Yes. Yorkshire. And how did you know?
You sound like you were raised in the country. Well, yes, there was that. When did you come to
London?
A few years ago. He had been so eager to leave Yorkshire, leave his father s farm, his older
brothers and their cast-off clothes behind, to find someplace where he belonged. Unfortunately, it
hadn t taken him long to realize London did not at all resemble the glittering city of his boyhood
dreams.
Something in his tone must have given him away, for Max asked, Not what you expected?
No. That was putting it mildly.
I spend a great deal of time in the country myself. Only come to Town when business demands it.
Max lifted up onto his elbows. You need to wash up. Dried seed can t be comfortable. He swung his
legs over the side of the bed and padded to the washstand.
Tristan looked down and tilted his head to one side in an effort to mimic Max s viewpoint. The
candlelight caught the dried remnants of his climax splattered across his skin.
Wonderful.
Here, Max said, holding out a wet cloth.
Thank you. Tristan sat up and pushed the tangled mess that was his god-awful hair over his
shoulder. After cleaning up, he set the cloth in Max s outstretched hand.
Max dropped the cloth on the nearby chest of drawers. Rather than turn back to the bed, he pulled
open the top drawer. The man had a gorgeous back, all hard muscle and smooth skin. Tristan remained
on the bed, resisting the impulse to reach out, to trace the strong line of Max s spine.
Interesting, Max murmured, reaching into the drawer. I had expected these chests not to contain
such mundane things as smallclothes. Appears my expectations were correct.
Even after two years at the house, Tristan didn t know every room well enough to know exactly
what that particular top drawer contained. Some variety of toys or leather goods, no doubt. Was Max
in the mood to play again? After two rounds with Max, his arse begged for a no, but the prospect of
being bound for Max s pleasure...
His breaths stuttered as lust made a valiant attempt to spark anew. And the man had wanted
Tristan s arms over his head while he d buggered him, during the first time anyway. The hard tone,
the commanding presence... He could well imagine Max to be the sort who d relished in such play.
Max would be damned good at it, too. He wouldn t leave welts on Tristan s skin, wouldn t shove him
roughly to his knees, wouldn t make him feel like the lowest of dogs.
As Max turned from the chest, Tristan briefly closed his eyes. Every toy and leather good he d ever
been acquainted with flashed before his mind. Which one would Max select? He opened his eyes.
Max held a massive black marble dildo. It was so thick his large hand couldn t contain its width.
The thing had to be a good twelve inches in length.
Can you take this?
Tristan swallowed hard, the muscles in his sore arse clenching. Yes, he whispered. It had hurt like
hell when shoved inside him. But in Max s hands...
The echo of a whimper registered through the haze of lust suddenly swamping him.
Had that sound come from him?
What could only be classified as a satisfied smile with a distinct note of anticipation tipped the
edges of Max s lips.
Yes, indeed. That whimper had come from Tristan.
Max s gaze strayed to the bedside table. The smile left his lips. And with the loss of that smile, it
was as if all the warmth, all the intimacy, left the room.
Marble clacked against marble as Max put the dildo back in the drawer. I should be on my way.
He grabbed his trousers from where he d discarded them at the foot of the bed and dressed. It wasn t
but a handful of minutes later and he was slipping out the door.
All he left in his wake was a fold of pound notes on the side table and Tristan, still sitting alone on
the bed.
Chapter Four
Max let out a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the doors of Westminster. The good Lord above must
have been smiling upon him, for the session had finally closed for the summer.
He hadn t made it halfway across the yard when a hand clapped him on the shoulder.
Heading back to Hampshire tomorrow? Rawling asked.
Yes. First thing in the morning. He d been tempted to extend his stay in London, but
responsibilities did not disappear simply because his prick wanted attention from a particular
individual. He had been in London long enough. Past time for him to turn his focus fully back to
Arrington Park and the countless other responsibilities, besides the House of Lords, that encompassed
the dukedom.
Then I take it this will be the last I will see of you for some weeks to come.
If you are fortunate you won t see me for a good couple of months or so.
However will I get along?
Max chuckled. I have no doubt you will find something to occupy you.
Or someone, if I am fortunate.
There is that hope. Did Rawling prefer men as well? Was that how he had known Rubicon s had
male employees? Max couldn t recall him ever mentioning any specific woman who had caught his
attention. Then again, their conversations did not tend to run toward those topics. At least not until
lately. And it was a topic he did not want Rawling to nudge him about yet again. While he appreciated
Rawling s concern, he did not want to put Jonathan completely behind him. That experience had
taught him a valuable lesson, one he was determined to never forget or repeat. Or you could occupy
yourself with your estate.
A frown briefly tightened the edges of Rawling s mouth. Don t stay away too long, Pelham. Your
disposition has improved over the last week, and I would hate to see you turn back into a glowering
old man.
It would have been a neat turn of the conversation, if it wasn t glaringly obvious Rawling did not
want to discuss his estate.
That glower was due to the Lords. Since that hell is over until well after the New Year, you have
no immediate cause for further concern.
Rawling cast him a glance from the corner of his eye, one that said Max was fooling no one, least of
all himself.
A glance Max ignored.
Stopping at the street, he turned toward Rawling. Try to ensure London stays in one piece while I
am gone.
Rawling tipped his head. I shall do my best.
A parting shake of the hand, and he left Rawling on the walkway and crossed to where his carriage
was waiting on the opposite side of the street.
A footman hopped off the boot to see to the door. The town house, Max said as he stepped inside.
He gazed out the window as his carriage took him back to Mayfair, his driver deftly guiding the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]