by Ava March
Propped on a bent elbow with his jaw in his palm, Anthony watched as Gabriel tossed the linens into the hearth and then stooped down to stoke the fire with the iron poker. The man had a fine arse.
Was Gabriel one of those very tidy individuals? That was likely the case, given Gabriel was always perfectly put together...well, except after he’d buggered Anthony.
“So I was your first man.” Anthony smiled, damned pleased with himself.
A nod from Gabriel. “Yes.”
“I find that fact infinitely interesting and infinitely full of possibilities. Whatever we do together, I get to be your first. So that begs the question, what have you always wanted to do with a man but haven’t had the opportunity to do yet?”
Gabriel paused, then tossed a log onto the fire. “We’ve done it.”
A lie if ever Anthony had heard one. “There has to be more than that. What about your fantasies? The wicked, naughty ones.”
“I...” Gabriel made quite the project of using the poker to position the log just so on the grate. “I don’t have any.”
“It sounds to me like you do. And it’s all right. No need to be embarrassed or reticent. We’re in a bedchamber. You can tell me anything and I won’t judge you for it. We can indulge in anything we want to do. The only rule is that we’re both willing.” He was Gabriel’s first male lover, and therefore it was his responsibility to make certain Gabriel understood there was only one rule when they were alone together. “All men have fantasies. It’s the nature of the beast. What did you think about the last time you took yourself in hand?”
“You.”
Really? He liked the sound of that. “And when was this?”
“A week ago.”
“A week ago? Not three nights ago?” Gabriel hadn’t stroked himself off after their kiss in the grotto? Anthony had offered to suck his cock that night. He’d sure as hell taken himself in hand once he had returned home, and thoughts of Gabriel shoving him up against the stone wall of the grotto and having his wicked way with him had had him coming off in no time.
Finally satisfied with the fire, Gabriel leaned the poker back against the fireplace surround. “Correct.”
Anthony made a little noise under his breath. He was beginning to feel a bit offended. And a week ago coincided with... “You were here a week ago.”
Getting to his feet, Gabriel brushed his hands against his thighs, dusting off soot Anthony knew hadn’t been on the iron poker. “It was after. It was my first time...as we’ve ascertained”—a roll of Gabriel’s shoulder—”and it was...exciting.”
Oh. Well, if being with him had been that exciting for Gabriel, then Anthony could forgive him the insult. “What about the time before that?”
Gabriel turned from the hearth. Instead of returning to the bed, he crossed to the untidy pile of clothing just inside the bedchamber door. “Maybe a month ago.”
Anthony’s jaw dropped open. “Don’t tell me you believe what the old vicar at Eton used to say? It won’t send you to hell, I assure you. In fact, you need to do that more often. It’s great for the soul, and great for falling asleep at night.” A consistent regimen of nightly orgasms would do Gabriel a world of good, and Anthony was more than willing to help him out on that front.
He dropped to his haunches to sort through the clothing. With his back to Anthony, Gabriel shook his head. “I was married, and then...” Another shake of Gabriel’s head.
Hell. Anthony hadn’t considered that. It would be difficult to enjoy oneself while one’s wife was in the same bed. But she’d passed months ago, in the early spring if gossip proved true. And over the past month, Gabriel had only indulged in himself twice?
Odd, that. But all that pent-up need could explain why Gabriel had pounced on him tonight. Though... Anthony shifted on the bed, relishing the slight burn in his arse. It was unfortunate for Gabriel that the man was so strict with himself, but maybe his self-denial had a positive side for Anthony.
“So you thought about me a week ago,” Anthony said, skipping back in their conversation. “What exactly were we doing?”
Having sorted the clothing into two piles, Gabriel snagged a pair of trousers and stood to put them on.
Anthony could wait.
And his patience paid off for the second time that night.
With the placket done up, Gabriel dropped his hands to his sides and let out a sigh that sounded awfully close to one of resignation. “What we did tonight. I buggered you senseless.”
“That you did. And were you rough with me?”
As Gabriel reached down to one of the piles of clothing, he nodded.
“Interesting. I approve.” Of course, Gabriel’s answer begged another question. How rough and what specifically had he done to Anthony? The possibilities made Anthony’s toes curl.
But the trousers and now the shirt that Gabriel was pulling on indicated he wasn’t simply tidying the room. He was preparing to leave.
Were Anthony’s questions pushing him out the door?
Gabriel tended to be a close-lipped individual, and he hadn’t been jumping into their conversation with gusto. Reticent had been more like it. But whatever antiquated notions Gabriel had stuck in his head regarding intimate matters needed to be unstuck. They were alone together and could therefore discuss anything. Embarrassment-induced silence tended to lead to misunderstandings, and those were never enjoyable.
Head tipped down, Gabriel’s lips were pressed tight together as he did up the buttons on his waistcoat.
Determined to prod Gabriel out of his embarrassment, Anthony opened his mouth, but he didn’t end up asking the question he so wanted the answer to. In fact, he did something he didn’t tend to do often. He closed his mouth and stopped prodding.
With the long length of his cravat hanging from his neck, Gabriel moved to a nearby mirror. Lifting his chin, he tied his cravat, his elegant yet masculine fingers working the linen into a neat knot.
An involuntary yawn slipped out of Anthony. “Apologies. It’s not that our conversation has been anything less than intriguing or interesting, but between rising early to gallop about the Park and working up a sweat with you, the late hour is catching up with me.”
“I should let you get some sleep.” The cravat seen to, Gabriel dragged his fingers through his hair, tidying it. “Thank you for tonight.”
“It is I who should be thanking you. I doubt I’ll wake before eleven. If you are available tomorrow afternoon, do you want to meet at Gentleman Jackson’s? I could show you the place.”
Gabriel glanced about the room, then pulled his shoes out from under a nearby dresser and put them on. “Thank you, but Sarah mentioned a luncheon at Stephan’s tomorrow. I should attend with her.” He made to turn toward the door, but stopped. “The candles. Do you want them extinguished?”
“Please.” Anthony let out another yawn, this one bigger than the first. Damnation, he was tired. He snagged the coverlet from the foot of the bed and pulled it over himself. “You’re welcome to knock on my door whenever the urge strikes you.”
There. He hadn’t pushed Gabriel to stay, but he had wiped away any doubts Gabriel may have had about his future welcome in Anthony’s bed.
His eyes began to drift closed. He heard Gabriel’s footsteps as the man rounded the bed. Then darkness backed his eyelids and the scent of an extinguished flame teased his nose.
Those footsteps receded.
“Good night, Anthony.” The whispered words drifted over him. Then the bedchamber door clicked softly shut.
* * *
Stopping under a street lamp outside of Anthony’s building, Gabriel pulled out his pocket watch. It wasn’t even two yet. Much too early to head back to Sarah’s town house. Unlike Anthony, he wasn’t the least bit tired. His head was too full for sleep.
He took a deep br
eath then let it out slowly. It didn’t do anything to calm his pulse, which was skittering through his veins. To have been able to let his guard down with Anthony, to let loose those desires he’d kept so very well locked away for so long...
Bloody hell, that had felt good. Too good. And now he was paying the price. But at least he’d managed to keep his composure in check long enough not to bolt out the door.
“It won’t send you to hell, I assure you.” Anthony’s confident voice sounded in his head.
Maybe not hell exactly, but a version that involved buckets of guilt. Anthony didn’t understand, but if he thought Gabriel a prude, so be it. Every time he took himself in hand, thoughts of Anthony filled his head. He had been a married man, but beyond that, he had no right to fantasize about Anthony.
He looked up and down the empty street. There wasn’t a hackney to be seen. Hell, he shouldn’t even be here. He should have told the driver earlier to take him to Cheapside, not to Anthony’s.
“You’re welcome to knock on my door whenever the urge strikes you.”
And if he had any sense left in him, he would not take Anthony up on his offer.
At least he’d been able to come up with an excuse to turn down Anthony’s offer to meet at Gentleman Jackson’s tomorrow. He should attend with Sarah tomorrow, but he had no plans to go to his older brother’s for a luncheon. Stephan was a bore who had never much cared for him, and his false pity over Charlotte’s passing was more than Gabriel could take.
Shoving his hands into his greatcoat pockets, he headed east along the walkway. If he started to make his way across Town on foot, he’d eventually come across a hackney to take him the rest of the way to Cheapside. Thankfully the rain had finally let up. The night air was cold and heavy with moisture, but at least he was being spared a soaking. Though he doubted anyone at the hells he’d frequented over the past few weeks would think it odd if he showed up at the tables drenched to the bone.
He took a right at the next crossroad. And he needed to get to the tables tonight. His pockets were nigh to empty, his bank account drained. Maybe he could find someone to give him a loan? He’d overheard others discussing such loans, so he knew there were men who offered them. He racked his brain, trying to remember if anyone had mentioned a name.
Yes, a loan. That was what he needed. The twenty-seven pounds left in his pocket wouldn’t be enough to win back all the money the tables had taken from him. He’d convert the loan into enough to repay the holder and put money back into his bank account. And then...
He gave his head a weary shake.
He didn’t know what he would do then.
Chapter Six
Three days later found Gabriel stuck at a table enduring dinner with his brother-in-law, Neville Blackwell, who had returned home that afternoon.
“If the packet ship hadn’t been delayed due to an issue with the rigging, I would have been home yesterday.” Neville took another sip of his wine while Sarah gazed upon him with the most sympathetic of eyes. One would think she hadn’t heard this particular complaint four times already since he’d walked through the front door. “The fare was barely tolerable at the inn I was forced to stay at last night. Travel is so tiresome.”
“But you are home now, my dear, and that is what matters.” If she had been sitting next to her husband rather than opposite him at the table, Gabriel was certain she’d have given his arm a consoling pat.
Gabriel had never spent much time with Neville Blackwell. He’d attended his sister’s wedding, which had taken place in Lincolnshire, where Neville’s family had an estate, but hadn’t spoken much to him other than to offer his congratulations. Prior to that, he’d never made the man’s acquaintance, as Sarah had met him in Town during a London Season and Gabriel had been living in Derbyshire. It hadn’t taken but a few hours of the man’s company this day for Gabriel to realize his sister’s husband was one of those haughty, self-absorbed men who was rife about the ton. Sarah seemed genuinely fond of him, though, and he of her. His sister appeared happy with her husband and with her life in London. That was what mattered.
“So, Gabriel, have you enjoyed your stay in London?” Neville asked, speaking to him directly for the first time since they had all sat down at the table.
Setting down his fork, Gabriel inclined his head. “Yes. London offers many amusements, not the least of which has been the opportunity to spend time with my lovely sister.”
For that, he earned a smile from Sarah.
“Have you met any ladies who have caught your attention? It’s been six months, after all,” Neville added. “No one would frown on you for taking another wife.”
“I am not of a mind to remarry.” He’d never again take another wife, and would ensure he never again put himself in a position to necessitate such an offer.
Sarah’s smile turned into pity. Gabriel fought the urge to shift in his chair.
“But you should consider it, Gabriel,” she said. “You don’t want to be alone for the rest of your life.”
But that was what he deserved.
Gabriel shook his head. “It wouldn’t bother me,” he lied. “I have my family and my fields to occupy me.” And he added another lie to his growing list.
She didn’t look convinced.
“When do you return to Derbyshire?” Neville asked.
“I haven’t yet decided. I believe I’ll just take a room at a hotel for now.” What he should do was return to Derbyshire. He should take the opportunity before him to step away from Anthony. It would be the best course of action.
He shouldn’t even have spent time with Anthony.
Ah hell.
At least he’d managed to stay away from him for the past three days.
“You don’t need to go to a hotel. You are welcome to remain with us.”
It was nice of his sister to extend the offer, but the quick pull of her husband’s brow indicated the man wasn’t keen to extend the same hospitality as his wife.
“Of course, Gabriel, you may be our guest for as long as you wish.”
Polite words and nothing more.
“I don’t wish to impose, and you are likely eager to have your wife to yourself, having been absent from home for so long. There are plenty of respectable hotels about London. It’s not a bother to find one until I decide to return home.”
“Mivart’s is quite nice. You should inquire there first,” his sister offered.
“Thank you. I shall consider it.” He had not been a guest of that particular hotel before, but he had been in London long enough to know the place was far outside his limited pocket.
The footmen entered the dining room to clear the table. He very much doubted Neville wished to remain at the table with him to indulge in a glass of port, and Gabriel was of a similar mind. So he pushed from the chair, extended his thanks to his sister and her husband for the meal and their hospitality and made his way upstairs to pack his bag.
* * *
“How long you be stayin’?” the innkeeper asked, pencil in hand, poised above a ledger.
“Likely a week. If I need to extend my stay on short notice, would it pose any difficulties?” Gabriel asked.
“None at all.” The middle-aged man scrawled a note in a ledger. One of the buttons on his brown waistcoat was missing, but he didn’t seem the type to particularly care. “The rooms go by the night. Simply pay in advance for every night you are here, and return the key when ye leave.”
“Thank you, and I shall.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out enough coins to cover him for a week’s stay.
“Let me grab ye the key.” The man shut the ledger, and taking it and Gabriel’s coins with him, disappeared through a curtain behind the desk.
As Gabriel waited, he glanced about the establishment’s entrance hall. Well, it wasn’t much of a h
all. More of a small space that held the innkeeper’s desk with a closed door off to one side and an open door, revealing a parlor, on the other side. A staircase next to the desk led upstairs.
There was nothing grand or luxurious about the place. Everything appeared years old and well used, though at least the worn floorboards were clean and there weren’t scantily clad women loitering about the parlor.
“I’ll put you in number six,” the innkeeper said, as he emerged from behind the curtain. He plunked a brass key onto the scratched desk. “Second floor. It’s where I keep the extenders. Those who don’t just stay a night,” he added by way of explanation. “Or a few hours.”
Brilliant. Hopefully the lock on his door would be a solid one.
“Keep the noise down. No fisticuffs in the corridors or parlor. Me Mildred serves dinner every evening in the dining room. It’s over there.” He motioned to the closed door on Gabriel’s left. “For an extra coin, she’ll tidy your room or see to your laundry.”
“Much thanks, good sir.” Gabriel gave him a tip of the head. After grabbing the key, he picked up his bag and made his way up to the second floor.
Upon entering his room, he let out a sigh. The moonlight streaming through the open curtain on the single window outlined a narrow bed, a small table with a straight-back wooden chair and a washstand. That was it.
Lighting the candle in the dented pewter holder didn’t change his opinion of the room much. But at least it appeared clean and tidy. And most importantly, his pocket could afford it.
Well, most importantly was actually the inn’s location.
Situated around the corner from a gambling hell in London’s East Side, it was far from Mayfair and far from Anthony. The last time he had gone to Anthony’s, he hadn’t intended to go. Had resolved not to go. But as he’d stepped into the hackney that rainy night, he’d given the jarvey the direction to Anthony’s instead of Cheapside, and the ride hadn’t been long enough for reason to rear its head and remind him he hadn’t made a wise choice.
He well knew it wasn’t rational to want to keep a distance from Anthony, yet at the same time, be reluctant to leave London. If he really wanted to put distance between himself and Anthony, he’d return to Derbyshire. Yet...
