The Englor Affair (36 page)

The lords who were exiting were beginning to gather in groups and discuss the meeting. Payton took a deep breath, getting his heart rate to slow down.

Leaning against the wall, Payton closed his eyes for a few moments. He wondered how it went. Was Si able to convince them to keep the Marines?

“Your Majesty?” someone said.

Payton’s eyes snapped open, searching for Si, then realized that whoever had hailed him had done so from inside the meeting chamber. Excitement bubbled up inside him and the last bit of adrenaline rush subsided. He was anxious to tell Si what he’d found and to ask how the meeting went.

“Gentlemen.” Si’s voice was loud and clear, like he was right around the corner from Payton.

Payton watched the lords of Englor mill about, some talking, others leaving. Batting at the potted plant, he started around it to find his consort. He hoped Roc was able to get his men on Markham before Markham left the building.

“Nice speech, Si. I’m glad you were able to convince them. The planet is much better off with our Marines,” a different man said.

Yes.
Payton resisted the urge to punch his fist into the air. It sounded like Si was successful. They’d have a lot to celebrate when they got home. Payton stepped into the huge dark-purple-carpeted chamber with rows of tables and chairs around the perimeter.

Payton’s eyes zeroed in on Si. He stood a couple yards away with his back to the door. His shoulders looked wide in the formal Marine uniform jacket. Payton swallowed back an appreciative sound, but it didn’t stop his fingers from clenching, wanting to run through that russet hair. Several other men gathered around Si. None of them noticed Payton.

“I thought you were to marry the Duchess of Kentwood?” one lord in a brown morning coat asked.

Si chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, the Duchess of Kentwood. Dru is lovely, but I assure you my consort has his own charms.”

There were a couple of lewd remarks about Dru and Payton.

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Payton blushed and wondered if he should just wait outside. No one had seen him yet. He could just slip back out and—

“Drucilla Blake didn’t come with a Regelence alliance,” joked another lord.

A knot of dread formed in the pit of Pay’s stomach. He swore he could hear blood drumming through his veins, even louder than when he’d heard someone walking outside of Markham’s office earlier. His mouth went dry as he focused on the back of Si’s head.

Si’s red head bobbed slightly as he nodded his agreement. “Very true.”

The men laughed, but Payton barely heard them. He turned and walked out of the House of Lords with his consort’s words echoing over and over in his head.

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“Relax, Simon. He’s at the palace.” Aldred reached across the lift and patted his leg.

“You did good today. The Marines are staying on Englor where they belong without you having to resort to force and abuse of power.”

He had done good, but somehow without Payton there to share in the victory, it fell flat. Simon affected a smile he didn’t really feel. “Thank you.” Pay not being there when he was done not only took the wind from his sails, it worried him. Payton had as much at stake as Simon did. Payton had worked so hard on that ball, so Simon could mingle with the House of Lords and have a chance to persuade them to his line of thinking. So why had Pay left? And where the hell had Roc gone? “Are you sure the guards saw him get into our lift?”

“Yes. One of them stayed behind specifically to tell us they were taking him back.

They were going to send another lift back for you, but I told them I’d take you home.”

Aldred was quiet for several seconds, then furrowed his brow in thought. “Maybe he went to call Admiral Hawkins and tell him the outcome of the vote.”

No, that didn’t sound right. Dread knotted in his stomach. Pay knew Hawthorne would call his son. Frowning, Simon pushed the blue lift curtain aside and looked out at the snow-covered city without really seeing it. He teetered back and forth between worried and hurt. Something wasn’t right. Payton couldn’t still be mad about Simon telling him he couldn’t break into Markham’s office, could he?

“Clay won’t marry me,” Aldred groused.

Pay hadn’t said anything about hacking into that computer this morning when they were getting ready to go to the meeting. He hadn’t even taken his com-pad to the Parliament Building.
Huh? Clay?
“What?” Simon let go of the curtain and turned to see his uncle’s frowning face. “Why not?”

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“Says because I’m a Duke and he’s a nobody. A nobody? Can you believe that? Like I’d love a nobody for going on thirty years,” he scoffed.

“Well, then I’ll make him a Marquis. Problem solved.” If only Payton not being where he should be was as easily solved. Feeling antsy, Simon shifted in his seat. He was used to giving orders and them being obeyed.

Aldred threw his head back and laughed. “That might work. The threat of having to manage an estate might make him relent without a title.”

The lift stopped and Simon jumped to his feet before the door slid open. What if Payton hadn’t come back here? The unease in his stomach escalated.

“You have it bad.” Aldred chuckled. “Congratulations, boy. I’m proud of you.”

Stopping as the door raised, Simon turned around and nodded. “Thank you, Uncle.

Let me know if I can help in persuading Clay. I’m serious about the title.”

“I know you are, but I doubt it will be necessary. I’m more stubborn than he is. It might take me a month or two, but I’ll wear him down.” He winked. “Open lift door, steps down. Now go find out why your consort left without you.”

Giving a terse dip of his head, Simon stepped out of the lift, hurrying up the front concrete steps toward the white Doric column portico. Why were there so many steps?

Did everything have to be so damned grand?

The front door of the palace opened and one of the footmen greeted him, taking his cape, gloves and hat. If the man moved any slower… “Is Payton here?”

“Yes, Colonel.”

Simon took a breath and made himself slow down. Payton was here, in one piece, and that was all that really mattered. Why he left could be sorted out later. “Thank you.”

He spared a quick glance in the parlor to ascertain Payton wasn’t there, before heading up the stairs. It took effort, but he made himself walk instead of run. “Dunston? Where is Payton?”

“Payton is in the gym, Colonel.”

Gym?
They had a gym?
When did this happen?
“Where exactly is that, Dunston?”

“Third floor, first door on the left, before the master suites, Colonel.”

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“Thank you, Dunston.” Unbuttoning his jacket on the way up, Simon climbed the stairs. His unease from earlier was subsiding a bit and anger was creeping in. Why was Payton here working out? Was this his revenge for Simon not letting him break into Markham’s office?

The smell of new paint tickled Simon’s nose, burning a little. He got to the top of the third floor landing and stopped, staring. It was different. No more cold marble and stark white. He hadn’t been up here in…years? He and Payton had been living out of Simon’s old suites.

As he stepped onto the new hardwood floor, he grinned, forgetting all about being mad for the moment. The wainscoting was stained mahogany and the wall above it a deep burgundy color. It was warm, cozy and the dark colors made the hall look smaller, not so daunting. It fit him…them. It fit Payton too.

Opening the gym door, Simon was once again surprised. There were mirrors along one wall and the others were painted a nice deep blue. The floor-to-ceiling windows were covered with gauzy white curtains that let in light, but kept the room private. Several pieces of weight equipment sat in front of another wall as well as free weights. A punching bag took up one corner, a speed bag and some potted plants the others.
Payton
made us a gym.
Simon smiled.

In the far corner of the room, Payton stood with his back to Simon, admiring a rack of foils, sabers, epees and rapiers. His boots and stockings were at the front of the room by the mirrors, but the maroon morning coat, cream-colored waistcoat and cravat he wore to the Parliament Building were hanging over a workout bench.

Feeling like a great weight had been lifted from him, Simon let himself enjoy the view for a few moments, glad Pay was safe. He hadn’t realized until just then how scared he’d been that something had happened to Payton.
If…
A wave of panic hit him, clawing at his chest, but he quashed it and shook his head. He didn’t know what he’d do.

Payton picked up a foil and slashed it through the air. There was a tension to his shoulders, hinting at his mood, but even still he was graceful. A thing of beauty, like an 254

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approaching storm. It was hard not to respect, even though you knew it was likely to erupt any moment.

“Why did you leave?”

Gasping, Payton spun around brandishing the foil, pointing it at Simon. His lips were set in a hard line and his expression appeared somewhere between irritation and surprise.

“You scared me.”

“You scared
me
. I thought something had happened to you.” He walked into the room, laying his jacket over a leg press machine on his way to Payton. “I thought you’d be there until the end.”

Turning around, Payton plucked another foil from the rack with his right hand. “I was. Congratulations on your victory.” He tossed the new foil, handle first, at Simon.

Simon caught it, frowning at the clipped tone in Payton’s voice. “You mean our victory. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Me?” Payton stepped forward, pointing his foil at Si as he touched his hand to his own chest. “I did nothing but help Dru plan a ball. You didn’t need me.” Was it Simon’s imagination or did Payton’s spine stiffen?

Before Simon could decide, Pay brought his weapon up, saluting, then stepped into an en garde stance. “In fact, you don’t need me at all, you’ve got Dru and your advisors.”

He slashed his foil through the air. “And your alliance.”

What?
Simon frowned, still coming closer. Payton was the only comforting thing in his life right now. How could he not know that? “Pay, don’t be ridicu—”

“En garde.” Bare feet slapping against the wood floor, Payton advanced, taking Simon by surprise.

He barely got his foil up for a parry in time. “Bloody hell, Pay.”

Payton went on the attack, giving Simon no choice but to block. He hardly had time to catch his breath, much less question his opponent. Payton came at him with a vengeance, backing Si clear across the room.

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impressive. It was beautiful and frightening at once. His face never displayed any emotion, but Simon sensed the tempest of emotions warring within him, by his pretense of near disinterest. Payton was never detached. He was a passionate man whose feeling always showed, whether it be biting his lip in concentration or blurting out things he was thinking. Something was bothering him and he was keeping it in check. Simon wanted to know what it was, but Payton never gave him the chance.

In no time they were covered in sweat, and the only sounds were their panting breaths, the shuffle of their feet and the clink of metal on metal. The room was becoming stifling and the musky scent of sweat permeated the air.

Payton allowed himself to be maneuvered back to the middle of the room but otherwise gave no quarter. His skill was magnificent and Simon couldn’t decide if Payton had been taking it easy on him the last time they fenced or if it was anger guiding him now. Whatever the case, his passion was an incredible turn-on and breathtaking in its beauty. Even with the fierceness of the engagement, Simon’s cock was hard. As soon as he got an opening he was going to end this and fuck the anger out of Payton. Then they’d talk and work things out.

Apparently, Payton had gotten it in his head that Simon didn’t need him. Where he got that idea Simon had no clue, but he’d set things straight after he showed Pay he was wrong.

Simon parried, blocking a rather violent attack, and nearly lost his footing. His eyes widened in shock and a frisson of surprise came over him. His mind immediately set about righting his mistake, but it was too late.

Taking advantage, Payton knocked the foil from his grasp, sending it sailing across the floor.

Simon gasped, unable to decide whether he was irritated at losing or excited that he had. He was not used to being defeated and while pride surged through him at Payton’s victory, uncertainty also niggled at him. His body, however, had no qualms about what it thought. His erection throbbed and his stomach tensed. The barely contained violence in Payton’s gaze was like an aphrodisiac, ratcheting up his arousal.

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Payton placed the rubber tip of his foil to Simon’s chest. “Strip.” His gaze trailed down Simon’s body, lingering on his erection, and he licked his lips. The perusal was pure sex and from anyone else it would have been insulting, but from Payton…

Grabbing the foil, Simon yanked it out of Payton’s hand and tossed it aside.

Crowding close, letting Payton feel his erection, Simon caught a handful of Payton’s inky black hair and slammed his mouth down on Payton. Their teeth clicked together and it hurt. The taste of blood cascaded over his tongue, adding to the sensation. The kiss was brutal, more of an assault than a show of love, but his need for Payton was so demanding he was past being gentle.

Payton ripped at Simon’s clothes as he thrust against Simon’s thigh. His prick felt like a brand. Loud eager grunts and groans made the sound of fabric rending barely audible.