by Ruby Moone
“Tristan, please,” Sam said, holding out a hand. “Let me explain. Please.”
Tristan stared at him for a moment, then turned and walked away. He closed the door behind him quietly. The click of the latch however, sounded like a rifle shot in the silence that he left behind. Sam turned to Gareth and they exchanged horrified stares.
“You need to go after him. Christ, did you see his face?”
“Stop it,” Sam whispered.
“He really loves you. It’s not just…Oh, Sam, I am so sorry.” Gareth put his hands to his mouth.
“You only spoke the truth.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. It was the truth. Not quite so blunt, or so sordid, but he did set out to seduce Tristan. He did want a way out of the brothel. What he hadn’t banked on was actually falling in love.
* * * *
Tristan stood in the hallway of his home, his back pressed against the door. He closed his eyes. The man’s words kept racing around his mind. How unutterably foolish he had been. How unspeakably stupid. Shame and humiliation washed over him again, making him feel dizzy. At the same time, he was wracked by a sense of loss so deep it made his chest feel as though it were about to crack wide open. He pressed a hand there and tried to breathe. He made his way to the study and poured a brandy. He stood by the fire a moment or two and then crumpled into a chair still clutching his glass. He wondered if he might cry, but he felt too numb, too bruised, too hollow.
He had no idea how long he had been there when the door opened and Alfie walked in.
“What the hell are you doing hiding in here?” he asked in his own inimitable fashion. Tristan couldn’t speak. “Trouble in paradise?” he asked. Tristan just sat. Alfie came closer and peered down at him. “Tris?” This time there was no drawl in his tone, no teasing light. “Tris, what is it? What has happened?” Alfie reached down and took the glass carefully from him. He looked up at Alfie’s face. The face of his childhood friend. He had to blink several times.
“Bit of a shock. That’s all.” He ran his hand around the back of his neck and tried desperately to think.
“I take it this is about Holloway?” Alfie sat opposite him and was staring at him. When he cared to make the effort, Alfie had the most penetrating stare of anyone he knew.
“Don’t stare.”
“Then tell me what is wrong with you. You look like someone stole your last sixpence.”
Tristan smiled. “Not quite that bad. I just discovered that…Samuel is not quite the man I thought he was.” He had to swallow a couple of times before he could continue. “It would appear that I may have been taken for a fool.” It hurt to say those words, and it almost undid him. He rubbed his chest again as the crushing pain worsened. He felt so humiliated, so foolish.
“I’m sorry to hear it. I had just popped over to see if the both of you would like a little escapade, but perhaps this is not the right time. Is it all over?”
“Escapade? What on earth are you talking about?”
“A few…likeminded people are taking a jaunt to the country for a few days. I thought perhaps you and Holloway might like to join in. I thought he seemed sincere. It looks like I was wrong.” He sounded faintly surprised that he might be.
It would have been just what Samuel needed. A little company, a little fun. Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose.
Before he could respond a commotion in the hallway interrupted them. Samuel burst into the room, followed by an agitated footman that Alfie quickly dismissed.
Tristan stood up as Sam strode over and gripped his arms. “Tristan, please let me explain, please listen to me.”
“Unhand me.”
“Tristan…”
“I said unhand me.” Tristan threw off Samuel’s hands forcibly.
Samuel stumbled back, clearly shocked. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them. “Tristan, I am so sorry that you overheard that. Gareth is…well, he overstates things and exaggerates.”
“I didn’t hear any contradictions.”
“Can we speak alone?” Samuel cast an awkward glance at Alfie, who was watching the whole drama with unconcealed interest.
“Alfie, be a dear?” Tristan said.
Alfie smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Of course, my love. I shall be within calling distance if the brute cuts up rough.” He sauntered from the room. Samuel balled his hands into fists and glared at his retreating back. He then began pacing. His hand kept going to his mouth where he rubbed and pulled at his bottom lip. “I need to explain something. I need to…Oh God, what a mess.”
“Indeed. I shall be interested to see how you explain what Gareth said.” Only years of ruthlessly masking his feelings and his nature allowed Tristan to remain reasonably impassive.
Samuel looked tortured, but his next words floored Tristan.
“It was all true.”
“True?” The words came out as an incredulous whisper. He had expected emotional denials, explanations, excuses, appeals, but this?
Samuel nodded, rubbed his mouth again, and then let his arms hang by his side. “Would you sit down? It’s a bit of a story.”
Tristan knew he should throw the man out, but found himself sitting. Samuel sat opposite him and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees looking at him intently.
“Go on, then.”
Samuel pulled at his lip again. “I told you I wasn’t always a whore.”
“You did.”
“Well, it’s true. My family is reasonably well to do. Not anything like you, but we had a nice home and a good life. I am the youngest of six children and I had a happy childhood. My father was incredibly strict, but my mother loved me.” He paused, but Tristan didn’t speak. He just watched. “When I was sixteen my father found me in the stables with our neighbour. He was older than me, quite a lot older than me. I was…big for my age. He liked me, he liked…well, he liked me.” He cleared his throat. “My father walked in as I was ploughing his arse.”
Tristan watched those beautiful grey green eyes darken with the memory. “Save to say I was beaten and thrown out. He spared me by sending me away. I was to leave and never go back, leave and make my own way in life and to repent of my sins. I left with the clothes that I stood in and nothing more. My mother managed to sneak me a few shillings from her pin money, but that was it.”
“What happened?”
“I ended up in London where I discovered that honest work was scarce and finding somewhere to live almost impossible. I got some work at a couple of inns, where I found there were a multitude of lonely men who would pay good money to have a strapping young lad. That’s when I caught Dante’s eye and he introduced me to a whole new world. He gave me clothes, a home, paid for me to gamble in the club; men…” Samuel closed his eyes. “Eventually I owed him all the money that you paid him. Gambling and interest. By the time I realised what he was doing it was too late. I was trapped. He did it to Harry, Gareth, all the others. He lures them in and traps them.
“I see.”
“It was supposed to be safe. I got fed and clothed, only I was never safe from Mosely.” Sam’s gaze was fixed on the floor.
“Go on.”
“I’ve been there almost a year and I am sick to my soul. Sick of pandering to the whims of old men who think that because they are paying the club they can do whatever they want, treat you like dirt. So when you came, and you wanted me, it was like…it was like a real person wanted me. You were so kind, so real, so…” He paused and shook his head. “I wanted you. I adored you. I counted the days to each visit, and I knew you liked me in return. I had no way out, no hope of escaping and Mosely’s demands were becoming more and more…” He was gesturing with his hands, and his eyes beseeched for a moment and then he went still. “Everything Gareth said was true. I was trying to get you to take me out of Dante’s. I was hoping that you would like me enough to want to make me exclusively yours. The day that you got me away Mosely was chasing me around the house like a madman. You were wonderful. Just wonder
ful.”
“You said you loved me. Was that a lie?”
“I…no…yes…I…”
“I will take it that you don’t.”
Samuel got off the chair and knelt between Tristan’s knees. Tristan wanted to touch him so badly and hated himself for his weakness.
“Tristan, I adore you. I desire you like I have never desired anyone, and I want to be with you more than anyone. I am miserable without you, and I want nothing more than to be with you. If that is love, then I do love you, but I admit I said it in Dante’s to coerce you. I am so sorry for that. So sorry.” He moved to take Tristan’s hands but he pulled away. He didn’t dare allow Samuel to touch him.
“You want me to leave, don’t you?” Samuel’s voice was dull.
“Go back to the apartment. The rent is paid until the end of the month. You may continue to use it.”
“I…thank you. Tristan, I…”
“Nothing has changed. I pay for you and in return I can have you whenever I like.” Tristan averted his eyes from the shock on Samuel’s face. He couldn’t quite believe those words had come out of his mouth. He was shamed by them. But even more shamed by the realisation that whilst he couldn’t give Samuel up, neither could he give him any inkling of what was in his heart. It was the best he could do. But he couldn’t look at Samuel as he said it.
Chapter 8
It was almost a week before Tristan came to visit. Sam had just about given up on him ever coming back, and it has been the most miserable few days. He couldn’t bear how badly he had hurt him, but couldn’t see how he could ever fix it. He had tried being as honest as he could, tried explaining, but all he had managed to do was turn Tristan from a shy, loving man into a cold aristocrat. He wasn’t sure if Tristan would ever come and visit him again. He had been out a few times, but then worried that Tristan may come when he wasn’t in, so a few days had been spent waiting. Sitting, waiting, and worrying until he felt he could wait no longer. He had put all his belongings into a bag, left the things that belonged to Tristan, and started to plan. On his jaunts he had located a small, reasonably affordable room near Lincoln’s Inn Field that he could rent using some of the money that Tristan had given him. He knew he couldn’t do it any other way, but he bought a small book and wrote in it everything he had taken from Tristan, and worked out how much he owed, with every intention of paying him back even if it was likely to take years. He had packed the most practical clothes and left the elegant things behind. It hurt to leave the emerald cravat pin because it had been a gift, but he knew in his heart he could not take it.
Sam had almost everything arranged, his bag packed, and the key to the room in Lincoln’s Inn Field in his pocket, when the door slammed and Tristan walked in. Sam was shocked. Anxious and shocked.
Tristan was pale and tense. Since his escape from Dante’s he had become accustomed to Tristan’s blue eyes sparkling with love, good humour, passion, and affection. Now he could read nothing. His face was a blank, aristocratic mask that conveyed nothing but supercilious boredom. Those eyes that had followed him eagerly now looked through him.
Sam’s mouth was dry. “Hello.” It was hardly an original greeting but Sam didn’t have the faintest notion of what to say. Where to begin or what to do.
Tristan just nodded. He stripped off his coat and gloves and threw them on a chair.
“Have you eaten?” Tristan said. For the first time in their acquaintance Sam was uncomfortable in Tristan’s company. Was this how it was going to be?
“I have eaten. Thank you.”
Then I suggest we get down to business.” He strode in the direction of the bedroom, leaving Sam with his mouth open. He followed, eying Tristan warily.
Tristan pulled his way out of his coat that was terribly tight-fitting, and then unwound his cravat. “As I am funding your living expenses I will not pay you for each visit. If you need more money you only have to mention it.”
His words were like a punch to the gut. So that was how it was going to be. He was going to treat him like a whore. Funny, but Tristan was the only man who had never made him feel that way even when they were in Dante’s. This was it. Tristan coming in and demanding that he service him. Sam’s heart squeezed tight and he found it hard to speak. “Is that it then? That’s how we are now?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Tristan undid his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing all those lovely, tight muscles that made Sam quiver, only this time they didn’t.
“No.”
Tristan unbuttoned his falls and pushed out of his breeches and stood naked. Cock jutting. Demanding. “Get on with it. You know how I like it.”
“Please don’t.” Sam’s voice was low. He couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear that he had hurt Tristan so much he would do this.
Tristan simply went and laid face down on the bed, and looked away from him. Sam hesitated, started to undress, but then remembered that Tristan liked it when he was clothed. He climbed on the bed and looked at the lonely figure laying there. Looked at the curve of his spine that was just perfect and blended into that luscious backside. He had very little body hair, just a faint dusting of blond a bit like down. Sam sighed, ran his hand down the full length of that beautiful spine, stroked the softness of his arse, and then bent to kiss him. He kissed the dimple at the base of his spine, kissed each buttock, and felt them quiver. He trailed the backs of his fingers down his thighs and then kissed the backs of his knees.
“What are you doing?” Tristan’s voice was muffled in the pillow.
“Kissing you. Remembering you.” He kissed his calves and then slid his hands over Tristan’s feet. He had small feet for a man and there was something a little bit boyish, a little bit innocent about them. He moved back up the bed and kissed between his shoulders and watched his skin quiver a little at the contact and then ran his hands over each arm and kissed the apples of his shoulders.
Tristan pushed up onto his elbows, eyes looking a little unfocused, hair awry. “What are you doing? Get on with it.”
Sam took that beloved face between his hands and kissed him on the mouth. He wasn’t surprised when Tristan didn’t kiss back. He kissed each eyelid.
“Tristan, you are the only man that never made me feel like a whore even when I was one. You never treated me badly, in fact you were always considerate and kind. And I loved you for it. I will not allow you to do this to yourself or to me, as much as I care, as much as I adore you.” His voice was starting to waver so he paused a moment. “Let’s leave it with all those lovely memories, happy moments and…” He dipped his head and worked to keep his voice under control.
He looked back up to find Tristan watching him, mouth slightly open. “What do you mean, remembering?” He was beginning to frown.
“Remembering every lovely inch of you.” Sam got up off the bed and went to the tallboy where he had stored his already packed his things. “I am going to go before this turns into something that it shouldn’t.”
Tristan sat up and ran his hands through his hair. His cock lay soft against this thigh. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know.” Sam checked his pockets and then smiled. “I owe you so much money I don’t have a hope in hell of paying you back. There’s the money for Dante, the rooms, the clothes…” Sam sighed and felt embarrassed. “I have kept some of the clothes, just a little of the pin money you gave me to keep me going, but as soon as I find work I will start to repay you. I swear I will.” He pulled the book out of his pocket and waved it. “I’ve written it all in here so don’t think I will forget.”
He put a number of bills on the bedside table which was the remainder of the pin money, along with the velvet box that contained the emerald pin. He had wanted to keep that so badly; so very badly. He kissed the top of Tristan’s head and then left before he lost control. He heard Tristan shouting and fumbling about getting into his clothes, so he just closed his eyes and walked faster into the night.
* * * *
Sa
m settled back into the most comfortable chair in his room and sighed. Room, not rooms. The accommodation he had found was sparse, but reasonably comfortable and affordable on the money that he had kept from Tristan. It had a large bed, a table with two chairs under the window, and two armchairs along with a somewhat rickety assortment of furniture and utensils. The landlord had eyed him with suspicion, but the payment of two months in advance apparently smoothed over any misgivings he might have had. The next plan was work. At least he had decent clothing that would allow him to seek reputable work, although he couldn’t for the life of him think what he might do.
A knock at the door broke him out of his reverie.
“Dinner.” Gareth held up a bag and from it emanated the tantalising smell of meat pie. Sam smiled and opened the door wider to let him in. He found plates and crockery and invited his very first dinner guest to take a seat. “Good to see you,” he said, and poured them each a small glass of wine from a bottle he had purchased earlier.
“You, too. Slightly less opulent than your last abode though.” Gareth took the glass and raised in a toast.
Sam touched his glass to Gareth’s. “I know. I wish I could say at least it is mine, but it’s his money paying for it at the moment.”
“So what are you going to do?” Gareth took a drink.
“Work. I need to work and get myself out of this stinking mess honestly.”
“Did he kick you out?”
Sam shook his head as he chewed a mouthful of warm, savoury pie. He put his fork down. “No, he wanted to continue, but I couldn’t stomach the terms much as I want him.”
Gareth frowned. “What terms?”
“Cold, impersonal…like you would behave with a whore.” Sam pulled at his bottom lip for a moment and then picked up his fork again. He stabbed a piece of meat. “He used to look at me like I was made of gold. Like I was sent from heaven just for him. Like he couldn’t believe that we were together.” He put the meat in his mouth and chewed for a while, then put the fork down again and rubbed his eyes. “Then, after he found out about my plan he laid face down on the bed and told me to get on with it.”
