Convincing Leopold (7 page)

And if the man was fool enough to try to harm Arthur through a bit of malicious gossip, then God help him.

Confident he had Amherst’s full attention, he wiped the anger from his voice, leaving it icy cold. “I heard of your engagement. A man such as yourself, the son of a mere country gentleman. Quite the ambitious sort, to have aspired so high as a baron’s daughter. A pity if she were to learn her future husband is a sodomite. I highly doubt she would keep such news to herself.”

With that, Leopold turned on his heel, leaving Amherst ashen-faced and slack-jawed with fear.

* * *

Thorn’s footman snapped the door shut. Then the carriage lurched forward, leaving the elegant mansion behind. Arthur rested his head against the interior wall and let his eyes drift closed. A blanket of exhaustion settled over him. Thick and heavy, weighing down every bone in his body.

Thank heaven for Thorn’s town carriage. Sleek and black and pulled by a perfectly matched team of four, and complete with a coal foot warmer on the floor that chased away the sharp bite of winter. He truly doubted he could have summoned the effort even to walk to the street corner to hail a hackney.

Another late night. The last thing he needed. He had certainly not intended to remain at Thorn’s uncle’s home until after two in the morning. Engrossed in discussing business with his new acquaintances and hopefully soon-to-be new client, Arthur had let time get away from him. Should have brought Wilson along with him. The secretary excelled at pulling his employer’s nose from the intricacies of the law and keeping him on schedule. If Thorn had not materialized at his shoulder and discreetly nudged him to notice the tall clock in the corner, Arthur could very well still be at that ball. At least his lover appeared to have had a good evening. He had spotted the man dancing twice, and fortunately Randolph had not approached him again.

A knee brushed against his own as Thorn shifted on the bench opposite him. He owed Thorn his thanks. Again. It had been Thorn who had helped him get over the heartache of parting with Randolph, more than prodding Arthur to see the man for what he was.

Cold, staid, and unfaithful. Everything Thorn was not.

And tonight, once again, Thorn had been there when Arthur needed him most.

“Thank you, for…” Opening his eyes, Arthur gestured to fill the void, struggling to find a word that described exactly the service Thorn had paid him. “Interceding with Amherst.”

In the darkness, he could just make out Thorn’s hands stilling in the act of pulling off his white gloves. “You are not…upset I interceded?”

“Of course not. I’m quite thankful you did. I had not spoken to him since the night I ended that relationship. Deliberately been avoiding him.” Arthur shook his head. “Cowardly of me.”

“Not at all,” came Thorn’s quiet voice, steeped with compassion, from the opposite bench.

“Yes, it was. In any case, it was more than uncomfortable to have to engage in polite conversation with him.” He omitted any mention of Randolph’s true intentions. Best Thorn remained ignorant of that fact. He wouldn’t put it past his lover to challenge his ex-lover to pistols at dawn. “Thank you for pulling me away when you did. It shouldn’t discompose me so much to speak to him, but it’s just… It hurt to see him.” To be faced with the man who had cared so very little for him. A physical reminder of his own desperate, blind foolishness and the painful heartache that had followed in its wake. He shook his head again. “My apologies. I don’t mean to go on about him. He means nothing to me. Truly.”

He felt the carriage shift slightly. A hard shoulder pressed against his as Thorn settled beside him.

“You were with him for ten years, Arthur. That’s not something one leaves behind in the blink of an eye.” Thorn laid a hand on his thigh, but rather than arouse, there was nothing but comfort in his touch. “You needn’t apologize.”

Arthur let out a sigh, the tension breaking from his shoulders. “Thank you for understanding.” Thorn was wicked and wanton and prone to bouts of volatility, yet the man’s mere presence could be so comforting at times—that soothing sense of quiet acceptance.

“It is I who should apologize,” Thorn said. “I should have thought to ask who would be in attendance before bringing you there tonight.”

“But you should not have to. And you needn’t worry about it. The situation is over and done with. I shall never have to face him for the first time again.” Nor would he continue to act the coward and deliberately avoid Randolph. If the man tried to proposition him again, he would convey his disinterest in no uncertain terms.

Arthur looked out the window to the neat rows of stately town homes interspersed with tidy squares, the darkness of night broken only by the streetlamps. Thorn’s team of four continued to wind its way out of Mayfair and to Arthur’s bachelor apartments, the rhythmic sounds of their strides creating a calming lull that filled the interior of the well-sprung carriage.

If nothing else, the evening had served a valuable purpose, reminding him anew of the mistakes he had made with Randolph. The prospect of being alone still frightened him a bit. All right, more than
a bit
. But never again would he allow fear to push him to cling to a man.

Thorn’s touch shifted, pulling Arthur from his thoughts. His lover did not move his hand from its spot midway along Arthur’s thigh, yet he could feel the change in Thorn’s intent. Long fingers splaying, grip firm, while the sleek body beside him practically melted into his side. “I never did make good on my offer from earlier.”

“
I want you to come down my throat, coat my tongue with your seed
.”

Like a flint to stone, arousal sparked his senses. “We’ll be at my apartments soon.”

Thorn’s lips grazed his ear. “It will be at least another fifteen minutes before we arrive.”

“Not enough time.”

“Plenty of time if I apply myself. I could be sucking the last drop from you within a handful of minutes.” Thorn reached across him, toward the shade on the window.

The thought of Thorn
applying himself
made Arthur’s ballocks begin to grow heavy with need, yet he could not forget the lateness of the hour. He put a hand on Thorn’s chest, stilling the man’s fingers an inch from the shade. “Thorn—”

In one fluid motion, Thorn straddled his lap, knees bracketing his hips and firm, round
arse
settling on his thighs. Arthur blinked against the suddenly dark interior, all traces of weak golden light gone.

Hands settled on his shoulders. He felt Thorn’s weight shift; then hot breaths fanned his cheek. “It’s only the two of us, and at this hour the streets are practically deserted. I don’t want you to bugger me…yet.” Arthur did not need a lamp to see Thorn’s wicked smile. “I just want to taste you.”

Just
? He would never use that word to describe climaxing down Thorn’s throat.

Soft lips brushed across his, a teasing whisper of a caress. “
Please
.”

How could he resist when Thorn asked so sweetly, as if he alone held the power to grant the man his fondest wish?

Arthur cleared his throat and tried to mimic the haughty manner of a bored aristocrat. He certainly had heard that tone more than once tonight. “If you must.”

Reaching between their bodies, Thorn tugged on the placket of Arthur’s trousers, firm and with deliberate purpose. “Yes, Mr. Barrington. I must.”

Before Thorn could shift down, Arthur grabbed the man by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss, slanting his mouth over those full lips that would very soon be wrapped around his cock. Then Thorn pulled back, breaking the kiss and dropping to his knees.

Arthur did not even have a chance to feel a wisp of air brush across his cock before Thorn took him inside and proceeded to give a very clear demonstration of just how he could apply himself.

Suction and wet heat. Nimble flicks of his tongue and long, plunging strokes. Thorn did not ease up for an instant but kept up a full onslaught of delicious sensation. The darkness robbed Arthur of sight but heightened his other senses. His ears picked up the crude sound of his now very wet cock sliding in and out of Thorn’s mouth, drowning out the rhythmic clop of hooves on the street and the jangle of harness. The vibrations of the carriage transmitted through the leather bench, tickling and teasing his ballocks. The scents of sex, the musky note of arousal, and the enticing spice of Thorn’s cologne surrounded him, prodding the lust permeating Arthur’s senses even higher. Had Thorn’s lips become softer, fuller? His mouth hotter? And his throat…

Tightening his grip in Thorn’s hair, Arthur let out a low groan as the man took him deep yet again.

In no time at all, the climax barreled down his length. Clenching his jaw to hold back the shout, he spilled down his lover’s throat.

Abruptly, cool air hit his cock, those soft lips gone. Arthur heard the rustle of fabric, the pop of buttons pulled from their moorings, then the distinct sound of a fist working a cock. Mind still reeling from the blistering speed of that orgasm, he slid his hand around to cup Thorn’s jaw. The man turned his head, pulling Arthur’s gloved fingers into his mouth. Sharp teeth pressed against his skin through the fabric, almost hard enough to draw blood. Then Thorn let out a soul-deep grunt.

His jaw went lax, Arthur’s fingers slipping from his mouth. Thorn’s quick, heavy pants cut through the air. “I would hazard a guess”—he gasped for breath—“less than a handful of minutes.”

Arthur leaned his head against the interior wall and chuckled. “Most assuredly.” Even as an adolescent, he had not climaxed that quickly.

Thorn climbed back onto his lap to gift Arthur with a wonderfully slow, deep kiss. “Let me stay with you tonight.”

What he wouldn’t give to spend the night with Thorn, to simply hold him close and bask in his love. But he shook his head. “I have an early appointment with His Grace. I am to present myself in his study at half past seven. The man must be one of those types who can operate exceedingly well on little sleep. He was still at the ball when we left and looked to have no intention of leaving soon.”

“You should have proposed a later hour for the meeting.”

“One does not counter a directive given by a duke.” Thorn moved about in Society. He knew the way of things. Then a thought occurred to Arthur. “And don’t send him a note. He might be your godfather, but this is business.”

Thorn made a noise somewhere between a snort and a harrumph. “All right.” The comforting weight of his body left Arthur as he moved back to the opposite bench. “But don’t you have enough clients?”

One could never have enough clients. And no matter his success, he could never quite escape the worry that the client he refused would be the last one to present himself at his office. “I can’t turn down the opportunity to take on His Grace,” he said, tucking his sated prick into his trousers and doing up the placket. “And need I remind you that you are the one who made the introduction.”

Thorn let out another one of those little noises of discontent. Judging by the rustle of fabric, he was repairing his own clothing. “I didn’t want you to spend the evening playing the wallflower,” he grumbled. “Much too handsome for that.” He sighed, then nudged Arthur’s knee with his own. “Come to Ramsey House with me.”

“When?”

“Soon. Next week. Within the fortnight.”

“Thank you for the invitation, but it will take days to travel to Yorkshire.”

“I can guarantee an enjoyable carriage ride.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” An eager Thorn, willing to broaden Arthur’s knowledge of the most pleasurable ways to make long hours in a carriage slip by, had made their return to London quite enjoyable. “But I can’t afford to be away from the office for such a length of time. Perhaps by the spring Fenton will be able to manage on his own for a few days, and then I can join you. If you wish to take a holiday now or need to visit the property, please don’t hold back on my account.”

Was that what Thorn needed, a bit of country air? It wasn’t the first time he had mentioned Yorkshire in the last month, though it was the first time he had outright asked Arthur to accompany him.

But Thorn wiped away that possibility. “No. I don’t have a pressing need to escape London at the moment. Much rather wait for you.”

The carriage slowed to a stop. Arthur lifted the shade to reveal a very familiar tidy brick building. They had arrived at his bachelor apartments. “Did you have a nice evening?” he asked, glancing to Thorn. Hopefully the opportunity to socialize with others besides himself had provided what Thorn needed. The man had been a tad…calmer on the carriage ride. Well, at least not as aggressive as of late.