Serpent's Gate

by Jade Astor

  “I don’t.”

  Justin laughed and this time took hold of both his hands. Stephen felt a happy tingle thread its way up his arms. “Good thing. I’m glad you can see through Roark. I shouldn’t be too hard on him, though. The fact that he’s now master of the house is really all he has going for him. At some level he knows it. That’s why he’s so hard to get along with. He’s miserable inside.”

  “Is that what he plans to do with his life after he finishes law school? Stay here and run the estate?”

  “If there’s anything left of it by the time he gets done selling parts of it off. He has a love-hate relationship with the place. He hates the library, you know. Blames it for driving our father mad. The truth is, the old man was plenty crazy before he started spending most of his time in there. Roark just doesn’t want to admit it.”

  “Master of the manor,” Stephen said, shaking his head. “It seems so old-fashioned.”

  “Old-fashioned, huh? Like you taking over your uncle’s bookstore?”

  “That’s Uncle Vernon’s dream.” Stephen scowled. “I haven’t agreed to anything of the kind. I’m helping out there because a few months ago, Uncle Vernon had a mild heart attack. When I graduated from college this past spring, I didn’t have a real job lined up, so my family decided I should come here and—er, look after him for a while.”

  “Very dutiful of you.”

  Not exactly, Stephen thought, but he didn’t plan to get into that particular family issue with Justin. “I’m happy to help, sure, but I also want to go out in the world—make my own way and build my own career, whether that involves the bookstore or not.” Stephen studied Justin’s face, half-veiled by a shadow, unable to read his reaction. “Don’t you?”

  “Well, leaving the estate behind is easier said than done for a Fairbourne. We’re connected to this place in a way that’s difficult to explain. We traditionally don’t do too well outside that gate.”

  “But you went away.”

  “And came back again. That proves my point, don’t you think?”

  “What about Roark going to law school next year?”

  “He is, yes. That will get him out of my hair for a while, but he’ll return and set up an office here. It’s inevitable. Being away will probably just give him more incentive to plot out ways to thwart me when he comes back. I think it’s how he spends all his free time now.”

  Stephen shook his head, disgusted at Roark’s overbearing ways. He’d seen plenty of examples of the elder brother’s spitefulness. “That’s terrible. I don’t know how you can stand to be here.”

  “Oh, I’m used to it, and over the years I’ve learned to deal with him. No need to worry. And for now, I don’t want to speak ill of my brother, so let’s drop it.”

  “All right, but I want to ask you one thing, if it’s okay.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  “I’m sorry if this is too delicate, and don’t answer if you don’t want to…but could your mother maybe talk to Roark?”

  “No.” Justin’s expression darkened. “She took off under unpleasant circumstances. Mom moved to England for good and wants nothing more to do with any of us. She’s made that plenty clear over the years, even to me when I visited her.”

  “Did she? That’s awful.”

  “She’s awful. I accept it.” He shook his head as it to clear it. “What’s the rest of your family like? The ones who sent you to stay with your Uncle Vernon. Do you get along with them?”

  “Pretty much. My parents are busy running their restaurant, so they mostly let me do what I want. I’m an only child, but I’m not the spoiled kind you hear about. Mom and Dad were always too busy to dote on me. They gave me everything I needed, including a college education, but beyond that they’ve let me make my own way in the world.”

  “Do you wish you could be closer to them?”

  “Nah. I’m happy the way I am. It’s good to be independent. Whatever mistakes I’ve made were my own, and I’m happy to say I’ve learned from all of them.”

  Justin’s fingers tightened, drawing Stephen a little bit closer. Intimately close, in fact. Stephen felt that little nervous tug that signaled an invasion of his personal space. He welcomed it, though. It was the best kind of nervous. “Are your parents supportive of…you know?”

  “My sexuality? Yeah, they’re fine with it. I mean, they worry that they won’t have grandchildren, but I told them nothing’s impossible these days.”

  Justin nodded. “I could go for being an only child. I always used to wish that, growing up. Every time Roark teased me or was cruel to me. I really wanted him out of my life. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I think I do, in a way.”

  “Listen. A word of advice, Stephen. Don’t trust him with your secrets. Don’t tell him anything he can use against you.”

  “I don’t have any secrets.”

  “Sure you do. We all do. I don’t mean things like you’re secretly sneaking off at night and robbing gas stations. I mean things like your past, or your fears, or your hopes for the future. Knowing someone’s secrets equals having power over that person.” Justin raised their joined hands up to his chest, holding so tightly it hurt a little. “Stephen, I come from a long line of people who are obsessed with gaining power over other people. They want it just for the sake of having it.”

  “I’ve never wanted power over anyone,” Stephen said honestly.

  “I believe you. But Roark doesn’t feel that way. He craves it. As for me, I’ve had enough of power. You know what I want most? I want to be happy. I want to live simply. All this money, property—I want to use it to help others, you know? Roark can’t understand that. He wants it all for himself. So he can control everyone around him. Not just the servants, but me and even Uncle Malcolm. I’m onto his methods, and I try to fight that every day. It’s why he hates me.”

  “I wish he didn’t. I think it’s wonderful,” Stephen blurted. “And I…I think you’re wonderful.”

  “Yeah?” Justin gave him a slow, shy smile. Stephen knew that he was finally seeing the real Justin—not the brash persona he showed to the world, no doubt to protect himself from Roark and others like him. Every day must be a struggle for him. Stephen admired him for keeping such a cheerful outlook in spite of his pain. “It means a lot to hear you say that, Stephen.”

  Justin glanced up to make sure everyone else had walked on. Then he dropped Stephen’s hands and wrapped both arms around his shoulders. Without a second’s hesitation, he drew Stephen up against his chest and kissed him.

  His lips were warm, soft, and exciting. Stephen’s pulse pounded, his mind raced, and the only thing he could think about was making sure he didn’t disappoint Justin, who probably had loads more experience than Stephen himself did. He responded eagerly, though self-consciously, opening his lips to Justin’s bold, probing tongue.

  When they broke apart, Stephen knew he was blushing and felt grateful for the darkness. The moonlight frosted Justin’s grin. He was always so poised and self-assured—Stephen liked that best about him, even more than he liked his good looks and obvious intelligence. The fact that Justin clearly liked Stephen back, when he could have most any other guy in the world, offered a shot of confidence. That was another new and welcome experience.

  If only he didn’t have to deal with a brother like Roark. Stephen wished he could get away Justin from this place—maybe move to him town, rent an apartment near Carlyle Books. Who knew what might happen then?

  “Stephen!” his uncle called from the darkness far ahead of them. “Stephen, where are you? Come along, please!”

  “You’d better answer,” Justin prompted when he hesitated, dazed and disoriented with excitement. Stephen didn’t need a few glasses of alcohol, like Uncle Vernon and Malcolm. He felt as if he were drunk on emotion.

  The two of them giggled, their foreheads together. Stephen didn’t think anything had ever made him happier than standing there with Justin Fairbourne, their minds and bodies fully at
tuned to one another.

  Reluctantly, they stepped apart.

  “Sorry, Uncle Vernon!” Stephen called back, hoping he hadn’t guessed what had been going on in the shadows behind him. No way would he approve of Stephen canoodling with their most important client ever. “I’m on my way!”

  Justin gave him another quick kiss before he threaded his fingers through his and guided him back to the brick path.

  “Don’t worry about Uncle Vernon or Roark,” he assured Stephen. “It’ll all work out okay.”

  Chapter 8

  “We’ll have to work quickly and efficiently today,” Uncle Vernon said as they set off across the lawn toward the house. Stephen carried his laptop in a shoulder bag. “By this time tomorrow we’ll be setting off for home, so I’d like to put together a proposal for Roark Fairbourne this evening. That way, he can think about it while we’re gone. I have a feeling we’ll be back here next weekend. I don’t think I imagined his enthusiasm for what we’ve done so far.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Stephen blurted. Uncle Vernon smiled at him, and he blushed. “I mean…I know how much this job means to you. I doubt we’ll ever find so many rare books in one place again.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, Stephen. I worried you might be bored, spending most of your summer sorting books with me instead of having fun with your friends.” He winked. “For what it’s worth, I think Justin is a fine young man. Brash but decent. Whatever his faults and infirmities might have been, Mr. Fairbourne brought him up the right way.”

  So Uncle Vernon saw right through his sudden interest in the Fairbourne book collection. “I like him, too.”

  “At first I wondered if these rich young men would be a bad influence on you. I’m pleased to see they’re not. They both have wonderful manners—all too rare among your age group these days.”

  “I agree with you about Justin. But I think Roark is nothing but a stuck-up snob.”

  “Do you? That seems excessive.”

  “I don’t like him. He’s condescending to me and cruel to Justin. You must have noticed.”

  Uncle Vernon clucked his tongue. “The rich have their own ways, Stephen. It’s what they were born to, just as you were born into a family of booksellers. Their actions come naturally to them. You mustn’t judge people for being what they were meant to be.”

  Stephen remembered what Justin had told him the night before about Roark’s interest in power. Uncle Vernon had no idea how deep the lust for control ran in Roark. He wouldn’t have suspected it, either, if Justin hadn’t warned him in time.

  “Well, I won’t get involved in their power games. People like Roark take pleasure in manipulating and stomping on others. We should fight against that, not go along with it like it’s the natural order of things. It doesn’t have to be.”

  “I doubt Roark is old enough to have done much stomping. Still, we can learn quite a bit from observing and interacting with those who have power and influence in the world. Never forget that.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said not wanting to betray Justin’s confidence in him. Somehow, their conversation might even get back to Roark. Stephen shuddered to think what could happen to Justin then.

  “You have to give people a chance. Usually they’ll act the way you expect them to. Mr. Fairbourne certainly was lucky in his sons. They’re loyal to his legacy and to their place in the family.”

  Stephen chewed his lower lip while they walked. “Can I ask you something, Uncle Vernon? Have you ever…you know…had strong feelings for someone? Someone you wanted to know better?”

  “Have I ever been in love, you mean? Of course I have. But that was long ago, Stephen, and has no bearing upon my life today. Suffice to say I’m too old for folly.”

  “You think love is the same thing as folly?”

  “It can be. You are younger than I am, so you will simply have to trust me on that score.”

  “But what if the person in question is the one who can really make you happy? You know, long term…like forever?”

  Uncle Vernon slowed his steps. He stared straight ahead, and Stephen saw his jaw set in that telltale stubborn way. “As I said, Justin Fairbourne may be a desirable friend for you, but anything more than that would be presumptuous. I hope you will not get your hopes up where he is concerned.”

  “Why is hope such a bad thing? Without it, how would we ever make our lives better?”

  Lips pursed, Uncle Vernon resumed walking at full speed. “This conversation is not productive, Stephen.”

  “Only because you won’t let it go anywhere. And while we’re on the subject, I’m not only talking about Justin. I’m talking about Geoffrey, too.”

  “Geoffrey.” Uncle Vernon bit the name off as if he’d been forced to utter a socially unacceptable term.

  “Yes. You know he hangs out at the store because he’s interested in more than just your inventory. Are you really oblivious to what he’s going through, or do you just pretend to be?”

  They had almost reached Fairbourne House by the time Uncle Vernon answered. “Stephen, my first inclination is to tell you that my relationship with Geoffrey is none of your concern. However, I get the sense you will not let the subject rest until I have addressed it to your satisfaction. Therefore, I will simply say that by not indulging what we can charitably call Geoffrey’s flight of whimsy, I am doing him a kindness. He may not see that now…but one day, perhaps, he will.”

  Growing irritated, Stephen pressed on. “How can disappointing him over and over again ever count as kindness?”

  “Because it will spare him an even greater disappointment in the future. Now I must insist we drop this subject. We’re nearly at the house, and it would not be appropriate to carry on a personal conversation when we should be focusing on our work.”

  Near the terrace steps, they spotted a figure at one of the stone tables. Malcolm Argyle looked exhausted and disheveled as he slurped from a china coffee cup. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing as he raised a hand in greeting. “Good morning. Getting a timely start on the library, I presume?”

  “Indeed we are,” Uncle Vernon said. “You’re here a bit early yourself.”

  “I stayed over last night. Indulged a little too freely at dinner, if you know what I mean. Didn’t want to get pinched driving back through the village.”

  “Ah, well, no harm done,” Uncle Vernon said cheerfully. “Stephen and I enjoyed ourselves immensely. May I say again how grateful I am to your clients for the hospitality they’ve shown us. We hope to put a report together this evening. It will take a good deal more sorting and research to determine a precise value, though it’s by no means an impossible task. Industry and dedication will be the keys.”

  “I’m as interested as Justin in what you might find there,” Malcolm said, drumming his fingers on the table. “Thanks to you, I’ve discovered an interest in nineteenth-century American books. If you find anything truly unique, I hope you’ll share it with me.”

  “I’ve seen a few first editions and rarities that would fetch a good price in the antiquarian market if the Fairbournes decide to sell. But I’m sorry to say there haven’t been any true rarities.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Of course, it’s too soon for pessimism. If your nephew sees fit to invite us back, we’ll perform a more thorough investigation. One never knows might turn up then.”

  “Thorough is the best way,” Malcolm agreed. He gestured toward the silver coffee pot and extra cups on the tray. “Will you join me for coffee? I’m interested in hearing more about what you’ve cataloged so far.”

  Uncle Vernon started to object, but Malcolm insisted. Restless, Stephen glanced up at the house. A welcome sight greeted him—Justin, framed in the sliding glass door facing the terrace, gesturing furtively.

  “Uncle Vernon, do you mind if I go on ahead? I need to charge my laptop and pull up the inventory files before we get started. It will save us time in the long run.”

  “Good
thinking,” Uncle Vernon said, warming to his conversation with Malcolm.

  Excusing himself, Stephen hurried up the steps to where Justin waited, grinning. As he climbed the stairs, Stephen noticed Roark watching from one of the other windows farther along the facade. When their eyes met, Roark turned away in a flutter of dark curtains and vanished.

  “Good job ditching those two,” Justin said as he slid open the glass door. “Come on. I want to talk to you.” He motioned for Stephen to follow him down a short hallway to the dining room, where a platter of fragrant blueberry scones and a silver coffee service waited.

  “Isn’t this awesome?” Justin indicated the spread on the table. “I had Mrs. Mulgrave make these from scratch. Have a seat and enjoy one of these scones. They’re delicious. I admit I tasted one before you got here. I wanted to be sure they were good enough for you.”

  He waited expectantly while Stephen bit into a scone. It was fantastic, filled with real blueberries, oven-warmed but not too dry. While he chewed, Justin poured coffee for both of them.

  “You’re right,” Stephen said after he swallowed. “These are wonderful.”

  “They’re even better with a healthy dose of java,” he said, pushing a cup toward him. “The woman is a genius, plain and simple. However much the Fairbourne estate is worth, my life would be much poorer without her.”

  “This is good too. Thank you, Justin. It was nice of you to go to all this trouble.”

  “No trouble. That’s what we have servants for.”

  Stephen nodded, unsure how to respond. Uncle Vernon was right—they lived in a different world than he did.

  “I had a great time showing you around the grounds last night.”

  “I enjoyed it a lot, too. Thanks again, really.”