His Brother's Viscount

by Stephanie Lake

Hector had the audacity to laugh as Ty said something.

  So enmeshed was he in his emotional turmoil, Will lost the train of conversation. It probably didn’t matter. Something to do with the best place to hie off for a quick fuck, most likely.

  “Hello, gentlemen.” Mary swished into the room, all femininity and silk and lightness. She smiled at Ty and Hector scrambling to cover their naked chests. Hector gasped, then moved slower. Ty helped him slip into a shirt.

  “My dear Hector,” Mary said, “has Wentworth finally remembered the two of you are perfect together?”

  Will’s mouth dropped open, and he was certain Ty’s would have too if not for all his training to be an emotionless aristocrat.

  When Hector smiled, Mary said, “It’s bloody well about time. I’ll lock the door, shall I?”

  “Damn good someone has some sense in this family,” Will grumbled as he put his armload of seduction items on the floor. “Wentworth, a moment?” He nodded toward the curtained windows and stomped away, Ty following.

  Ty clasped Will’s shoulder. “Will, I—”

  Will spun and stood toe to toe with Ty. “You have been hovering around Hector’s coattails for months. Every time you are in port, I find myself tripping over your sorry arse. I want to know right now what your intentions are.” He took a deep breath and then lowered his rising voice. “Haven’t you done enough damage to my family?”

  Ty did not flinch or back down. He looked Will in the eye and said, “I plan to keep him, and I plan to keep him safe. Do not try to stop us.”

  “Hector can make up his own mind who to be with.”

  “He has chosen me.”

  “Then God forbid you hurt him again.”

  Ty smiled. “Never. Never again, Will.” He stuck out his hand.

  Will decided to accept the peace offering.

  They turned and joined Mary and Hector, who stood only inches apart, sharing a wide-eyed, worried expression.

  Finally, Hector broke the silence. “You truly have nothing to say? I mean, you won’t attempt to lock me up to keep me away from Wentworth?”

  “You’ve lived up to your name these past few months, little brother, and proved you are grown and brave beyond compare. You can make your own decisions. Just be careful.”

  Hector smiled like an idiot.

  What the hell. Had he never complimented Hector before? Thinking back, perhaps not often. He would remember to do so in the future.

  He turned to Ty, still not finished, but that would be a much more private discussion. “I suppose I’d better become used to having you underfoot from now on.”

  Ty looked at Hector with a lasciviousness that made Will squirm.

  “Now get out of my house and take your perverted thoughts somewhere else. I will come by your town house tomorrow to check on my brother’s well-being and to give you the rest of my thoughts on the matter. Off you go. I was in the middle of planning my own seduction.”

  “Will?” Mary said, placing her warm, slender hand on his chest.

  God, I love this woman.

  Hector and Ty laughed as they finished dressing and escaped the room.

  Mary wrapped her arms around him as she watched them depart. “Isn’t love a beautiful thing?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “If I were convinced it is love.”

  “It is, my dear. Of that, I am certain.” She spun and perused the room.

  “Now, what plans did you have for this blanket?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Hector bounded into the darkened carriage, then sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, waiting for the ripping pain to start. But it did not, and he was damn delighted.

  Once inside, he sat in the rear-facing seat.

  The coach tilted when Wentworth put his weight on the step, but he didn’t enter. For a moment he stood half inside, half outside the vehicle. He stared at Hector and then, his mind apparently made up, he stepped inside and sat beside him.

  Hector held his breath and waited for a second, and then Wentworth grasped his hand with a strength that suggested heaven and earth depended on this contact.

  “Hector.”

  “Wentworth.” They spoke at the same time.

  “Hector, call me Ty.”

  Hector’s shock must have been obvious since he smacked his head against the padded seat back.

  Wentworth turned to him, a half smile showing in the dim lamplight.

  Shaking his head, Hector recalled the set down given a year prior when Wentworth told him not to call him Ty. Hector said honestly, “I don’t think I can.”

  “It would mean much to me if you could.”

  This time he shook his head in a visceral response he had no control over. “What I should have said, is I don’t want to. I will never call you that.” His voice sounded tight and constricted. “That is what Will calls you.”

  “Yes, but I would like for you to as well.”

  “I believe, Wentworth, that I would rather eat dirt than call you by the name your first love calls you.”

  Wentworth’s eyes flicked left but came back to focus on Hector. “Maybe in time—”

  “When hell runs out of fire.” He spewed the words with more heat than intended, then took a deep breath and tried to ease the strain in his shoulders.

  Wentworth laughed. “All right, you win. I will not push the issue. Perhaps one day you will see fit to grant me a pet name that will mean even more to both of us.”

  “I’ve given you plenty of pet names throughout my adult life, but I’m not certain you would appreciate any of them.”

  Wentworth gave an aristocratic snort. “I am certain.” He drummed his fingers against the side of the carriage. “Given time, I plan to make you forget those ugly memories.”

  Hector gave his own snort, not quite as aristocratic and with much more sarcasm.

  They sat in silence, listening to the carriage creak as it rocked at a slow pace. Hector longed to be out of the city, speeding along country roads, breathing fresh air and the smell of summer crops.

  “Hector, I did not bring this up before. Not until you had some distance from the event. Did Will tell you about Jonathan?”

  “About him trying to hurt me? Yes.”

  “Kill you, Hector. He tried to kill you.” Wentworth paused as if the memory was too painful.

  “I know. Will told me everything.”

  “Did he tell you how Jonathan died?”

  He opened one of the shades and looked out at the lamplit streets. “Someone stabbed him during the commotion.”

  Wentworth stiffened beside him but said nothing.

  “Funny that I’m not surprised. What surprises me is that I was able to be with a man who could kill me without a qualm. That will give me nightmares for years, I’m afraid.”

  “I am terribly sorry this happened to you, Hector. If I could change the past, I would make this all go away.” Reaching over, Wentworth grasped his other hand.

  Hector could feel rough skin where countless sailing ropes had burned Wentworth’s palms. He turned the hand over and slowly stroked the raised skin. “Seems you are determined to mar your elegance.” The shared touch turned to boil the simmer of desire he always felt around this man.

  Hector let go of one hand and rubbed Wentworth’s thigh, but before desire consumed him, he had to know whether he would get relief or remain frustrated like so many times since his injury. “Are you taking me somewhere to toy with me or to fuck me?”

  Wentworth laughed, the sound a warm, sensuous caress. “My dear,” he said, reaching across Hector to close the shade and then maneuvering to his knees on the carriage floor. “You are a resilient soul, to be sure, but your injuries were too severe for fornication. You needed time to heal, and it almost proved to be the end of me.” Spreading Hector’s legs, he fitted himself between them and ran his hands up both thighs, which turned Hector’s half-mast erection into full sail.

  Damn.

  “Now that I know you are healed, I can
not wait long enough to have you at my town house. I have been denied this beautiful body for months. Your lovely prick will be pumping in my mouth before the carriage stops.”

  The zing of lust and emotion was so fast, so intense, it felt like fear. The hair prickled on his arms and the back of his neck, and Hector could hardly breathe. “God, but I missed you while you were on patrol.”

  “And I missed you, Hector. Before we arrive, I want to give you this.” Wentworth reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sealed note. Very gently, he turned over Hector’s hand and placed it on the flat of his palm.

  “What the deuce…?”

  “I am done letting fear and guilt dictate my actions, Hector. I will work hard for your forgiveness, and I want you in my future. Open it.”

  He did. The previous surge of fear turned to pure panic. He would not let himself be fooled again. What did the declaration on the paper mean?

  Dearest Hector,

  Know that I am truly sorry and plan to spend the rest of my days making up for being an arse.

  Eternal love,

  Wentworth

  He swallowed the burning blockage in his throat. It couldn’t possibly mean what he had once hoped for. Couldn’t possibly mean a future with Wentworth. Couldn’t mean lasting love.

  He read the short note, then slapped the paper closed.

  “An apology. Oh, jolly good, I’ll use this to dry my tears when you tire of me again.”

  “Let me clarify, since you are resigned to skepticism. I am extraordinarily proud of you, Hector. I do not plan to hide that fact ever again. From myself or from anyone else. Although I might not flaunt my feelings either.” His voice barely filled the enclosed space. “The apology is on paper for you to see or to show me whenever I act like a bastard. It is a reminder for me to behave and to remind you that I love you and no one else.”

  “Lovely speech, but. What. Does. This. Mean?” He waved the paper around, emphasizing each word.

  Wentworth sighed. Kneeling like that, sitting back on crossed boots, his low back arched, Wentworth appeared submissive, like an altar boy ready to receive penance. No, not ready for—looking forward to receiving his penance. It was likely the most provocative thing Hector had ever seen.

  He was ready to take Wentworth then and there, forcibly if needed. Anything to pump all his frustration and lust out into Wentworth’s tight, shivering hole. He wiped sweat off his forehead. God. His balls were blue, and he needed release. Soon.

  Slowly Wentworth raised his head. Even in the dim light, Hector could see his intense gaze. “It means as little or as much as you desire.”

  Hector froze, his erection withering as fear flooded him. Is this a passing phase for my viscount? He had to be sure. He could not live through another broken heart. Trembling, he asked the question he was afraid to have answered. “Forever? And when you once again feel guilty over something, or decide it is time to marry and get an heir?”

  Wentworth looked down again, slid his hands slowly up until his thumbs pressed the cloth at Hector’s groin where leg met torso. He moved his thumbs back and forth.

  Gooseflesh started on Hector’s skin at the intimate touch, and his flagging erection regained strength.

  Staring directly into Hector’s eyes, Wentworth hissed, frustrated, as if the words had boiled up into steam inside him for years. “I have a few things I still need to work out in my thinking. I want you to help me work through them.”

  “I believe your problems may be beyond help,” Hector said.

  “Pay attention if you will, rambunctious one. I have more to tell you.”

  “Yes, your lordship.”

  Wentworth laughed, even though moments ago their discussion had been painfully serious. “Peter’s eldest son will inherit. I just left my solicitor’s office. I asked him to draw up the paperwork to make it formal.” He cleared his throat. “Tomorrow before we leave for Kent, I will sign it, along with the paperwork giving you five hundred a year when I die.”

  “What the devil—”

  He held up a hand. “Let me finish, Hector. Then you can berate me all you want.” Before continuing, he took a long breath and rotated his shoulders.

  “I wish I were a good man. I am not, but I hope you can accept me and the half good that lies beneath my rib cage, as I have no intention of ever marrying a woman, and, yes, I will touch you and only you. Until I take my last breath. I was wrong before, and I want to make this very clear now. You are the single most important thing in my life. Past, present, and future.”

  Hector blinked fast to keep the damn tears from falling. Leaning over, he touched his lips to Wentworth’s and found his kiss pliant and tender. No longer the aloof aristocrat avoiding Hector’s kiss, this time Wentworth’s breath caught and his frame shivered.

  Hector quite liked the change.

  Wentworth pulled away, stared at Hector’s lips, then moved in again, deepening the kiss, delving in with lust, tongue, and spirit. When he drew away, taking with him half the carriage’s warmth, he whispered in a Sunday morning voice, “You taste like spring. Similar, but different. Why did I not notice before?” Then he reached for another, gentler kiss. “I love you, Hector.”

  The temperature in the carriage shot to Saharan proportions.

  He really loves me. Oh yes, Hector definitely liked the new Wentworth. No, actually, a better term would be loved.

  ✥ ✥ ✥

  Wentworth was mortified. He’d just declared his intentions for Hector, and the blasted man sat there saying nothing, one lovely, infernal eyebrow cocked.

  He acted fast to take the focus off his embarrassment. “Hector, open your falls. I told you I would suck you before we left the coach, and the ride is nearly over, so do hurry.”

  He undid his falls in record time but sported an insolent, crooked smile.

  Wentworth was about to kiss the insolence out of that smile when he saw the long prick inches from his face. Forgetting about embarrassment, forgetting about mortification, he buried his face in Hector’s pubic hair and took a long, full breath of the humid, musky smell of sunshine, earth, and male that was all Hector’s.

  Why had he not noticed the much richer fragrance than Will’s sun, salt, and man? Hector tasted like sun-warmed spring earth, while Will tasted like a lonely, barren beach.

  “Damn, Wentworth. Damn.” Hector surged up, his cock rubbing Wentworth’s cheek. “I love you.”

  Wentworth drove his nose even deeper and captured the smell of heaven…no, not heaven…home. The smell of home.

  At last. He was home.

  ✥ ✥ ✥

  Hector pulled Wentworth’s hair to get his attention. “Suck me, my love.”

  Wentworth stared into his eyes as he sank his perfect mouth on Hector’s straining cock.

  “Oh God, that feels…” Hector clenched his fist in Wentworth’s ebony hair and rocked up into the sublime warmth. He’d been so close to coming for the past half hour, this amazing encounter would not last long. He pumped his hips and whispered, “Touch yourself. I want to see you come.”

  Cloth rustled, and then came the sound of flesh against flesh. The scent of the translucent liquid pearl at the tip of Hector’s cock, coupled with the moist slide of tongue on his shaft, sent him into ecstasy. He moaned and closed his eyes, fully experiencing the shattering feel of his body pumping seed into Wentworth’s mouth.

  When Hector was able to open his eyes again, it was too late to watch Wentworth spend. Wentworth breathed hard around the softening cock in his mouth, hands still, stiffened shoulders now loosened. How could anyone look exquisite no matter what they did?

  Reaching down to pull Wentworth back onto the seat, Hector said, “Tonight I plan to take your arse.”

  Wentworth’s eyes went wide. He straightened his clothing, opened one shutter, and picked up the note. “If you keep this and put it someplace safe, I will do anything you ask of me tonight.”

  “Anything?”

  “Yes.” He handed the let
ter back to Hector, who held the sheet up to the light, turning it for better illumination. He squinted in the waning light, reading the words again.

  He swallowed the constriction seizing up his throat as he folded and placed the paper in his coat pocket, close to his heart. It felt right there, somehow warming him from the inside out. In fact, everything felt perfect.

  “Close the shutter, love. I want to show you that I accept your apology.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Five days later

  “I am very glad we stayed in London,” Hector said as he stretched in a pool of morning sunlight that reached the rumpled bed. The sheet fell from his chest, exposing a faint scar that stretched across his ribs below one nipple, marring the pristine skin.

  Wentworth flinched, remembering nearly losing Hector. “How are you this morning, and why are you glad we stayed in London?”

  Hector rolled toward him and smiled. “Because I did not realize how comfortable a bed can be.” He sighed dramatically. “It would be much better, however, if I hadn’t awakened alone.”

  “You were not alone. I am right over here, catching up on correspondence.”

  Looking at the desk across the room where Wentworth and a tea tray waited for him, Hector said, “That is a full fifteen feet too far away.”

  Laughing, Wentworth went to the bed, toed off his shoes, and slipped under the fine green quilt to hold Hector close. “There is a breakfast tray. Would you like anything to break your fast?”

  “Hmm, not yet. I’m just barely awake.”

  “You had bad dreams last night.”

  “Not as bad as the night before.” He shrugged and nestled his head on Wentworth’s chest.

  The fine linen lawn shirt Wentworth wore was so thin, Hector’s morning stubble poked through and tickled. Wentworth rubbed one strong, bare shoulder, trying not to get aroused. They made love many different ways and quite frequently this week, but he still had to fight his growing desire. Hector could get his rod hard just by looking at him a certain way.

  God, what had he done to deserve such happiness? Perhaps he had done nothing and luck had simply landed in his bed. Wentworth kissed the top of that curly, dark head.