warm evening. Jeremy’s kindness did more to draw him in than any rude gesture or suggestion that they should find their pleasure in each other without strings attached. The calm days and soothing nights that they spent in the cottage, letting the rest of the world pass them by, were some of the sweetest Derrek had ever experienced.

There was no way to skate around the truth. Derrek had fallen in love.

I suppose you are laughing at me , he said in his thoughts to Joseph, whom he knew was looking down on him from whatever heaven he’d found his way into. I swore I would never fall in love again after you, but here we are .

He and Jeremy lay in bed before dawn on the day of the May Day celebrations. Derrek hadn’t slept as well as he should have, considering how much activity would take place later. He’d been too consumed with his attempts to ascertain whether Lord Albert truly was back in England and whether he might come anywhere near Maidstone Close. More than that, he was increasingly frustrated by the truth that he needed to be in London to continue the investigation rather than guarding Jeremy as he lived out his hidden life as a happy village seamstress.

But most of all, Derrek could not sleep because it felt entirely too wonderful to have Jeremy’s lithe body, made stronger in the last few weeks from all the walking and exertion necessary to live a country life, draped over him as his dove snored softly. Already, as had become a matter of course, Jeremy’s cock was half-filled as it pressed hotly into him.

Derrek huffed a sigh and ran his hand from the arm that was not trapped under Jeremy over his face. “This is madness,” he muttered.

He needed to push things along, to do what he always did and jump the fence of that first time between them so that the two of them could move on and concentrate on other things.

Except that he loved Jeremy and wanted more for and from his dove than a quick tupping. He wanted Jeremy to be fully ready, for their first time to be something special and beautiful, not his ordinary, careless buggering.

Because he was in love, dammit, and love changed all the rules.

“Enough of this nonsense,” he mumbled to himself, making a firm decision. “If not now, when?”

With a bit more force than he should have, born out of his exasperation with himself, he rolled Jeremy to his back, pinning his dove under him and waking him up in the process.

Jeremy began to suck in a breath as sleep left him suddenly, but Derrek stopped it with a long, sensual kiss.

One that was not nearly as satisfying or enjoyable as it should have been considering the troubles of breath in the morning.

“Is it morning already?” Jeremy asked sleepily, wriggling underneath Derrek enough to make himself more comfortable and to drive Derrek half mad.

“Soon,” Derrek said, brushing his hand up Jeremy’s side over the soft fabric of his nightshirt. “I thought, as we are both awake and in tight proximity, we might begin our celebrations of May Day with a time-honored, pagan ritual.

Still hazy from sleep, Jeremy yawned and asked, “What ritual is that?” Before Derrek could do more to open his mouth to answer, Jeremy tensed and tried to sit up, saying, “Bollocks, I cannot. Clary and some of the young women from town asked me to go flower picking with them before the celebrations begin this morning.”

Derrek rocked back, kneeling on the bed by Jeremy’s side, his drawers badly tented, staring at his dove. “ Flower picking? ”

“Yes,” Jeremy said, seemingly ignorant of the intention Derrek had had just moments before. “I’ve been told it’s a time-honored ritual to pick flowers in the meadows at dawn on May Day so that they might decorate the festivities. I can already see the first hints of dawn outside, so I’d better get a wiggle on.”

Derrek could do nothing but sit back, mouth half open incredulously, as Jeremy scrambled out of bed, lit the lantern on the bedside table, then headed straight for the washbasin in the corner.

As he lifted the pitcher to splash water into the bowl, his entire body went rigid. He put the pitcher down and pivoted to face Derrek. “You were trying to seduce me,” he said in a whisper. “That’s the ritual you were referring to.”

“Er, yes,” Derrek said, feeling more awkward than amorous.

Jeremy’s face and neck went bright red, which should have enhanced Derrek’s state of arousal, but somehow made him feel like he’d attempted to do something underhanded.

“I am so sorry,” Jeremy said, taking a few steps back to the bed. “I must be the thickest man in Kent for not understanding that. Only I had just awoken, and I do not necessarily think clearly when sleep has just left me.” He paused, blushing even more, then gathered a handful of fabric near the bottom of his nightshirt, like he would peel it off over his head. “Would you, um, do you want me to come back to bed so we can try again?”

Derrek almost laughed. “No, dove,” he said, getting up and heading for the door so he could take himself outside to wash, as had become his habit. “The moment has passed. Something like that should have had more planning in it at any rate.”

“Oh. Alright,” Jeremy said, possibly disappointed, following Derrek with his eyes as Derrek left the room and headed out of the cottage.

Once he was out in the dew-kissed pre-dawn of their garden, he puffed out a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face, then he laughed at himself. Already, he was second-guessing his second-guessing. He and Jeremy were long overdue for a bit of horizontal amusement, and the longer they put it off, the more things like they had just experienced would happen.

“Well that’s a delightful sight to find after walking all this way in the dark.”

Derrek nearly jumped out of his skin as he finished his morning ablutions at the pump when Miss Jones stepped out of the darkness of the trees and into the swiftly lightening garden. He had removed his drawers to wash in the cold water, and Miss Jones got an eyeful of the full sight of his body.

“I should go walking in the woods before dawn more often if this is what I can expect to find,” she said, crossing her arms and smirking at him.

“Good God, woman. What are you doing here?” Derrek demanded, reaching for the bit of toweling he’d brought out with him.

Miss Jones laughed. “I’ve come to fetch your man,” she said. “If you’re willing to part with him for the morning.”

A different sort of awkwardness washed through Derrek. “He is not my man,” he said by rote, remembering the times he’d had to say the same when people remarked on his closeness with Joseph. “We are merely friends.”

“And I am the Queen of Sheba,” Miss Jones said.

Derrek let out a breath and dropped his shoulders once he’d wrapped the toweling around his waist. “Accusations such as that can lead to a great deal of trouble,” he said.

Miss Jones nodded. “Perhaps in London or in the village, but not out here in the woods, with only God watching.”

“And do you not think that the Almighty, too, judges the sinners?” Derrek asked.

Again, Miss Jones laughed. “Our Lord broke bread with sinners. There are those that argue his love of John was more than brotherly. I do not think a loving God judges half as harshly as a preacher in a pulpit who wishes to shame the coins right out of the pockets of his parishioners.”

Derrek’s eyebrows shot up. “Forget Jeremy and I, you’re the one that would be led to the pillory if anyone were to hear you speak like that.”

Miss Jones shrugged. “I cannot help what I believe,” she said, walking closer to the house. “I’ve seen too much of man’s duplicity for anyone to convince me that laws and sermons are anything more than whips and chains to keep good people under the thumb of the self-righteous and powerful.”

Derrek gaped at the woman’s back as she marched up to the cottage’s open door and peered inside. It was a rare soul who believed so deeply against the grain of society and an even rarer one who expressed those sentiments aloud, and so clearly. Miss Jones was precisely the person Derrek felt confident entrusting his beloved to when he could not be near.

“Hello? Jeremy? Are you ready to set out?” Miss Jones called into the house.

“Just about,” Jeremy said, appearing in the doorway fully dressed and groomed. “I should eat something before we venture into the meadows and prepare something for Derrek as well,” he said, glancing Derrek’s way.

He did a double-take when he saw Derrek standing there in the increasing light of dawn with nothing but a bit of toweling wrapped around his waist. His expression warmed and his eyes shone for a moment before he shook himself and looked at Miss Jones again.

Miss Jones was fooled by nothing and no one. “Your man can fend for himself for one morning,” she said. “And there will be more food in the village today than you could eat in three lifetimes. Come along.” She reached for Jeremy’s hand and pulled him all the way out into the garden.

“Enjoy your flower picking,” Derrek charged them as the two of them walked past.

“You are certain you do not mind?” Jeremy asked as Miss Jones grinned.

“Not at all. It is not as though we are chained to each other,” Derrek said. “I will see you again at the festivities.”

“Hopefully you will attend dressed as you are,” Miss Jones said, sending Derrek one final lusty look before laughing and pulling Jeremy with her into the trees.

Derrek watched until he could not see them anymore, then huffed a breath and shook his head. Since whisking Jeremy off into the country, his life had become so unfamiliar to him that he no longer knew where he was or what he should be doing. It was a blissful sort of confusion, since he had Jeremy to share it with, but he knew full well it could not continue.

He headed back into the house to dress for the day, then saw to the fires before leaving the cottage locked up tight and heading into the village. Dawn was well past by the time he arrived at the edge of the village, but already it seemed as if half the people in Kent had arrived to help prepare for the festivities that would take place. Already, carts and tables had been set up outside various shops and a busy trade in buns, sausages, and coffee was underway.

Derrek paused at the edge of the activity, observing it all with a smile and a sense of nostalgic familiarity. The feeling in the air was akin to what he’d experienced as a lad in Wiltshire. Every country faire and festival likely felt the same way, but the reminder of the young and relatively innocent lad that he’d once been settled over him like an embrace from his mother.

“This probably looks a fright to you,” Martin from the Three Bells said, striding up to stand by his side, watching the preparations. “Being a London man and all.”

“Actually, I was just thinking that it all reminded me of my childhood,” Derrek replied, far more open with the pub owner than he would have been at the beginning of Jeremy’s period of hiding. Martin had become his friend, after all.

“Is that so?” Martin asked with a look of mild surprise.

“I was raised in Wiltshire,” Derrek said.

Martin broke into a broad smile. “You are a country boy after all,” he said, thumping Derrek on the shoulder. “But I bet you know nothing about Morris dancing.”

Derrek laughed. “I was a champion Morris dancer in my youth,” he bragged.

“Is that so?” Martin’s expression lit with even more delight. “Care to prove it?”

Derrek swept one last glance around the humming village, and when he did not see Jeremy or Miss Jones, he turned to Martin. “How would I do that?”

Martin grinned. “We could use another to make even lines,” he said with a wink.

Ten minutes later, Derrek found himself in a group with other men he’d become somewhat acquainted with in the last few weeks, refreshing his long-dormant memories of the steps of Morris dancing.

And it was lovely. His heart felt so light that it mystified him. He was a hardened London policeman who had seen things so dark and disturbing that they would bring an ordinary man to his knees. He had loved where he should not have and lost that love. He thrived on danger and challenge, and yet the country life around him sang to his soul in ways that felt like he could shed his old skin and become someone new.

Perhaps there might be a way for him and Jeremy to stay right where they were. Jeremy was happy in the country as well. It was a mad idea, but perhaps the two of them had a chance of building a quiet, happy life together in a village like the one where they found themselves now.

Derrek was far along the path of imagining an entirely different life for himself, practicing the steps of the Morris dance and laughing with his newfound friends when one of them asked, “Did you hear that Lord Albert has returned to Maidstone Close?”

With those few words, the illusion of peace that Derrek had started to build for himself and Jeremy vanished.

“Lord Albert?” one of the other men asked with a sour look. “What is that miserable sod doing back here? I thought he and his worthless father had buggered off to the Continent for good.”

“It seems he didn’t,” the first man said. “Doris, that new maid up at the manor house, told me Lord Albert was back, though only for a bit before heading into London.”

“Well, of course he would be in London,” Martin said as their group began to dress for their eventual performance. “What with King William being on his deathbed and all.”

Derrek’s back went stiff and his eyes widened. “Where did you hear that?” he asked.

Martin shrugged. “Has the king not been on his deathbed for some time now?”

“But you have not heard anything specific,” Derrek said, relaxing a bit.

That ease was instantly robbed from him when Martin said, “I have heard specifics. Two blokes from London were at the pub last night, talking about how the king has been taken ill with a lung complaint of some sort. They seemed to think it would be a race between his demise and Princess Victoria’s eighteenth birthday to determine the fate of the nation.”

Guilt and frustration rolled through Derrek. He should not be hearing that news from Martin while he tied bells and ribbons to his clothes for a country Morris dance. He should have been the one to know what was going on in London and with Lord Albert first. He’d grown so enamored with his peaceful country life with Jeremy that he’d allowed himself to forget who he was and what mission he had before him.

“I cannot stay here,” he muttered to himself, standing with the sudden need to move and return to action again. “I belong in London.”

Martin eyed him strangely, but he could not have known the things Derrek was thinking.

The entire point of bringing Jeremy to the countryside was to hide him and keep him safe from Conroy and his accomplice, who was almost certainly Lord Albert Howard. As he’d just been thinking to himself that morning, Miss Jones was as fierce a protector of his dove as he was. The only right thing to do was for him to return to London to assess the changes in their situation regarding Conroy’s plot and the king’s health. He would need to leave before the day was over to catch the overnight mail coach from Aylesford.

“I do not think I can dance with you after all,” he told Martin distractedly, bending to untie the bells he’d just fastened around his calves. “My duty is to?—”

His words died on his lips at the sound of Jeremy’s laughter. He looked up, then straightened to see Jeremy, Miss Jones, and several other young women from the village walking closer, their arms filled with baskets and bundles of flowers. Someone had woven a garland of wildflowers for Jeremy and stuck smaller flowers all over him, which appeared to be what the group was laughing about. The way the sunlight struck Jeremy made him look like some sort of nymph or fawn from ancient times.

Derrek’s heart twisted and throbbed in his chest. He was so very much in love with Jeremy that it consumed his every thought and heartbeat. His dove was beyond beautiful and deserved exactly the sort of life he was living at that very moment. But he could not live that life with him. He had duties and cares in London that desperately needed his attention. He loved Jeremy, but he could not, in good conscience, have him.