by Ava March
In about a month, they would need to return to London for the social Season. Well, Anthony would return for the Season to escort his mother and sister to functions, and Gabriel would remain at Hawkins Hall until May, overseeing the estate. Then he would go on to Town for the last half of the Season and return to Somerset with Anthony. That would actually qualify as a compromise, for they would be apart for weeks. Not something Gabriel was looking forward to, but as Anthony had responsibilities in Town and Gabriel did not think it wise to leave the estate for so long during their first spring back in the country, it was a compromise they would need to endure. Still, it would be a small price to pay in order to be able to share his life with Anthony.
With a faint click of porcelain against wood, Anthony set the figurine back down on the end table. “Barley. It hasn’t been planted in that field for a few years. It would be good to give the land a break from the turnips, and barley should fetch good prices this season.”
Barley?
His thoughts must have shown themselves, for Anthony asked, with a touch of uncertainty in his tone, “You don’t think we should do barley?”
Gabriel held back the urge to immediately reassure Anthony. His husband wouldn’t learn much about land management if Gabriel blindly agreed with Anthony on every issue. Productive debate was a hallmark of a thriving partnership, and it was all right for them to disagree at times as long as they discussed their reasons. In this instance, however, there wouldn’t be a need to debate. “I was thinking more along the lines of wheat, but I believe yours is the better choice. And as you pointed out, it should also fetch a good price.”
Anthony smiled, the uncertainty vanishing. “And come autumn, we can contribute to the country’s ale supplies.”
A chuckle shook Gabriel’s chest. As barley was used in the production of ale, that would very much be the case. “Indeed.” He made a notation in the ledger to mark the chosen crop. “I’ll meet with Mr. Babbage tomorrow morning to relay the plans for the spring crops.”
Anthony nodded his agreement and strolled over to the window.
With Anthony’s excellent powers of recollection, he could easily have the conversation with Mr. Babbage himself and relay every detail of his and Gabriel’s decisions. Yet since Gabriel’s role at the estate was that of manager, it was best for him to handle such matters. And Gabriel would use the discussion to remind Mr. Babbage yet again that watchful eyes were on him. The tenant had stepped up to oversee the fields during Anthony’s absence from the estate, yet as Gabriel had discovered, he had also pocketed more than his share of the profits during that time. It had been Anthony’s decision not to penalize Mr. Babbage—if not for Mr. Babbage, the fields would have lain fallow for the past three years, so he rather deserved to take a bit extra. It had been more than a bit, but Gabriel had ceded to Anthony’s decision. Still, it hadn’t stopped Gabriel from having a discussion with Mr. Babbage to let him know that such behavior in the future would not be tolerated.
After putting the ledger in a drawer, Gabriel sorted through the neat stack of letters on the left of the desk’s surface. Those in that stack regarded Parliament, and those on the right were for the estate. With estate matters finished for the day, they could turn their attention to Parliament.
“They’ve arrived,” Anthony said, turning from the window.
The faint crunch of gravel beneath carriage wheels, the sound coming nearer, confirmed their visitors had indeed arrived. Gabriel glanced to the clock on the fireplace mantel. “Pelham and Tristan must have departed Hampshire before dawn.”
“Obviously they were eager to see our two glorious selves.”
With a shake of his head and a smile, Gabriel set the letters back in their stack and stood from the desk. “There’s a new piece of legislature before the Lords, but it’s currently under debate. We can wait a few days to review it.”
“Brilliant. Let’s go greet our guests properly.”
Gabriel rounded the desk and crossed to the study door, where Anthony waited for him. While Hawkins Hall was staffed with a good amount of servants, the estate still offered many opportunities for privacy, and Gabriel never let one pass without a kiss from Anthony.
As Gabriel stopped before him, Anthony arched a brow, a hint of a sinful smile touching his lips. “I can still feel you,” Anthony murmured.
“Can you now?” He had awoken Anthony with far more than kisses that morning. Anthony’s bare skin draped in predawn shadows, his low groans as Gabriel had thrust into him the very definition of pleasure turned to sound.
Anthony nodded once. “With every step I take, my arse aches just a bit. It’s delicious.”
Wrapping his arms around Anthony’s waist, Gabriel pulled him close. “Good.” He nipped at Anthony’s lower lip. “That was my intention.”
“And you call me wicked?” Anthony asked, with mock affront.
“You love it when I take control of you.” Another nip to Anthony’s lip. “When I pound into you so hard you can’t even form words anymore.”
Anthony looped his arms around Gabriel’s neck. “That I do. And I love you.”
“Love you too.” And Gabriel captured his husband’s mouth. Anthony dove into the kiss, his tongue tangling with Gabriel’s. He palmed Anthony’s arse, gave it a firm squeeze. A moan rumbled from Anthony’s chest. Unable to resist, he pushed Anthony up against the closed door, their kiss unbroken.
The urge to take Anthony right then and there, to reduce him to low, gasping groans once again, to take Anthony to the heights of ecstasy, grabbed hold of Gabriel. Yet their guests would very soon be waiting for them. So Gabriel forced the need back, and forced himself to release Anthony’s delectable arse.
“We shouldn’t keep our guests waiting.” Gabriel stole a quick kiss.
“You’re likely correct. Pity that.”
“I’ll make it up to you tonight.” He dragged his mouth along Anthony’s jaw, the faintest of stubble tickling his lips.
“And how do you intend to do that?”
“Slowly. Thoroughly.” He traced the shell of Anthony’s ear, felt the tremble rack Anthony’s strong body. “And quite indecently.”
“You aren’t going to give me any details, are you?”
“No.”
“Will you suck my cock?” Anthony whispered. His husband had a certain fondness for the anticipation of the unknown. Still, that didn’t stop him from nudging for answers.
“Perhaps.”
“Lick my arse?”
“Perhaps.”
“Tie me to the bed and have your wicked way with me?”
Lust bit into Gabriel. Having Anthony completely surrender himself to Gabriel? That had definitely become one of their favorite nightly activities.
Gabriel couldn’t hold back the smile. “Perhaps.”
Anthony let out a low grunt. “Hell, I love you.”
“Love you too.” Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Gabriel took a step back from Anthony.
A quick moment to repair their clothes, and then Anthony unlocked and opened the study door. They made their way to the entrance hall and went out the front door, stopping on the top step. A traveling carriage with a team of four bays in the traces rounded the circular drive in front of the manor house. As Anthony had predicted when they’d received Pelham’s note accepting their invitation, two familiar faces occupied the driver’s bench. Jack Morgan pulled the horses to a stop when they reached the stone steps, then William Drake hopped down from his spot beside Morgan and saw to the carriage door.
Back in January, Anthony had made use of Pelham’s open invitation to visit, and he and Gabriel had spent a week at Arrington Park, Pelham’s country seat. They had a very pleasant stay, and Gabriel was looking forward to being able to spend time with his new friends again. Not only because the four made for good company, b
ut because with them, Gabriel could let down his guard. It was truly a comfort to have friends who understood and accepted how much Anthony meant to him.
As servants bustled about pulling trunks from the boot, Tristan exited the carriage, followed by Pelham. Gabriel had grown accustomed to Tristan’s colorful waistcoats, perfectly tailored coats and elaborately tied cravats. The man always appeared as though he was ready to attend a ton social function, and instead of appearing ridiculous, it suited him. But while the duke didn’t eschew color, today’s waistcoat...
“Pink?” And not a subdued pale pink, but a bright, vibrant shade.
Anthony chuckled. “Tristan makes them for him. And I rather like the pink. Makes Pelham look even less like a grumpy old man.”
“True.” No one could look grumpy in such a cheerful hue, not even the serious duke.
Instead of immediately coming up the front steps, Tristan had paused to speak to Drake. Pelham appeared to wait patiently, standing close to Tristan. Quite close. Protectively close. As if the duke never wanted to be anywhere else but beside his lover.
Gabriel glanced to Anthony. Though he hadn’t done it consciously, he himself stood with his shoulder brushing Anthony’s. But instead of taking a half step to the right, instead of putting a respectable distance between them, Gabriel stayed exactly where he was, because it was where he wanted to be—beside Anthony, for the rest of their days.
He brushed his fingers over Anthony’s hand, hanging at his side. “Love you, husband of mine,” he murmured, softly, quietly, the words barely holding sound, yet he had no doubt Anthony would hear him.
Anthony’s lips curved in the most beautiful of smiles—happy, content, a man who well knew he was loved. “Love you too, husband,” he whispered.
The sounds of approaching footsteps pulled Gabriel’s attention from Anthony. Pelham and Tristan were coming up the stone steps.
“Welcome to Hawkins Hall,” Anthony said, extending a hand to Pelham.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Pelham replied.
Gabriel shook Tristan’s hand. “I hope your journey was a pleasant one.”
“Most assuredly.” Then Tristan lowered his voice, a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. “Max made certain of it.”
The duke didn’t blush or spear his lover with a remonstrating glance. If anything, he appeared smug. “He doesn’t like rising before dawn.”
“So what incentive, exactly, did you use?” Anthony asked, as if only curious. But Gabriel knew him better. Anthony was never one to let an opportunity to tease his friends pass him by.
A fact Pelham was well aware of, for the man merely replied, “An effective one.”
Anthony chuckled. “Would you care to rest up after your pleasant journey?”
“Much thanks,” Tristan said. “That would be greatly appreciated.”
“The west rooms have been prepared,” Gabriel said. They were the only other two bedchambers, beside his and Anthony’s, that had a connecting passageway. “Later, we can meet in the billiard room before supper.” During their visit to Arrington Park, Pelham and Tristan had trounced Anthony and himself. But he and Anthony had been practicing since then—well, it had been mostly himself who had needed the practice—and hopefully now they’d be able to hold their own against the other pair.
“Good afternoon, Lord Rawling, Mr. Tilden,” Drake said, as he came up the steps. “Is there anything else you need, Your Grace, Mr. Walsh? Your trunks are being taken to your rooms.”
While they had an audience, Drake, and especially Morgan, maintained the veil of formal politeness.
“Not at the moment,” Pelham said.
“Though tomorrow we’ll have need of a driver. If the weather holds, we plan to take the landau out and have luncheon at the pond on the south side of the estate.” Since Morgan was officially in Pelham’s employ, inviting Morgan and Drake to join them at meals in the dining hall would cause no end of gossip from the household servants. But he and Anthony had already devised plans for their visit that would take them away from the house, where the six of them could enjoy each other’s company away from prying eyes.
Drake tipped his head. “Morgan and I would be happy to be of service.”
“A room has been readied for you and Mr. Morgan. Unfortunately, there’s only one available in the garret, and it’s at the end of the corridor. I hope it’s not an inconvenience,” Anthony added, with a decent attempt to sound sincere.
Drake’s lips twitched in amusement. “Thank you for the hospitality, Lord Rawling, and I’m certain it won’t pose any inconvenience at all.” He glanced over his shoulder, gave his lover a nod then returned his attention to them. “Morgan’s eager to get the horses unhitched, so if you will excuse us.” A half bow, and he turned on his heel to return to the carriage.
Gabriel and Anthony saw Pelham and Tristan up to their respective bedchambers. After giving Pelham a discreet nod toward the hidden door to the connecting passageway, he and Anthony left their guests to rest up after their journey.
He doubted there would be much resting involved.
“I find I’m tired myself,” Anthony said, as they walked down the corridor.
“Are you now?”
“Indeed. Quite tired.” Anthony nodded, though he didn’t appear the least bit tired. A wicked spark lit the depths of his gray eyes. “I believe I’ll retire to my bedchamber for an afternoon nap.”
“Perhaps I should do the same.”
“We wouldn’t want to be overtired for our guests later this evening.”
“Indeed.”
Ten minutes later found Gabriel closing the passageway door to Anthony’s bedchamber. “Locked?” Gabriel asked, with a glance to Anthony’s door.
“Did it the moment I walked into the room, before I even closed the drapes.” Anthony whisked his shirt over his head, revealing his gloriously nude body. A substantial erection jutted from between his thighs, the crown already damp with moisture. Gabriel couldn’t wait to get his mouth on that gorgeous erection, to have the taste of Anthony on his tongue.
Tugging on the knot of his own cravat, Gabriel stepped over Anthony’s trousers, waistcoat, cravat and coat that were littered about the floor.
“I hope you know, Gabriel, that this doesn’t count toward making it up to me.”
Gabriel managed to stifle the laugh. He dropped his cravat to the floor, then unbuttoned his coat. “Greedy, are we?”
“When it comes to you—always.”
“The feeling is mutual.” He shrugged his coat from his shoulders. “Then you can consider this a taste of what’s to come tonight.” With servants bustling about the corridors, it wouldn’t be wise to indulge in any activities that might become too noisy. He could wait until tonight to make use of the leather lines Anthony had borrowed from the stables.
It was the work of a moment for Gabriel to shed the rest of his clothes, and then he was taking Anthony in his arms. Warm bare skin pressed against bare skin. Silvery-violet afternoon shadows surrounded them. Cupping Anthony’s jaw, Gabriel brushed his thumb across Anthony’s bottom lip. The desire and love blazing in Anthony’s eyes, all of it directed onto Gabriel... “I’m the luckiest man in all of England.”
Wrapping his arms about Gabriel’s neck, Anthony quirked a brow. “You can’t be, because I am.”
To have Anthony in his life, to know Anthony shared the same happiness that he himself felt? Gabriel’s heart swelled near to bursting. “Shall we share the title then?”
And Anthony gifted Gabriel with another of his beautiful smiles. “Gladly.”
* * * * *
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Now Available from Carina Press and Ava March
A lord intent on his first decadent night with a man finds love when he picks up a thief in a gambling hall.
Read on for an excerpt from BROOK STREET: THIEF
Chapter One
March 1822
London, England
Lord Benjamin Parker exited the hackney and reached up to hand a few coins to the driver. “That will be all.”
With a tip of his head, the driver pocketed the coins. A flick of his wrists, and the long leather lines slapped against the horse’s back.
The moment the carriage lurched forward, Benjamin opened his mouth, the words to call the driver back on his tongue, but then he snapped his jaw shut. It wasn’t as if he were in the stews, where drivers with any common sense rarely ventured, especially this late in the evening. And while he had hailed the hackney a couple of blocks from his Mayfair town house, it had been only a couple of blocks.
Best to have let that one go. No need to ask the driver to wait when in all probability he wouldn’t have need of it for many hours.
Or would he?
He glanced about. The handful of streetlamps lining Silver Street illuminated a series of nondescript buildings, none of which resembled a hotel or anyplace that would let rooms for the night. But the patrons had to go somewhere...unless the hell had rooms.
That thought didn’t appeal. A shudder of revulsion gripped his spine. Too close of a resemblance to a molly house.
Uncertainty began to seep into his stomach, already knotted with nerves, but he pushed it aside. He would do this. Was determined to do this. After months upon months—nay, years—of debating and questioning himself, he had finally come to a decision. He was tired of the unknown, tired of fighting those feelings and even more tired of worrying about the ramifications if his suspicions proved correct. In a few weeks the Season would begin, and he refused to go through another one with that particular question hanging over his head. Before the not-so-subtle nudges from his brothers and sisters started anew to find a wife among the bevies of young ladies, he would know the truth about himself. And either way, he would accept it.
