Mending Him (19 page)

Chapter Twenty

“Madame Girard is our savior!” Charles announced as he banged open the door and entered the three-room flat he shared with Robbie. “She may well supply our bread and butter for the entire year.” He inhaled a whiff of beef and pastry that made his stomach rumble, and shouted toward the tiny kitchen, “Are you here?”

“Coming.” Robbie entered the living area, wiping his hands on a towel. Charles’s already buoyant spirits rose even higher at the sight of the dear man, his wee sleekit mouse with the soft brown hair. Kind, darling Robbit was so easy to love.

“Now what’s all this fuss?” Robbie asked, throwing the towel over one shoulder and leaning against the back of one of the two armchairs, the only furnishings they could afford.

“Madame Girard. It appears she may become our mentor. She was taken with your sketches. Declares your style is
tres nouveau
and exciting. She wants you to come see her salon and create a vision
extraordinaire.
Your first real job as a designer! And if others see and love the room, as you know they will, then more work will follow. One day you will be able to cease the dull life of an office drone.”

“That sounds all very wonderful, but who exactly is Madame Girard?” Robbie set aside his dish cloth and came to help Charles out of his topcoat.

“An important personage
en la vie bohéme.
A patroness of the arts. Painters, writers, poets, musicians, dancers and more attend her parties. She brings them together with the wealthy but more eccentric members of society, those who appreciate life with a bit more verve and are not afraid to experience new things.”

“Ah, I see. She introduces poor artistic types to potential patrons. How very useful.” Robbie smiled and walked over to give Charles a light peck on the lips.

“Useful for
us.
I also showed some of my calligraphy. She has many friends who throw soirees and home concerts and other gatherings. They must send invitations, and I will soon be the premiere choice for adding that special touch to their missives.”

“You will. I’m certain of it.” Robbie’s arms went around him and hugged tightly. “And I shall be happy to meet this Girard woman and pray I may develop a design that meets her high expectations. But in the meantime, I won’t be quitting my clerking job at Cloverfield and Bay.”

“I suppose not. We do need to continue to eat.” Charles sighed. “And I will keep working at the stationer’s shop while I develop my clientele. The working life can be such a bore. I miss having money. And I must be polite to the most appalling people, poor me.”

“Welcome to middle-class life, my poor, impoverished aristocrat,” Robbie teased. He took Charles’s hand and pulled. “Come. I need to show you something.”

Charles followed him to a bedroom so small it only had room for the rather large bed they’d purchased, then struggled to fit through the doorway. They were forced to keep their clothing in a wardrobe in the main living area, which was also where Robbie supposedly slept, if a visitor ever chanced to call. So far, that hadn’t been an issue, and the other tenants of this rundown building expressed not the slightest interest in the two men who shared rather tight quarters in flat number four.

“What am I here to see?” Charles asked, searching the room for any sign of change. But there was only the bed with the same beautifully stitched coverlet they’d bought from an old peddler woman with a marketplace stall.

“This.” Robbie unbuttoned Charles’s waistcoat and pushed it off his shoulders. “And this.” He removed his braces, shirt, trousers and smalls piece by piece, leaving Charles standing naked.

Charles shivered both in excitement and because the flat was always a bit chilly. Robbie pulled back the covers on the bed. “Lie down.”

“Yes, sir.” Charles smiled and did as he was told, but he didn’t cover up. Instead, he put his arms behind his head, erection standing at attention, and waited for Robbie to join him.

He watched while Robbie took off his clothing and set it aside. The skinny but leanly muscled body was as familiar to him now as his own. Still, Charles never lost his interest in it. Each time together provided a new exploration, a new perspective of the angles and curves, the satin flesh and coarse hair of his lover’s body.

The bed squeaked and sagged as Robbie climbed on. He stooped over Charles and kissed him several times, slow, sensual kisses that woke a hunger in him no beef and pastry could fill. Then Robbie moved down, centering himself between Charles’s sprawled legs, and he attended to that eager erection.

Charles relaxed and half closed his eyes, all his excitement over the prospect of a mentor flowing in a new direction. He watched Robbie suck and stroke him with a much more practiced mouth and hand than he’d had when they first met. Wet. Hot. Insistent pulling. And fingers exploring his intimate places.

Charles’s hips began to thrust slightly, unable to hold still beneath such ministrations. He groaned and reached down to rest a hand on that bobbing head. Such soft hair ruffling between his fingers. He rocked and moaned and clutched a handful of Robbie’s hair, tugging on it now, as the pressure inside him began to build too quickly.

“Stop. Come up here with me,” he demanded. “You are too good, and I’ll spend before I wish to.”

Robbie crawled back up, wiping his mouth on the back of a hand. His gray-green eyes twinkled mischievously. “What would you do now, sir?”

Charles growled and grabbed him and slung him onto his back. “I would have you, balls-deep and rough and fast. What do you think of that?”

“Show me. I’m an eager learner.”

Charles obliged. More than obliged. He hurriedly got the ointment they used and applied it liberally to his cock and Robbie’s entrance. Then he pushed Robbie’s legs up—yes, Robbie’s damaged legs could be that flexible when occasion called for it—and he thrust into that wonderful, tight channel with a spearing motion of his cock. The loving finesse he’d used the first few times he’d ever entered Robbie were nowhere to be found tonight. Punishing thrusts that made Robbie cry out and writhe were the order of the evening.

“Do you like it this way?” Charles panted between grunts. “Do you like it rough?”

“Yessss!” Robbie extended the
S
in a sibilant hiss as his body shook beneath Charles’s assault. “Harder,” he added.

Flesh slapped against flesh, and grunts of exertion filled the small room for the next few minutes. Then the familiar drawing and tightening sensation began, and Charles thrust one final time. He let go, and sweet, sweet ecstasy flowed through him. God, how he loved
possessing
Robbie this way, as if he could keep him so close forever, body to body, heartbeats shared.

Three months they’d lived together now, and he didn’t think he could possibly ever tire of being with Robbie, not only in a carnal way, although that was delightful, but sharing their life together in this awful little flat. The place was heaven, and the man he shared it with, an angel.

“Ah,” Charles sighed as he withdrew and gently laid Robbie’s legs down on the bed. He rubbed them in case they were sore from the unaccustomed strenuous treatment. “All right?” he asked.

“Yes, but…” Robbie indicated his own erection, still full and thick and nearly purple at the head. He was in desperate need of relief.

“My poor Robbit. Allow me to take care of that.” Charles descended on him.

Robbie gasped when Charles engulfed his cock. The sensation of being swallowed whole was one he’d grown to crave on an almost daily basis. He spent much of his workdays fantasizing about the time he would have with Charles come evening. He never grew tired of their lovemaking, whether slow and careful or wild and harsh, such as the way Charles had just taken him. And he never grew tired of falling asleep with that warm body curved around his every night.

London, on the other hand, Robbie sometimes tired of. The city was too noisy, smelly, busy and crowded for a man raised on country air, and sometimes he missed the Chesters, particularly Gemma. But overall, he was happy with his new life.

Right now he was very happy with how Charles gripped him and rubbed briskly up and down and the sucking sensation on the sensitive tip of his engorged shaft was… Oh God, it was…

Robbie arched his back, and his hips bucked. He groaned as wave after wave of pleasure washed through him. He hadn’t meant to come so quickly. Charles had barely touched him. But Robbie’s desire had been building the entire time Charles pumped into him, and the delay of his own gratification caused him to spend too soon.

Charles released Robbie’s spent cock from his mouth and chuckled. “A tad eager, my lad.”

“Next time will be better.” How wonderful that they could do this again in another few hours, after supper perhaps. And again when night fell and they curled up in their bed for the night. Again and again as many times in as many positions and creative ways as they might invent. Endless possibilities lay before them.

“Eager is good.” Charles kissed his cheek and lay beside Robbie, one arm slung over his chest. “I pray you will always be so eager for me.”

“And you for me,” Robbie murmured. “I worry sometimes, with all the experience you have, that being only with me might seem dull to you.”

Charles pushed up on one arm and gazed down into his eyes. “Never, Robbie. Don’t ever entertain such a thought again. As you say, I have had experiences, so I know exactly what I’m
not
missing. You are all I want. In fact, if anyone is to worry, it should be me. You haven’t had a chance to try on different men. How do you know I am the right one for you?”

Robbie stared back at him, honestly bewildered. “You’re
Charles.
Who else could I possibly want? I love you.”

“And I you, Robbit. How could I ever imagine that a disease that stole my health and wealth and all earthly possessions from me might bring me to the very best part of my life?”

Robbie smiled. “And how could I guess that the rollicking drunkard who fell on me at our first meeting would become the man I
want
to fall on me repeatedly.”

About the Authors

To learn more about Bonnie Dee go to
www.bonniedee.com
. Send an email to Bonnie Dee at
[email protected]
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http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bonniedee
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.

Summer Devon is the alter ego of author Kate Rothwell. To learn more about Kate/Summer, go to
www.katerothwell.com
or
www.summerdevon.com
.

She has a blog:
http://www.katerothwell.com
and is on Facebook too:
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. Yes, and Twitter as well:
www.twitter.com/KateRothwell

Look for these titles by Summer Devon and Bonnie Dee

Now Available:

Fugitive Heart

The Psychic and the Sleuth

The Gentleman’s Keeper

The Gentleman’s Madness

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Heat Wave: print anthology

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Strangers in the Night: print anthology

Empath

Gifted: print anthology

Butterfly Unpinned

The Thief and the Desert Flower

Star Flyer

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Demon Lover

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Sex and the Single Princess

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Shifters’ Captive

Vampires’ Consort

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Learning Charity

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Taken Unaware

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Taming the Bander

Sibling Rivals

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Coming Soon:

Must Loathe Norcross

Confronting the darkness of his past, he finds the light of his future.

The Gentleman’s Keeper

© 2013 Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon

After years gadding about Europe, Everett Gerard can no longer avoid his responsibilities. Word has come that a child bearing the unmistakable Gerard stamp has shown up at the family estate—and he realizes it’s time to face his demons.

As his carriage nears the gates of home, he fights the urge to flee the memory of the horrible crime he witnessed as a child. Yet the Abbey delivers surprises and delights he never expected.

Miles Kenway was content with his quiet life as the Abbey’s bailiff, until the wild child, clearly a bastard son of some Gerard, upends his peace with constant pranks and mischief. And when the master of the house arrives, an unsettling attraction heats Miles’s blood.

As they clash over the fate of the ancestral land, they battle a powerful desire to grapple in ways that could disrupt the delicate balance between master and servant. But when the boy’s real sire appears, they must unite as only true fathers can to protect the boy whose mischievous charm has captured their hearts.

Warning: Gothic murder, hot man loving, and emotional family drama.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Gentleman’s Keeper:

Gadabout Gerard
, Miles had begun referring to the man in his mind. But now that he faced the man in the flesh, he was struck by something unexpected in the man’s eyes. While amusement sparkled on the cool blue surface, beneath it he sensed something dark and deep, a profound sense of loss or pain or sadness. He wasn’t certain which. Maybe all three. Maybe none of them. It could simply be the heavy-lidded eyes that suggested a sorrow or depth that wasn’t there.

“As I said in my letters,” Miles began, feeling strongly that Gerard had barely skimmed what he’d written if he’d read them at all, “Ipsial showed up more than a month ago with a note in hand claiming his paternity, and a carpet bag with a few clothes and possessions over one shoulder. Not knowing whether he was truly related or not, we—meaning the staff, sir—decided to put him in the guests’ cottage rather than a guest room. We couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t run off with the silver or anything else he got his hands on if allowed indoors.”

“Mrs. Billings called the lad ‘wild’.” Gerard had poured a pair of glasses of brandy and now offered one to Miles before sitting across from him. “What did she mean by that?”

“Exactly as it sounds, sir. The boy has apparently spent much of his life fending for himself. He abandoned that cottage but remains on the premises. I believe he’s picked another outlying building that hasn’t been used for years.”

Gerard narrowed his eyes at this but didn’t speak, so Miles continued, “He steals food on a regular basis and gets into anything he can possibly get into. He’s uncivilized, probably unlettered, and some days I doubt whether he’s even human.”

Remembering who he was talking to, Miles dipped his head. “Sorry, sir. The little hellion
is
improving, I believe. I’ve been treating him as I would a horse that’s been abused, and I think he’s slowly coming to trust that no one here means him any harm.”

“But he’s clearly not ready for boarding school, although, God knows, the place is full of nasty little animals.” Gerard tapped a finger against his glass. “I can’t take him home with me, and it would be quite wrong of me to leave him clattering around here with some poor, hapless governess to look after him.”

“In my opinion, he’s in need of more than lessons. He needs someone to watch him full time, but he’s too old for a nanny,” Miles said, hoping that Gadabout would see the seriousness of the situation. “If handled with care, I believe Ipsial could grow into a responsible, civilized human being.”

“It sounds as if you’ve grown fond of the boy.” Gerard studied him with intent blue eyes that made Miles shift uncomfortably in his chair. Perhaps Gadabout wasn’t as oblivious as he seemed.

“I believe there’s good in him and that it can be cultivated,” Miles said simply.

The other man nodded and set down his empty glass. “I suppose I should meet the boy. My…son, if the stories he tells are to be believed. I have my London solicitor looking into that.”

“We can walk the grounds and try and roust the boy, but if he doesn’t wish to be found, we shan’t see him today. At any rate, this will give me an opportunity to tour the land with you and give you a report.”

“I don’t believe I need a tour.” There was more than a touch of asperity in his voice. “I assume the tenants are content?”

Miles suppressed a sigh. “Yes, the funds to repair the rental properties are just adequate, and the farm is productive.” Unfortunately, the solicitor kept a close eye on those funds, or Miles would have shifted some pounds to use on the abbey roof. “The several cottages owned by your family are among the most sought after in the village. But the abbey and its outbuildings are—”

“The servants are paid?”

“Yes, although, as you instructed, the last of the gardeners was let go. Only one man remains, and he’s only here four days a week.” Miles didn’t bother to hold back his rising temper. “Sir, there is a matter of upkeep and repairs to your family’s home.”

Miles ignored Gerard’s grunt of annoyance and continued, “I have the skill required to do most of the repairs necessary, and I do not mind such work. For the other necessary repairs, I can find a farmer willing to work instead of pay rent.”

“No.”

Again, Miles ignored Gerard, though his employer’s eyes had narrowed and his full mouth gone tight.

“As I’ve mentioned in the letter I sent, sir”—to be entirely accurate three of the letters he’d sent—“the only holdup is that the purchase of materials for the abbey’s preservation. Mortar is crumbling. There are at least two cottages within the grounds that require more than rethatching. The repair I have done on the abbey roof is temporary, and I will need better materials to replace the whole of the east-wing roof.”

“Are you deaf, Kenway? No.”

Miles clamped his teeth tight but managed to get out the words. “Then, sir, the buildings, the abbey itself will fall to ruins within two generations.”

“Perhaps a match and some kindling will speed up the process.”

Miles couldn’t hold himself back. “Sir. You were given a trust to go along with your fortune.”

“You forget yourself, Kenway.”

“You employed me to care for your property. I am doing my job.
I
do not forget where
my
duties lie.”
With Molly and the children, you great idiot.
With that return to sanity, he continued, “Ah, please forgive me, Mr. Gerard.” He stood, intending to flee before the Gadabout could gather his thoughts and fire him on the spot. “You are right, I overstepped my bounds and I do hope you understand it is a matter of overzealousness and not disrespect. I have no wish to annoy you or cause—”

“Are you done babbling?”

He gave an inward sigh. “I expect…yes, sir.”

“Sit down and finish your damned brandy. We will not discuss my job, although we might touch upon yours.”

“Thank you.” Miles felt numb as he carefully resettled on the too-small chair. Had he been ushered to such a seat to be reminded he was a clumsy, oversized ox? He eyed the not-too-tall, not-too-large gentleman who employed him, the man who wasn’t merely careless but malevolent when it came to his family’s building and grounds. He obviously had some sort of grudge against the abbey. What had a pile of ancient stones and glass done to him?

Since his arrival, Miles tried only to gather information from the solicitor, Joey and Mrs. Billings but, assuming he still had a job after this meeting, he would go straight to the Goat and Grape and settle in for some drinking with the local farmers. Surely someone hereabouts would know why Mr. Gerard disliked the place.

Could it be that as a young boy Mr. Gerard had gotten caught in a drafty cell in the old cloisters? Three sides of the original building had crumbled into ruins, but one remained, and some of the tiny rooms in that wing had been preserved and could only be locked from the main hall. Miles imagined the original inhabitants, the monks, had led a harsh life.

He studied the cap he held in both hands rather than raise his head and meet the gaze of Mr. Gerard. Miles hoped his bowed head gave him the air of meekness. Of course Gerard would notice the top of his wild hair and the fact that Miles hadn’t had it cut recently, or that he didn’t brush his hair nearly often enough. Well, perhaps his shaggy appearance would make him appear a hard worker, although judging from the well-dressed Gadabout, a neat and clean appearance would have worked better in Miles’s favor.

“It is rather too late to act as the part of the polite and eager member of staff, Mr. Kenway.”

“I know, sir. I am truly very sorry for my bad temper.” There. He truly sounded penitent. Earnestly ashamed of himself.

“Huh.” The Gadabout didn’t seem to believe him. Miles raised his eyes and saw Gerard smiled.

No fine lines at the corners of his eyes—Gerard had great curving lines that transformed his entire face, lifted the gloom from the haunted expression. His smile invited anyone who saw it to return the grin.

Miles’s mouth twitched. He wasn’t going to relax until he knew he hadn’t bullied his employer into firing him.

“To return to the topic at hand.”

“The boy?” Miles asked hopefully.

“Your employment.”

Ah.

“Your job is safe for now.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You are conscientious and mean well.”

Indeed I do, you priggish Gadabout. Unlike some I could think of.
“Thank you, sir.”

Gerard swallowed the rest of his brandy and stood. “I do not need a tour, but we will go hunt down the boy and discuss his future with him.”

Now Miles allowed himself a smile. This could be entertaining.