“Plenty of food for thought, eh?” Goran nudged him, which, from a man of his size, sent Luke sidestepping through the gravel. “Now, wish me luck because I need to invade Tor’s kitchen to create my secret recipe mulled cider.”
“He has a large collection of cleavers, just so you know,” Luke said. “Rather you than me.”
Goran’s guffaw echoed around the entrance hall as they went back inside. “Well, if you’re short one barman later on today, check the biggest crockpot first, okay?” He ambled in the direction of the kitchen while Luke sought the sanctuary of his office. He still had more thinking to do.
Chapter Eight
Luke emerged from his office just as the guests returned from their day trip. They spilled into the entrance hall, accompanied by a blast of cold air. Fergus and Henry immediately went about collecting coats and scarves as they were shed.
“Gentlemen,” Luke raised his voice just enough to be heard over the excited chatter. “Please head for the snug where Goran has a treat for you.” That caused an immediate stampede and more laughter.
“I take it the trip went well?” Luke asked in the general direction of his two houseboys who were struggling under their respective piles of clothing.
“It was brilliant, Sir. Rayne had researched all the best places to go. We saw loads of cute ponies and even had time to explore some antique shops. There was this amazing tea room in an old chapel full of second-hand books where we all had drinks.” Fergus paused for breath and Henry took over.
“The two old ladies working there made fantastic hot chocolate, with marshmallows and whipped cream and sprinkles, Sir. Then Rayne took us to this picturesque ruin in the forest for our picnic lunch and Tor had packed the most amazing food.” He giggled. “Then everyone was talking about the various ways they were going to work off all the calories they’d consumed. Some of these guys are really inventive, Sir.” He blinked, a light blush staining his cheeks.
“I’m glad it went well. Leave all those coats and things on the banister and take yourselves through to the snug for a hot drink. I’ll sort this lot out.”
“Are you sure, Sir?”
“Was my instruction unclear in any way?” Luke held back a smile as the two young men scurried away in the direction of the snug.
Luke hung all the coats on two stands in the hall before heading to the snug himself. Long before he got there, the aroma of mulling spices and warm cider filled the air. It was the perfect scent of autumn. Skye hovered close to the door, tray in hand loaded with glass goblets full of steaming amber liquid. Luke went to stand next to him, surveying the room full of people who stood or sat all over the place. Goran had jugs of cider on the bar and was topping up everyone’s glasses as soon as they were in any danger of nearing empty.
“Would you like a drink, Sir?” Skye asked, his tone soft as usual.
“Thanks, Skye, but I avoid alcohol when there are guests staying.”
“Oh, this is the virgin version. Probably why it’s not so popular. It’s warm spiced apple juice.”
“Well, in that case I will take one. It smells absolutely delicious. Do you know what Goran put in it?” Luke took the glass that Skye handed to him.
“I’m afraid not, Sir. He said it was a secret recipe, but there was a lot of cursing coming from the kitchen. I don’t think Tor appreciated Goran rummaging around in his spice cupboard. I was a bit worried it was going to get violent in there.” His bewildered expression was comical.
“Tor is very protective of his ingredients. Goran is a braver man than I am. I’m surprised he got out of there unscathed.”
“He left Tor and the boys with a jug of their own. I think that did the trick.”
“It’s definitely going down well.” Luke made his way into the melee to mingle a little. He didn’t want to leave Skye’s side, but the guests came first. It was gratifying to hear how much they had enjoyed their day out and the general appreciation for the attention to detail that everyone at The Retreat was going to on their behalf. Satisfied that there were no problems or issues for him to deal with, Luke retreated to the door.
“I imagine setting up tonight’s banquet is going to take some time,” he said, wanting to engage Skye in more conversation. Skye still remained near the door as if he wanted to be close to the exit should the crowd get too much for him.
“I’m really looking forward to it, Sir. The table is going to look magnificent and it’s my first chance to use the antique silver and those big candelabra. The table decorations you ordered arrived earlier and they’re absolutely beautiful. I can’t wait to see the finished effect.”
Luke smiled at his enthusiasm. “You must come and tell me when it’s ready so that I can take a look. If you do as good a job as I think you will, I’ll take some pictures for the website.”
“You will?” Skye’s eyes widened, glass rattling against metal as his trembling hands made the tray shake. Luke took it from him before the last two drinks could take flight. He carried it over to the bar, waving to get Goran’s attention.
“Are you done with Skye? I think he needs some space.”
“Sure. He’s been a great help. Say thanks for me, won’t you?”
Luke nodded and headed back to the door where Skye was doing his best to hide, standing half in and half out of the room.
“Goran has set you free with his thanks—why don’t we go find somewhere quieter?”
Skye heaved a sigh of relief. “I’d like that, Sir.”
“It’s cold outside. Let’s go to the staff dining room. I’m sure Tor will rustle up a pot of tea and a slice of cake if we ask nicely.”
As they walked toward the kitchen, Skye’s arm brushed against Luke’s. Luke couldn’t resist taking his hand. Skye’s slender fingers were meant to nestle against his palm. It was only a short walk to the staff room and Luke found that he was loath to let go of Skye’s hand, but it was necessary to pull a chair out for him and make sure he was seated comfortably. Before he could venture into the kitchen, Tor appeared in the doorway.
“I thought I heard someone come in. How about I get one of the boys to make a pot of tea?”
“That would be great, thanks, Tor. We don’t want to get in your way. I know how busy you must be in there. Everything smells incredible, by the way.”
“Thanks. The day trip for the guests was a godsend. Everything’s well organized. There should even be time for the boys to have a short break before service starts. We’re just putting the finishing touches on everything that can be prepared in advance. Then there’ll be the usual last-minute chaos, no doubt.” He grinned, eyes shining.
“You’re an adrenaline junkie,” Luke said. “Not quite the same as the battlefield, is it?”
“Not quite, but I appreciate the lack of bullets flying around the place.”
Skye looked between them, mouth open. Tor gave him a wink before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“We’re both ex-military, Skye. You don’t have to worry that anyone is going to start shooting up the place.”
“I wasn’t, I mean I wouldn’t, Sir. It’s just that you’ve both had such exciting lives and it makes me feel… I don’t know, naïve, I suppose.”
“Your life hasn’t been so easy, though, has it?”
“Lots of people have had it much worse than me, Sir.” Skye ducked his head.
“Perhaps one day you’ll trust me enough to be able to tell me what happened.” Luke fingered a strand of Skye’s silver hair. “This didn’t happen for no reason.”
“I was seventeen… I don’t like to remember, Sir.”
“And I will never push you to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“Thank you, Sir. I… Soon, okay?”
Luke took Skye’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here. A D/s relationship is not all about spankings and bondage. It’s about being there for each other. A good Dominant should always listen and be prepared to guide, encourage or advise. Whatever
his submissive needs.”
“But it’s also about what you, I mean what the Dominant needs too, isn’t it?” Skye’s violet eyes glistened.
“You come first. Always.” Luke didn’t bother to depersonalize his words. It was becoming impossible to see Skye as nothing more than a trainee sub. He had to stop deceiving himself. He wanted Skye to be his.
The moment was interrupted by Frank arriving with a pot of tea. He delivered mugs, milk and an enormous fruit cake on a plate at the same time.
“Wish I could stay and chat, but Chef is being…”
“Frank, stop gossiping and get your arse back in here!” Tor’s dulcet tones sounded from the kitchen.
Frank disappeared at high speed, making Skye snicker. He fell into his natural role, pouring the tea and cutting two slices of cake, which he put on the plates Frank had left.
“This looks delicious, Sir.”
“It does. Go ahead and eat.” Skye had waited for his permission but soon tucked in, making the kinds of sounds that Luke would have preferred to hear in the bedroom. Amused, Luke watched him until Skye noticed and froze, a piece of cake halfway to his mouth.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
Skye blushed but finished his cake. As he ate his own piece, Luke had to agree that it was delicious and deserving of a pornographic soundtrack. He washed it down with a long slurp of tea.
“Could we be any more English?” Skye asked, smiling. “Tea and cake in the afternoon. We should be talking about the weather.”
“Goran and I already covered that earlier,” Luke said. “I think we have more important things to talk about, like how you’re coping with a new job, new home and your training all at the same time. You’re doing very well, you know?”
“I am?” Skye’s smile lit up his face.
“Tor and Goran have both complimented your work and you fit in well with the rest of the staff. They all love you already.” Skye gazed at Luke from beneath his lashes. The temptation to lean forward and kiss him was intense. “And I’ve been impressed with your willingness to learn. I couldn’t ask for a better pupil.” Skye’s breath hitched. Luke suspected that tears were about to appear.
“Thank you, Sir. I want to please you so much.” Skye blinked and a single wet droplet rolled down his cheek.
Luke’s response was all instinct. He caught the drop of salt water with his finger, brushed it away then pressed his lips to Skye’s. Skye opened for him without hesitation, the move accompanied by a gasp. Luke tasted the sweetness of his breath and any intention of restraining himself disappeared. He explored at will, memorizing how soft Skye’s lips were, how warm and welcoming his mouth. Luke nipped at plump flesh and probed with his tongue, until he was forced to pull away to take a breath. Skye’s eyes were glazed, his lips still parted. His breath came in rapid gasps and his arousal was apparent. Jeans that tight were not designed for concealment. He rocked on his chair, moaning, and Luke could only imagine how the plug must be torturing him. Every dominant gene in his make-up responded to the knowledge that his submissive was plugged, his cock ringed, his pleasure controlled. He wanted to strip Skye naked and reveal the harness doing its work.
“Fuck.” Luke spoke in barely a whisper. His cock ached. It was only the presence of other staff in the next room that prevented him from bending Skye over the table.
“Sir?” Skye was all bewildered confusion.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I’m glad you did. Very glad.”
“You make me want things… To do things with you that wouldn’t be appropriate.” Skye looked utterly downcast. “That wouldn’t be appropriate without a contract between us. I want you to be more than an employee, Skye. I want to train you as my submissive, not for some other man. Just thinking about anyone else laying their hands on you makes me want to lock you away.” Luke clenched his fists. A gentle touch forced him to look down to where Skye was stroking his fingers, helping them relax.
“A contract, Sir?”
“Yes. One that sits alongside your contract of employment, but is separate. Something between you and me as a Dominant and submissive.”
“I think I might cry again.”
“That wasn’t my intention.” Luke laughed and took Skye’s slender hand between his own. “There’s no time today, but after breakfast tomorrow you and I will go somewhere quiet and talk this through properly. I’ll leave a copy of the generic contract we have on file for you to read tonight. It’s just a template, so don’t be frightened by anything you read in it. We will tailor it to suit our needs. Together.” Skye’s hands were cool but his face was flushed, his eyes bright with excitement. He squirmed on his chair then moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.
“When you change for the dinner tonight, you can take the harness off,” Luke said. “It won’t fit under your costume and, for the moment, this sort of thing is just between you and me. It’s not for sharing with an audience, however much they might enjoy it.”
“Thank God!” Skye ducked his head, as if shocked at his own outburst. “Sorry, Sir, but to be honest, I’d rather be in chastity. I’ve been hard since you put this thing on me.” Desperation broke through Skye’s timidity. Luke loved that Skye felt comfortable enough to show some spirit.
“I’m sure you can deal with it for a couple more hours. Perhaps it will come in useful as a punishment in future.” Luke kept a straight face as long as he could, but Skye’s abject horror made him laugh.
“It’s not funny, Sir!”
“No, you’re right. Of course it isn’t and I should be more sympathetic, but, honestly, watching you squirm, knowing the reason why, is the best entertainment a Dominant could have. Now, I think it’s time that both of us got back to work, don’t you?”
“Oh my God!” Skye shoved his chair back. It rocked and Luke caught it just before it fell. “What time is it? I’ve got so much to do, I’ll never get it all finished. Everything has to be perfect.”
“Calm down, sweetheart. You have plenty of time and you’ll do a fantastic job if you stop panicking. You’re good at this, remember? Take a few deep breaths.”
Skye followed Luke’s instructions and gradually calmed. “Now go. I’ll come to see how you’re getting on in a bit.”
Skye scampered from the room then reappeared seconds later. “I should clear the table.”
Luke gave him an indulgent smile. “Go. I think I can manage to clean up a couple of plates and mugs.”
“Okay!” He shot back out of the door. Luke counted and got to five before Skye reappeared again.
“Kitchen. I need things from the kitchen.”
Luke shook his head. He stacked crockery on the side of the table where one of the boys could pick it up later. There was no way he was setting foot in the kitchen at that moment. He headed for his office where, for once, paperwork had some appeal. He had a contract to find.
Chapter Nine
Skye stood back and cast a critical eye over the table. Everything was in its place. The place settings were evenly spaced down each side of the table, four glasses for every man. Silverware for five courses glittered in the low light alongside bone china side plates. Two ornate candelabra, loaded with dark red candles, were positioned so as not to interfere with sight lines across the table. They sat on top of a gold silk runner that was festooned with greenery. In the center sat a silver basket lined with moss, decorated to look like a nest though it lacked any hatchlings.
Nodding his satisfaction, Skye placed the name cards according to a list Tor had given him. Each card had a guest’s name written in copperplate script on one side and a quote from Brideshead Revisited on the other.
“‘O God, make me good, but not yet.’” He giggled as he read that one, which made him think of Rayne. “‘To know and love one other human being is the root of all wisdom.’ Now that I can agree with.” He placed the card on Roy’s side plate. “‘I have a good mind not to take Aloysius to Venice. I don't want him to meet a lot of horrid Italian b
ears and pick up bad habits.’ Hmm, I don’t think Waugh had in mind what these guys will be thinking when they read that one.”
He moved around the table adjusting the positions of knives and forks as he went. He hadn’t resorted to a tape measure for the spacing because he had a good eye, but wonky spoons offended him. “‘My dear, I should like to stick you full of barbed arrows like a p-p-pin cushion.’ Oh wow. I hope no one takes that too literally.” With the place cards done, he collected the menus, which he’d printed out on Luke’s computer. They were headed with the quote, The cream and hot butter mingled and overflowed, separating each glucose bead of caviar from its fellows, capping it in white and gold.
“I must re-read the book,” Skye murmured, slotting the menus between decorations at intervals down the table. “He writes like sex.”
“Who does?”
Skye jumped, spinning in the air like a startled cat. He found Luke standing at the end of the table, wearing his glasses and looking like sin.
“Evelyn Waugh, Sir.”
Luke stalked toward him. He plucked a menu from the table.
“Plovers’ eggs and caviar appetizers, lobster, side of beef, Eton mess followed by a cheese course and Cointreau as an aperitif. It seems Tor has been catching up on his literature.”
“The eggs are going to be served in the moss nest, Sir. Just like in the book.”
“Taken from the scene where Charles first has lunch with Sebastian, as is the Cointreau. I think the other courses may be taking liberties with the text, but they’re very apt. It’s going to be quite a feast. And you’re right—the author does have a way with words, doesn’t he?”
Skye squirmed under Luke’s scrutiny and, yet again, his cock hardened. He’d managed to forget the harness while he’d been absorbed in his work, but now he could think of nothing else. The plug inside him shifted like there was some kind of conspiracy going on. He bit his lower lip hard and tried to keep still. Luke looked at him over the top of his glasses, a knowing smile lightening his usual stern expression.
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