by PG Forte
“So, you risked exposure in order to indulge my wishes?” A cold smile curled Conrad’s lips. “How extraordinarily accommodating. I suppose I should thank you.”
Damian sighed. In truth, he had not judged the risk to be all that great. As the younger son of a very minor nobleman, he might not rank terribly high in the scheme of things, still he was not completely without privilege. In addition, as Conrad was no doubt well aware, he was under the duke’s protection. Of the two of them, it was Conrad who would likely suffer the most were they to be caught. Or had Conrad not overheard His Excellency’s threat to put his eyes out if he did not stop staring at Damian? “If I had urged you to come to my room before you suggested it, would you have accepted my invitation?”
The smile faded slowly from Conrad’s face, leaving it watchful. “I don’t know.”
“I thought it unlikely.”
“Another assumption? Dear me, it appears your thoughts are filled with such things tonight.” Relaxing the iron grip he’d held on Damian’s shoulders, Conrad lightly traced his fingers over Damian’s throat. Desire whispered along Damian’s nerves and his eyes very nearly closed of their own volition. He had to swallow hard to keep himself from sighing with longing. “You should take care, hidalgo,” Conrad murmured. His voice, so cool, so quiet, so steely edged, seemed to chill even the air around them. “Assumptions can be very dangerous things. Acting too rashly on what one only suspects is true has led many a man into grave peril. But, then, I’m forgetting. You’re not one who is easily frightened, are you?”
Damian met Conrad’s gaze. “No,” he answered, as coolly as he could. “I am not.”
Taking advantage of Conrad’s lessened hold on him, Damian shoved away from the door. He crossed to the dresser where he kept his decanter of port and poured himself some wine. The last thing he wanted was for Conrad to realize how very frightened he’d suddenly become. There was another assumption he’d been making. He’d assumed Conrad had been as much affected by the kiss they’d shared as he had been; that when Conrad said his plans had changed, it meant he’d given up his quest for vengeance. What if Damian had been wrong about that? What if their kiss meant nothing at all to Conrad? What if he was still seeking revenge?
“I am not often surprised anymore,” Conrad said, his voice still quietly reflective. “Yet you have managed to do so more than once tonight.”
Damian sipped at his wine. “Well, that is gratifying to know. After all, one can but try not to be too predictable. But, now, my dear sir, if your honor has been satisfied and you’ve nothing more to gain here, perhaps you might employ your very excellent hearing to determine if it would be possible for you to safely leave?”
“Did you think to be rid of me so easily?” Conrad came away from the door. He moved silently across the floor but, even facing in the other direction, Damian could sense him draw near. “I do not intend to leave this room until I’ve gotten everything for which I’ve come.”
Steeling himself, Damian turned to face him. He braced his hands on the edge of the dresser behind him and schooled his features into an expression of polite inquiry. “Indeed, Señor? So then, enlighten me, por favor. What is it you’ve come here for?”
“I think you already know the answer to that,” Conrad replied, his gaze focused on Damian’s mouth. “At least in part.”
The force of his gaze was so intense Damian could practically feel its touch upon his skin. His lips tingled under Conrad’s scrutiny. He had to resist the urge to lick them. He widened his eyes and stared at Conrad in mock surprise. “Oh, but surely I’ve misunderstood? Did not you just warn me against making too many assumptions? You cannot possibly be suggesting I make yet another one?”
“They do seem difficult to avoid, do they not?” Conrad replied, sounding almost conversational. “I will admit that I, too, may have been led astray by some of the assumptions I’ve made tonight. For instance, I had assumed this duke of yours was not the sort of man who would find enjoyment in sharing those he considers his.”
“It is a reasonable thought, surely? After all, what man would?”
“I’ve known a few in my time.”
Feeling not at all reassured by that remark, or by the very dark gleam in Conrad’s eyes, Damian turned away again and refilled his glass. “Have you really? How very fascinating.”
“And you, my young friend,” Conrad continued musingly, as though Damian had not even spoken, “I had assumed you to be a man of more than average intelligence. Never would I have imagined you would be so reckless, so careless for your own well-being, that you would rush headlong into a situation such as this; one so clearly guaranteed to alienate the affections of your patrón were he to discover your…indiscretion, do you think he’d term it?”
More like treason. Damian lifted his glass in a small salute to his own stupidity. “It is true. I do not often act as foolishly as I have tonight.”
“It was you who kissed me. Do you deny it?”
Damian shook his head. He had no wish to deny anything. He’d kissed him—sí. And he’d gladly do so again, if the opportunity arose. Even now, he had to fight the urge to throw himself at Conrad once more. Instead, he swallowed more wine.
“Why?” Conrad demanded, so abruptly Damian jumped and very nearly spilled his drink. “What would possess you to do such a thing? It cannot have been merely to satisfy an impulse. Did you hope to distract me from my anger? Or do you simply take pleasure in being reckless?”
“I did it for me,” Damian snapped, his hand clenching on his glass, barely able to stop himself from hurling its contents into Conrad’s face. Color flooded his cheeks and he cursed himself for losing control. “Is that so hard to understand? Why should I not—just this once—consider my own desires paramount? All my life, I have been forced to concern myself with the wishes of others. Always have I done what was expected of me, first by my father, now by the duke. What have I to show for it?”
A wry smile curved Conrad’s lips. “Such a petulant little bird,” he said as his gaze swept the room. “Could it be he’s grown tired of his pretty, gilded cage? Has your life here become so dreary you long to escape it? Shall I oblige you in this? I could, you know.”
Damian shook his head. “Muchas gracias, Señor. Much as I appreciate your kind offer, to what would I escape? I assure you, this ‘little bird’ is quite content with his life in this cage, as you choose to call it. If it were up to me, I would never leave. Alas, such is not to be my fate.”
Conrad’s eyebrows rose. “Why is that?”
“Oh, what does it matter?” Wandering over to the window, Damian pulled the drapes aside and looked out. Moonlight illuminated the gardens below. Faint strains of music drifted to him on the sweet-smelling air. And, in the perfect sky above, the stars were shining. Only a fool would wish to be anywhere else, he thought as he glanced up at them. Only a fool would ask for anything more than I’ve been given.
“In truth, it matters very little,” Conrad replied from behind him. “Yet, I confess, I find myself to be curious. Speak.”
Damian sighed. “It has been decided that the duke should marry,” he explained, with his back still to the room. “And, soon, if the Crown has anything to say about it. Already, negotiations have begun with the families of several prospective brides. I have been a valued member of the royal household since I was little more than a boy. His Excellency has trusted me, relied upon me, made me privy to his every confidence. Not once in the past few years have I even been allowed to so much as stray from his side for more than a couple of hours. And yet, when that happy day arrives and the entire realm rejoices in my lord’s marriage, shall I be here to see it? No. I shall not. Out of deference to his new duchess, whoever she may be, I am to be sent away.”
Turning again, he smiled at Conrad. “I have, of course, no reason to complain about any of this, nor would I ever dream of doing so. It has been decided this course of action is in the best interests of all concerned and who am I to offer protest? Be
sides, I am to be rewarded most handsomely for my service here. I am to receive a new title and an estate in the country. It is even likely there will be an advantageous marriage arranged for me as well. And so the appearances will be preserved.”
“All the same, it sounds to me as though you are complaining,” Conrad pointed out. “And why, exactly? What is it that troubles you? This is hardly a tragedy that you have recounted to me. Are you so in love with him you cannot bear to be parted from your master? You’ll forgive my skepticism, but you do not kiss like a man whose heart belongs to another.”
“I have never claimed that was the case,” Damian replied. “I am at His Excellency’s service, nothing more. He honors me with his attention. But, what, pray tell, am I to find pleasing about this arrangement? I am in no way unhappy with my life here and would much prefer for it to continue unchanged.”
Conrad sighed. “Nothing continues unchanged. It is useless to wish for such a thing. The future you have outlined for yourself is far from unpleasant. Many people would count themselves lucky to be in your place.”
Damian inclined his head. “It is as you say. My options have always been limited by my situation. This is hardly the worst fate that could have befallen me. I am not unmindful of that fact. Indeed, I know many people who will be quite pleased. My father will be made happy because I will have increased the family’s fortunes and will at last have done something to bring honor to our name. My mother will rejoice at the prospect of more grandchildren upon whom she might dote. I’m sure even my future bride will find much with which to be content. Not only will she have escaped from an almost certain life of spinsterhood, but she will have her own household to run, a staff to oversee and—always assuming we can contrive to produce them, of course—children to raise. His Excellency, too, will have lost little and gained much since I will, as a matter of course, be expected to host several hunting parties for him each year, during which time I may rejoice in, once again, placing myself at his disposal.”
Filling his glass one more time, Damian sighed. “In fact, as it turns out, the only people likely to be at all inconvenienced are my elder brother—who I will have at last eclipsed—and myself. For I do not wish to spend the remainder of my years rusticating in bucolic seclusion, barred from society, from Sevilla, from this life to which I’m so well suited. I ask you, sir, what am I to do with myself in the country? What amusements do you suppose I shall find there? Shall I read? Take long walks through the mud? Grow things? And the hunting—ay, Dios mio—to go riding for hours through the trees and the weeds, clambering after a pack of yammering dogs! Tell me, what manner of sport is that for any man of sense to pursue?”
This time, when Damian paused, Conrad said nothing. Perhaps he thought such a prospect sounded pleasant. Perhaps the very existence Damian looked forward to with dread was one that Conrad would enjoy—even with the hunting.
Perhaps they were not quite the kindred spirits he had thought them. So be it.
Once again, Damian drained his glass. The sweet thrill of the drink hit his stomach. Warmth blossomed inside him and with it came the courage to speak of that which, up until now, he’d expressed only in his moments of silent prayer.
“I know that to many others, yourself included perhaps, it may seem a trivial thing,” he said as he crossed to Conrad who continued to watch him in brooding silence. “A matter of no great importance. But I cannot help that. This is my life and I do not think it too much to ask that I should have some say in how I am to live it. Or, failing that, I would like to have at least one thing of my own choosing; one reckless act that is just for me, a single moment of passion, something I can remember always and whose memory will be enough to warm me for the rest of my life. Surely I deserve that much?”
Conrad shook his head. “You may be right, my friend, but life is seldom as fair as we might wish. It seems we are born to suffer. It is rare for even the most deserving of us to get what we feel ourselves entitled to.”
“Then, perhaps, for a change, I shall try being undeserving instead.” His heart racing, Damian leaned in toward Conrad, intending to kiss him again.
Conrad held him off, frowning sternly. “So is that what this is about? Am I to be your reckless act of passion? Why choose me for so great an honor? Should I be flattered to have been so singled out? Or insulted you think me a peasant?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I swear it!” Damian’s heart plummeted. The thought that, by his own words, he might have ruined his chances, left him sick with disappointment. “Perdoname. Please, señor, accept my most heartfelt apologies. It seems I have presumed too much. It’s just…these past weeks…I have thought of little else, other than how I might contrive to steal a few precious moments alone with you. I had thought—or rather, I had hoped—you might feel the same. If I’ve been mistaken…”
“Enough,” Conrad commanded softly, laying a finger upon Damian’s lips. “No more talk now. The fault is my own. You were not mistaken, caro mio. I have longed for you as well.”
Truly? Damian gazed back at him almost afraid now to hope it might be so. Until this moment, he hadn’t even realized how much he’d wanted this, counted on it. Needed it. Too overcome to speak, he pursed his lips and kissed the finger pressed against his mouth.
A soft growl emerged from Conrad’s throat. Encouraged, Damian used his tongue to tease the tip of Conrad’s finger. He watched in amazement as Conrad’s eyes appeared to change color. It was a trick of the light, Damian did not doubt it, but he was still astonished by the sight.
Conrad’s eyes glowed like molten gold as he reached for him. Damian melted into his arms, certain that it was exactly where he belonged. It was as though he’d been waiting his entire life for this one man, this single moment, to arrive.
Sí, mí querido, he thought, almost giddy with desire as Conrad’s lips found his; as Conrad’s hands molded and shaped themselves to his body; as Conrad pulled him close, with the clear intent of laying claim to whatever he touched. Take anything you like. Take everything.
Damian barely noticed as Conrad walked him backward towards the bed, stripping his clothes from him along the way, until he tumbled, nearly naked, upon the mattress. While he hurried to remove the rest of his garments, Damian watched Conrad undress, gradually revealing powerful muscles encased in evenly bronzed skin beneath a light dusting of golden brown hair.
“But…you are so beautiful!” Damian gasped, dazzled by the vision of masculine perfection that stood before him. He’d known it would be the case but, all the same, he’d not been expecting this! Here was everything a man’s body should be; down to the small white scars that hinted at a life lived hard, of risks taken and battles won.
“Am I?” Conrad smiled as his own gaze traversed Damian’s body. “Well, then I’d say we were well matched.”
Damian opened his arms and Conrad came to him, lowering himself on to the bed, wrapping him in his embrace. The thrill of holding him thus, skin to skin, stole Damian’s breath. He moved against him just to feel the shifting of the muscles in their arms and legs as they intertwined, the stiffness of their cocks rubbing together, all the jostling softness underneath. It made him mad with desire and yet, at the same time, he felt an unaccustomed shyness.
He ran his hands over the rugged contours of Conrad’s back, over skin as smooth and slick as polished ivory. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the musky scent of Conrad’s flesh, and still he could not keep the odd thought from creeping into his head that it wasn’t a man he was bedding tonight at all, but a god.
Then Conrad captured his mouth again and Damian’s thoughts spun out of control. It no longer mattered what manner of man he was in bed with. He lost track of time, of space—he lost track of everything. Everything but the taste of Conrad’s lips on his, heady and exotic, darkly delicious, like the very finest spiced wine. That was something he didn’t think he ever could forget. That was one memory he was sure he would keep ’til his dying day.
When Conrad
took hold of Damian’s hair and tugged his head to the side Damian gave in to the pressure eagerly, wanting only to please. But the loss of Conrad’s mouth on his left him bereft. He wanted it back. He needed it back. Under normal circumstances, he would have caged his lover’s face in his hands and taken it back, but not tonight.
Tonight, it was as though Conrad’s needs took precedence over anything Damian might want for himself.
Tonight, Damian found he could but give, he could but ache with need and longing, and tremble in breathless anticipation of an almost unimaginable rapture. His entire mind seemed lost to him, its only focus Conrad’s lips as they traveled slow and sure along the length of his neck.
“Dios mio.” Damian shuddered with pleasure as Conrad’s teeth bit softly into his flesh. A flood of luscious heat rushed through him, followed shortly thereafter by a wave of cold terror. Reality intruded. All at once, his mind was once again his own. “No,” he gasped, struggling to break free of the thrall that seemed to grip him. This must not happen. “Espere—wait! Don’t do that. Stop.” Pinned as he was to the bed, it was impossible to shove Conrad away. He attempted it all the same, thrashing and bucking as hard as he might in an effort to dislodge him.
An angry growl erupted from Conrad’s throat. “Be still,” he ordered as Damian squirmed beneath him—to no avail. The strength of the man was overwhelming. It did not even seem as though Conrad were making any particular effort to restrain him, yet Damian was held fast and almost completely immobile.
“Please, señor,” he begged. “Don’t do this. Is there no mercy at all within your soul?”
At that, Conrad seemed to freeze in place. His mouth was withdrawn. His head lifted slowly. His eyes, as he met Damian’s gaze, were shuttered, barely visible beneath heavy lids. His expression was suspicious and grim, colder than winter. “What is it that troubles you?”
