by Merry Farmer
“Wait, wait,” Max said, laughing for a moment before frowning, as if trying to force himself to sober up. “Before we lose our heads entirely….” He cleared his throat and unbuttoned his coat. “One of the footmen let me know that you came to my father’s house earlier. He said you had something you needed to tell me about the investigation.”
“Yes.” Stephen stepped behind Max to take his coat and walked it to a chair in the corner of the room. “I went to see David Wirth and Lionel Mercer. It turns out they’ve known about missing children for quite some time now. There’s a kidnapping ring at work in London.”
Max lost all trace of good humor. “That does not sound good.”
“It isn’t.” Stephen returned to him, starting in on the buttons of Max’s jacket. There was no point pretending they weren’t going to end up naked and sweaty in each other’s arms within a matter of minutes. That sort of intimacy was exactly what Stephen needed to turn the world back to right again, as paradoxical as it felt. One last indulgence was exactly what he needed. “But what is good is that there are people aware of what is going on. David said he would send an Officer Patrick Wrexham to help us as soon as possible.”
“That’s a blessing,” Max agreed, letting out a breath and pulling his shirt out of his trousers as Stephen finished with his jacket buttons and started in on his waistcoat. Both of their efforts picked up speed and intensity as they went.
“We’ll find them,” Stephen said, filled with confidence for the first time all day. Blast his head, but his heart had known having Max with him, making him feel like a man, would renew his confidence. He wanted more of that feeling, all of it. “We’ll find them and bring them home.”
His patience wore thin, and he tugged Max into his arms, kissing him with command. Max sighed and sagged against him, signaling that he was Stephen’s to do with as he pleased. The subtle surrender drove Stephen wild, increasing his ardor. He wondered what the high and mighty Duke of Eastleigh would think if he knew his son had handed over the reins of desire to a pathetic aberration with delusions of grandeur.
But only for a moment.
“I want you,” he said breathlessly, reaching for the fastenings of Max’s trousers. “Desperately.”
“I’m yours,” Max sighed in reply, fumbling with the buttons of Stephen’s pajamas.
Stephen loosened Max’s trousers and drawers, pushed them over his hips, and slipped his hands along Max’s hardening cock. Max let out a sound of pleasure that had Stephen’s prick jumping in response. He wanted to stroke every inch of Max’s body, kiss and suck him, and satisfy him in every possible way. He could hardly draw breath with the urgency of his need and couldn’t get Max out of his clothes fast enough.
Max wanted the same thing, as evidenced by the way he yanked his shirt off over his head and groaned in pleasure as Stephen shoved his trousers farther down his legs. They had to step apart for a practical moment to shed the rest of their clothes and Max’s shoes, but in no time, they were back in each other’s arms, skin to skin, mouths entangled. It felt so incredibly good to feel Max’s iron-hard cock trapped against his hip that Stephen trembled.
“Wait,” Max panted, breaking away from Stephen reluctantly. Mischief shone in his eyes as they met Stephen’s. “I brought something.”
He stepped around Stephen, marching to the chair where Stephen had discarded his coat. Stephen drank in the sight of Max’s naked body—its firm lines and lean muscles, and especially his eager cock standing stiff and tall—as he rifled through one of his coat pockets. He came up with a small container, presenting it to Stephen.
The cool weight of the jar of lubricant in his hand sent Stephen’s thoughts to the most carnal of places and had him aching to get Max on his back. He sent Max a look as if to warn him that he was about to be fucked into next Tuesday.
“I’m yours,” Max said, breathless with ardor, sliding into Stephen’s arms once more and drawing him toward the bed. His mouth pulled into a grin as they kissed. “And after you’ve had your wicked way with me, I fully intend to turn the tables on you.”
Stephen laughed even as the intensity of his need catapulted dangerously toward the point of no return. And that was from merely the thought of what they were about to do alone. Max slipped eagerly into Stephen’s bed, kicking the bedcovers into a ball at the foot of the bed and posing provocatively on his stomach, arse raised in invitation.
“Oh no,” Stephen said, unscrewing the lid of the jar and joining Max in bed. “I want to see your face when we both come.”
Max’s eyes glittered with excitement as he twisted to his back, reaching for Stephen’s pillow to prop under his backside. The whole thing was a blend of practicality and wickedness on a level that had Stephen certain he was part of some sort of erotic dream. He scooped enough of the lubricant from the jar to thoroughly coat his aching cock, making a show of stroking himself in an attempt to drive Max wild. Judging by the way Max bit his lip as he watched, his chest rising and falling in short pants as he spread his legs wide, it was working.
Stephen took another bit of lubricant before setting the jar and his spectacles on the bedside table, using it to tease the pucker of Max’s arsehole. Max let out a ragged breath as Stephen tested him, first with one finger, then two, making absolutely certain he was ready. When he was confident, he stroked his way forward, fondling Max’s balls for a moment before teasing him with long, firm strokes along his prick. He leaned forward as he did, balancing himself on one arm while raining soft kisses across Max’s chest, flicking one of his nipples with his tongue, and nibbling his shoulder.
“Now,” Stephen whispered into Max’s ear, feeling erotic power surge through him, “I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.” Max moaned in anticipation, the sound sending Stephen’s senses soaring before he added, “Try not to scream so loud you wake the rest of the house.”
Max started to laugh, but Stephen guided himself to exactly the right spot and pushed inside. Max’s laughter turned into a sound that defied description, but carried every emotion that throbbed between the two of them. With surprising speed, their bodies accommodated to each other enough for Stephen to pick up the pace of his thrusts. What must have looked awkward and ridiculous to any outside observer felt like utter perfection to Stephen as he grasped one of Max’s legs and deepened his angle of penetration.
Almost immediately, pleasure overtook any possibility of thought. Whatever worry Stephen might have had that he wasn’t hitting exactly the right spot within Max was banished by the sounds Max made and the way his face contorted in pleasure, eyes rolled back as Stephen pounded into him. Watching Max’s transformation from excited flirtation to pleasure to orgasmic ecstasy as his expression changed and his features pinched sent Stephen right to the edge. And when Max opened his eyes and stared straight up into Stephen’s eyes, into his soul, with undiluted love and indescribable pleasure, Stephen exploded into an orgasm that shook him to his soul.
He cried out, defying his own order to stay quiet. The joy of it all, the intense intimacy of spending himself inside of Max, and the surprise delight of Max coming with a loud sound of release moments later, left Stephen pulsing with satisfaction. His movements slowed, and he untangled himself from Max only to collapse atop him, caught between trying to catch his breath and kissing Max until he was dizzy. They rolled to the side, embracing, touching, and kissing as though they were just getting started instead of floating down from the heights of ecstasy.
Soon, even that stroking and their efforts to meld together as intimately as possible slowed until they lay in each other’s arms, trying to catch their breaths, overheated, sticky, and happier than Stephen could remember being.
“I won’t ever let anything keep us apart,” Max panted, threading his fingers through Stephen’s hair and stealing another light kiss. “Not even you.”
Stephen didn’t know how to reply, didn’t even know what he wanted anymore. Max felt too perfect in his arms to let reason ke
ep them apart. Underneath his sated bliss, his heart beat with determination. “I will do whatever it takes to fight for the people who matter the most to me.”
Chapter 14
Annie Ross was going to be a problem. Max knew it the second he and Stephen emerged from Stephen’s room in the back of the house and attempted to pretend as though nothing were amiss with Max’s presence at the orphanage so early in the morning again. Try as he did to behave as casually as possible, helping out in the kitchen by making coffee—his one culinary skill—while Stephen roused the girls from sleep and helped them dress and brush their hair for the day upstairs, Annie eyed him warily.
“But how did you get inside?” Annie asked with a frown as she cracked two dozen eggs into a bowl with the intent to scramble them for the girls. “I’m certain the doors were all locked.”
“Stephen let me in,” Max answered, keeping his face turned away from her. He was hot from the neck up, and not because of the steaming kettle he was minding. Annie might have been young and naïve, but naivety could only last so long.
“Why would he let you in so late at night?” Annie went on, sounding mostly as though she were talking to herself. “If the house is so crowded that you would be forced to share a bed with him again, why you would you bother to return at all?”
Max left the question unanswered. Mostly because Mrs. Ross strode into the kitchen with a sense of urgency.
“Stephen wants you in the great hall immediately,” she told Max. “There’s an Officer Wrexham here to speak to the two of you.”
Max nodded and stepped away from the stove, abandoning the coffee preparations.
“Why doesn’t he want me?” Annie asked, pausing her task with her whisk poised over the bowl of eggs.
Max exchanged a look with Mrs. Ross. Annie’s question was far more loaded than she could possibly imagine.
“Scramble your eggs, girl,” Mrs. Ross told her, then murmured as she and Max left the kitchen side by side, “Stephen’s certainly never going to scramble them for you.”
Max’s mouth twitched into a grin, but he felt guilty for laughing at Annie’s expense. “You’re going to have to educate her about the whole thing eventually,” he said quietly to Mrs. Ross. “Particularly since I fully intend to spend a great many more nights here.”
Mrs. Ross humphed as they approached the doorway to the great hall. “She’s most of the way to figuring it out already. And God help us all when she puts the last piece in the puzzle.”
Max wished he could have laughed, but the knot that formed in his gut told him it was no laughing matter. Sweet as she was, Annie was a live shell waiting to explode.
“Ah, Max.” Stephen stepped away from the table at the front of the room as Max and Mrs. Ross entered the great hall. An officer in a crisp Metropolitan Police uniform walked with him to meet Max in the center of the room. “This is Officer Wrexham.”
“How do you do?” Max shook the officer’s hand.
Wrexham was about their age and handsome, in a tough, stocky sort of way. His short-cropped hair was a playful shade of strawberry-blond that seemed at odds with his serious face and strong jaw. He had massive shoulders, and even with the uniform, Max could see the man had impressive muscles. And yet, there was a kindness in his eyes that put Max at ease. He was exactly the sort of man Max would have wanted spearheading the investigation into missing children.
“Mr. Wirth tells me you were with Mr. Siddel here at the Bardess Mansion concert where the children went missing.” Wrexham got straight to business.
“I was,” Max said with a nod, shifting to stand shoulder to shoulder with Stephen, his arms crossed. “I’m convinced there was some sort of foul play in the house during and after the children’s performance.”
Wrexham nodded. “There was an operation that night, after the concert. Lord Burbage, along with several accomplices, were arrested at Batcliff Cross Dock and a ship containing several dozen kidnapped children was raided. The children were rescued, thank God.”
Max felt as though all the breath had been squeezed out of them. “Did you find Jane and the others?” He glanced quickly to Stephen.
“They didn’t,” Stephen said, flushing. “I’m sorry, I meant to tell you the whole tale. That’s why I went to your father’s house. But then we were distracted.” His face turned even redder and he adjusted his spectacles self-consciously.
“The girl who went missing from this orphanage and the two boys from the one up the street weren’t among the children rescued,” Wrexham went on without showing the least sign of discomfort at Stephen and Max’s exchange. “We have ample reason to believe this kidnapping ring extends far wider than Burbage and the children who were rescued the other night.”
“What sort of reason?” Max asked, clearing his throat to push aside the swirl of emotions that remembering his night with Stephen and the reasons they hadn’t talked invoked in him.
“The level of sophistication involved in attempting to whisk a ship full of human cargo out of London indicates this is more than a one-off operation. The reports of missing children that I’ve been able to gather in the last few weeks extend back months, if not years.” Wrexham paused, looking stricken for a moment. “Unfortunately, few people seem to care when the children of poverty go missing. They are seen as flotsam and jetsam anyhow, so no one bothers.”
The way the man glanced meaningfully over the table of Stephen’s girls sitting next to him instantly had Max wondering if Wrexham was an orphan himself and if he’d been one of those children no one cared about.
Wrexham sucked in a breath and shook his head, focusing on Stephen and Max once more. “We have other reasons to be suspicious as well. Lord Chisolm hasn’t been seen since the day of the concert. Burbage was released from jail yesterday, and he, too, has now vanished.”
The news hit Max like a fist in his gut. “They’re both gone?”
“Yes,” Stephen said in a grim voice. Evidently, Wrexham had informed him of the development earlier. “If that’s not a signal of guilt, I don’t know what is.”
“The fact that noblemen of the highest order are involved in this ring doesn’t bode well for our chances of thwarting it easily,” Wrexham went on. “No offense, my lord, but nobs have every sort of convenience available to them when it comes to hiding, fleeing, and covering up the truth.”
“I don’t disagree with you, and I abhor it as much as you do,” Max said, his jaw tensed.
“So how do we proceed?” Stephen went on. “How do we take action and find Jane and the others when everything is stacked against us?”
Wrexham sighed, rolling his massive shoulders. “One step at a time, I’m afraid.”
“David Wirth seems to think that Lady Bardess must be involved in the ring as well as her father and brother,” Stephen said, sending Max a wary, sideways glance that hinted there was more to the statement and his thoughts.
Max blinked, his breath catching in his chest. “She seemed so ignorant when we approached her yesterday.” He wished he actually believed that she was ignorant.
“David seems to think that could be an act,” Stephen went on, arching one eyebrow.
Max shook his head, not because he didn’t believe it, but because he felt like he should have tried harder to wheedle the truth out of her during their turn around the room at Bardess Mansion the day before.
“I should speak to her again,” he said, feeling more confident as a plan took shape in his mind. “For some Godforsaken reason, she seems to think I would make an ideal husband. If I can encourage that mindset, she may reveal something important without realizing it.”
Stephen tensed by Max’s side. It made perfect sense that he would hate the idea, but one quick glance at him was enough for Max to see Stephen would put up with whatever it took to get Jane and the others back. That sentiment warmed Max’s heart and made him daring. He reached for Stephen’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly, slow to let it go.
Wrexham noted the gesture, but
his expression barely changed. If anything, he relaxed. “You may be in a unique position in this investigation, my lord,” he said.
“Call me Max, please.”
Wrexham nodded. “Are you willing to return to Bardess Mansion to see what you can discover?”
“Absolutely,” Max said. Knowing he could take action filled him with confidence and an eagerness to get started.
“In the meantime….” Wrexham turned to Stephen. “The section of Batcliff Cross Dock where Burbage’s accomplices were found and arrested remains cordoned off by the police, but it won’t be for long. Would you be interested in investigating the site with me in case the officers conducting the investigation—good officers, but men without the singular motivation that others might have—might have missed something?”
“Of course,” Stephen replied, standing a bit taller as his confidence grew as well. “I’ll go wherever you need me to as soon as we can.”
“Good.” Wrexham nodded. “Then we should leave right away.”
Right away ended up being a good hour later, after Stephen oversaw the serving of breakfast and got his girls off to their lessons—a feat that was nearly Herculean, considering how distracted the girls were. Max had to wait to leave for Bardess Mansion until a reasonable hour for paying calls anyhow, so he helped with the girls as much as he could. It was uncanny to him how far shepherding a flock of energetic girls from room to room—not to mention handing out a few hugs and reassuring words to the ones who were traumatized by Jane’s disappearance—went toward improving Max’s mood and making him feel useful. Sometime, when the danger in front of them was over, he vowed to think seriously about upending his life entirely so that he could keep that feeling with him always. And so that he could keep Stephen with him always.
Those magnificent thoughts for the future stayed with him as he hired a carriage to take him to Bardess Mansion. He might actually be able to do it. Who would stop him from exchanging the cold and frustrating life of a minor noble, living at the whim of a society he hated, for the simple joys of a life working by Stephen’s side? In a way, it was madness to contemplate. But there was no denying the rush of excitement the very idea of giving up his old life for a new one gave him.
