Page 8 of Seduced by a Scoundrel (Tales from the Brotherhood #1)

Eight

D errek had more than one reason for throwing Jeremy into the arms and the shop of Miss Clarissa Jones as soon as he made the connection that the woman might be in need of help. He truly was sympathetic to Jeremy’s earlier thoughts about wanting a partner to sew with. He found that desire to be as quaint and adorable as Jeremy himself. A quick assessment of Miss Jones’s character as they’d stood talking in her shop satisfied Derrek that the two would get along.

He had other, deeper reasons to find someplace safe and sound for Jeremy to spend his days, however many of those days there might be until the threat presented by Conroy and his accomplice was nullified. He needed Jeremy to be occupied as much as possible so that he himself could continue investigating the nagging suspicion that had followed him since Jeremy had described Conroy’s accomplice to him.

The description had fit that of Lord Albert Howard. The details were vague, of course. Jeremy had not spent more than a few seconds in Conroy’s accomplice’s presence, but the pieces fit together. Lord Albert was a youngish man whose appearance had been made older by debauched living. He also had dark hair. But most suspicious of all was the fact that Jeremy had been able to tell that the accomplice was a nobleman, but one he was not familiar with.

Lord Albert had been abroad for many years. He had not been part of London society as Jeremy had begun his rise to prominence with the ton . If he knew what was good for him, Lord Albert was still on the Continent, but the man was most definitely the sort who did not know what was good for him.

If Jeremy’s days were occupied, then Derrek would have more than enough time to observe Maidstone Close’s manor house, or even question some of the local inhabitants as to whether they’d seen anyone from the family secretly returning.

“I have not sewn women’s clothing for years,” Jeremy chattered happily as the two of them made their way home through the early twilight several hours after introductions between Jeremy and Miss Jones had been made. “I would never presume to tackle any sort of design or even pattern-making for Clary’s creations, but I am more than capable of sewing hems or managing more complicated needlework.”

“Clary?” Derrek asked, one eyebrow arched, trying to hide his smile of amusement.

“Clarissa. Miss Jones,” Jeremy explained, too animated to catch Derrek’s teasing. “While you were off seeing to the last of our shopping and looking for various means to contact London, she not only gave me a tour of her shop and a history of her business, she set me to work finishing up a few odds and ends she has been struggling to find time for.”

“That sounds lovely,” Derrek said, grinning and shifting his grip on their basket of purchases.

In fact, during the time he’d left Jeremy at the seamstress’s shop, Derrek had gone to introduce himself to the man who owned a modest livery at the edge of town, asked about prices for borrowing horses, and inquired as to whether the man knew anything about Lord Linton or Lord Albert. He had not learned anything definitive, but he’d found the livery owner to be affable and agreeable to business.

“It was quite lovely,” Jeremy said, tilting his head slightly as if he were surprised. “After spending so many years building my business in London, I suppose I could have become snobbish about my work and my status among the ranks of England’s tailors. But Clary is immensely skilled, and already I feel as though I could learn much from her.”

Derrek smiled, the warm, expansive feeling that had invaded his chest since running away from London with Jeremy growing. The man had no idea how good and how open he was. London usually made people harder, crueler. So did success in business, especially when it was adjacent to the ton . But Jeremy had as good a heart as anyone Derrek had known, and it made him…well, to be honest, it made him randy.

Then again, a great many things made him randy.

“So you do not mind walking into the village every day to be assistant to a country seamstress?” Derrek asked as the forest path let out into the clearing where the gamekeeper’s cottage sat.

“I do not think I will mind it at all,” Jeremy said, sounding baffled. “It is in no way what I would have imagined myself doing this spring, but I did not imagine that I would be the target of another man’s royal ambitions either.”

He shivered as they approached the door to the house. Derrek wanted to reach out to him and pull Jeremy into his arms to comfort him. He wanted to do a damn sight more than that. For the moment, he contented himself with unlocking the cottage door and sweeping Jeremy inside their cozy, safe, temporary home.

“Good Lord, the fires have gone out,” Jeremy said, rubbing his arms, which might have just been for show, then removing his coat and heading straight for the stove. “If I am to be in the village every day working with Clary, I must remember to do a better job of building the fires in the morning and keeping them banked throughout the day.”

“I will see to that,” Derrek said, putting the basket of supplies on the table then removing his coat.

Jeremy had just rested his coat over the back of one of the chairs and turned to the stove, but he pivoted to face Derrek again with a slightly stricken look. “You will not be in the village with me?”

Bless him, but those eyes and that subtly needy look Jeremy wore would be the death of him.

He laughed, though he found the whole thing touching rather than funny. “You are a grown man, Jeremy, as am I. You do not need me hanging from your coattails nor sitting in wait for you like a soldier all the time.”

“Oh. I suppose that is true,” Jeremy said, his face pinking again as he continued on to the stove. He crouched to open the hotbox so that he could add more fuel to the dwindled fire. “I do like having you nearby, though,” he added, almost whispering.

“And I like being near you, dove,” Derrek said, his smile beaming as he began to unpack the basket. “You bring color to an otherwise dreary life.”

“It hasn’t been that dreary, has it?” Jeremy asked over his shoulder as he tended to the fire. “You’re a policeman. You’ve seen and done so very much, I would imagine.”

“I have,” Derrek said. “But none of it is like seeing or doing you.” When Jeremy sucked in a breath and peeked subtly at him, Derrek grinned and teased him by adding, “I would imagine.”

Jeremy was silent for a few minutes after that, though the flush across his cheeks and neck hinted that his thoughts were still racing. He finished with the stove, then took over unpacking the things they’d purchased at market while Derrek moved to rebuild the fire in the fireplace.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I struck up an acquaintance with the owner of the village livery earlier,” Derrek resumed their conversation as he finished with the fire. He stood and walked over to where Jeremy was hard at work preparing some sort of evening repast. “It isn’t swift or easy to get messages into London, but if and when necessary, I should be able to borrow a horse to ride into Aylesbury, where there is a coaching inn that regularly sees mail coaches.”

“That is fortunate,” Jeremy said, stealing a series of quick, furtive looks at Derrek as he seasoned an iron pan so that he could fry slices of the ham hock they’d purchased earlier. “I do not suppose ordinary travel is anywhere near as fast as what we managed through the night on our way here.”

“Not at all,” Derrek said. “We were fortunate that Moreland was able to lend us fast horses.”

“Fortunate indeed,” Jeremy said, setting the pan on the stove and risking a few, quick touches to see if the stove was hot enough for cooking yet.

It looked as if it had a while to go, so Jeremy shifted to the high table beside the stove to arrange the bread and cheeses they’d purchased, along with the things they’d brought from The Chameleon Club.

“We are also fortunate to have a village with such accommodating inhabitants so nearby,” he chattered on, like a swallow on a rooftop, as Derrek walked slowly up behind him. “I confess that I did not know how I would feel about the country and I was anxious when we first arrived?—”

He wasn’t able to finish his rambling thoughts. Derrek stepped right up behind him, bracing his feet on either side of Jeremy’s, and wrapped his arms around Jeremy’s waist. He leaned in and breathed in a lungful of Jeremy’s scent from close to his neck. The man was ten times more delicious than any of the food he was making. It was all Derrek could do not to angle his growing erection forward so that Jeremy could feel its bulge against his pert backside.

What truly stopped Derrek from making the gesture and from taking whatever he wanted from his sweet dove was the way Jeremy tensed and fumbled the knife he’d just picked up. “Derrek,” he said in a small, plaintive, almost warning voice.

“Yes, my dove?” Derrek asked, his voice deep and thick with arousal.

Jeremy whimpered slightly. The sound was as much a question as it was a dismissal, so rather than letting the man go and taking a step back, Derrek pulled him slightly back from the table and turned him so they were face to face.

Jeremy gazed up at him with wide, wary eyes, but eyes that also sparkled with hunger. He parted his lips, but instead of words, only a breath escaped.

Derrek came to several conclusions at once. Jeremy wanted him, but he was inexperienced and likely afraid of his own nature. He could not tell whether Jeremy was a virgin, but a part of him hoped that he was. He wanted to be the only man to ever possess Jeremy fully.

At the same time, that would also likely mean a great deal of pain and awkwardness when they finally did succumb to their desires. Derrek had always preferred experienced partners, especially those in the receiving role, because they knew how not to break themselves for pleasure.

That being said, there were other ways to explore desire together besides penetration. Some of them were almost or just as delightful.

“You’re frightened of me,” he said after Jeremy said nothing for several long seconds.

“I am not frightened of you,” Jeremy said in a voice that screamed otherwise.

Derrek grinned, rested a hand on the side of Jeremy’s face, and brushed his thumb over Jeremy’s bottom lip. “Liar,” he purred. The man was so lovely with his soft, brown hair and gentle features that Derrek could hardly hold himself back from simply taking him.

“I am not,” Jeremy said, like a kitten trying to roar. “I know you would never hurt me, it is just that?—”

Derrek arched one eyebrow, waiting to hear just that what.

Jeremy blew out a breath and sagged in Derrek’s arms. “I have never been very good at this,” he said, looking down.

“Good at what? Being a charming, desirable man?”

Jeremy looked up at him quickly. “I’ve never been good at playing the sensual game,” he said. “In my experience, men want to either be rough and aggressive with me or they want me to be just as bold and sensual as they are.”

So he did have experience after all, though Derrek immediately hated every other man who had touched his dove.

“Have I said that I want either of those things?” he asked.

“No,” Jeremy answered slowly, squirming in Derrek’s hold. “But this morning….” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously, then wriggled out of Derrek’s hold and retreated to the other side of the table. “I felt like you wanted something from me,” he said, not quite able to meet Derrek’s eyes. “I felt like you wanted me to…to offer myself for you so you could…have me, and that you expected me to be eager and panting for it.”

Derrek had no doubt that if he had pushed things in the direction Jeremy had sensed he wanted, Jeremy would absolutely have ended up moaning like a bride on her wedding night and probably painting the wall beside the bed with his seed.

“And that’s not what you want,” he said, facing Jeremy but keeping a respectful distance.

Jeremy squirmed like a worm just pulled from a fresh, spring garden bed. “I did not say that,” he said, his voice hoarse and his eyes downcast once more. “It is just….” He pulled his gaze up to meet Derrek’s. “I have a business and a reputation to maintain. What men like us do, what we want, is punishable by death. At the very least, I would lose everything if who I am was made public. Enough of my clientele already know about me, but I keep their secrets as much as they keep mine. I cannot allow myself to indulge in a moment of weakness and risk losing my life.”

The heavy feeling that always formed in the pit of Derrek’s stomach when the risk of their existence was brought out into the open gnawed at him. Jeremy was right, of course. It took a clever man to live his life as he pleased without flaunting his wants to the point where he was arrested for them.

“I had a lover for many years,” he said, almost taking himself by surprise with the confession.

Jeremy blinked, his stance loosening by a fraction. “You did?”

Derrek nodded. “His name was Joseph. He was a doctor who dedicated his life to helping the poor. He could have had a practice on Harley Street. He came from good stock, his father was a preacher and his mother was connected to the nobility, and his family had done well for themselves.”

He paused, remembering the goodness and gentleness he’d seen in Joseph the first time they’d met, when he’d accompanied a nobleman who had been injured as part of an investigation Derrek had had a hand in to Harley Street. Joseph had been assisting in the practice that day. The connection had been immediate and sweet.

“We found every excuse under the sun to be together,” Derrek went on. “We had a few moments of terror when we thought we’d be exposed, but Joseph was an angel and everybody knew it. Many were the times someone or another could have called the police on us but turned the other way because they knew all the good work he did.”

“Is he….” Jeremy swallowed. “What happened to him?”

Derrek dropped his shoulders at the sudden wave of grief that hit him. “He died of cholera, which he caught while serving the poor in East London.”

“Oh, Derrek, I am terribly sorry,” Jeremy said, taking a step closer to him. “Has it been long?”

“Five years,” Derrek said, his heart beating harder the closer Jeremy came to him.

“Five years is a long time to miss someone,” Jeremy said. He raised a tentative hand and rested it on Derrek’s arm for comfort.

Derrek smiled. He took Jeremy’s hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss Jeremy’s knuckles. “It is a very long time,” he said. He sucked in a breath, forcing his grief away in favor of more useful emotions and the point he was trying to make. “I’ve not been a saint in the years that followed Joseph’s passing. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I enjoy bedsport, be it rough and aggressive, as you hinted, or slow and sweet. My cock has a mind of its own most days, and I’m not too proud to put it to good use.”

“O-oh,” Jeremy said, red as an apple, attempting to pull back.

Derrek wouldn’t let him. “Just because I’m a lusty dog doesn’t mean I intend to gnaw you like a bone,” he said, grinning. “Unless you want me to.”

“Oh, I, well?—”

“ Until you want me to,” Derrek clarified. “The point being that I have no intention of being like whomever you’ve been with in the past. I have no intention of taking anything from you, in any way, that you’re not deeply willing to give. And when the moment comes when you do want to explore, whether that is here, in the complete safety and seclusion of a cottage in a forest miles from anything, where no one knows we reside, or in the heart of London, amidst the crowd and noise of The Chameleon Club, I will be sensitive to your needs and not push you into anything you do not want.”

Jeremy stood there blinking for a moment. Derrek could practically read his thoughts, though he wasn’t pleased with the story they told. Someone, possibly more than one someone, in Jeremy’s past had pushed him into things he hadn’t been ready for. He might have enjoyed those things once they happened or he might not have. The point was that he hadn’t been ready, and it had left him shy of a part of his nature that Derrek knew was there. He had experienced a bit of that nature that morning, before Jeremy was awake enough to limit himself.

“Thank you, Derrek,” Jeremy said at last, curling his fingers around Derrek’s so that they held hands between them. “That means a great deal to me.”

“You mean a great deal to me,” Derrek said too quickly. It was a daft and sentimental thing to say, but dammit, he meant it. “Now go on with you,” he said, putting on a cheeky look again and letting go of Jeremy’s hand. “I’m the man of this house, and it’s high time I had my supper.”

He took a step forward and slapped Jeremy’s backside as he played the coarse and overbearing husband to Jeremy’s sweet and saucy fishwife.

It was all in jest, though. Jeremy was far too masculine and miles too clever to be the sort of slattern he might have fun pretending he was. And as for him? As he crossed the room to put away some of the household supplies they’d purchased earlier, a twist of unfamiliar worry curled in Derrek’s gut. Because as jovial as it felt to play with Jeremy and make believe they were keeping house together, he feared very much that he was actually falling in love with the man.