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Twenty-Eight

KILMARNOCK ABBEY, EDINBURGH - JULY 16, 1816

Dav,

Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not tell me how you know this person who is familiar with sheep and in what ways they are familiar.

Tell Celine to stop corrupting you.

As far as Mother’s quest for grandchildren, I may have news on that front. I’ve found a young lady who bears a striking resemblance to our dear brother. She is but eighteen, which aligns with Gabriel’s visit. Please do not share this with Mother or Celine until I confirm. I would not wish to upset anyone unnecessarily.

Warmest Regards,

Xander

P.S. The ceasg would be lucky to have me.

XANDER

The wait for Sorcha’s and Godfrey’s breaths to even out was interminable. My skin positively itched in a way that had nothing to do with sap.

I had Tom tucked away, deep in a far corner of the house waiting for me.

Finally, Sorcha’s quiet snores intermingled with Godfrey’s loud, intermittent ones. As silently as I could, I slipped out of bed and lumped the blankets into a vague person shape in case anyone woke. Then I tiptoed down the hall, carefully trying to recall where the loose boards were.

If I were any less libidinous, I would almost certainly be concerned about what I might step in or on with my bare feet, but lust had overtaken sense sometime after the third sip of whiskey, around the moment Tom’s hand found my knee.

Christ, he had pretty hands. The distracting feature had been all the more noticeable as he worked today. Sizable palms, with long, elegant fingers. What could those fingers do to me? I needed to know.

At last, I made it to the kitchens and tapped quietly on the door.

After another unending wait, I was met with Tom’s bleary face. Exhaustion smoothed off his features at the sight of me, easing the slight guilt that crept up when I noted the pillow creases on his cheeks.

Like me, he’d forgone a nightshirt, instead stripping off his waistcoat and cravat, leaving his shirt open. His braces hung from his waist off dirty breeches—mine were clean. The dirt should have bothered me—it did a little—but my discomfort was more than overcome by the sliver of muscular chest, dusted with the same dark curls on his head.

Tom peered behind me before grabbing my wrist and yanking me into the room, then turned the key behind us with a decisive click.

His smile was crooked and bright in the moonlight, but I only had a second to make it out before his lips fell on mine. Tonight he smelled of fresh-shaved pine and tasted of whiskey. It shouldn’t have been nearly as appealing as it was, but I wanted more of it, everywhere, until it seeped into my pores and became a part of me.

“Hello,” I whispered, teasing, when he broke for a breath.

“Hello.” His smile pressed against my jaw as he breathed the word.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Tom pulled back and caught my jaw, forcing my gaze to his. “Always wake me. Always.”

Soft lips found mine again, just as his hard cock found my stomach with a significant thrust and a heady groan. I couldn’t help but thrust mine against his thigh, the one I’d admired earlier in the day. A wandering hand slipped between us to cup me before sliding over to the buttons of my falls.

Two quick twists of his fingers was all it took before he had my cock in his perfect hand—hot and soft, with just the tiniest bite of calluses on the fingertips. Before I could catch my bearings, Tom was dropping to sit on the edge of the bed as he dragged me, stumbling closer.

“Wait—”

He peered up at me, all blue-eyed wanton innocence.

“I didn’t come here for that.”

His gaze fell, lips pulling into a frown. “You don’t want?—”

“No, I do. But I don’t expect—I was going to?—”

“Xander?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve spent years dreaming of this. Shut up and let me suck your cock.”

My jaw fell open on a vulgar groan. “Right, yes. Absolutely. You just… do that.” My nod was too long and too much. Tom merely smiled, bright and pleased, as though he hadn’t just offered up the single most arousing two sentences in the English language or any other.

Then his gaze fell to my prick. Gently, he traced it with his fingers, gathered the bead of moisture on the tip, and dragging it down the thick vein at the base. The sensation was unlike any other. Tender, reverent. His touch was nothing like my perfunctory tight strokes and it left me breathless. Breathless and impatient.

“I thought you said you were going to suck it.”

He humphed, eyes flicking to mine. “I also said I’ve spent years dreaming of this. You have the prettiest cock in the whole world. Let me admire it a minute.”

“You cannot possibly know that.”

“You have the prettiest everything in the whole world.” His grin was a bright burst in the dark room.

I should have been irritated by the feminine descriptor, but I was vain and loved a compliment—and everything about his expression was complimentary.

Before I could find more words, he pressed a kiss to the tip of my prick. Whether his groan or mine was louder was anyone’s guess. Teasingly he traced his tongue along the same path his finger had taken. Then he pulled back, eyes meeting mine again.

“Do you—Do you know how to?—”

He shot me a look that told me I was an utter nitwit before drawing me into his mouth with a groan.

My fingers found the soft hair at the nape of his neck on instinct before I remembered myself. It’s his first time. Don’t rush. Don’t pressure. I repeated my mantra with devotion, right until the moment one of his hands found my own on the back of his head and tangled his fingers with mine, then applied pressure.

It took a moment to comprehend his meaning, but gradually I took over, guiding him. I felt his moan along the length of my shaft as his hand left mine to meet the other clenching on the cheek of my bottom.

“Tom,” I groaned, unable to form anything longer.

He was surprisingly skilled for someone who’d never had a cock in his mouth before—and like everything else, what he lacked in innate talent he more than made up for in enthusiasm and bravado.

This, just as he had the fence, he approached with a guess and a dauntless determination to try—a willingness to suffer failure. That he was using such charming qualities in the service of my pleasure… It had my heart pounding and my balls tightening. Seeming to sense that my pleasure was rushing to a peak, one hand slipped to cradle them. Release rushed ever nearer as he managed to time his tongue to my thrusts—too rough and fast for much else. My mantra was washed away by the blood rushing in my ears and the filthy symphony of groans and slick flesh.

And then he looked up at me with such an expression of adoration, lust, and gratitude that I lost the tenuous grip on my control with a groan and spilled down his throat—entirely without the warning I intended to offer. My groan mixed with Tom’s as his fingers clenched on my arse.

My fingers were slow to cooperate and release Tom’s curls. As I did, he pulled back, shuddering as he nuzzled a cheek into my thigh with a sigh. The gesture was so sweet, and the juxtaposition from seconds before left me tetchy and too hot everywhere.

His breaths were nearly as ragged as my own, a tiny windstorm whipping across the hair on my legs. He wore an expression of drunk delight that would’ve had me ready to peak again if he hadn’t wrung every ounce of pleasure from my body already.

My throat was too dry, even after a swallow or two, but eventually I felt certain I was capable of speech. “So…” Whether that speech was worthy of the word was a different story.

I felt his smile against my thigh. “So…”

“Was that— Did you— Was it enjoyable?”

Tom pulled away, gaze meeting mine. His eyes were darker, only the slightest bit brighter than the sky outside caressing the moon. “I believe that’s my line.”

“No.” I cupped his jaw, brushing my thumb across swollen, rose-red lips. “Tell me,” I demanded. He could deflect a great many things—but not this. This was too important.

A pink tongue darted between those full lips while his fingertips traced the muscles of my thighs in tandem. “Have you ever had a craving for a treat—a pastry, a cake, something like that? That you’ve longed for over days or weeks?”

“Yes.”

“But when you finally got it, it didn’t taste the way you imagined at all. In fact, it was so disappointing that you never wanted it again?”

“What?” I demanded, heart in my stomach.

“This was nothing like that,” he added with a cheeky, teasing grin.

“Arse!” I shoved him playfully by the shoulder and he fell back onto his elbows with a laugh.

“Xander,” he groaned. “Don’t be mad.”

“I loathe you,” I muttered half-heartedly, pulling my breeches up and buttoning them.

“Oh, well, that is unfortunate. I was looking forward to repeating that. But if you loathe me, I’ll have to find someone else to?—”

I caught his jaw, pulling him back up to seated. “Don’t you dare. You’re only allowed to do that with me.”

Earnest, wide eyes met mine. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Now?” he asked, eager hands snaking back toward my rebuttoned breeches.

“No. Some of us no longer have the benefit of youth.” I batted his determined fingers away.

“Old man…” he teased.

“Rude,” I muttered, guiding him back to lean on his elbow again as I reached for his breeches.

He coughed and pulled back, his expression unreadable.

“What is it?”

His eyes squeezed shut, head tipping to the ceiling. He mumbled something I couldn’t make out. Worry slammed into me, and I fought back a shudder.

“Tom, tell me.”

“It’s too late for that,” he said to the ceiling.

“Why is it—oh.” It was a struggle to keep the smile off my face as the worry melted away into a masculine pride I had no right to. I didn’t do anything, I had no right to claim his pleasure as my own.

“Yes, oh .”

Tom was flushed and still refusing to meet my gaze. I couldn’t bear both his shame and our physical distance.

I slipped a knee on the cot, nudging him to turn lengthwise. He grumbled but cooperated, flipped to his side, and curled against me. His legs were too long by half for the cot and we were too wide for it. I lay half on, half off, with Tom’s legs akimbo across mine. Finally, he let me tuck my arm underneath his neck and rested his head on my bicep.

I caught a knee with my free hand, caressing it. “Such a cricket.”

He grumbled playfully, nudging a cool nose into the fabric of my shirt and inhaling deeply.

“Why are you embarrassed?” I whispered.

“Because I—without you?—”

“Mmm, yes, you did.” Unearned pride still swirled through my veins; it wouldn’t go anywhere soon.

“Ugh.” He gave a half-hearted shove against my side. I wrapped my arm tighter around him in response.

Tom was so pretty like this, snug against me, dark curls brushing my cheek—I knew from that afternoon that there was a hint of red in them when the sun hit just right, but in the moonlight, they shone like polished mahogany. His lashes were long and thick, shading his eyes from me. And his weight was warm, solid, and just a little bony against my side.

“Talk to me.”

“I-I have stamina—or I did before you. Could almost never… when I thought of ladies.” He broke off with a bitter chuckle. “Apparently there was a reason for that because all it took was your cock on my lips and the brush of my hand through fabric and I spilled like schoolboy.”

I dragged my thumb across those lips. “Yes, you did.”

“Stop,” he groaned.

“Why? You brought me to a peak—quite quickly, I might add. Should I be ashamed of that?”

His head popped up. “No, of course not! It was perfect.”

“Hmm, and are you not proud that you brought me such pleasure?”

“No, I’ll be dreaming of that until the day I die.”

“If we’re going to do this—and it seems we are—then I want you to experience pleasure in all its forms. Quick and fast like a lightning strike. Slow and drawn out until you beg. Every how, every way, you will know pleasure. Mental. Physical. Too much. Not enough. At my hand. At your own. Besides, there’s plenty of shame waiting for us out there.” I nodded to the door. “We don’t need to bring it in here.”

“All right,” he whispered softly. It was a simple agreement, but it sounded like a vow.

“I want it all. Yes? Every thought, every desire, every fear. I want you to tell me them all, show me them all, and know that there’s no judgment waiting for you.”

He merely nodded, a continuation of his vow. “You’re different, in here.”

“You make me feel safe.”

His eyes slipped shut on a heavy sigh and when they flicked open again, they were so full of devotion that I nearly cried. Instead, I tucked a curl behind his ear.

“There is one thing I’ve been wanting to discuss with you,” I added.

“Anything.”

“Your letter…”