Speak Its Name: A Trilogy (16 page)

“Damned if I know, but I’m not one of those fretful sods who demands subservience in bed. I don’t want that, never did. Naked, we’re equals.”

Jack could only stare. Did he really believe that? But Lord Robert had been raised in privilege. Perhaps that made it easier for him to disregard it, like a fish unaware of the water in which it swam. “But—”

“Jack, it’s true.”

He closed his eyes. A warm hand touched his cheek, and he turned toward it without thought; a thumb brushed across his lips. Jack knew he couldn’t hide. He couldn’t hide anything. He opened his eyes and met the clear blue gaze. “We’re not—I’m not—
I don’t even know my father’s name!”

Lord Robert met his anguish with a startled look. “I don’t know his name either, Jack. And I don’t care. I don’t care if he was the King of England or a dustman! I don’t want to sleep with your father!” He held Jack’s face between his hands, kissed him tenderly. “Don’t you see? If it weren’t for ‘my lord’ this and ‘Major’ that, we might have had this years ago. What good is a title that’s done nothing but stand between us all this time?” He smiled, as though realising how melodramatic that sounded. “At any rate, ‘Major’ seems a bit formal, don’t you think?”

“‘Robert’ seems a bit...” Jack shook his head. The release had drained off all the tension that was keeping him upright, and he felt suddenly empty and slightly stupid, not able to hold his own in this debate. “A bit inadequate. I’d like to lie down now.”

“Of course.” Still holding one another, they made their way toward the bed, detouring around a wheeled cart that held a few covered dishes and a bottle of wine. “I ordered us a late supper while I was downstairs,” Lord Robert said. “The cook’s gone home, so there’s just bread and cheese. It arrived while you were unpacking. Would you like a bite to eat, or would you rather have some sleep first?”

Jack pulled the coverlet down and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He still felt as though he’d been dropped from a height and landed in an unfamiliar world. “Yes. I—if you’ll give me a moment, I’ll see to that.”

“No, you will not. Get under the covers, Jack. I don’t mean to pull rank, but you look dead on your feet. By my reckoning, you’ve had about four hours’ sleep in the past two days.”

Jack nodded dumbly. He took off his shirt, losing a collar button in the process. It seemed silly to go to bed in only a singlet, so he stripped that off as well. But as he lay back a frightening thought occurred to him. “The maid, in the morning—”

“I left orders at the desk not to disturb us until we rang. And there’s a discreet tag on the door with the same instructions.”

“Thank you. Sorry...”

Lord Robert was quiet for a minute or two, moving about the room. Then he turned off the light and climbed into bed on the opposite side. “Don’t mean to make a nuisance of myself, Jack—but would you object if I were to hold you while you sleep?”

It was fatigue, Jack knew, but he felt tears well in his eyes. “Yes! That is, no—not at all.” He went into those welcoming arms like a wanderer coming home. The faint scent of bay rum was only a trace of spice in the warm, musky fragrance of his lover’s body. So good... too good. It couldn’t last. But how could he bear to go on living if it did not?

His last waking memory was of a kiss brushed gently across his forehead.

~

Lord Robert Scoville lay awake for a few minutes, his face resting against the dark head cradled on his shoulder. He was awestruck. That had been the fastest and possibly least elegant sexual encounter of his entire life. A kneetrembler, for Christ’s sake, and at his age!

But it had also been the most wonderful encounter he’d ever known. That hadn’t been fucking. It hadn’t been playing at sex, either, or scratching an itch. For the first time in his life he had genuinely been making love. How did the Welsh put it— “friendship set on fire?” He had been set on fire, a fire that had been banked for now but felt unquenchable. And he couldn’t wait for Jack to wake up so they could continue their pyromania.

Scoville suppressed a mad desire to burst into song. It would have been unkind, given his singing voice and Jack’s obvious exhaustion. But he wanted to. He wanted to do something to express the idiotic joy bubbling up within him, joy mixed with chagrin that it had taken him more than ten years to give Jack the chance to tell him what he wanted so badly to hear.

It’s you,
he thought, holding his lover close.
It’s you, and I have been ten kinds of a fool. And so have you. For God’s sake, Jack, why should I care where you came from, so long as you’re here?

Lying in his arms, trusting and utterly relaxed, Jack pulled in a long, slow breath and began to snore gently. Scoville thought it a very civilised, endearing snore. He could listen to it forever. And with any luck, he would.

~

For the second night in a row, Jack woke in a dark hour before dawn. Thankfully, the cause of his wakefulness this time was nothing more than his own body requesting a visit to the water closet, but it was still annoying.

He didn’t want to move. He had rolled on his side while he slept, and the delicious warmth all along his back told him Lord Robert was curled up behind him, one arm thrown over his body. And—yes, that was his lordship’s other arm beneath his head. Jack shifted experimentally, and the embrace tightened.

Jack sighed. Why did this sort of thing have to happen? Here he lay in his lover’s arms, having attained his heart’s desire, and his body was doing its damnedest to spoil things. Of course it was his own fault for diving into bed without attending to the necessities first. But that had been more a fall on his face than a dive, really. If not for his lordship’s kindness—and supporting arm—he might not have made it to the bed at all.

Jack waited as long as he possibly could, then carefully disentangled himself, made his escape, and attended to his business. He crept back under the covers carefully, but not carefully enough.

“You’re freezing,” Lord Robert said. “Come here.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. The bed was wonderfully warm and so was his lover. But he was too absorbed in enjoying the closeness and comfort to go back to sleep. It would be a sin to waste even a moment. He tried to keep still.

“Are you asleep?” his lordship whispered after a few minutes.

“No. Sorry—am I keeping you awake?”

“I don’t mind at all. We’re on holiday now, Jack. We can sleep in as late as we like. As far as I’m concerned, so long as we devote one day to the Conservatory and one evening to the opera, we can spend the rest of the fortnight here, under the covers.”

Jack turned toward him and received a welcoming kiss. “This may not be the right time to ask,” he said, rearranging himself comfortably on Lord Robert’s shoulder, “but if you don’t want to hear ‘my lord’ or ‘Major,’ what shall I call you?”

His lordship sighed. “My name, perhaps? It’s nothing special, but I do answer to it.”

Jack knew it was a foolish request, and he wished that it didn’t bother him so much. Was it worth endangering all this to keep harping on a subject that was so obviously bothersome? But what use was the promise of equality if he had to hold his tongue? “I would rather not, sir. If I am to continue in your employ—”

“Jack, unless you truly want to leave, I wish you’d stop saying that. You can’t desert me now. I’d never be able to replace you.”

His heart full to overflowing, Jack wondered if he was just playing a game, seeking reassurance. He didn’t think so. “Then I would rather keep to ‘my lord,’ or find some name that no one else uses. If I were to suffer a lapse of judgement and mention you by that name, it would seem I was referring to someone else.”

He could not give Lord Robert his most genuine reason. If he were to say, “‘Robert’ is what
he
called you,” he would sound like a jealous fool. And perhaps he was jealous, and a fool as well. Perhaps he was trying to set this liaison apart from all those others.

To his relief, Lord Robert said, “That’s reasonable. I suppose I’m the lucky one—I can address you as Darling as often as I like, with no one the wiser. It does suit you.”

Jack stopped this foolishness with his own mouth, and further discussion was delayed for several minutes.

“Unfortunately,” Lord Robert said, pausing for breath, “If I were to change my own surname to Sweetheart, people would talk. It’s too bad, but I don’t like most of the nicknames—I don’t much like my actual name, but there’s no help for that. Bob cuts it too short. Rob is a criminal act, Robbie makes me think of Burns and his wee timorous beasties. Bert is my uncle. My grandfather used to call me Cock Robin—”

Jack laughed out loud and arched his hips forward.

“Not in that sense, you lout. But I admit it’s the least objectionable. I shouldn’t mind Robin.”

“That puts me in mind of Sherwood Forest and merry men. I like it very much. Robin.” Jack rolled the name around in his mind. It would take some practice. “Please forgive me if I address you with too much respect. I may not be able to change the habit of years in an instant.”

“That’s settled, then.” Lord—no, Robin—lay back on the pillow, one arm around Jack’s shoulders. “I don’t mean to make things difficult for you, Jack. It may seem a foolish whim, but I’ve sent too many men to their deaths with my orders. If a man doesn’t want to be in bed with me just for the fun of it, or the friendship, or whatever harmless reason—I don’t want to think he might be there because of my rank or position. That’s why I never went to bed with any man who wasn’t free to tell me to go to hell if he chose.”

“Is that why—” Jack caught himself as he realised how presumptuous the question might seem.

“Why I never approached you? Yes, indeed. You found Cecil’s advances offensive, did you not? I had no reason to think you would see mine any differently. You did your very best to appear a ladies’ man, my Darling.” He reached up and ruffled Jack’s hair. “You played your part too well. If you hadn’t been so damnably decorous—if you’d so much as given me a hint—”

“And have you think I was some sort of conniving rent boy? You never looked twice at anything less than a Captain or a Baronet. And you never kept—” The conversation was leading him into dangerous territory. Perhaps there were some things better left unsaid.

“Jack?”

“I don’t imagine I’ll tell you to go to hell, m—Robin. But if you begin to find my company a bore, I won’t hold it against you if you tell me to pack my bags.”

“What?” His lordship rolled over, leaning up on an elbow. “Jack, what in God’s name are you talking about?”

Jack glanced away. “Men have habits,” he said. “And I’ve observed over the years that your habit consists of brief liaisons with a variety of friends that you seldom see more than two or three times a year, as though you were deliberately avoiding attachment. I mean no criticism, my lord, and I apologise if I give offence. It’s merely a pattern I’ve noticed, but it makes me think that you will wish for a change before too long.”

Lord Robert was quiet for so long that Jack was afraid he’d wrecked it all. Finally he said, “So you think I’ll tire of you after a month or two, and discard you without a second thought?”

“I did not mean to suggest you would be thoughtless,” Jack said carefully. “I just—my lord—I’m sorry, Robin—I would not want you to keep me on out of pity. I think you might do that.”

“Not thoughtless, merely a fickle fool.” Lord Robert dropped back to the pillow. “I suppose it’s good that we’re both rational adults, not a couple of reckless pups, or we’d drive one another to distraction. But it’s a relief to know you’re human enough to make mistakes. Let me tell you this, now. As soon as we return to London, I’ll set up a fund so you will draw your salary for the rest of your life, whether you stay or leave. You have my word.”

“What?”

A hand sought his in the blankets, held tight. “I want you beside me, Jack, but only if you want to be here. You’re free to stay or go. I hope you’ll stay.”

Jack felt as though all the air had been drawn out of his lungs. “I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You could, but you wouldn’t. I don’t mean to insult your pride—you’d probably never need the money, you could give it to the old soldiers’ home if you wanted. It’s yours if you should need it, though, as much for my own peace of mind as your security.”

“My lord—”

“In case you’ve forgotten, you saved my life. I’m here now because you risked your life for me. I can never forget that, even if you can.”

Robert shifted again so he could look at Jack directly, and Jack noticed that the room was getting brighter. They had talked the sun up. “Bear with me, Jack. I must explain.”

Jack shook his head, but his lover kissed him and continued. “A gentleman may have a wife. Some would even say he
must
have a wife. He may not have a lover, even a female lover, who shares his home. As for a male lover, the best of friends couldn’t live together, much less share a bed, without exciting more social condemnation than I would be willing to face.”

“Men frequently share lodgings,” Jack objected.

“Not if they can afford to have an establishment of their own. I am not interested in making a public spectacle of my private life, Jack. I’d rather face Jezail bullets than Society on a witch-hunt.”

“I understand.”

“You discerned two of my personal rules—you called them pretty accurately. There’s a third, but anyone would have missed it. Besides being equals, they had to be men that I could like but probably would not love, men I knew I could not possibly live with. I could do without that in the bedroom because I had you filling up the rest of my life. In a sense, they were taking on a chore that I thought you would find distasteful.”

“And now?” Jack held his breath.

“I think we can deal with the first two. A man’s home is his castle, is it not? I hereby dub thee Sir Jack, Keeper of the Keys and Guardian of the Royal Bedchamber, and further elevate thee to peer of the realm.”

“You have a strange sense of humour, my lord—though if you are my King, I should more properly call you ‘Sire.’”

Lord Robert sighed. “I think ‘my lord’ will do, if you can’t restrain yourself. We needn’t worry about spending too much time under the same roof, either. If you could convince me that you were uninterested for twelve years, I think you can convince the world indefinitely. As for the third, it’s already too late. I do want to live with you. In fact, I’ve no idea how I would live without you.”