by Tinnean
“So what’s going on with Portia’s godmother’s son?”
I kept myself from chuckling. Of course Mark would know who Jack Abberley was, just as I’d suspected. “Lord Creighton’s always had a soft spot for Mother, and now that she’s with Gregor… By the way, she loved the roses.”
“Yeah? I’m glad.” He was. I could tell by the tone of his voice, and I was pleased to share her with him.
“It’s a good thing they weren’t red. Gregor would have challenged you to a duel.” It was just a throwaway remark that meant nothing.
“Babe, if I was going to send anyone red roses, it would be you.”
“Really, Mark?” For a second I couldn’t catch my breath. We’d said “forever,” but… Was he aware of what red roses symbolized?
He was silent for a moment, and then he said, “Yeah.” There was wry amusement in his voice. “Really, Quinn.” Of course he was aware.
In spite of having to get up in less than five hours, I gave serious consideration to getting into my car and driving to his condo.
“I wish I didn’t have to be out of the country while this is happening with Davies, but….”
“It’s okay, babe.”
“Call me if you need me.”
“You’re going to be in London.”
“I know.” I’d never put my own needs above Mother’s.
“The problem will most likely be settled by the time you come home.”
“Call me anyway?”
“Okay. Have a—Wait a second. You’re driving your Jag?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you plan to put Portia’s suitcases? That Jag doesn’t have much in the way of cargo space.”
I groaned and rubbed my forehead. “You’re right.”
“Want to borrow my Dodge? We can swap cars if you like. If you trust me with your baby.”
“Ass. Of course I trust you. I don’t want to put you out, though. I’ll call Gregor and make sure he has the Town Car ready.” It was in tiptop condition and had only needed to have the tires replaced after Mrs. Wexler had had them slashed last fall.
“Okay, your call, but if you need the Dodge, she’s yours.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it. Listen, have a safe flight. Oh, and good luck with Abberley.”
Mark was the third person to wish me a safe flight, and I imagined that made sense even more after 9/11. “Thanks.” I wanted to say... I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say, so I simply said, “Bye, Mark.”
“Bye, Quinn.”
I hung up, closed the baby grand, and ran my fingertips over the lid. I wished Mark were waiting upstairs for me. I’d liked it more than I’d anticipated when he’d moved in after his apartment had been blown up last year.
I blew out a breath and dialed the house in Great Falls.
“Hey, Quinn. Everything okay?”
“Hi, Gregor.” I thought of what was going on with Davies and the WBIS, but this wasn’t something I could talk about just now, and especially not with Gregor, who loathed all things WBIS with a passion. “I do seem to have a bit of a problem. The Jag doesn’t have much in the way of storage space. Would you mind if I borrowed the Town Car?”
“Not a problem, but why don’t I drive you to the airport? This way you won’t have to worry about parking either the Jag or the Town Car in the long term lot.”
“I don’t want to put you out—” I walked through the house, making sure everything was secure.
“You’re not. This is part of my job. Besides, it will give me more time with your mother.”
“All right, thank you. Speaking of Mother, how did Alyona react to the news that her brother is now involved with ‘the missus?’”
“Oh, please, how do you think? She smacked the back of my head and began yelling at me in Czech.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Tell me about it. She called me an idiot and then wanted to know if I was using Portia as the reason for never having found a woman to settle down with.”
“What did you say to that?” With the first floor buttoned up tight, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom.
“What could I say? I’d found perfection, and even if I couldn’t possess it, I intended to stay near enough to appreciate it. When Alyona heard that, she looked at Portia. ‘Missus, this is so?’ she asked. Portia smiled at her and would have linked her arm with mine, only Alyona threw her arms around me and squeezed me so tight I was certain she’d crack one of my ribs. Then she said I was lucky Portia felt the same way. I had to remember that she was a lady and I was to act like a gentleman at all times.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “So it turned out better than you hoped.”
“Yeah, it did. Uh… Quinn… I know I’ll never mean to her what your father did, but…”
“Gregor, we’ve been over this. As long as you don’t expect me to call you Dad, we’re good.” I began laying out the clothing I would put on in a few hours.
“Thanks. Oh, hold on, your mother’s here.”
Her warm voice came over the phone. “Good evening, sweetheart. Is everything all right? Mark hasn’t decided to run off again, has he?”
I groaned. “No, Mother.” Last year Mark had used the excuse of having to be in Fall River for his mother’s funeral to break up with me. I’d been so startled by his unexpected action—I’d thought things were going well for us—I’d gone to Mother to discuss it. Her advice had sent me after Mark, and by the time we returned at the end of the week, we were together again. “The problem is with the trunk space… or rather lack of it… in my Jaguar.”
“I see. Well, that won’t be a problem. Gregor can drive us.”
“He’s already volunteered to do that. I hate having him get up so early though.”
“He’d be up at any rate to make sure we get off safely. Quinton, as much as I enjoy talking with you, I think you’d better go to bed now. I know you won’t get any sleep on the flight tomorrow.”
“You’re right. I’ll see you in a few hours. Good night, Mother. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. Good night, and sleep well.”
I hung up and plugged my phone into its charger, then sat on the edge of my bed and buried my head in my hands. It had been a long day, and I had a lot on my mind. If I were lucky, I’d get about three hours sleep.
I straightened and began unbuttoning my shirt. I should have showered earlier. Would I have the energy to do so now?
“Hey, babe.”
I almost fell off the bed. “Mark!” He stood in the doorway, wearing only shorts and socks, his clutch piece fastened around his ankle. “What—”
He stripped off his shorts, and the next thing I knew, I had a naked armful of the world’s deadliest agent.
“Mark….”
His lips on mine swallowed whatever else I might have said, and I groaned into his mouth. I didn’t care how he’d gotten here or why. All I knew was I needed him in my body, and I had on too many clothes.
Mark helped. He tugged off my shoes and socks and tossed them aside, then removed my trousers and shorts in one fell swoop.
There was still my shirt. Before I could wrestle with the cuff buttons, Mark rolled on a condom and ran lube-slicked fingers up and down his cock. My lips parted and my mouth went dry, and I tried to undo the buttons, but my hands trembled, and I was all thumbs. I swore under my breath.
“Forget about ’em.” With one tug, Mark had my shirt in tatters. As for the buttons, they’d given up the ghost, and I could hear them patter against the dresser and the wall behind the headboard.
“It’s a good thing I wasn’t wearing pajamas.” My laugh was hoarse as I recalled the black-on-black silk pajamas Mark had bought me last year to replace the ones he had torn off me. Those pajamas had replaced another pair he’d shredded, while those replaced the ones he’d removed with the use of a knife, while he’d had me cuffed to my bed.
Mark was hard on my pajamas, no pun intended. Perhaps that was why
I’d stopped wearing them when we spent the night together.
“I’d have just bought you another pair.” He paused with his slicked fingers up my ass. “What color would you like the next time?”
“Really, Mark?” I shivered as he curled his fingers and teased my prostate. “We’re talking clothes now?”
“Okay.” He pulled his fingers out of me, but before I could begin to feel empty, he’d replaced them with his cock, and I groaned and clamped down.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Cool.” He drove into me repeatedly. His thrusts were fast, and he groaned against my ear as I dragged my nails over his shoulder blades and down past his waist to dig into his ass cheeks. In a surprisingly short space of time his movements became erratic. “S-sorry, babe.”
“Why?”
“N-no time to make this last.”
I couldn’t ask why he was worried about that; I was concentrating on other things. I gripped his hips with my knees, flipped our positions, and rode him as I’d ride Testament.
Except this was so much better.
It didn’t last long, though. The world went topsy-turvy and I found myself flat on my back once again.
“Harder, Mark. Please, harder!” I bucked and writhed, panting as I endeavored to catch my breath.
He dipped his head, latched on to one of my nipples—he knew how sensitive they were—and let me feel his teeth.
“Mark!” I fell apart, but I was safe in his arms.
He growled and thrust one last time, and I could feel his cock swell as he filled the condom.
I turned my head, murmured in his ear, and nipped it, smiling in pleasure at his shiver. His ears were almost as sensitive as my nipples.
“Quinn?”
“Mmm?” I felt boneless, and I knew it would take a few minutes to come down from that euphoric high.
“Did you… did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” I hummed with satisfaction. I was almost asleep, and I was going to sleep well, thanks to my lover.
“Nothing. Probably just great sex talking,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?”
The bed shifted as he got up. “I’ve got to go.”
I peeled open an eye. “Can you stay?”
“I’d better not.” He ran a damp washcloth over my body, and I hummed again, this time with pleasure. He must have gone to the en suite to get the washcloth. “You’ve got to get up early.”
“Thank you.”
“Any time.”
“No, I meant thank you for coming here.”
“I knew that was what you meant. I’m gonna set the alarm for three, okay?”
“Sounds good, babe.” I yawned. “Thanks.”
“Welcome. Make sure you catch up on your sleep when you get to London.” He kissed the corner of my mouth, rolled me to free the covers, and then pulled them up over my shoulders and kissed me once more. “’Night, Sleeping Beauty.”
“’Night, Rhett.” I started to tell him to be careful, to watch his back because I wouldn’t be there to watch it for him, but I was asleep before I could get a word out.
I groaned at the harsh buzz of my alarm clock. It couldn’t be three o’clock already.
It was. I slapped at the button that would turn it off, and blessedly, the annoying sound stopped. I sat up in bed, ran my fingers through my hair, and scrubbed my face.
All right, if I didn’t get out of bed now, I’d fall back to sleep, and the next thing I knew, Gregor would be pounding on my door because it was 3:30.
I swung my legs out of bed and made my way to the en suite, where I relieved myself and took a quick shower.
I wasn’t looking forward to picking up the clothes Mark and I had scattered all over the floor a few hours earlier, but when I returned to my bedroom, I found my trousers hanging from the suit rack and my shoes neatly placed beneath it. The shirt was draped over a chair, and as I’d suspected, it was a lost cause.
“Thank you, Mark,” I murmured.
I dressed, took my luggage to the first floor, and stopped in the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, but it was already done.
Mark must have set the timer, because I certainly hadn’t.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sipped the fragrant brew. I’d have to bring something home for Mark to show my appreciation.
Of course I would have brought him something anyway.
Chapter 8
We boarded the 747 and found our seats in business class. While Mother made herself comfortable in the window seat, I swung our carry-on cases into the overhead compartment, then sat beside her.
Once our jet was in the air, Mother lowered her seat and slipped into an easy doze. I stretched out my legs, but I didn’t bother shifting in my seat in an attempt to become more comfortable. I knew it was useless, and no matter what I did, I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.
Instead, I gazed through the window, watching as clouds in the midnight-blue sky drifted by, and I thought of Mark and red roses.
The closest he and I had come to exchanging words of love had been shortly after his birthday, while we’d watched the John Wayne movie Hondo. After the squaw-seeking, Hondo told Angie Lowe, one word was said, varlebena, which meant forever.
Mark had looked into my eyes and said, “Forever, Quinn.”
And I’d replied, “Forever, Mark.”
At the time, it had been safe, it had been enough, but now… now he’d said if he bought red roses—the symbol of love—I was the only one to whom he would give them.
Perhaps it was time to stop playing it safe, to admit our deeper feelings.
However, when I told Mark I loved him, I didn’t want to be on the verge of falling asleep and I didn’t want Mark to think it was simply the result of amazing sex.
I closed my eyes. No, I wouldn’t sleep, but I could lose myself in thoughts of my lover.
Eight hours after our flight departed from Dulles, it landed at Heathrow. We deplaned, went through passport control, picked up our luggage at baggage claim, and went through customs, then found our transportation, a complimentary Mercedes that had been waiting for us at the airport.
I struggled to keep my eyes open in spite of what felt like a beach-load of sand behind their lids. Now that we were no longer over the ocean, the hours without sleep weighed down on me.
Mother patted my knee and murmured, “We’re here, sweetheart,” as the car pulled up in front of Claridge’s, and a doorman leaped forward to open the door for Mother.
“I’ll see your luggage is taken right to your room, madame.”
“Thank you,” she said as she stepped out, looking as fresh as always.
I, on the other hand, was certain I resembled nothing so much as what the cat dragged in. I clambered out after her, smothering a yawn, and followed her to the front desk.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Mann. It’s delightful to see you again. Lord Creighton has arranged a table for two for four thirty. Er….” He glanced at me. “Shall I call him and inform him you have a companion?”
“That won’t be necessary,” I told him. “I’ll sleep off my jet lag.”
Mother registered for us, and a bellboy showed us to our penthouse suite overlooking Brook’s Mews.
I tipped him. “Leave my suitcases in the sitting room. I’ll call down to have them unpacked later.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Shall I send Mr. Henderson up to unpack for the lady?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Henderson is the butler assigned to this suite.”
Mother looked at her watch. “Not at this time. I don’t want to be late for tea.”
“Very good.” He gave a slight bow and let himself out.
“I’m sorry, Mother.”
She rested her palm against my cheek. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”
“You’ll be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll freshen up and change into something more suitable for afternoon tea before I go down
to meet Jack.”
I nodded, turned my head to press a kiss to her palm, and then smiled wearily and walked into the second bedroom. It might have been the most luxuriously appointed room in creation, but all I could see was the bed with its cover enticingly turned down. I closed the door, shed my clothes, and fell face-first onto it.
I woke up feeling more human. A glance at the bedside clock showed it was 10:07 a.m., so I knew I’d slept for almost twenty hours.
I stretched, feeling my joints pop satisfactorily, and then sat up and scrubbed my face. I’d need to shave. I remembered what it had been like on Mark’s island, when we’d both let our facial hair grow. That had only been for a week, and it hadn’t seemed to matter to him that the Ice Man was nowhere in sight. How would he react if I were no longer clean-shaven?
My cock twitched. It would be a week before we returned to the States. Perhaps I’d grow a mustache and goatee, let them frame my mouth. It would be interesting to see where that might lead.
I tossed back the bedspread and paused. The clothes I had left on the floor were hung on a suit rack. Unless the hotel fairy had paid me a visit, Mother must have done this for me—she’d never permit a stranger to enter a room while I was sleeping.
I found my suitcases in the closet, my suits and riding clothes neatly hung up, and everything else placed in the dresser.
I walked to the door and poked my head out. “Good—”
Mother was dressed in black yoga pants and top and was in the simple headstand pose. She’d taken up yoga when her physical therapist had suggested it after the “accident.”
“Good morning, Mother.”
She lowered her legs until her feet were flat on the floor, then unfolded her spine until she finally stood upright. A sheen of perspiration covered her cheeks. She brushed her hair off her forehead and smiled at me.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” She wasn’t even breathing heavily.
“Thank you for unpacking for me and hanging up the clothes I wore yesterday.”
“It’s what mothers do. You were dead to the world. How are you feeling?”
“Much better. How do you manage it?”
