Midwinter Manor 2 -Keeper's Pledge (11 page)

“I—what? Who are you talking about?” Philip’s eyes widened. “Are you talking about Matthew? Why would you think—there’s nothing between me and Matthew. There never has been.” But he flushed as he spoke, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

God, but it hurt to be lied to by Philip. “I saw you,” Danny choked out past the lump in his throat. “Out in the gardens. Him with his hands in yours, quoting poetry and the like.” He stared into the fire, unable to look Philip in the eye any more.

“Danny….” A hand gripped Danny’s arm. “It was nothing. At least….” Philip sighed. “Yes, he was flirting with me. And yes, I suppose for a moment I—he seemed so like Robert just then. It wasn’t Matthew I wanted, not for an instant. Please believe me, Danny. He just reminded me of a time before I’d ever been unhappy, that was all.”

“So he’ll not be staying here again?” Danny asked, his voice ragged, hardly daring to hope.

“Well, he may end up visiting again. He’s family. And maybe he’ll flirt with me again, come to that. It does seem to be his main occupation in life, although one can hope he’ll grow out of it eventually. But I will never, ever leave you for him or for anyone else.”

Philip’s grip on his arm had tightened painfully, but Danny didn’t reckon he’d mind the bruises. “I thought you wanted rid of me,” he said hoarsely. “Thought you wanted someone more like you.”

“Someone like me?” Philip’s voice shook. “Lord, why on earth would I want someone like me? I’ve no idea why
you
seem to. If you still do.”

Danny couldn’t bear the doubt, the fear trembling in his words. He turned and took Philip in his arms. “I’ll never stop wanting you.” As he pulled Philip closer, pressing their bodies together, the warmth kindling in Danny’s belly flared into fire and heat. “God, I’ve wanted you these past weeks,” he groaned. “Thought I’d lost you. Thought I’d never hold you again, never touch you.”

“Touch me now,” Philip begged, and Danny couldn’t stand against that, not even if he’d wanted to. He pushed Philip’s jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor, then tore at his lover’s tie. “Let me,” Philip whispered, though his fingers fumbled as much as Danny’s with the stubborn fastenings of their clothes. Damn it, why did a man need so many layers?

Some part of Danny’s mind recollected he hadn’t closed the curtains. He broke away from Philip to rectify that, then thought better of it. “Come upstairs,” he said, pulling Philip by the hand. “I want you in my bed, Philip Luccombe.”

They stumbled up the narrow staircase, clutching at one another feverishly, pulling off clothes and leaving them to lie where they fell. The first touch of skin to skin was electrifying. Danny couldn’t get enough of it; wanted every inch of him to be touching some part of his lover. It was like his skin hungered for Philip’s body, full as much as his heart yearned for his love. Danny kissed Philip’s face, his neck, his slender, vulnerable throat, and still it wasn’t enough. He pressed their lips together, his tongue diving fiercely into Philip’s mouth. God, that taste…. Brandy and desire, aye, and a fair bit of nerves too.

Danny broke the kiss. “You never need to fear I’ll stop loving you. Do you hear me? I’m yours now, whether you want me or not. Even when you told me it was over, I was yours, and I’ll not stop being yours until the day I die.”

Philip’s eyes closed for a long moment, then fluttered open again. “No,” he said, his voice nowt but a whisper. “I’m the one. I belong to you. Body and soul, and heart too.” He smiled a wavery smile. “You made me live again. I think I’d forgotten, until these last few weeks, how dead I was until you came into my life.I don’t need poetry, or refinement, or a man who went to the same sort of school I went to. I need you, Danny.” His voice faltered, became a sort of sob. “I need you,” he whispered.

Danny pulled them both down to fall upon the bed. He was a wild beast, made up of instinct and hunger, not a man anymore. He tore at Philip, tasted him, ate him up until they were one flesh—one, not two separate beings. The air was filled with sweat and salt and pure male desire. He rutted fiercely, needing this more than he needed food, or air, or anything that wasn’t Philip, his Philip. And Philip rutted back, their needs becoming one—and then their climaxes, they were one too, and it was more perfect than anything in the world had ever been. And afterward, their sobbing breaths were one as well, and they kissed each other down from the heights they’d soared to.

It was later, a long time later, when Philip raised his head from Danny’s chest. They’d sought the warmth of the blankets by then, neither of them wanting to leave the other to set a fire in the tiny bedroom grate. “If we’d had that conversation before, would you still have married her? If we hadn’t found Toby, or he hadn’t come back with us, I mean?”

Danny stilled; but only honesty would do, here and now. He nodded slowly. “Aye. It was the right thing to do. I’d do it again.” His muscles tensed, waiting for Philip’s response.

Philip just smiled, although his eyes were sad. “I suppose you still don’t understand why I couldn’t—why I had to finish it with you.”

Danny managed to return that smile, although he fancied it came out a bit crooked. “You’re a man of principles, Philip Luccombe. I’ve always known that.”

“Am I? I don’t know about that. I admit I didn’t like to think of you breaking your wedding vows. But sometimes I think I’m just selfish. I couldn’t bear to share you with anyone, you see. And even if you weren’t, well, sharing a bed, you’d have shared so many other things with her. It’s unavoidable, when you’re married. To everyone else, you’d have been a couple. And I—I’d have been nothing.”

Danny reached up to stroke Philip’s hair back where it flopped across his forehead. “Nothing? Never that.” He was silent for a moment. “Is that why you took it amiss when I talked of you marrying?”

Philip nodded. “You’re the only one I want to share things with,” he said helplessly. “All kinds of things. Not just this.” He waved a hand at their entwined bodies, a single form under the covers. “Although it’s wonderful. I want—I want to share my whole life with you. And I know we can’t— can’t live together, or anything like that. But we can share what we can.” He swallowed, and seemed to be struggling with his words. “I—I thought, perhaps, you wanted to marry her. To have a family. A normal life. Children. All the things you suggestedI should want.”

Danny thought he’d best choose his own words carefully too. Philip had that fragile look about him again, the one he’d rarely worn these last four years. Danny found he didn’t much care for the way it hurt his heart to look at his lover. “I’m not going to pretend it wouldn’t be grand to have all those things.” Philip’s body tensed, and Danny held him all the tighter. “But only if I could have ’em with you. If I’d married Effie, it’d never have been more than a sham.” He sighed. “I thought I was doing right by all of us—even you.”

“So I could be with Matthew, you mean.” And Lord, it did Danny good to hear Philip speak so dismissively about the man he’d thought such a threat.

“Aye—if that was what you wanted. Or to keep you safe from folks who’d gossip about you and me.”

 

“But at the cost of our relationship?”

 

Danny chuckled. “Ah, well. You see, I was pinning my hopes on you coming ¼round in the end.”

For a moment, Philip simply stared at Danny—and then he burst out laughing, his whole body shaking with it in Danny’s arms. “You were, were you?” he said, when he was over his mirth a little. “I’m not sure what I should say to that.”

“Best say nothing at all then, I reckon.” Danny grinned and, pulling Philip in tighter, kissed him firmly on the lips. After all, it was a grand way to make certain he’d follow Danny’s advice.

 

Verses quoted in the story are taken from:

 

Twelfth Night
and Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare

(1564–1616)
“The Unfortunate Lover”, Andrew Marvell (1621–1678)

“Sonnet LXI: Since There’s No Help”, Michael Drayton (1563–1631)

 

About the Author

JL M
ERROW
is that rare beast, an English person who refuses to drink tea. She read Natural Sciences at Cambridge, where she learned many things, chief amongst which was that she never wanted to see the inside of a lab ever again.

Her one regret is that she never mastered the ability of punting one-handed whilst holding a glass of champagne.

She writes across genres, with a preference for contemporary gay romance and the paranormal, and is frequently accused of humor. Her novella
Muscling Through
is a 2013 EPIC ebook Award finalist. JL Merrow is a member of the UK GLBTQ Fiction Meet organizing team.

Find JL Merrow online at: www.jlmerrow.com, on Twitter as @jlmerrow, and on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/ jl.merrow.
By JL M
ERROW

M
IDWINTER
M
ANOR
S
ERIES

 

Poacher’s Fall

 

Keeper’s Pledge

 

N
OVELLAS

 

Dulce et Decorum Est Snared

 

Published by D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS
M
IDWINTER MANOR SERIES Book One
More Historical Romance by JL MERROW
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Paranormal Romance by JL MERROW
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com