“Men like yourself?”
“Men who want a straightforward sort of thing. No buying or selling. Just getting what we want from each other, then parting.”
“Do you ever go with the same man?”
Iain just shook his head, and his expression didn’t invite further questions on that point.
After a moment, James said diffidently, “Perhaps you could nominate me for membership?”
“Absolutely not!”
James blinked, taken aback by Iain’s swift, uncompromising reply. “What? Why not?”
Iain scowled. “I just—” He broke off.
“Just what?”
“I don’t—hell, I don’t like the thought of it!”
“The thought of what?”
“Of you, in Redford’s. Looking for that.” He was staring forward, not even looking at James now.
“Why not?” James demanded.
“I don’t know,” Iain said irritably. “I just don’t like it.”
James stared at his friend’s grim profile. “You go to this club regularly by your own admission,” he pointed out.
“I do.”
“You go with other men—never the same one twice.”
“Correct,” Iain gritted out.
“So why should you mind the thought of me doing the exact same thing?”
Iain said nothing, but a muscle in his jaw flickered.
“Why don’t you want me to go there, Iain?” James demanded again, irritated by the man’s hypocrisy. When Iain didn’t answer, he pressed on angrily. “I think you look at me and see a boy, but I’m two-and-twenty—”
“I don’t see you as a boy,” Iain broke in. “I can assure you of that much.”
James didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to interpret Iain’s quiet, almost resigned tone.
For a long, silent moment, their gazes held as he puzzled over it.
Briefly, he wondered if Iain’s odd reaction was down to the fact that the thought of James with another man bothered him—but that was a silly idea. Iain didn’t want James like that. Never had.
I hope you don’t think that just because I have indulged in such things with others, that I was looking for that from you...
No, that was a preposterous idea.
Yet now he found himself remembering that odd moment yesterday afternoon, when they’d wrestled in the grass. He’d been sure he’d imagined the flash of desire in Iain’s blue gaze, the hardness of Iain’s body against his own.
But had he?
IT WAS HALF AN HOUR later that they entered the woods that backed onto the manor house and walked the horses to James’s favourite swimming place, a small, deep pool, fed by a tiny waterfall. In the winter, the foss gushed, icy cold, but at this time of year, its flow was diminished to little more than a trickle and the surface of the water was glassily still.
“That looks heavenly,” Iain said as he dismounted. “It’s a long time since I’ve been swimming.”
They let the horses drink their fill first, feeding them each an apple before tying them up and leaving them to graze under the willows that fringed the banks of the pool. The willows provided a welcome barrier between the water and the woods beyond, lending them a little privacy as they began to undress.
It was only then, as they began to shed their clothes, that James felt suddenly and oddly shy. It was the silliest thing. He hadn’t felt shy the last time they’d swum here, not much more than a year ago. Not that he hadn’t been aware of Iain—in truth, he would always be aware of Iain, always be drawn to sneak looks at the man’s powerful physique—but this time...
I don’t see you as a boy. I can assure you of that much.
“Come on, Jamie!”
Iain’s voice, excited and urging, distracted James from his thoughts. He glanced over to see that the man was already half-naked, jacket, shirt and waistcoat all carelessly discarded on the grassy bank. He was, in fact, down to his boots and breeches—apparently he wasn’t bothered by the situation at all.
James’s mouth dried to see the dappled sunlight kissing Iain’s smooth skin. His heart beat a little faster as his wistful gaze took in the muscled planes of Iain’s powerful torso, the intriguing patterns of the dark hair that swirled over his chest, around his nipples and all the way down to his navel. James had only a light line of hair from belly button to crotch, and none at all on his chest, which was pale and marble smooth.
And Christ but he was staring.
“All right, all right,” he called, turning away and beginning to loosen his cravat, hoping that Iain didn’t hear the catch in his voice.
Forcing himself to concentrate on removing his own clothes, he made sure to miss the sight of Iain stripping away his boots, breeches and undergarments, but when he heard Iain’s whoop and the enormous splash that followed, he turned back, laughing hard when Iain yelped, “Fuck, that’s cold!”
Iain’s dark head bobbed up and down in the middle of the water a few times as he treaded water briefly, then he lunged up and dived under, emerging half a minute later on the other side of the pool with a gasp.
“Come on, get in!” he yelled, shaking his hair out of his eyes and sending water drops flying. “It’s bloody lovely in here!”
James was down to his smallclothes now, and he quickly stripped that final layer away before wading into the pool, gasping when the water kissed his balls, and again, more loudly, when it moved further up to his waist.
“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed accusingly. “It’s hardly fucking lovely!”
“Oh, stop being feeble!” Iain laughed. “Get your head under, then you’ll be fine.”
“I’ll give you feeble!” James cried, all mock outrage, and with a big gulp of air, he arrowed his body into the water, leading with his outstretched arms. Once under, he stayed there, swimming all the way to Iain underwater.
The water was clear, and he easily made out Iain’s circling legs as he approached, grabbing one with two hands and quickly tugging him under before lunging to one side. He swam several strong strokes in the opposite direction before bursting from the surface with a laughing gasp to watch as Iain spluttered his way back up, coughing and cursing.
“Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be, is it?” Iain cried once he’d righted himself. “Prepare to be routed!” He launched himself at James with a roar, and James darted away, cackling with laughter.
They wrestled and played like puppies in the water, ducking each other mercilessly. Iain was stronger, but James was quicker in the water, so they gave each other a good run for their money before they finally flopped onto the grassy bank side by side, panting and exhausted.
They’d inadvertently found a patch of sun created by a gap in the trees, and James was glad of the warmth on his chilled skin. He draped his forearm over his eyes to block out the light and sighed with contentment. The grass beneath him was soft and cool, the sun above, warm as honey.
And Iain was beside him.
James turned his head to look at his friend and smiled. Iain was stretched out in the sun, lazy as a lion, eyes closed, mouth faintly smiling, entirely oblivious to being observed.
Ah, but he was a lovely looking man.
And drowsing a little now too, if James wasn’t much mistaken.
James propped himself up on one elbow and let himself look. Let himself just have this moment, since Iain was sleeping. Watching Iain was pure pleasure for him. The man had long been perfection in James’s eyes. Skin the colour of warm cream stretched over the muscular perfection of that well-honed body. Iain had the broad chest, flat belly and narrow hips of a beautifully formed male. James’s gaze moved further down to the thatch of dark hair at Iain’s crotch, and the impressive half-hard shaft that rested there.
James swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away. Iain’s cock was fascinatingly different from his own, not quite as long, but thicker. Straighter too, not like James’s, which curved distinctly to the right.
His mind flooded with a score of lurid imagi
nings. What it would feel like to take that thick shaft in his hand? In his mouth? What it would feel like thrusting into his body? He’d never—
“Jamie?”
His name on Iain’s lips was murmured, blurred with sleep, and when James glanced up, it was to find the other man’s slumberous gaze upon him.
James’s heart missed a beat.
There was desire in Iain’s eyes—this time he was sure of it. And it was a desire that matched his own. Remarkable. Amazing.
In that instant, nothing moved. Somewhere nearby, an insect droned, but everything else was still and waiting. Poised. This was a moment in which something could happen; a moment in which James could act, or not.
He chose to act.
He reached out and stroked his thumb slowly over Iain’s lips, mesmerised by the twin sensations of smooth lips and the faint bristle of moustache against the pad of his thumb. The whole time he held his breath, watching Iain, waiting to be rejected. But the rejection didn’t come. Instead, Iain went very still below him, his eyes tracking James’s movements.
Iain remained still when James shifted to lean over him, moving slowly so as to give the man the clearest warning of his intentions. He was ready to be stopped, ready to be pushed away, but when he slowly lowered his head, his eyes shifting from Iain’s intense blue gaze, to his beautifully carved lips, there was no resistance at all. Quite the opposite—when James touched his mouth to Iain’s, the man’s lips clung to his own, making James moan with pleasure and press closer to deepen the kiss, relishing those masculine whiskers against his own beardless face.
Iain’s body was still cold from their swim, but his lips were warm, and his tongue, when it slid between James’s lips to enter his mouth, was hot and sleek, a startling contrast to his chilled skin.
Iain raised his right arm, sliding it round James’s neck to draw him closer while anchoring his other arm around James’s waist. Then, without warning, he flipped James onto his back.
That quickly, Iain was the aggressor, groaning into James’s mouth before plunging his tongue deep inside. All James could do was open to him, and he did it as thoroughly as possible, welcoming whatever the man was finally prepared to give him, wrapping his legs round Iain’s waist as he arched up against him, dizzy with the pleasure of their kiss, unable to believe this was really—finally—happening.
When Iain began to pull away from him, James’s heart sank, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable words of rejection and regret. Instead, he felt the weight of Iain’s forehead touching his own, and his own name being whispered against his lips.
“Jamie.”
When he opened his eyes, it was to meet Iain’s very blue gaze.
“This is madness,” Iain whispered. “But there’s only so much temptation a man can take—”
James’s heart swelled with gratitude at those words. He was not alone, then, in his desire for Iain. Iain wanted him too.
He arched up, capturing Iain’s lips again, and Iain groaned in mingled submission and dominance, letting James lead the kiss, even as his hands began to take control of James’s body, stroking over his flanks and buttocks, squeezing and caressing. James found himself surrendering to that sure determination, accepting Iain’s silent demands, his thighs finally falling open to welcome the firm stroke of the man’s hand on his shaft. He gasped, his body bucking in Iain’s arms, his voice husky with incoherent pleasure as Iain kissed his way up his throat, along his jawline, pausing to murmur in his ear, “Christ, Jamie, I imagined having you just like this, last night in my bed...”
James moaned at that, at the thought of Iain thinking of him as he lay in his chamber, just down the corridor from where James slept, but he couldn’t find words to respond. The pleasure Iain was wringing from his body with his lips and his hands was maddening him, clouding his brain and turning him into nothing but want and need. When Iain pressed his own body closer to James’s, his thick shaft rubbing directly against James’s, they both shuddered, and when Iain wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and began to work them in a slow, devastating rhythm, James whimpered, burrowing his face into the crook of Iain’s neck.
“Iain—God, please!” he begged. “It’s too much. I’m going to spend—”
“Do it, Jamie,” Iain breathed in his ear. “Let me see you lose yourself.”
“I—oh God—”
His crisis was upon him before he could say anything more. It was all terribly, embarrassingly quick but it was difficult to care when he was coming harder than he’d have thought possible, ten times harder than he had during last year’s encounter with Freddy Greaves. He came so hard, he felt like he was being turned inside out, but it was all right because Iain had him safe. His arms were strong and certain round James’s body, and even as James spilled, helplessly, he knew Iain had him.
It took him long moments to come back to himself, for the fog of pleasure clouding his mind to dissipate, and all the while, Iain’s hand was still moving, using James’s spend to bring forth his own shuddering climax, his groan of satisfaction in James’s ear causing James to hunch a shoulder against the nerve-prickling pleasure induced by his deep voice.
“Jamie. God, Jamie...”
After a minute, Iain rolled off James’s body, collapsing beside him in the grass. James didn’t dare look at him yet, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face—he’d never been so happy in his life. He wanted to stay like this forever. Everything he loved was here: Iain and the sun-warmed earth, the sounds of a hundred little creatures all around him, none of them caring a damn what the two men lying in the grass had just done together.
It felt so very, very right.
Until...hell, was that voices? And the sound of horses’ hooves?
He glanced at Iain, eyes wide. Iain had gone white. “Bloody hell,” the other man hissed. “Quick, get up!”
Heart suddenly thumping, James jumped to his feet and began searching for his drawers. He managed to stumble into them and find his shirt just before the small group of newcomers entered the clearing, walking their horses in single file.
Thankfully, the rider at the front of the group was a gentleman rather than a lady—Mr. Lamb.
“Hold up, there, Lamb!” Iain called out, raising an arm. Somehow he managed to inject a smile into his voice, as though he was amused rather than horrified at being discovered lying naked in the grass. “We’ve just been swimming! Keep the ladies back, will you? We’re not quite dressed yet!”
Lamb laughed out loud at the sight of them, Iain in nothing but his drawers and James clutching his shirt to his chest like a maiden aunt. Then he called out over his shoulder, “Stay back so they can get dressed. And Agatha, for God’s sake, close your eyes in case you see anything you oughtn’t!”
The Lambs and Miss Kirk retreated from the clearing, giving them privacy to dress. The sudden flood of relief that swamped James as he watched them disappear from view was so intense, it had him shaking. They really hadn’t thought that James and Iain were doing anything other than swimming. Thank God.
James looked over at Iain, grinning with relief. He was expecting to see a matching expression on the other man’s face. But Iain didn’t look the least bit happy or relieved.
In fact, he looked wrecked.
Chapter Thirteen
Mr. Lamb rode up front on the way back to Wylde Manor, then James and Mrs. Lamb, leaving Iain and Miss Kirk to bring up the rear. Iain had made sure it happened that way—he wasn’t about to let Miss Kirk get her claws into James again, not after what had just happened. God knew what James might let inadvertently slip—he didn’t seem to have any instinct for self-preservation.
Jesus, his expression when he’d first clapped eyes on Lamb—guilty as sin and twice as shocked. Just remembering made a horrible gnawing anxiety eat at Iain’s stomach.
“Have you and Mr. Hart been friends for very long?” Miss Kirk asked politely.
Iain glanced at her. She had a good seat, and her hands were ligh
t and easy on the reins of her grey mare. He noticed that she patted the animal’s neck frequently and with real affection. It made him feel a little less hostile towards her, though he still didn’t trust her an inch.
“Since we were children,” he replied.
“You are close,” she observed, and her gaze was calculating. He felt instinctively that she was implying something. She was not, he decided, an ignorant young lady.
“We are,” he agreed. This time he deliberately smiled, letting his gaze drift over her a little, as though he had just noticed how pretty she was. He had made no attempt to charm this young woman so far, but when he made the effort to charm ladies, he was generally successful. He’d been credited with numerous female conquests over the years, though in truth none of them had ever amounted to more than innocent flirtation.
It may be no bad thing to curry a little favour with Agatha Kirk. And to lure her away from James.
Miss Kirk did not return his smile. Her gaze was steady. “Do gentlemen generally swim naked together?” she asked coolly.
From another young lady, the question might have seemed fast, or maybe even silly. From this one, it was a challenge. Perhaps even a threat.
I see you.
Iain put his smile away. “Yes,” he said crisply. “When young ladies whose sensibilities have to be considered are not present, they do.”
After that, they said no more to one another. They rode all the way back to the manor house in silence, the last of their small group to trot into the stables.
James was chatting to one of the grooms when they arrived. He looked up as they clattered in, his grey gaze going straight to Iain, his smile wide and happy. It was as though Miss Kirk wasn’t even there. He just...didn’t see her.
Iain glanced at the girl and saw that her lips were pressed together in an unhappy line. Her obvious annoyance troubled him. He’d realised a long time ago that when you preferred men, it was best not to have enemies if you could possibly help it, and he made it his business to avoid incurring anyone’s resentment. When people looked at Iain, they saw a man who was charming and feckless, but the truth was, he was always watching, always weighing, always aware of the reactions of those around him.
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