“Thank you. You look quite dashing yourself.”
Simon smiled at the once-over Payton gave him. He was dressed similar to Payton, only his waistcoat was black and he’d forgone a hat. “Thanks. Did you dress yourself?”
Motioning toward the front of the base, Simon waited for Payton to fall in beside him.
“Yes. I— Yes. I told you I was Regelen.”
Waving to the guard in the guard shack, Simon stepped through the wrought-iron gate. “Yes, but you look… Do you have a title?” It was doubtful. Regelence was like Englor in that very few titled gentlemen went into military service, but Payton learning who Simon was hadn’t seemed to change how he treated Simon. Not that he was complaining, but it was unusual. It spoke of someone familiar with the gentry.
“Your message said you wanted to discuss what we learned last night.”
Hailing a hackney, Simon faltered. He’d said that because he knew Payton wouldn’t have come otherwise. “I thought we both deserved a break. We can discuss things over a game of cards and a few drinks.” Why had Payton changed the subject?
“So you haven’t learned anything new either.” Payton sighed. When the lift pulled up, he strolled up to it and ordered the door open. As the steps slid down, he stepped aside waiting on Simon.
“No,” Simon mumbled, transfixed. The moonlight glaring off the snow-covered ground cast Payton’s pale skin in an ethereal glow. He was devastatingly handsome.
Instead of being stiff with military precision, he stood with an elegant and refined posture. He had a regal bearing. Lined up against the peers of Englor, one would be hard-pressed to say Payton wasn’t one of them. He looked every inch a lord of the realm.
Simon started to ask once again if Payton held a title on Regelence, but it wasn’t important. Likely Pay just didn’t want Simon to know he wasn’t a lord. Simon would 102
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have to assure him it didn’t matter, but for now, he let it go and held his arm out toward the coach. “After you.”
Taking his hat off, Payton climbed into the coach and took the seat riding forward.
After joining him, Simon ordered the door closed. When he was certain the door was down and no one could see them, he slid close and rested his hand on Payton’s knee.
Mmm…
This close Simon could smell the sweet and spicy aftershave. Even Payton’s scent was appealing. It was going to be hard pretending they weren’t lovers in public.
Payton’s gaze shot to Simon’s hand and he swallowed audibly. The demureness was charming. He still wasn’t used to Simon touching him. Or was it that he wasn’t used to anyone touching him? Simon was fairly certain he was a virgin as far as other men were concerned, but was he like this around women too? He knew homosexual relationships were acceptable on Regelence, according to what Benson had told him—the king was married to a man—but were they the norm or just among the aristocracy?
He pushed back a spark of jealousy trying to creep in. Why couldn’t Englor be all right about same-sex relationships? Hiding who he was got old. It wasn’t so bad on base—lots of marines played around, whether they were gay or not—but out in society?
Simon had always had to pretend interest in women so no one would know. It rankled.
Giving Payton’s leg a light caress, Simon studied the flawless jaw line in the dim coach lights. Payton was truly exquisite.
Licking his lips, Payton swallowed again. His teeth worried his bottom lip for a split second. “Where are we going?”
Simon leaned forward, focused on those full kissable lips. He hadn’t kissed Payton yet. Most of the time he didn’t kiss his lovers, it was so intimate, but he really wanted to kiss Payton. What would those lips taste like? Were they as sweet as the rest of him?
Wait. What did he say?
“What was that?”
“Where are we going?”
“To a new gaming hell down the road from Brook’s.”
Oh.
He hadn’t informed the hackney computer. Payton had him preoccupied. “Take us to Apollo’s Den on St.
James.”
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The lift started moving.
“Are all your streets named after historical England?” Payton asked.
Oh, he was a smart one. Simon grinned. “Most are. Our founder, James P. Moreal, was a historian and due to the similarity of our river to the Thames, he made the capitol of Moreal, London and named the river and streets accordingly. We even have a Hyde Park, Vauxhall Gardens, Drury Lane, Covent Gardens, White’s, Almack’s, Gentleman Jackson’s…several of historical England’s Regency Era landmarks.”
Payton worried his lip again.
Simon was beginning to realize it was something he did when he was nervous or thinking. Simon didn’t want him to do either at the moment. He moved his hand up Payton’s thigh and leaned forward, only inches from the delectable mouth. “Are you a history buff?”
Payton blinked. “No, why do you ask?”
“Even a lot of Englorians don’t realize the similarities to historical England.” He inched closer to Payton, focusing on his lips.
“Oh. No. Well yes, sort of. I enjoy history, but it’s not my hobby or anything. I suppose I’m just well educated.” He said it without a hint of arrogance, tilting his head slightly. “I was raised in a Regency-type society too, remember?”
Simon’s cock jerked. He did remember and bloody hell, that self-confidence was sexy. He’d known Payton was bright, having worked with him the past couple of days, but now Simon wondered just how smart Payton was. Squeezing Payton’s thigh, he gazed up into those bewitching yellow eyes. “
Vous avez les yeux étonnants
,” he said in French.
“
Avete sorprendente occhi anche
,” Payton breathed across Simon’s lips in what sounded like Italian before he touched their mouths together briefly.
That would never do. Growling, Simon cupped Payton’s jaw in his hands and sealed his lips to Payton’s. He slid his tongue along the seam of Payton’s lips, tasting and teasing.
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Payton opened almost hesitantly. For several seconds he did nothing, just let Simon explore his mouth. It occurred to Simon that he hadn’t done this very often. Why that thought made Simon’s cock throb he had no idea. He’d never cared for purity, but Payton’s was amazingly erotic. Maybe it was because all the men Simon had been with had never truly been virginal. They’d all been with women, if not other men.
Clutching Simon’s wrists, Payton pushed sweet moaning noises into Simon’s mouth along with his tongue making Simon’s world tilt on its axis. He wanted to get to know Payton better. Even the last couple of days where they’d done little but brainstorm together he ached for Payton. Simon wanted to keep him. Which was utterly ridiculous. It was too risky. Someone sooner or later would figure out Simon had a male paramour stashed away. But damn it was a nice fantasy.
With his eyes still closed, Payton pulled back and licked his lips. He was the study of innocence. He made a little humming sound that had Simon’s cock jerking to attention.
He sat there staring at Payton for several moments, just soaking in the beauty of the man before him, then his brain clicked back on enough to ask, “Was that Italian?”
Nodding, Payton leaned into the caress. “I said you have amazing eyes as well. So blue…”
Simon moaned and ran his fingers down Payton’s jaw, marveling in how smooth it was. He really was a handsome man…and smart. Most Englor Lords spoke French as well as English, it was even taught in the IN because several planets used it, but Italian wasn’t a common language.
Galaxy, Si wanted this man. He considered detouring to his townhouse. His cock was throbbing, wanting Payton so badly. The need to bury himself in Payton’s lissome body had been riding him hard since the first night he’d seen Payton. It didn’t seem possible but Simon wanted him more every time they saw each other. He was almost mad with the need to fuck Payton. Surely no one would think anything of it if they saw them entering Simon’s townhouse? Wycliffe and Roc went home with him all the time, everyone knew they were friends.
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Payton’s eyelids fluttered open. He stared into Simon’s eyes for several seconds then closed his eyes again, tilted his head and parted his lips.
Bloody hell.
He groaned and shifted forward, focused on Payton’s now-swollen lips.
He cupped Payton’s jaw and drew him forward again. This time when their lips met, it was hungry, almost violent. Simon slid his hands down Payton’s body, wrapping them around Payton and hauling him closer.
Payton landed against him, knocking them back onto the seat. Groaning at the delicious weight of Payton’s body on his, Simon grabbed two handfuls of tight linen-clad arse and squeezed. He pressed their erections together, grinding up against Payton.
Lifting his head, Payton moaned and thrust his hips against Simon. “I want—”
The lift stopped. “Sir, we have arrived at your destination.” The lift door began to open.
Shit.
It was like being doused with ice water. Simon sat quickly, bringing Payton up with him. He couldn’t afford for anyone to see him like this. He had enough to deal with at the moment without adding a scandal into the mix. So much for going to the townhouse.
Fixing his jacket, Payton looked away. He cleared his throat and gathered his stuff, but his blush deepened.
Damn.
Si pressed his thumb on the scanner next to the door. “Put it on my tab.” As they exited the coach, Si looked around. People were going in and out of clubs all up and down the street. The sidewalks were busy, but no one seemed to have noticed them. He touched Payton’s arm, stalling him for a second. “I’m sorry. It’s just that things are…different here than on your planet. And on base. On base there is more tolerance of—” Si looked around again to make certain no one was listening.
“It’s okay, I know. And it was as much my fault as it was yours.” Nodding, Payton gave Simon a wobbly smile and headed toward the door of the gaming hell.
Somehow that didn’t make Simon feel any better knowing Payton understood. It wasn’t okay, not really.
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Simon glanced up at the discreetly lit sign above the door and the small group of gentlemen entering in front of them. Smoke and the sound of laughter exited along with a few patrons. Maybe this wasn’t the best place to take Payton. What if his wide-eyed innocence gave him away as it did in the locker room? The military was much more forgiving toward gay men. The ton, even the more disreputable members, was not. Had Simon recognized Payton for what he was because he was looking for it? He didn’t want some dust for brains teasing Payton.
Someone slammed into his shoulder, hard. A twinge shot down his arm.
“Pardon me, Colonel. I didn’t see you there.” The voice was familiar.
Rubbing his shoulder, Simon turned. He felt Payton brush against his other arm as he fell in beside Simon.
Markham dusted his own coat with a flick of his fingers and a snarl of his lips.
“Gaming, Colonel? I wouldn’t have thought you the type to participate in such vulgarities.” His polite tone warred with his words.
He had some audacity chastising Simon for entering the very same establishment the man himself had just left. No wonder Dru disliked this man.
“I assure you I have many bad habits, milord. What brings
you
to this side of town?”
Completely ignoring the question, Markham turned his attention to Payton. “I see you’ve traded partners in crime.” He raised his head just high enough to look down his nose at them. “A fellow soldier, I assume. Do they not have entertainments on base?”
Simon bit back the urge to laugh at the haughty action. It was exactly what he expected of a moral leader. The Earl thought himself better than a mere soldier. The attitude had always disgusted Simon. “They do, but I think it’s quite fitting London offers better entertainments to the men who fight for Englor’s freedoms, don’t you?”
“It was nice talking to you again, Colonel. I’ve an appointment to keep and I find it quite rude to keep my friends waiting.” He tipped his top hat. “Good evening, I leave you to your pursuits.”
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Clenching his teeth, Simon forced himself to relax as Markham left. Funny, the very organization Markham wanted to do away with was the one that kept Simon from beating the man to a bloody pulp.
“Who was that?” Payton asked.
“The Earl of Markham, the man spearheading the movement to have the Englor Marines disbanded.”
“What an arse.”
“No. He’s the lead arse. Come on. I have no intention of allowing the moral leader of the ton to spoil our debauchery.”
After handing over their coats, gloves and Payton’s hat to the doorman, they entered the loud and smoky Apollo’s Den. Wycliffe and Roc had invited Simon to the grand opening of the hell earlier in the week, but he’d been distracted. Pleasantly so. He glanced over at his distraction and found Payton gaping like a fish. Apparently, his embarrassment from the lift was fleeting, thank galaxy.
“Stars.” Payton studied the place with his mouth hanging half open.
Chuckling, Simon grabbed Payton’s arm and steered him out of the way of a passing footman carrying a tray of drinks, before letting go. On Englor, brothels and gaming hells were the normal stomping grounds for young men when not being dragged by the ear into a ball or the theater. But it was obvious from the response that Payton had never been to a gaming hell. Why not? It seemed odd that he wouldn’t have gone. Were only the ton allowed in on Regelence? That didn’t seem right. Simon had started familiarizing himself with Regelence when he’d first decided to send Benson there, but he clearly needed to double his efforts.
As gaming hells went, this one was a tad on the ostentatious side, but Simon supposed it was as good an introduction as any. There were gaming tables scattered all over the room and it was carpeted wall-to-wall in a deep green. The wainscoting was white and the wallpaper above depicted pastoral scenes. Every ten feet or so was a white marble column along the wall as well as several in the middle of the room. The ceiling was painted to look like the sky at dusk, complete with big puffy clouds, and the curtains 108