Bound Forever (11 page)

Brow furrowed, Vincent’s gaze swept over his face, then drifted somewhere over Oliver’s shoulder. Vincent possessed an agile mind. Hopefully he understood, because Oliver did not know how else he could explain it.

For a long moment, the man remained silent and still. Just when all hope began to drain from Oliver’s heart, when that horrible, numbing sense that this was truly the end began to settle over him, those brilliant blue eyes met his.

“I do respect you as an equal, Oliver,” he said, voice low yet filled with conviction. “Please don’t doubt it. If anything, I envy you.”

“You envy me?” Vincent, who succeeded at everything he put his mind to, envied
him?

“You have a strength, a confidence in yourself I wish I possessed. Regardless of others’ opinions, you remain true to yourself. You have been, and I hope will always remain, the one person in my life I can rely upon. And contrary to what you may believe I think, your willingness to submit so completely to me in the bedchamber, to put your trust in my hands, holds me in awe.”

Oliver took a breath, a counterargument on his tongue, but snapped his jaw shut as Vincent’s words turned about in his head. He considered himself an average individual. A hard fact he had long ago accepted. The proof lay before him every time he walked into his shabby apartments. Yet it was becoming clear to him that Vincent judged him on an entirely different scale. One that had nothing at all to do with Oliver’s bank account or the marks he had received at school—physical evidence he had long believed Vincent held in the utmost regard. But a scale where everything had to do with the intangible.

Definitely a major shift to wrap his mind around, but he couldn’t dispute the strength of Vincent’s sincerity.

His lover truly did respect him as an equal and even envied him a bit.

Amazing.

“I apologize for making you feel otherwise, Oliver. It was not my intention.” Vincent squared his shoulders. “But I also won’t deny I feel protective of you. Feel a need to help you and take care of you. I know you don’t want my assistance, and it’s not that I believe you necessarily need my assistance, but I want to help you in any way I can. It’s because I love you and I don’t want anything bad to come to you. I want you to be happy. I wish you could understand that and not see it as a slight against you.”

When put that way, it made Oliver feel like an ungrateful brat for even questioning his lover’s motives. The man’s hurt was unmistakable. The thought of willingly accepting help from Vincent still caused his hackles to rise, but his shortcomings weren’t Vincent’s fault. He couldn’t continue to punish the man for them.

“I do understand, Vincent. At least now I do.” He had thrown Vincent’s penchant for assumption in his face, and here Oliver had been just as guilty. Not a comfortable feeling at all.

A bit of the tension gripping his broad shoulders eased from Vincent’s frame. “I know I can be overbearing at times, and for that I apologize. I should have consulted you, and I did not. It will not happen again. You have my word. But know I did not neglect to consult you out of some belief you were unworthy of such consideration. Based on your own information, Mrs. Middleton clearly needed assistance. Purchasing the remainder of the library and giving it to you seemed the logical solution. I certainly have no use for so many books, yet you own a bookshop. I never predicted it would upset you. You love books. You’re always after me for mine. I thought the delivery would make you happy.”

“I can see how you would believe that, and I never did mention the lack of space in the shop,” Oliver conceded. “I don’t doubt the goodness of your intentions, but I still can’t accept the books. Fifteen crates are just too…much.” Vincent opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, Oliver said, “I will sell them for you though, and I’ll charge you a fee for the service.” He’d have to work with Mr. Wallace to shuffle some inventory and take Vincent up on his offer to utilize his attic for storage, but the arrangement would not leave his pride bruised.

Vincent pursed his mouth, then gave a crisp nod. “We can negotiate the fee later.”

“No more than thirty percent.”

That earned him a frown. Likely Vincent had hoped to negotiate a heftier fee. “Thirty it is, then.”

Oliver tipped his head in agreement.

Vincent’s gaze dropped to his polished evening shoes, then met Oliver’s again. Worry weighed heavily on his face. Dark brows lowered and mouth drawn in a straight line. “I thought you were happy with me, but obviously you have not been blissfully content for some time. I wish you would have voiced your concerns before they built to this point. The last thing I want is to risk losing you again.”

“I have been happy with you, Vincent. I just don’t like fighting with you.”

“Nor I you. But it doesn’t have to be an argument. I simply ask that you not burden me with the worry at the end of the day that I might have said something to ruffle your feathers. You may have the ability to see right through me, but it’s one I have yet to fully acquire when it comes to you.”

Vincent made him sound so complicated and…prickly. All he wanted was the man’s love and for him to respect him. Two things he now felt certain he possessed. “All right. I will let you know whenever my
feathers get ruffled
.” Least he could do, considering Vincent had more than met him halfway.

“Thank you.” Vincent stepped around him and picked up the papers on his desk, the once-neat folds now crumpled. “I need you to accept this.” That grave, solemn stare had returned. Tension once again gripped every line of Vincent’s strong body. “Please, it’s important to me. Since there’s no longer a need for me to take a wife, I will never take one. I only want you. Hell, if I could take you to wife, I would—”

“I’m not a woman, Vincent.” His stomach sank, as that perfect sense of complete and absolute happiness began to drain out of him.

Letting out a sigh, Vincent rubbed the back of his neck. “I am quite aware of your masculinity. That’s not the point I am trying to make. While I accept as fact that our relationship is against the law, it can be more than frustrating at times and not only because of the constant need for discretion. If I took a wife tomorrow, pledged myself to her, no one would bat an eye or question my commitment to her. Yet because you are a man, the law and the church have decreed what I feel for you is somehow wrong. It doesn’t seem at all…
fair
,” Vincent said with a threatening scowl that would have sent any clergyman scurrying toward the closest door. “But I will not allow the law or the church to completely tie my hands. I cannot predict what the future holds. If something were to happen to me, I want to ensure you are provided for. You are…the only person in my life who has ever truly cared about me. I want my estate to go to you. But if for some reason the will is contested, then at least you have the account.”

“Why would anyone contest it?”

“Because I have changed my will so the bulk of my fortune will no longer go to Grafton or to any family member. He could contest it, either on his behalf or the behalf of his son. He has the means to engage in a lengthy legal battle, if he so desires. I don’t believe he would go to such extremes, but it is not a risk I am willing to take. Hence the account. It is in your name and your name only. No one can take it from you.”

Well, that explained the thirty thousand pounds, but it seemed all so complex. He appreciated Vincent’s sentiment far more than he could ever express, and quite strangely Vincent’s desire to take him to wife made perfect sense. A connection he’d have never made on his own. The whole point of marriage was to produce children, a desire Oliver did not have in the slightest. Yet to Vincent, a man who valued his standing in society and needed the esteem of his peers, above all marriage stood for the physical proof of commitment. Though if Vincent started calling him wife, he’d definitely have issues with it. But…

His attention was drawn to the papers in Vincent’s hand. The weight of the fortune they held more than intimidated him, never mind the possibility of engaging in a lengthy legal battle with Grafton, the current heir to the powerful Saye and Sele marquisate.

No, Vincent did not need to go to such lengths for him. It wasn’t necessary. “Vincent, you don’t need—”

“Oliver, please. I know you can’t depend on your father or your brother. Your grandmother is not a wealthy woman, either. While I am alive, it is not a concern. I am here if ever you have need. I don’t know what would become of me if you were taken from me. If I didn’t have you in my life. I certainly would not be anywhere near all right. But if something ever happened to me, I…I just need to know you would want for nothing. Please say you understand.”

The same fragile vulnerability he had glimpsed a week ago now filled Vincent’s gaze.

The pieces clicked together.

The way Vincent had left him after their night together in Rotherham. Their resulting conversation by the pond. He had thought he had eased Vincent’s mind—the man hadn’t seemed out of sorts since then. But he now saw the true source of Vincent’s unease. It had not been the act of giving up control that left Vincent shaken, but the fact Vincent had done so with
him
. Vincent loved him, and he certainly told Oliver enough for him to believe it. But giving himself over to Oliver must have somehow driven it home to him. Combine that with their conversations about the Widow Middleton’s situation… Vincent had not been merely shaken. He had been scared.

Financial security was something Vincent knew well. Something solid and tangible. Something he could control. And changing his will and creating the account for Oliver was his solution. It had nothing at all to do with Vincent trying to find a new way to give Oliver money he had not earned on his own. And everything to do with how much Vincent needed him.

“Yes.” Oliver nodded, more than a bit awed at the depth of Vincent’s love. “I understand.”

“Then don’t argue with me over this matter. Take it and ease my mind.”

“All right.” He took the papers from Vincent’s outstretched hand. “But you are all that matters to me. You’re all I want.” All the money in the world could not take Vincent’s place in his heart. He wanted to wrap his arms around him, hold him close, but they were at Vincent’s town house. Even behind the closed door of his study, Vincent had never allowed such an intimacy. The servants were a continual presence his lover could not ignore.

“You’re all I want as well, Oliver.” Slow and tentative, Vincent reached out, took hold of Oliver’s other hand, and gave it a squeeze. A shuddering breath expanded his broad chest. “Forever.”

Oliver’s heart clenched. The hell with the servants. The damn door was shut.

Tugging Vincent by the hand, he pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. Buried his face in his chest. It took not even a moment for those familiar, strong arms to wrap around him. Vincent held him so tightly it made it hard to breathe, but Oliver did not mind in the slightest. Vincent’s breaths fanned the top of his head, and then warm lips pressed against his temple in the lightest of kisses. Chaste and pure. Oliver tipped his face up, seeking more. Vincent’s mouth found his, the deep kiss sealing forever more solidly than a mere fold of papers.

Vincent pulled back just enough to break the kiss. “I want you to stay with me tonight.”

“Of course. We’ll go to my apartments after supper.”

“No. Not there. Here.”

He looked up at Vincent in question. “Are you giving your staff the night off?”

Vincent shook his head. “But you can still stay the night. I have plenty of guest rooms. One’s next to mine, though they’re not connected like at the country house.” His hands drifted down to palm Oliver’s arse. “I want you in
my
bed.”

Oliver blinked in shock. They had spent countless hours in the old bed at his apartments, and always shared the bed in what had become his room at Vincent’s country house. But never had Oliver so much as laid his head on Vincent’s own bed. Hadn’t even stepped foot in Vincent’s bedchamber at the town house. Sex anywhere there had never been an option.

Yet it was now.

A smile curved his lips. “I would like that very much.” He would need to leave before dawn, steal into the guest room without gaining the servants’ notice. Play Vincent’s role. But it meant more than he could express that Vincent wanted him to stay.

“It won’t be every night, but tonight I want…”

“Of course. I understand. A change of scenery every now and then doesn’t do any harm. Though…what type of bed do you have? Four posters? Sturdy headboard? Do you believe it’s up to the task?” He tipped his hips forward and rubbed against Vincent.

Vincent went stiff. “Oliver.” Dear Lord, the man looked positively scandalized. “I don’t intend to…” His gaze darted to the closed door. “I am not going to tie you up
here
.”

Oliver could not help it. He chuckled. One would think he had asked Vincent to bugger him under his father’s roof. “You do intend for us to do more than sleep, correct?”

“Most assuredly, but you’ll need to be quiet.” He dropped his voice to a low, commanding rumble. “Think you can do that, boy? Can you hold back your shouts when I finally allow you to have your release?”

Oliver’s lashes fluttered. His spine went lax even as anticipation began to wind its way into his veins. “Yes, milord. I can be quiet. I promise.” He would do anything for Vincent, and staying quiet was a small price to pay to share his lover’s bed.

Vincent’s eyes darkened to a lust-banked deep blue. One edge of his mouth curled in distinct challenge. “We shall see about that.”

Chapter Nine

After prodding the fire in the hearth, Vincent leaned the iron poker against the marble surround and stood. He took the small brass clock from the mantle and angled the face so it caught the light from the fire. Ten minutes until midnight.

He scowled at the black hands. Perhaps he should have told Oliver eleven o’clock. His valet always retired shortly after himself. The servant would have been abed by eleven tonight. His other staff as well, at least those who would have cause to be on the second floor of the house.