All for One (15 page)

Benoît shrugged. “Honestly, I have had better days. I seem to have annoyed the one friend I have in this town, and I don’t know what to do now. Aristide was supposed to teach me how to wield a sword, but at the moment, he can’t even stand to be in the same room as me.”

Having had ample opportunity to observe his guardian’s behavior toward Christian, Esteban had his suspicions as to why the leonine musketeer might be avoiding Benoît, but before he could speak, his companion broke in. “Where are your manners, Esteban? Introduce me to this young gentleman, if you would.”

“Forgive me,
señor
—I forgot you were not with us last evening.” The young Spaniard’s cheeks reddened at the mild reprimand. “This is Benoît, one of the gentlemen we—met in the park yesterday.” The older man nodded, having heard the outline of the prior day’s events at the breakfast table. “This is
Señor
Javier Montega, senior secretary to His Excellency, the ambassador.”

“
Monsieur
Montega,” Benoît greeted the gentleman with a bow, “I would say welcome to Paris, but I would guess you have been in the city longer than I have.”

“Please, call me Javier.” The elder Spaniard bowed in return. “It is true; I am new to France and still find the formality of court manners difficult to become accustomed to. If you are a friend of Esteban, we need not stand upon ceremony.”

“If Esteban does not count me as a friend, then I am a lonely man indeed,” Benoît replied morosely. “Even Aristide is fed up with me today.”

“We have been walking about the city seeing the sights, since Cristian and Teodoro had business at court this morning. Would you care to join us?” Esteban glanced at the sword belted to his new friend’s side, an accoutrement he had not been wearing the previous evening. “Or—you said you were to have a lesson in swordplay? I am no match for your musketeer, perhaps, but I would be pleased to spar with you if you like. I have learned a thing or two from Teo over the years.” His eyes sparkled, the prospect of practicing with Benoît more exciting than walking about a strange city looking at more monuments.

“’Tis a far more appealing prospect than wandering the city alone,” Benoît agreed, “and I’ll have something to tell Aristide tonight when he yells at me for missing my lesson today. The
jardin de Luxembourg
again, or do you know a better spot?”

“You are as bad as Teodoro when it comes to swordplay,” Javier chided his companion, though his face wore an indulgent smile. “Would it be too much to ask for us to find some luncheon first? My old bones don’t have the strength of youth and would appreciate the rest.”

Having a young man’s natural hunger, Esteban had no objection to Javier’s suggestion. “Perhaps the tavern we met at last evening will serve? As I recall it is just around the corner.”

“It is,” Benoît agreed. “I passed it just before I met you. The thought of eating is almost as welcome as a dark, quiet corner out of the heat. I’d thought the worst of summer passed, but it has returned with a vengeance today.”

The three in agreement, a few moments later they were seated around a table in the dim tavern. Javier sighed audibly as he settled into his chair while Esteban instructed the host to bring them a pitcher of wine and a platter of meat pies. “What think you of Paris, Benoît?” the older man asked once the tavern keeper had bustled away.

“I find it… enlightening,” Benoît replied honestly. “I grew up in a village, not even a city like Carcassonne or Lyon, but truly a village in the mountains. To come here now, it is a whole other world, one I am at times at a loss to understand. What of you? You are surely more traveled than a country blacksmith. How does Paris compare to Madrid? Or to London?”

“In Madrid, I must confess, I did not bother to see beyond a few streets on either side of where I lived,” Javier admitted. “And in London I was too busy recovering my strength and learning to speak and write English and French to spend much time touring the city. So I find Paris most impressive—the parks, the grandeur of the public buildings.”

The host returned with their wine while Javier was speaking, and as soon as he had poured them each a glass, Esteban broke in before Benoît could reply with another comment about the local sights. “What makes you think your friend Aristide is angry with you?”

“He ordered me to leave,” Benoît replied indignantly. “Why would he do that if he isn’t angry with me? He was helping me find a sword, a scabbard, and belt, and then….” He flushed hotly, remembering the feeling of Aristide’s hands on his waist. “Then he suddenly got angry at me. He’s been my steadfast protector, my champion even against his friends, from the moment I met him. I don’t understand why he would suddenly act as if I’d done something wrong.”

“A belt?” Esteban’s eyes dropped to the leather strap hanging low around Benoît’s waist, then up to his new friend’s reddened face. “Did he buckle it around you, by chance?”

“I am hardly a child to need dressing!” Benoît protested. “Though he did have to measure me to see what size would fit. Even had I known from the past, I have been ill and lost much weight.”

Holding back a smile with some effort, Esteban’s dancing eyes met Javier’s with a knowing glance. “Teo was more short-tempered than his wont before he and Cristian admitted their attraction,” he observed.

Glancing around to ensure they could not be overheard, Javier lowered his voice to admonish, “You should not jest about such things, especially in a public tavern.”

“Attraction isn’t the problem,” Benoît admitted softly, looking about to make sure no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. “I know how he feels. I just can’t seem to give him what he wants.”

“You do not return his attraction, then?” Javier asked quietly.

“It isn’t a question of attraction,” Benoît protested, “but of right and wrong. You are from Spain. You surely know what the Church teaches on this matter!”

“I stopped heeding the Church’s teaching when the Inquisition took my family for no reason but that those in power coveted their land.” Javier’s voice remained quiet, but his face was grim. “I escaped with my life only because Teodoro and Cristian rescued me from the Grand Inquisitor’s prison. Who was right, and who wrong, in such a case? I have come to believe that it is not who a man loves that makes him good or bad, but how he lives his life.”

“And so I should simply disregard everything I have ever been taught and fall into his bed?” Benoît asked incredulously, though he could see the sense in some of Javier’s words. “How does that make me any different than the ones he already has there?”

“I would not counsel anyone to fall into bed indiscriminately.” Esteban ducked his head, hinting that Javier had offered similar advice to the younger Spaniard. “Nor do I know your Aristide, beyond hearing Esteban speak of him, so I cannot say what he may or may not feel. I only suggest that you judge him on his worth, not solely his gender. If he is deserving of your regard, that he is male does not make him less so.” The older man smiled warmly and reached for his wineglass. “And if he is not worthy, then you may reject him for that reason alone.”

Benoît nodded slowly, sipping his wine to hide his reaction to Javier’s words. Could it truly be that simple? Could he truly let go of everything he had been taught and judge Aristide purely on his merits as a person rather than on the fact that he was a man? He didn’t know the answer, but he did know with sudden certainty that he wanted to find out. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Both of you. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” The arrival of their meat pies interrupted them, and when the innkeeper had left again, they strayed to less fraught topics as they consumed the bountiful meal. When they had finished, Benoît suggested, “It might be safest to return to
l’hôtel de M.
de Tréville for my lesson. We wouldn’t want the Cardinal’s guards to mistake our swordplay for dueling once again. I’m not eager to face Aristide at the moment, though.”

“So you fear your Aristide as much as the Cardinal?” Esteban chuckled as he rose to his feet. “We can return to the ambassador’s residence. There is an open space in the stableyard that should serve for us.” Tossing a few coins on the table—an act that still gave him a thrill of satisfaction, remembering the days when their next meal was dependent on Teo’s sword—he threw an arm around Benoît’s shoulder. “Come, my friend!”

“Aristide said I would need to start by getting accustomed to pulling my sword from its scabbard so I would be able to fight at need,” Benoît said, eyes widening at the grandeur of the buildings around them until they passed under an elegant arch of stone to the ambassador’s stables.

“A good point,” Esteban agreed. “Your opponent could run you through before you drew your blade should you fumble. Teodoro told me I should be as comfortable handling my blade as my—” he broke off when Javier cuffed him on the back of the head. “What?”

“You are among gentlemen now, behave like one.” Javier’s smile encompassed both his young charges. “This looks like a quiet enough spot for your exercise. I will sit here in the shade, where I will be out of range of your sword arms.”

Rubbing his neck, Esteban waited until his mentor was seated and then drew his sword with a flourish. “
En guardia
, Benoît! Show me how you handle your blade!”

Chapter 13

L
ÉANDRE
lifted the lid from the pot that had been simmering over the fire for hours, releasing a cloud of fragrant steam from the sautéed chicken into the small kitchen. “If we don’t eat now, this is going to cook away to cinders.”

Twitching aside the curtain to look down the darkening street, Aristide frowned. “I haven’t seen Benoît since before lunch,” he muttered. When he’d all but thrown the blacksmith out of the armory, all because he couldn’t trust himself to control his own impulses where the younger man was concerned. “I hope he hasn’t gotten lost, or run into trouble.”

“He knows where we live,” Perrin replied gruffly, “and even if he doesn’t, he knows enough to ask until he finds the musketeer headquarters, and any of our friends would see him safely home. He’ll slink back when he’s hungry enough or when it gets dark. Sit down and eat. You’re ruining my digestion watching you pace.”

“Not to mention letting my culinary exertions go to waste,” Léandre added, lifting the pot carefully and setting it on the table. “It’s seldom enough I cook—I expect you to appreciate it, Aristide.”

Letting the curtain drop and smothering a sigh, Aristide turned to the table, ladling a bowl of the flavorful
ragoût
before settling into a seat. “You know how much I appreciate all your talents, Léandre.”

Perrin grinned around his mouthful of sauced chicken. “Especially when it means you don’t have to cook,” he teased. “So how shall we thank him for taking such good care of us?”

“I have a suggestion, should you find it hard to decide on your own,” the blond musketeer smirked, licking his lips before pursing them to blow over a spoonful of steaming sauce.

“No need to be coy about it,” Perrin prodded. “Out with it.”

“The two of you have no end of suggestions, ’tis true.” Aristide’s lip curled as he ate, deeming it wiser not to encourage them if he hoped to finish his meal in peace. It was a struggle not to turn his head at every passing sound in the road, his imagination picturing Benoît wandering the city or worse, fallen afoul of some ruffian. At least he now carried a sword, but Aristide was sure he hadn’t the first clue how to use it. Worst of all was the fear that his tirade had sent the blacksmith away for good. The
ragoût
turned to lead in his stomach at the thought of Benoît leaving the city without a
sou
to his name.

The sound of the door opening turned all three heads in the direction of the foyer. Benoît strode in as if he hadn’t a care in the world, a smile on his face from an afternoon free of tension and a belly full of the best the ambassador’s kitchens had to offer. He called a carefree greeting into the dining room as he started up the stairs.

Though he should have been relieved to see Benoît return unharmed, the blacksmith’s nonchalant entrance kindled Aristide’s concern into anger. Returning without a word of explanation, smiling at them as if the morning’s confrontation had never happened—as if it meant nothing to him. “Where have you been all day?”

“What do you care?” Benoît snapped, the wine he’d drunk with dinner loosening his tongue. “You ordered me out, so I went. I ran into Esteban, and he was kind enough to spend the day with me since my company was so distasteful to you.”

“You know damned well why I told you to leave!” Aristide rose to confront Benoît face to face, unmindful of the interested glances his tablemates exchanged behind him. “Besides that, you haven’t the first idea how to use that sword. What if you had run into someone you needed to defend yourself against? I was supposed to be teaching you!”

“Esteban was more than happy to give me a lesson in swordplay,” Benoît replied coolly. “And as a matter of fact, I didn’t know why you told me to leave. He had to explain that to me too! You’re not my keeper, Aristide. Yes, you helped me, and I’ve thanked you and offered to repay you when I’m able, but that doesn’t mean you own me. I’m still my own man, thank you very much.” He turned on his heel, intending to leave the room and the argument before he said more than he wanted to reveal.

Aristide’s arm snapped out as gracefully as if he were unsheathing his sword to catch Benoît by the elbow. He could imagine all too well the kind of lesson the young Spaniard had offered, and the thought of anyone’s hands but his on Benoît set his blood afire. “He
explained
it to you? Just exactly what did he explain? Don’t pretend you’re that much of an innocent!”

Benoît glared. “Let go,” he said coldly, pulling his arm free of Aristide’s unsettling grip. “My conversations with Esteban—or anyone else—are none of your business. You’ve made it more than clear that you find my company objectionable so I’ll leave you with people more suited to your interests. Léandre, Perrin,” he acknowledged stiffly before climbing the stairs.

“
Putain de merde
!” Aristide spat, spinning away from the stairs to find Léandre and Perrin frankly staring. “What the fuck are you two looking at?”

“Nothing,” Perrin replied innocently. “Just wondering how hard I’m going to get fucked tonight. That’s all.”

“You want fucked?” Anger and frustration flaring, Aristide tore the linen shirt over his head, tossing it to the side as he stalked toward the dark-haired musketeer. “If you’re not in the bed before I get the rest of my clothes off, I’ll fuck you right here.” He didn’t care if Benoît heard them—he wanted Benoît to hear them. “You, too, Léandre—you wanted taken care of, too, didn’t you?”

Too stunned to reply, Léandre stripped out of his clothes as quickly as he could manage, leaving them lying where they fell. He’d never seen Aristide lose his temper as suddenly and completely as this, but he’d be a fool not to take advantage of what his lover was offering.

For a moment, Perrin considered pushing back, recognizing the lost temper for what it was, but he doubted Aristide had much more control to lose. Nonchalantly, he rose and started to strip, walking backward toward the bedroom as he did, daring Aristide to come and take what he wanted.

Perrin’s dallying was just the provocation Aristide needed to snap. Leaping forward, he tackled the younger man to the bed, tearing the half-opened shirt from his back before pinning Perrin’s shoulders and seizing his lips in a kiss that was just short of brutal. His tongue surged into the moist cavern, teeth clashing as he probed deeply, urgently, intent on banishing everything from his mind but the need that drove him.

Perrin fought back, his fingernails leaving red scores down Aristide’s back as he pushed his lover to let go completely. He knew he wasn’t the body his lover wanted, but he was the one Aristide had, and he intended to use the brutality of their fucking to drive every thought out of the other musketeer’s head so that for tonight, at least, he could sleep without thoughts of the blacksmith tormenting him. Tearing his lips free, he turned his head, looking for Léandre. He suspected it would take both of them to exorcise the demons currently overruling Aristide’s good sense.

Settling onto the mattress beside his lovers, Léandre gripped Aristide’s tawny hair and pulled him away from Perrin, his lips taking the younger musketeer’s place as he returned Aristide’s kiss with equal ferocity. Pushing until Aristide rolled onto his back, he was quick to straddle him, molding as much of his body as he could to the flushed frame. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to find the right words, he let his actions speak for him, the bold kiss and the friction of hair-roughened skin telling Aristide to take what he needed.

A growl escaped Perrin’s throat when Léandre rolled Aristide away from him. Reminding himself this was for Aristide’s good, not to prove anything between Léandre and himself, he slid behind his lovers, kneeling between their widespread legs. One hand settled on the firm globes of Léandre’s arse so the blond would know he was there as he bent to lick at Aristide’s heavy sac.

His tongue buried down Léandre’s throat, the hot swipe of Perrin’s mouth against his balls surprised a deep groan from Aristide, his hips arching up instinctively to seek more. When Perrin responded with more teasing licks, he tore one hand from Léandre’s back to burrow into the dark locks, pushing the taunting mouth until it surrounded him with wet heat.

Perrin’s hand on his buttock reminded Léandre that there was more than one man deserving of his attention. Aristide’s need might be the greatest, but Perrin was obviously just as invested as Léandre in assuaging it. Unfortunately, Aristide couldn’t fuck both of them—or at any rate, Léandre knew neither of them would have the patience to wait for Aristide to recover enough to take the other. The fingers tightened against his arse cheek, trailing up toward his crease, a touch that made him clench and ache for more.

Perrin sucked lasciviously on Aristide’s bollocks, enjoying the salty musk of his sweat. The hand in his hair encouraged him to work his way lower, his tongue flicking swiftly over Aristide’s forbidden portal. This was as close as he ever got to fucking his older lover, and even then only rarely, so now, while Léandre was holding him down, Perrin intended to take advantage. His fingers dug into Léandre’s arse, silently encouraging him to keep Aristide too occupied to protest the unusual intimacy.

For long minutes Aristide gave himself over completely to sensation, letting the dual attentions of his lovers fill his senses to the exclusion of all else. Slowly, his anger faded, replaced by steadily growing need. When Perrin’s facile tongue traced over his most private flesh, jabbing to breach the furled muscle, the control he had let slip reasserted itself. Drawing a ragged breath after finally tearing his mouth from Léandre’s, he nudged at the blond’s shoulder, urging him to one side so he could draw Perrin upward.

Rolling just enough to make space for Perrin, Léandre wrapped against Aristide’s side, keeping their bodies pressed together and curling a hand around Aristide’s upcurved cock. His own shaft pressed stiffly into Aristide’s hip, but he ignored its demands for the moment, leaning on his elbow to toy with a pink nipple edged in auburn hair.

Perrin gave one last, long lick to Aristide’s arse before giving in to the demands of the insistent hands, sliding over his lover’s body, deliberately rubbing against as much skin as he could. Their lips met again in a clash of teeth, but Perrin could feel the tension ebbing already as his and Léandre’s attentions worked their magic on Aristide’s temper. “Ready to fuck me yet?” he asked teasingly when he pulled back to nip at Aristide’s jaw.

His gaze moving from laughing hazel eyes to simmering green ones, Aristide gave silent thanks for lovers who understood so perfectly what he needed. “Get yourself ready,” he agreed, his palms sliding over Léandre’s chest to settle on his hips and tug him upward. “I’ll keep Léandre occupied while you’re busy.”

As soon as Perrin rolled toward the bedside table, Léandre swung a leg over Aristide’s chest, scooting forward until his cock was in range of those kiss-swollen lips. “Ah, Christ, yes,” he gasped as Aristide’s large hands cupped his cheeks, spreading them apart while his tongue lapped at the cloudy fluid oozing from his slit. One hand fell to the mattress to steady himself, the other threading into the silken strands worked loose from Aristide’s queue.

Perrin grabbed the oil from the night stand, coating his fingers and preparing himself perfunctorily. He never needed much—unless his lovers decided to torture him—and tonight, he was in a hurry. He made to straddle Aristide’s hips, intending to ride him long and hard, but Aristide was having none of it.

As Perrin moved to cover him, Aristide released one of Léandre’s hips, reaching forward to stop him with a palm to the chest. He looked up at the blond apologetically. “
Un moment
, Léandre,
s’il te plaît
,” he murmured. As soon as Léandre moved aside, he sat up, momentum carrying him forward to push Perrin down and roll atop him. Perrin immediately spread his legs wide, welcoming Aristide between them and wrapping around his hips. Too far given over to lust for any foreplay, Aristide drove into Perrin with a single long thrust, the heartfelt moan wrung from the younger man assuring him it felt just as good to both of them. Pausing when he’d buried himself as deep as he could delve, he reached for Léandre again, grinning when the blond’s cock slapped Perrin in the face as he straddled him instead. One hand on Perrin’s shoulder, the other spreading Léandre’s arse, he lapped hungrily at the musky crease while giving Perrin the pounding he’d asked for.

Perrin thought he’d died and gone to heaven as Aristide plowed him long and hard and Léandre fucked his mouth. He was quite sure nothing else in the world could feel this good. His body shook and shivered beneath the dual onslaught, his neglected cock bouncing rapidly on his stomach.

He might not be getting fucked, but Léandre didn’t think even that could feel better than this—Perrin’s mouth sucking him greedily, encouraging him to thrust deeper with each lascivious moan, while Aristide’s tongue teased him without mercy, circling his quivering muscle until it was spasming needily, barely pressing between the puckered flesh, refusing to give what his body demanded. “Aristide!” He groaned harshly as the maddening wetness slid away, replaced by his lover’s hot breath blowing over the tingling skin. “
Mordious
!” The velvet spear pierced him at last, igniting him to lava as it dragged inside him. “More!” Having breached him at last, Aristide’s thumbs spread him wider, pressing into him on either side of the hot, wet tongue. Léandre’s back locked as he froze in place, too paralyzed with bliss to move, letting his lovers use his body to best please them all.