by Megan Derr
"How about we finish this tea, then you show me about the house and grounds?" Tem said. "I think tomorrow is soon enough to set to work."
Pierce stared at him, then offered a shy smile and hesitant nod.
Tem smiled back.
*~*~*
It was a couple of weeks later, as Tem paused in their history lesson to call for tea, that Pierce said, "He threw the book out…Gideon I mean."
"The fencing book, you mean?" Tem asked.
Pierce nodded, staring at his hands. "When they died. It makes him sad and angry. It's my fault."
"Thank you for telling me, for trusting me," Tem said. "I will continue to keep your secret."
Pierce nodded rapidly, then hastily picked his history book back up and resumed reading.
Tem retrieved his own, but even as he continued the lesson, his mind was spinning with questions and possible ways of finding answers that would not involve breaking Pierce's trust.
But when he finally put Pierce to bed that night, he still had no idea how to go about getting answers. Sighing, he poured himself a glass of wine and settle in to do some leisure reading.
He hadn't gotten further than the first chapter when the sound of someone trying very hard not to be heard brought his head up. He set aside his book and stood. His room connected to the schoolroom with Pierce's room on the other side, and it was from there that the noise was coming.
What was he up to? Their past two weeks had been filled with ups and downs as they grew used to each other, but this was the first time he'd noticed Pierce sneaking out.
Tem crossed his room and stepped soundlessly out into the hallway, lifting a brow as he caught sight of the small figure padding quietly down the hallway, his long night robe just brushing the floor. Swiftly and silently, he caught Pierce up, clapping a hand over his mouth.
"Now, now, Pierce, I do believe you are getting into mischief. Will you be quiet if I let you go?" The way Pierce had jumped, the nasty shock would serve as better discipline than shouting and beating ever could. Setting him down, Tem tilted his face up and frowned. "What are you doing, Pierce?"
He was taken aback when Pierce suddenly looked ready to cry. "I just wanted to watch him. I always do. I never do anything wrong, honest. I just want to watch."
Tem frowned, thoroughly confused. "Watch who do what?"
Pierce sniffled, obviously still scared from being caught and anxious about whatever he'd been doing. "I-I'm sorry."
Kneeling, Tem stroked his hair. How on earth could anyone consider Pierce a terror? "You shouldn't be sneaking about, Pierce. If you get hurt, we wouldn't know, and might not find you until too late. Think how distraught we would all be. Your brother would lose the only family he has left."
"But I go to watch him…"
Tem blinked. "Watch your brother? Do what?"
An expression that was unmistakably hero-worship lit Pierce's face and it was impossible to tell that just a second ago he'd been about to cry. He grasped Tem's hand and tugged him along. "You can come see, too. He's in the ballroom; I know how to get onto the balcony. Come on!" Beaming now, he held fast to Tem's hand and half-walked, half-ran through the hallways.
When they reached the balcony and Tem got a look at what was below, it was only the fact that Pierce didn't need to see such things that kept him from throwing himself off the balcony to have his wicked way with Gideon.
He was fencing, dueling his shadow across the candlelit ballroom, thrusting, dodging, parrying. He made it look like dancing, as natural as breathing, and Tem thought that the only thing more beautiful and sensual was Gideon braced above him, lost in the throes of passion.
He swallowed, grateful that he still wore his night robe and it was voluminous enough to hide his reaction to the sight of Gideon sparring. He shifted his attention to Pierce, who still wore that look of hero-worship. Tem thought that the entire house could come crashing down about them and Pierce would not notice unless Gideon stopped fencing.
They watched in silence until the distant chiming of a clock informed them that it was one in the morning. Tem was devastated to see that Gideon was stopping, but once the ballroom was empty, he was forcibly reminded of his duties. He touched Pierce's shoulder and led the way back to his bedroom.
"You watch him fence? Why keep it secret?"
"It's my fault he only does it late at night," Pierce said, voice catching. "I heard everyone say so." His eyes were intent, far too adult for twelve. "If not for me, he would still be famous. Are you going to beat me for sneaking out?"
Tem blinked. "Beat you? No. However, you will have extra math lessons tomorrow and I forbid you to sneak around without me, all right? Do you watch him every night?"
"Uh-huh."
"Then we will both go," Tem said firmly. He wished looking after his charges could always involve such exquisite torture. "Now, off to bed with you. Lessons begin straight after breakfast."
Pierce nodded and climbed into bed. Once he was settled, Tem snuffed the light and quietly made his way back to his own room. Putting out the light, he stripped off his robe and settled into bed to further torture himself with images of Gideon fencing back and forth across the ballroom floor.
*~*~*
Gideon thanked the stable hand and mounted his horse, guiding her away from the manor and out over the fields, urging her to a faster pace and enjoying the brisk breeze. For the first time in far too long, his headache and strain started to ease—some of the strain anyway, and it all came rushing back as he crested a hill and looked down into the small valley below. What had he done to make the gods hate him so? It was bad enough that he couldn't get that one night with Tem out of his mind—now he had to watch the bastard charm Pierce, charm the servants, fit perfectly into life at Foxwood…and couldn't touch him. He wouldn't be as low as his parents and make an offer to a man who would likely feel as though he couldn't say no. Someday Pierce would take his own place in the world and Gideon would not force him to endure and overcome all that Gideon had.
Of course, his good intentions were crumbling swiftly beneath the sight of Tem splashing and playing with Pierce in the swimming hole. Gods above, Tem looked good wet. Growling, Gideon turned his mare in the opposite direction—but just as he was about to ride off, he caught the sound of someone shouting his name. Well, shouting 'Lord Fairfax' and bloody hell did he hate to hear Tem call him that. Groaning, Gideon turned back around and rode down to the swimming hole. Dismounting, he handed the horse off to the footman who had accompanied the two and drew close.
Gideon looked at Pierce, as lost as always about what to say to him. He'd only been eighteen when their parents had died, and what the hell did an eighteen-year-old know about raising a child? It didn't help that he sensed Pierce somehow held him responsible for their parents' deaths. How did one explain to a young boy that his parents were selfish, stupid fools? They'd only cared about Gideon because he'd been well on his way to becoming a first-class fencer.
"Pierce. You look as though you're having fun."
"Yes, sir," Pierce said solemnly.
Gideon stifled a sigh.
Tem snorted and ruffled Pierce's hair. "I hardly think you need call your own brother 'sir', Pierce."
"Yes, I do!" Pierce protested, flicking Gideon a quick, anxious look. "Everyone says so."
Gideon blinked, a suspicion growing… "I did not say so," he said slowly, watching the face that looked so much like his at that age. "And I believe what I say about who can call me what matters more than what 'everybody' says. You're my little brother; if anyone should call me Gideon, it's you."
Pierce's eyes went so wide that Gideon half-feared that they'd fall right out of his head, his face turning red. "Y-yes, Gideon."
"That's better," Gideon said, smiling faintly. "Is this a lesson? Or a break?"
Tem chuckled. "It started out a lesson, but I fear it devolved rather quickly."
Gideon finally looked at him and promptly wished he hadn't; he wanted nothing more than to lick
away the beads of water clinging to that skin…except perhaps to drag Tem to his bed and make real every last torturous fantasy of the past two months. He looked away before Tem could see what he was thinking. "Did you bring lunch along with you?"
"N-no," Pierce replied, cheeks still red as he stared at his brother. "We were only supposed to come study by the water for a little bit. N-numbers."
"Ah, yes—my worst subject. Perhaps if my tutors had let me study by the swimming hole, I would have enjoyed the lessons more." He glanced briefly at Tem, and then winked at Pierce. "Obviously this one is smarter than the others. I am glad. If you've no lunch, then you should come and join me at the house." Gideon shifted his glance to the footman. "Take my horse back and have cook prepare a cold lunch for three, please, Thom."
"Yes, my lord," Thom replied, quickly gathering up their things and riding off back to the house.
The three of them fell into step, walking slowly. Gideon focused on Pierce, both desperate to avoid staring at Tem and pleased that Pierce was actually speaking to him. "So what is Te—Mr. Clark doing that you have not scared him away, Pierce?" he asked with a wink.
Pierce flushed dark and did not reply, dropping his head to stare hard at the grass. Gideon frowned and ran a hand through his hair.
"Your brother is spirited, my lord," Tem said, golden brown eyes watching Pierce with obvious fondness. "Nothing more."
"Spirited, eh?" Gideon laughed softly and reached out to lightly ruffle his Pierce's hair. "They called me rebellious."
Pierce looked up, eyes brightening as an eager look overtook his face. "That's what Artemis was called, too! He said everyone just gave him more books. I told him that's why Dad gave you fencing lessons!"
Gideon stumbled to a halt, breath catching in his chest. "What?"
Pierce's face went white and his eyes filled with tears a second before he suddenly bolted for the house.
"Pierce! Stop!" Gideon stared after him in shock. "What…what the bloody hell…"
"He worships the ground you walk upon, you know," Tem said quietly, staring calmly as Gideon whipped around to face him. "You're his favorite thing to talk about, especially your fencing skills. Did you know that he watches you every night in the ballroom?"
Even as confused and stunned as he was by Pierce bolting, Gideon did not miss the heat that flared for a moment in Tem's eyes. Brother first. "Worships me? Pierce can barely stand to be around me. This is the first time he's ever smiled, let alone talked in my presence."
Tem smiled in fond amusement. "He thinks that you do not like him, my lord…is quite convinced, no matter what I say, that he is to blame for you giving up fencing. Apparently, he overheard unkind comments to that effect not long after your parents died."
Gideon didn't have to think hard about who would have been mean-hearted enough to say such things within a child's hearing. Pierce had only been about six at the time, not even responsible for picking his own meals, let alone anything adults did.
What sort of older brother needed a stranger to come along and point such things out to him? Gideon felt more inadequate than ever. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "My parents were selfish wastrels who gambled, drank, and otherwise enjoyed themselves to excess. Nor were they overly fond of fidelity; often they shared whatever servant or staff they coerced into their bed. They drank too much one night while traveling abroad, driving their carriage far too fast in the dark. They got themselves, two footmen, and the driver they never should have taken the reins from killed. It was in the scandal sheets for months while the fallout was dealt with. I recompensed the families of the deceased, as well as all the servants they'd wronged who came forward… and cleaned up countless other messes. I could have continued fencing, but I preferred to focus on the estate and giving Pierce a far more stable upbringing than I ever had."
"Perhaps you should tell him that, my lord." Tem's gaze flicked toward the house. "He really does adore you." He hesitated. "There is a book…a history of fencing that he hides in the schoolroom. He says it belonged to you. That you threw it away."
Gideon started in surprise. "Brookfield's?" He shook his head, helpless as old pains surfaced. All he'd wanted from the moment his father had thrown him into fencing lessons was to be the best at it. He'd been well on his way to that goal…and then his parents had died, leaving him with burdens he wasn't certain he could bear. But he'd done the best he could, for the sake of those who relied on him, especially Pierce. "I threw it away to make forgetting easier."
"To judge by your midnight sessions, my lord, I do not think that you have managed to forget."
"I suspect you're being impertinent," Gideon replied lightly, fingers twitching to drag Tem close, lose his worries and anxieties in the taste of his mouth, the feel of his skin. What about Tem could he not forget and let go? That one night would haunt him until he breathed his last. "One does not forget the things he loves, I suppose."
As they reached the house, they paused in the hallway. "I suppose lunch is off now?" Gideon asked tiredly.
"I doubt he will leave his room for the rest of the week," Tem said with a faint smile. "Perhaps you might think of something to draw him out." He hesitated. "He was quite happy to see you, though, my lord. I think he'd be happier still to see more of you." Tem turned away and made his way up the stairs.
Gideon watched him go, and then went into his study. He needed to think.
He was halfway to his desk before a realization finally struck him—bloody hell, Pierce and Tem watched him every night? Gideon collapsed into his chair and buried his face in his hands. Showed how stupidly oblivious he was that he'd never noticed.
Pulling his hands from his face, he drummed his fingers against the desk, thoughts racing. He was a lousy older brother, that much was obvious; it was time to fix that. Then he'd figure out what to do about Tem.
*~*~*
Good, now after the War of Iskas…"
A sharp rap at the door interrupted him, causing Tem to glare; he'd given strict orders that lessons were not to be interrupted unless it was an emergency, and if it were an emergency, they would not waste time knocking. "Enter," he said sharply.
The footman who entered bowed low in apology. "Begging pardon, Master Clark, but His Lordship has returned and begs an audience with the young master. He extends his apologies for interfering with lessons, but says he is too impatient to wait."
Tem quirked a brow at that, almost smiling. He wondered what Gideon was up to, after he'd been gone for nearly three weeks, called away on business. It had happened before, but he'd never demanded to see Pierce upon his return.
Pierce looked torn between bouncing with excitement or being violently ill.
"Well, go get cleaned up, Pierce," Tem urged. "If he's that excited to see you, then it's best not to keep him waiting."
Requiring no further encouragement, Pierce bolted into his room to tidy up.
The footman chuckled softly. "His Lordship added that your presence would be most welcome. He is waiting for you both in the library."
"Oh?" Curious. Still, far be it for him to refuse any opportunity to spend time in Gideon's company. He was pathetic, he knew it, for Gideon had obviously let go of that night quite easily. Moreover, he clearly did not want to imitate his parents. Even though Artemis would happily tell him there was no coercion involved. Gideon was a good man, not the type to abuse his position, or punish Artemis should they cease to be lovers. No, Artemis knew that type well.
"We will be there once Master Pierce stops fretting about which jacket to wear."
Chuckling again, the footman departed.
"Pierce," Tem called, "the hunter green will be fine. Put the dark plum away and hurry."
"Yes, Artemis," Pierce said sheepishly, cheeks red as he came out dressed in a hunter green coat.
Tem smiled. "A few more years and I will be hard pressed to tell the two of you apart." He refused to think about the fact that by the time Pierce was old enough to bear a stronger resemblance to Gi
deon, Tem's time here would be over. The depths to which he would miss this place astounded him, but he accepted it. His turbulent feelings aside, he liked Foxwood and all who lived there—it felt warm in a way that his own home never had, and never would.
"Ready?" he asked, smiling at the quick nod Pierce gave him. "You needn't look so nervous; it sounds as though he is quite eager to see you." Tem led the way from the room, down the stairs, and to the library. At the door, he gently pushed Pierce forward. "Go. Knock, and then enter."
Gulping audibly, Pierce obeyed the firm tone in his tutor's voice, knocking quietly, and then hesitantly pushing the door open.
Gideon stood before a wide table in the center of the room. Currently, it was piled with several books and a long, wide, shallow box. Tem wondered if the desire to spring upon Gideon and devour him whole would ever fade. Somehow he doubted it. Even more than that, however, he wanted to be allowed to brush the stray curls from his cheeks and kiss him in greeting.
He couldn't. He never would. One night should not have resulted in this prolonged misery and longing.
"Pierce," Gideon said with a smile. "You are looking well. Lessons not killing you quite yet?"
"N-no, sir. Gideon."
"I confess that I often snuck off for naps when the weather began to cool. My favorite bed was the green room."
Pierce gaped.
Gideon chuckled and stepped away from the table, motioning toward the box taking up most of it. "I was in the city and visited the townhouse for the first time in ages. These were still in storage. I thought if you were interested, that I might teach you what to do with them." His eyes gleamed with amusement—and no small bit of nervousness, but Tem doubted that Pierce noticed.
Tem pushed Pierce forward gently when he only stared in confusion between the table and Gideon. "Open the box."
Giving them both uncertain looks, Pierce approached the table and fumbled awkwardly with the box. The lid banged loudly against the table as he stood gawking at the contents. He stared with wide, tear-bright eyes at Gideon. "But—you—"
