by Lynn Lorenz
Tonight, I wanted to take him hard and thoroughly, and the same desire glittered in his green eyes. His blond hair fanned out over the pillows, cascaded down his chest. God, he was a vision. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen, and that he was mine still shook me to my core.
I moved, dragging my rod in and out of him, giving him pleasure, if his cries and face told the truth to me. Soft sweet moans, gasps and words, shuttered eyes, smiles, and his expressive mouth let me know I pleased him.
I rode him like that, with his legs wrapped around my waist, his hands on my shoulders, for what seemed like forever. We were lost in each other’s gazes. The world narrowed down to him and me, and the bed we lay in. Only the light from the hearth illuminated the room, casting soft shadows on our lovemaking, giving it a dreamlike quality.
Our joining was so perfect, so complete in every way, that if I died at that moment, I would be a content man.
I have no idea how long we lasted, be it minutes or hours. I only know I held off as long as I could, taking him to the edge of pleasure, then spilling him over it as he cried out my name.
His first release shook him, gushing like a fountain over his belly, and he dipped his fingers in his warm seed and offered it to me to taste. I licked it off his fingers—bitter, and to me more delicious than any honeyed treat.
But I didn’t end it there. I could have, but I wanted so much more time with him like this, our bodies entwined, hearts beating for each other. I thrust on, angling to hit his sweet spot, and he groaned as his cock came back to life.
“Gods, Drake, you’re going to kill me.” He threw his head back as he let me take him over and over.
I moved his legs, catching them under his knees and pushing forward, holding them in the air, bending him so that his ass was perfectly positioned. Now I could rise up on my knees, put more behind my thrusts, and send him to heaven again, along with me.
“Touch yourself. I want to watch.” I ordered my duke. He took himself in hand and pumped, matching my thrusts. Every now and then, he’d reach down and pull on his sac, roll the plums in it together as he groaned in pleasure, then he’d return to stroking his rod.
When his second release hit, he shuddered, soundlessly, mouth open, head thrown back, and drenched his hand with his cream. Just the sight of him in the throes of his ecstasy sent me plummeting off the cliff I’d walked the edge of for so long.
“Logan, love!” I groaned, my sac tightened, and unable to stop it, I exploded, shooting my seed like an arrow from a crossbow, straight and sure, deep into my lover’s channel.
Complete, exhausted, and sated, we collapsed. I rolled off him and lay on my back, trying to catch my breath.
Logan chuckled weakly. “Gods.”
“It improves each time, does it not?”
“Indeed.”
I pulled him into my arms, and we kissed. “Thank you.”
“The pleasure was mine also, I assure you.” He grunted as he settled next to me, his head on my shoulder, his arm around my waist.
“For everything. For this, for Joss, for the title and lands.”
“I worried you’d refuse it.”
“For a moment, I almost did.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Joss. I wanted to give him more than I ever could. You. Giving me back a part of my life that had been stolen from me.”
Logan smiled, pulled me close, and kissed me. “Fool.”
“Aye, but I’m your fool.”
“My Drake, my fool, my lord, and my lover.”
We sighed in unison, then I rolled onto my side and pulled Logan to me, wrapping arms around the man I owed everything to and loved more than my own life.
“Tomorrow night is Twelfth Night.”
“Aye, it is. Do you have the gifts for the boys ready?”
“Aye, all the gifts are ready. Are yours?”
“Aye. The boys are about to burst with excitement.” Logan chuckled.
“What did you get for Tomas?” I wondered what gift Logan would give his son, the child who had everything his heart desired.
“The same thing I’m giving Joss.” The skin around his eyes crinkled with delight.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Nay. You’ll have to wait, just like the boys.”
“Damn you, Your Grace.” I growled and kissed the back of his neck.
“Aye, my lord.” Logan sighed, sank back into my hold, and closed his eyes. “Sleep. Morn will come soon enough.”
I obeyed my duke.
»»•««
The next morn, the boys ran around the tables until Logan and I commanded them to halt, sit, and eat. They did, but their little bodies vibrated with excitement.
“I think you’ll get a pair of socks,” Tomas teased Joss. “With holes in them. Smelly, too.”
Joss laughed. “And you’ll get a bath. The washerwoman will scrub you hard with soap and rinse you with cold water.” He gathered his arms around himself and shivered.
“Now, boys, how did you find out what we’re giving you both?” Logan asked, winking at me across the table.
“I told you we should just hold to custom and have them beaten.” I jerked my head at them. “I know the priest will do the service for a small fee.”
At my words, the boys froze, eyes wide as color drained from their faces. The old custom of beating children at the holiday had almost ended, but a few rural places still practiced it, or at least that’s what the lads had been told by Logan when the nights grew long and they had stories in front of the fire.
“But, Da! You said you didn’t hold with that custom!” Tomas squealed.
Logan and I exchanged glances, and then Logan broke and burst into laughter, followed by me.
“Da!” Joss whined and frowned. “That’s not funny.” He shook his head. “Did you really get me a pair of socks?”
“And if I did?” I cocked my head at my boy.
“Then, I’m sure they’ll be the best socks ever. Soft wool, warm, and comfortable.” Joss’s smile warmed my heart. My son had never had much, and even now, a pair of socks would make him happy. “Did you?” He peeked from under his long lashes.
“Nay, I couldn’t fine socks large enough for your growing feet.” I shook my head.
Logan laughed. “Now, boys, enough. The gifts will be exchanged tonight. You’ll have to wait until then. Go off and play. Drake and I must discuss castle matters.”
And with that, the boys rose and raced across the hall, up the stairs, and to their rooms.
We looked at each other and then laughed again.
“I love our boys,” I said.
“Aye, I love them also,” Logan replied.
»»•««
Twelfth Night would be spent with just the family, sharing a meal and exchanging gifts. I came down the stairs, glad no one waited for me and that the hall stood empty.
Logan sat in his chair in front of the fire, feet stretched out to catch its warmth.
“Have the boys been through here?” I asked as I settled into my chair.
“Aye. Then up the stairs to get ready for the meal.”
“Good.” I leaned back and watched as a servant entered carrying a tray of food. “Looks like fowl.”
“Aye. I told the cook I couldn’t bear to eat pork one more night.” Logan waved his hand. “My belly hurt after last night’s meal.”
“It was very rich.” I nodded.
“Just plain sort tonight.”
“Good.”
Logan stood as the boys came clamoring down the stairs, sounding as if there were a herd of them, filling the hall, in my opinion, with the sweet sounds of happiness and family. Sounds I now equated with Logan, Tomas, and my son, Joss.
“Where are the gifts?” Tomas shouted.
“Can we open them now?” Joss cried out.
“There will be no peace until we do,” Logan warned. “I have no wish to spend my meal listening to them whine and beg like dogs for
scraps at the table.”
“Fine with me.” I shrugged. “You first. We have to go…” I jerked my head toward the door to indicate outside.
Logan nodded, then clapped his hands. “So, young Master Joss and Master Tomas, if you’ll sit down here, I’ll bring your presents to you.” Logan gave them a bow, then went to the sideboard and pulled open the drawer.
He lifted out a dark, polished wooden box, as long as from his hip to the ground.
The boys gasped in awe of it, and I had to admit it looked a fine gift. But what the box held, I couldn’t guess. It looked familiar, though.
Logan brought the box to the boys and laid it on the table. “One box, but it holds two items.”
And in a flash of clarity, I knew what the box held. “I can’t believe you did it.”
Logan looked up at me. “Believe it.” He opened the clasps and removed the lid, exposing two matching swords, smaller than full-length, made, I realized, for a child. Or two children, to be exact.
“A sword!” Tomas screamed and jumped to his feet.
Joss sat on the floor, staring wide-eyed at them. He looked at me, and his eyes begged for permission. “Is it true, Da?”
“It’s Logan’s gift, not mine. And I will not be the one to tell you nay.” I smiled as Joss jumped to his feet and ran to the swords.
Logan let the boys touch them. “Only with Drake’s supervision can you use these, understand?”
They nodded their heads so hard I thought they might go flying off. “Well enough.”
“Now, would you boys like to exchange the gifts you got each other?” Logan asked.
Without a word, they rushed off to their fathers, who held the gifts in safekeeping. I pulled the toy, wrapped in a scrap of linen, from inside my vest and gave it to Joss as Logan did the same for Tomas.
The boys turned to each other. “Merry Twelfth Night!” And they swapped bundles.
Tomas tore off the fabric and held his up. “Look, Da! It’s Marden Castle!”
“Da, it’s a dog just like our Brute.” Joss showed his to me.
After Logan and I had given our approval about the wooden toys, it quieted. Joss and Tomas sat on the floor to play.
Now it was time for my gift to Tomas. I gave Logan a glance and a smirk, then pulled out the little knife. “Tomas, this is for you. It’s time you cut your own meat at table.”
Logan’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say a word.
“Thank you, Drake!” Tomas reached for it, but Logan stepped in and took it from me.
“I think I’ll keep hold of this until it’s needed.” Tomas frowned, then nodded. Logan gave me a wink and tucked the knife in his belt.
“Joss, have you forgotten something?” I asked in a soft voice.
My son looked up at me, eyes bright and happy. “What, Da?”
“My gift to you.”
“There’s more?” The look on his sweet face told me he didn’t believe it.
“Aye, son. A special gift from father to son.” I stood and held out my hand. “Come with me. We must take a walk.”
Logan held out his hand to Tomas. “Come along.” Tomas got to his feet, tucked his toy into his vest, and they followed us to the door of the keep.
“Put on your cloaks.”
Everyone dressed in their outer wools, I opened the door, and they exited. I led them across to the stables, towing Joss behind me. The boy still hadn’t guessed his gift, and knowing the expectations my son held, a pony of his own would never make the list.
I strode down the aisle of the stable until I came to the stall holding the roan gelding I’d chosen.
“Joss, meet Red.” I leaned on the gate of the stall and gave Joss a carrot I’d hidden in my vest.
“Red?” Joss took the carrot. The pony put his head over the gate, searching for the carrot. Joss fed him and stroked the pony’s soft nose. “He’s beautiful.” Then Joss turned to me. “Is my gift out here?” He looked around the stable, leaning, his head turning to see what he could find.
“Son,” I lowered my voice. “Red is your gift. He’s yours.”
Joss’s head whipped around, and he stared at me. “Mine?”
Tomas laughed and clapped his hands. “We can go riding together now!”
“Mine!” Joss yelled, and the pony whinnied and tossed his head at the noise.
“Yours. I think it’s time you learned to ride on your own. And Tomas is right. You and he can ride, with a guard or Logan or I, but never alone, understand? Both of you?” I gave them both hard looks that had them sober and nodding.
Then Joss threw himself at me and clung to me. “It’s the best gift ever!” I kneeled and took him into my arms as the boy wept with what I hoped was joy.
“Are you happy, son?” I whispered.
“Aye, Da. I can’t believe it. He’s mine. Mine.” The tears spilled again, and he wiped his face on my shoulder to dry it.
“But, Da,” Tomas said. “We’ve all given each other gifts, but one is missing.”
“It is?” Logan asked. “Are you sure?”
“Aye,” Joss replied. “My da hasn’t given you a gift.”
Logan stepped back as if slapped. “Me?”
“Not you too? Do you not believe yourself deserving?” I huffed. I’d meant to give Logan the bow and arrow, but it was upstairs, tucked under my bed. I’d give it to my duke later. For now, I had another gift for Logan there in my vest.
“It’s not that. It’s just…” Logan shook his head. “I never expected you to give me a gift.”
“Did you think you were the only one to give gifts this Twelfth Night?” I advanced on my lover, then held out my hand. “Give me your hand, Your Grace.” I hadn’t planned on giving the ring to Logan in front of anyone—I’d planned to do it later tonight in Logan’s bedroom, but now, with only our sons watching, it felt right.
Logan put out his hand, uncertainty on his face.
I took his hand in mine and with the other, pulled out the ring Peter had given me the day before. “You gave me your ring, Logan, and I wear it always. I’ll be buried in it. I give you this ring, as a token of my deep feelings for you. Do you accept it?”
Logan’s green eyes filled with tears as he bit his lip.
“Take it, Da,” Tomas whispered. “We know how much you love Drake.”
Logan looked down at his son, who gazed up at him with innocence and understanding far greater than his young age.
“Take it, Your Grace. Drake belongs to you.” Joss pushed Logan forward. “He always has, I think.”
Logan held out his hand, and I slipped the ring on his forefinger.
“It’s beautiful. A stag’s head.” He looked up into my eyes. “Thank you. I shall be buried in it.”
Joss groaned. “You’re not that old, either of you, to talk of dying.”
Tomas chuckled. “Don’t worry, Da. Joss and I will make sure you’re both buried together, rings and all.”
Logan gasped, and I sputtered. “Will you now?”
“Aye.” Joss frowned. “Together—now and forever.”
Tomas laughed. “Can we pet the pony now?”
I laughed. “Here, have at him. He’s good and steady, but don’t crowd him, son. You’ll have to come to tend him every day, feed him and brush him down, get him to know you before you ride him this spring.”
“We can’t ride now?” Tomas whined.
“Nay, son. Not until the snow melts.” Logan shook his head.
I opened the stall, and the boys went in, careful to keep a distance from the pony. Red sniffed at Joss, then stepped closer, nudging his hand for another treat. I handed him another piece of carrot, and Joss held it out for him.
Logan and I leaned on the stall and watched our sons and the new pony.
“I love our boys,” Logan said as he nudged me with his foot. “I love this ring.”
I moved closer so our legs touched from hip to foot. “I love our boys too.”
We turned to look at each other, le
tting our gazes tell each other of our love.
“Together,” Logan whispered. “Now.”
“And forever,” I replied.
Silent Lodge by Lynn Lorenz
When Peter’s wife and child died in childbirth, he lost himself in grief. To pull him out of it, Duke Logan of Marden sends Peter on a special assignment to the Silent Lodge, to scout out the movement of their enemy, Duke Weathers.
What he finds there is not the enemy, but a chance at a new life. Arvel might not be able to speak or hear, but he has no trouble letting Peter know exactly what he wants—Peter in his bed.
Peter discovers he’s not the only man in Arvel’s bed when Gareth shows up. Now Peter has a decision to make—stay in the middle of a hot ménage with Arvel and Gareth or strike out on his own.
But leaving the Silent Lodge is harder than Peter ever thought.
Dedication
To all my readers who asked for more of my medieval men—to my husband, Ian, who continues to encourage me to reach all my writing goals—to my editors, Georgia and Jean.
Chapter One
“You should speak to Peter.” Logan’s quiet voice roused Drake from his thoughts. He stared down the road from Marden Castle to the lone figure walking toward them.
Peter. His second-in-command, friend, and onetime lover.
Head down, steps slow and measured, as if he’d walked that path to and from so many times before, like an old mare tethered to a grindstone, plodding a tight circle to nowhere.
Drake sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Must I?”
“Aye. This has gone on too long. I know of what I speak, Drake. He’s caught in a spider’s web of pain with no way to break free.”
“So I must break him free?” Drake winced. He didn’t want to go into this with Peter. The man had been through so much over the last six months—to pile even more on top of it would surely break him.
“He’s lost something precious.” Logan frowned, perhaps remembering his near loss of the two most beloved things in the world—his son, Tomas, and his lover, Drake. Drake couldn’t forget his own loss, his first lover Ansel, who’d died almost three years before, and the state he’d been in before coming to Marden and finding a home, family, and Logan.
