by Lynn Lorenz
He reined his horse to the common trough at the inn and dismounted. Giving a nod to several old men sitting on benches, he poured out the water for his horse.
“Tell me, if you can. Have you seen a large man pass through here? About four days ago?” Will asked.
“There was such a man.” One of them nodded. Will’s heart quickened at the news.
“Did he go on to the castle?” Will glanced toward the keep.
“Aye. Asked about His Grace the Duke of Baymore.”
“Has he returned this way?” Will knew the answer to this, but hoped he might be wrong.
“Not that we’ve seen. No one has left the keep since the duke’s funeral.”
“His funeral?” Will’s head jerked around. “Baymore has died? When?”
“The same day as your friend’s arrival. The funeral was the next day. Not that I searched but I don’t recall seeing him there.” The old man’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Will.
“Nor did I, but he could have been,” said another of the men. “The whole town came out for it.”
“A hard man to miss, even in that crowd,” the first man replied. Will knew he was right. Jackson would have stood a head taller than any man there.
“What did the duke die of?” Will asked. If murder had been done, surely it would be known by one and all.
“Some say his son poisoned him.”
Will raised his brow at the suggestion.
“But the word from the castle is that the old duke’s heart gave out.” The old man spit on the ground. “Broken by that wretched son of his, no doubt about that.”
Will mounted and gave them a nod. “Thank you.” With a twitch of his reins, he turned his mare and kicked her into a trot. Whatever had happened at Baymore, Will doubted that these men had the true story. Hugh would never be so careless as to allow any tale abroad but the one he wanted told.
He approached the keep. Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled. It would take every wit he possessed to best Hugh. He had counted on dealing with Hugh’s father, Duke Baymore, but now, with Hugh as duke, he had no idea what he’d find or what to do. This changed his plan of attack and there was no time to devise a new one. He’d have to take the curves in the road as they came. Will’s survival depended on how he presented himself to the new Duke of Baymore.
“Who goes?” someone called from the parapet.
“Lord William Holcombe. On His Grace the Duke of Holcombe’s business.” He pitched his voice loud, looked up at the man leaning over the wall, and gave him a fierce frown.
The gate opened and he rode into the courtyard. Not much had changed since he’d been here twelve years ago. An icy shudder raced through him, but he quelled it as his first opportunity for reconnoiter appeared. A young groom ran up to take his horse. Will dismounted, tossed him the reins, and followed him to the stables.
“You! Hold!” A voice shouted at him. Will turned, a haughty glare in his eyes, his chin up and lips in a tight, thin line. A guard strode toward Will with his hand on his sword in an unspoken challenge.
Will reached out and halted the boy. Giving the soldier a quick assessing glance he said, “I am Lord Holcombe. You will address me by my title.”
“My mistake, my lord.” The man responded to Will’s hauteur and gave him a low bow. “Where are you away?”
“I don’t usually answer to guards, but command them. If you must know, I go to see to my horse.”
“The lad can do that.”
“He can. But I value my animals highly and I always see that they are well cared for and properly bedded in their stalls. I’ve ridden hard this day and I will insure that the care my horse receives is to my standards.” Will arched his brow at the man, then looked down at the openmouthed groom. With that, Will turned on his heel and gave the lad a push to get him started on his way.
“I will wait for you here, my lord.”
Without looking back, Will gave a dismissive wave of his hand and followed the groom. They entered the stable and Will began his inspection.
“I want fresh hay and a clean stall, boy,” he barked as he strode down the center of the wide barn, looking into stalls. “Don’t overfeed her. No more than a single ration of oats after she’s cooled down.”
“Aye, m’lord. I laid all the stalls with fresh hay this very morn.” The boy pulled Will’s mare to an empty stall, opened the door, and led her inside. Tying her off, he began to unsaddle the animal.
“Make sure she’s well brushed.” Will had almost reached the end when he found Jackson’s horse. The large bay’s head came over the door in greeting. “Here, groom. This is a fine horse. Is he the duke’s?”
The boy stepped out of the stall and squinted at Will. “Oh, that horse? No, he belongs to a visitor.”
“He must be a big man to ride such a huge animal.” Will scratched the bay’s nose, keeping his voice level.
“The biggest man I ever seen, m’lord.” Undisguised awe sounded in the boy’s voice as he stepped back into the stall to tend Will’s horse.
“Does he ride him every day?” Will held his breath.
“No, m’lord. He’s not been back to check on him since the first day,” the boy called from the stall. “Not even to retrieve his saddlebags. I still have them in the tack room with his saddle and such.”
Will closed his eyes and steadied himself. Whatever had happened to Jackson occurred the first day he arrived. The same day the duke had died. Was it before or after he’d spoken to the old man? Who would know? Hugh, certainly, but Will did not intend to ask Hugh.
Clearing his mind, Will felt the invisible rope that bound his heart to Jackson still held tight. Jackson lived, Will was sure of it. Why else did Will still breathe and his heart still beat?
“I’ll be back to check on her later.” Will left the stable and crossed the yard to the guard who stood waiting.
“Is all as you wish?” the man asked.
“It will do,” Will replied with a sniff.
“This way, Lord Holcombe.” The guard led him to the door of the castle as yet another guard opened it. Will paused and scanned the battlements, counting heads. More men marched its walks than at Holcombe. Did Hugh take extra precautions or was this was the normal state? Getting out would prove harder than getting in.
Will turned back and stepped across the threshold. For a moment, he was blinded as his eyes adjusted from daylight to the darkened hall. The large room stood empty, but a cheery fire burned in the hearth. The memory of he and Hugh naked under a quilt in front of the fire surfaced and his belly fluttered. He’d forgotten that until this moment.
“I’ll inform His Grace you have arrived.” The guard bowed out and climbed the stairs.
There was no time for fear, bitter memories, or regrets. Will strode to the fire, pulling off his riding gloves. Several chairs were gathered around the hearth, but Will remained standing. He flung his cloak over one shoulder, shifted his weight to one leg, and struck what he hoped would seem a careless pose. He hadn’t worn his finest clothes for naught or taken care to see to his hair looked its best. Hugh was a handsome man with a weakness for attractive men. Despite the stitches on his forehead, Will hoped he’d kept enough of his looks to intrigue Hugh and put him off his guard.
As Will waited, time seemed to creep by as slow as the longest of his worst nights. His mind went over all the possibilities that could have happened. He even entertained the most painful of them, that Jackson no longer wanted him.
“Lord William. It’s been a very long time.” Hugh’s velvet voice slid up Will’s spine and lodged in his mind, setting loose a belly trembling memory of the past, when all Will had ever needed was to spend every night in Hugh’s bed.
Will turned to face his former lover. “At last, you are Duke of Baymore.” Their eyes locked as Hugh advanced. Will had been a fool to come here. What had made him think he was a match for this man?
Hugh was truly magnificent, there was no denying it. Dre
ssed in black leather that clung to his muscled body, Hugh moved like a cat, lean and graceful. Coming to within an arm’s length of Will, Hugh stopped and tilted his head. He exuded desire as his heated gaze traveled over Will’s body from boot to head, and then rested on Will’s face.
One dark eyebrow lifted. “You’ve been injured?” Hugh’s lips parted and the very tip of his pink tongue darted out and made a slow swipe across his lips as if Will were a morsel he wanted to taste. Will remembered how that tongue had felt against his skin and he could not restrain his cock from responding.
“It’s nothing, Hugh.” Might as well start with no pretenses between them. It was too late for formal titles. After all, they’d committed sins that had damned them, and crimes punishable by death.
Hugh walked a slow circle around Will, assessing him. “I never thought I’d see you again, William.” There was a soft smile on his lips but a dark glimmer in his eyes.
“And I you. But here we are.” Will shrugged as if bored and stuffed his gloves into his vest. “My father sent me with his condolences on the death of your father. His Grace is unable to travel these days.”
“Our fathers have outlived their time and use, it seems.”
“My father’s time and use are still of value to me, Hugh. Judge not everyone by your thoughts,” Will drawled.
“My William bites.” Hugh placed his hands on his hips and grinned.
“I am not ‘your William’ and no longer an unformed youth, unaware of his own mind.”
“No, I can see that. You have grown into a fine man, William. My lord Holcombe.” Hugh gave him a small bow. Will did not return the courtesy.
Best not to seem too eager to please or repel. “Now that I have delivered his message, I take my leave.” Will turned away from Hugh.
“So soon? Stay William. Take the evening meal with me. We’ll talk before the fire. Tonight, rest here and then return to Holcombe in the morn.” Hugh’s velvet voice sounded so reasonable.
Will hesitated. “I planned on staying at the inn.”
“Then, I must insist.” Hugh smiled. “For old time’s sake.”
“If for old time’s sake, I should leave right now.” Will’s lips made a small upturn, as if a memory had let the smile escape. A night in Baymore might be a dangerous thing but it would give him the opportunity to search for Jackson. “However, I rode hard and my horse needs the rest. I will stay.” He gave Hugh a nod.
“Good.” Hugh slapped his hands together. “I’ll show you to your room. You can rest until the evening meal is served.”
Hugh led him up the stairs and down a hall to a door. “This room is just down from my room. In case you might need anything during the night.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Will drawled. “Are all the rooms on this floor taken? Have you had many guests for your father’s funeral?”
“No. There is my room, my father’s, which still holds his things, and three other rooms.” He pointed down the hall. “The one there is occupied.” He gave a sly smile.
“By?” Will asked, as he leaned against the wall.
“My current lover.” Hugh’s eyes met Will’s. “I’ll introduce you to him shortly.”
“Current? Have you plans to replace him?” Will pushed off the wall.
Hugh opened the door to the room and stepped aside. “No. For now, he pleases me. But there is no knowing when someone else might come along to garner my interest.”
Will stepped inside, turned, and put his hand on the doorframe to block Hugh from entering the room. “You always were fickle, Hugh. That has always been your greatest weakness.” Will grinned and closed the door, shutting Hugh out.
Closing his eyes, Will leaned against the door and held his breath to steady himself. Why did he feel at such a loss around Hugh? So on edge? So damned aroused? The air between them had crackled as if they’d stood in the center of a midsummer storm, its lightning flashing around them. Will cursed his body’s response, but goddamn Hugh could give a dead man a cockstand.
Once Will’s heart slowed, he gazed about the room. “That bastard,” Will swore. His eyes narrowed as his ire rose. Hugh had put Will in the same room he’d stayed in all those years ago. It seemed Hugh played games also.
Will wouldn’t complain. If he let it be known he was bothered by the room, he could look weak—if he didn’t complain it would seem as if he didn’t care or better, didn’t remember. As in chess, one move countered your opponent’s move.
At least the room was well appointed. Fine linens covered the bed and the rugs were thick underfoot. A desk and chair stood in one corner near a window. Will strode to the window, threw open the shutter, and looked out. He would have to send someone to the stable for his saddlebags, but for now that could wait.
Unfastening his cloak, he tossed it on the bed as he paced the room. At the chair, he halted and fell into it. What should he do? His first instinct was to leave the room and search the castle but that would be unwise. Being caught would do him no good and if he suffered the same fate as Jackson, what chance would there be for rescue?
Will leaned back, closed his eyes, and tried to remember the layout of the castle. With two floors above ground, there was only one place Jackson could be housed. The cellars. Not true dungeons, they were a small underground complex that had been used for storing vegetables, wine, and old furniture. He’d only been down there once or twice to retrieve a few of Hugh’s favorite bottles and didn’t recall seeing any cells.
Nevertheless, cells could be built. Brick and mortar could be brought in, and a simple wine cellar could become a dungeon.
He stretched out his legs in an effort to rest, but his mind refused to slow. It raced at full gallop with no end of the finish line in sight. His body twitched to have some purpose, to take some action. He pressed a hand against his thigh to stop his leg from bouncing.
A sharp knock on the door brought him to his feet. Damn, he was as nervous as a young colt. It was this place and his memories of Hugh.
Will strode to the door and opened it.
Chapter Thirteen
“I thought you might be lonely, so I brought a friend.” Hugh pushed his way into the room. With a flourish, he pulled a young man from behind him.
As Will shut the door, he judged Hugh’s lover at no more than eighteen, perhaps less. Small, lithe, with white blond hair and pale blue eyes, he was everything Hugh found exciting.
“Your taste in lovers hasn’t changed, I see. Still prefer them young and pretty.” Will reached out, cupped the man’s chin, and raised it to look into his eyes.
Hugh waited for Will’s approval, it seemed. How odd that Hugh should seek the approval of a man he had once used and tossed away as worthless. No doubt the same fate would await this young fellow. Pity—he was indeed pretty.
“And you, Will? Still prefer your men big and strong?” Hugh grinned.
Will’s eyes flicked to Hugh. “I wasn’t aware I had a preference. Opportunity and willingness are usually enough for me.” Will still held the delicate, pointed chin. Such full red lips and sad pale eyes. Will searched deeper into them. No, not sad. Frightened.
“He’s sweet, I promise you. Care for a taste?” Hugh’s hands rested on his lover’s slim shoulders, holding him in place between them.
“What is your name?” Will asked, since Hugh had not formally introduced him. That rudeness was so like Hugh, to treat his lover as if he were naught but a toy.
“Jon,” he answered with a quick lick of his lips and a flash of a shy smile.
“Well, Jon. May I kiss you welcome?”
Jon’s eyes widened. “Aye, m’lord,” he whispered.
Will locked eyes with Hugh, not Jon, as he leaned down. Hugh’s dark eyes widened. Will saw the arousal in them. As his lips brushed Jon’s, Will closed his eyes. Soft as a feather pillow, Jon’s full lips cushioned his mouth.
Pressed between the two older men, Jon moaned and leaned into the kiss, but was held back by Hugh’s hands. Will’s to
ngue slipped inside and met Jon’s as Will tasted him. Jon might have been sweet, but it was ashes to Will. Breaking the kiss, Will straightened and looked into Hugh’s eyes.
“He trembles at your touch, William,” Hugh whispered.
“Does that surprise you? I have made many men tremble.”
Hugh’s eyebrow rose. “You have learned much these last ten years.”
“Twelve years.” Will stepped back.
“Take him if you want him.” Hugh’s hands released Jon.
“Have you never learned, Hugh?” Will shook his head. “Lovers are not toys to be played with or passed amongst your friends at whim.”
“Don’t spout morals at me, William. I can see your desire for Jon.”
“And I can see yours.” Will had to think fast. He was getting in too deep. He’d had no plans to let this play go any further, but he wanted to gain the upper hand with Hugh. Would taking Jon betray Jackson, if only to learn Jackson’s fate or help find him? There had to be another way.
“My tastes have changed.” Will shrugged, strode to the chair, and sat. He leaned back, spread his legs wide, and placed his hands on his thighs. “I won’t take him, but I will watch you.”
Hugh straightened. Will heard the sharp intake of Hugh’s breath. “You wish to watch? You surprise me, William.”
“I surprise myself at times,” Will drawled.
Looking into Jon’s eyes, Will saw doubt. He had no wish to harm the young man. After all, he’d been in the same position once. But Will had refused to be a toy or to share Hugh with another. Jon had no such strength, it seemed. Yet, there was something about the young man that gave Will pause.
“Remove his shirt and thumb his nipples,” Will ordered.
Hugh’s lips parted as if to protest, then closed. Standing behind Jon, Hugh’s hands reached around, grabbed the edge of Jon’s shirt, and pulled it over his head. Jon’s chest was pale and hairless, his nipples pink as the bud of a new rose, his stomach lean.
