Kindred Hearts (31 page)

The tongue and hands were withdrawn and he breathed easier, though he had to admit disappointment, until he heard the faint squeak of a cork being drawn and the enclosed darkness of the bed was suddenly rich with the scent of eucalyptus and rosemary. If the naughty kisses hadn’t been enough to arouse him, just the smell of the oil was. He bit back a moan as he felt warm, slick fingers on his arse, and then in him, stroking and stretching; he stuffed more of the blankets in his mouth as Charles’s fingers found
that spot
and coaxed shivers from him. He’d touched him there last night, stroking until Tristan was mad with it, then whispered wickedly, “Next time it will be my cock there,” and Tristan had spent just from the words. He now started rocking back against the rhythm of those fingers, wild for their touch and eager for Charles’s promise.

Charles leaned over him, his mouth at Tristan’s ear, and whispered, “
Ssshh
,” then withdrew his fingers. Tristan felt something larger, blunter, press against him, and thought,
Oh, my God…
as Charles pushed into him.

It hurt for a moment, burning, but then something happened in Tristan’s head, and he thought,
Oh
, just as he had when he realized he was in love with Charles. It was as if a tiny portion of the universe suddenly shifted into something that made sense. He relaxed, letting Charles into his body as easily as he’d let him into his heart. And it felt
good
.

He let Charles set the rhythm, and when he figured it out, he started rocking back and forth again, this time in response to Charles’s movements. Charles’s chuckle was inaudible, but he felt the rumble inside and out and smiled to himself in the darkness, feeling the tide of desire rising. Charles kissed his back, his shoulders, the nape of his neck; he twisted around to meet Charles’s mouth and hooked an arm around his neck to hold him. The angle was awkward but he didn’t care; he needed to feel and taste Charles even as Charles felt and tasted him. “Charles,” he whispered, and Charles murmured, “Yes….”

And then he was biting the bedclothes again to stifle his cries until he heard the soft click of the door latch, and saw through the folds of bedcurtains that the room was empty. He moaned “
Charlie…!
” and Charles laughed and closed his fingers around Tristan’s prick, stroking and pulling, his digits strong and sure. With a deep, heartrending groan, Tristan spent in Charles’s fingers, and Charles bit Tristan in the fleshy part of the shoulder as he plunged into Tristan over and over again. Tristan thought of the whore outside the madge house saying “I likes a good ’ard fuck, I do…,” and he laughed as Charles cried out and Tristan felt the heat of his spend deep inside, all the way to his heart, he thought.

“Something funny?” Charles gasped out when he could talk again. He rolled over onto his side and pulled Tris close in, their feet tangled together on the pillows, their heads resting on the bundle of blankets that Tristan had been chewing on. “I’ve had you crying in extremis, and now laughing. Have you nothing between?”

“I don’t seem to,” Tris said. He kissed Charles lingeringly, his hands moving over Charles’s sweaty body. “Not where you’re concerned, at any rate. I’m mad for you, Charles, so you must expect emotional extremes.”

“Mm-hmm,” Charles said and kissed him, then rested his head on Tristan’s shoulder. “You did quite well, you know, keeping quiet until that girl was gone.”

“You!” Tristan poked him in the belly. “I thought I was going to lose my mind, trying to keep from crying out and being discovered in your bed. You madman, don’t you think she’d run to tell the nearest constable?”

“I don’t know,” Charles mused. “You seem to have the knack for breeding loyalty in your servants. I don’t know that she would run and tell. I think at the worst she would go to Reston, who’d reassure her that there was nothing wrong.”

“You have more faith in my servants than I do,” Tristan said.

Charles said, “This is a risky way of life, Tris. You will have to trust your servants to keep your secrets—they will find them out, and they are your last line of defense against those who don’t understand.” He smoothed his hand over Tristan’s stubbled cheek. “I think you have good servants; I think Reston knows, and I know Reid does. Between them, they will guard you.”

“And you?”

Charles smiled. “I’ve been taking care of myself longer than I care to remember, but yes, I trust them to guard my flank.”

“And Lottie. Them and Lottie.”

“Oh, I’m not forgetting Lottie,” Charles chuckled. “She is passionate about few things—letter-writing, and loyalty. She’s a bit of a bulldog.”

“What about Ellen?”

“Ellen is all right,” Charles said. “She’s known about me since I was a boy. But for your sake, we’ll keep it secret from her as long as we can. It’s always safer.”

“‘Safer’,” Tristan snorted. “Since when do I play safe?”

“Well, love,” Charles said, kissing him again, “you’ve picked a wondrous way to thumb your nose at the world.”

“That isn’t why,” Tristan said, feeling a sudden anxiousness. “It isn’t why, Charlie.”

“Oh, I know,” Charles replied, a note of surprise in his voice. “I know. It’s all right, Tris.”

“I just need you to know.”

Charles laughed. “I do know. I know all I need to about you, love, and it’s all good.”

Tristan looked up at him, and in the light through the parted bedcurtains, saw truth. And love. He smiled and closed his eyes again, nestling into the warmth and safety of his lover.

Charles
woke him a while later, so that he could creep back into his own bedroom in time to ring for Reston as usual. It was full morning, the winter sun bright through the drapes, and Tristan blinked as he opened the bedcurtains. “What time is it?” he rasped, then he cleared his throat.

“Rising eight,” Charles said after a glance at the clock on the nightstand. “Are you meeting with Franklin this morning?”

“Yes; it’s been nearly a week, and I sent a message to him yesterday to come ’round.” Tristan stretched, then laughed as his flung nightshirt hit him in the face. “Dare I take that as a hint?”

“You don’t want to scandalize poor Reid,” Charles said, yawning. “He’ll be along momentarily.”

“I doubt if much scandalizes ‘poor Reid’,” Tristan said. “After how many years as your batman?”

“Too many, I think.”

“Are you going to the hospital this afternoon?”

“Yes—just as you’re getting back to your regular schedule, so must I.” Charles pulled on his banyan and went to the nightstand to wash up. “You should stay quiet today, though; see Franklin if you must, and Jamie, of course, but you shouldn’t go back to your usual activities for a few days. Drink has a deleterious effect on one under the best of circumstances; recovery from a fever will only be slowed by a liberal application of gin.”

Tristan went to him and put his arms around his waist, leaning his cheek against Charles’s from behind. “My usual activities hold very little interest for me these days,” he murmured. “I wonder why?”

Charles snorted. “No doubt because you fear you won’t be able to keep up with your friends,” he said dryly.

Tristan pinched his arse. He jumped. Tris said, “They need to keep up with me, not arsey-varsey. No, it’s because I’m far more interested in these
unusual
activities I’ve discovered.”

Charles turned in his arms and kissed him. Drawing away, he said, “In truth, Tris, I’d rather spend the day in bed with you than tending to the undeserving poor, but I’ve made a commitment to something and must fulfill it.”

“What’s that like?” Tristan asked, “making a commitment? The only one I’ve ever made is to Charlotte and that wasn’t really me doing it. I can’t imagine what it must be like, to be part of something that’s even remotely important, like what you’re doing. Like what you did, in the cavalry and as ADC to Wellington and all.”

“I can’t imagine any other way to live,” Charles said frankly. “The way you do, just drifting through life—God, Tris, no wonder you were ready to end it. The few weeks I spent following you around before Mac rescued me were unbearable. How have you stood it for so long?”

“It’s what I’m used to,” Tristan said in surprise. “I never thought of it as drifting. It’s just… it’s just what I do. It’s what any man of my class does.”

“Thank God my father doesn’t expect me to live like that. He doesn’t much care what I do, but he doesn’t demand I behave that way.”

“Your brother does. He’s not in my set, but I’ve seen him around enough.”

“More reason to live differently.” Charles handed Tristan his banyan and smoothed his hair back from his forehead before kissing him there. “You’re as much a prisoner of your life as anyone I know. Isn’t there anything you’d like to do—aside from the obvious?”

“I never really thought there was anything
to
do,” Tristan said, pulling on the banyan and shaking out the sleeves. “I’ve no talents: can’t write, or draw, or play an instrument any better than any other person of my acquaintance. I’ve no head for business—”

“Now, that’s not true,” Charles interrupted. “What about the funds you’ve invested for Charlotte and Jamie? Do you think just anyone could have built that nest egg so large in the space of just a few months? That took talent.”

Tristan waved a hand. “Blame that on Franklin. I just provided the seed money. And he keeps making noises about me learning more so that I’m prepared to take over from my father, but it bores me to death. Oh, the investing is interesting, but I have the attention span of a gnat.”

“That sounds like your father speaking,” Charles said quietly.

Tristan shrugged. “No one ever said my father was either dishonest or less than perspicacious. I don’t argue with what he says; he’s usually right.”

“Not about you.”

He shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter—I still have no interest in his businesses. I have no interest in anything, in fact, except Jamie—and you.” It was painful to admit, but it was true enough.

“What about medicine?”

Nonplused, Tristan said, “What?”

“Anatomy, in specific. Medical anatomy. When you’ve joined me in the library in the evenings, you’ve seemed fascinated by it. You have a much better memory for the various systems than I do.”

“It isn’t anything. I do think….” Tristan strode to the connecting door. “I’d best ring Reston and get dressed. Franklin will be along any moment.”

“Tris.”

He paused and looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“For what it’s worth, I think you would have made an excellent surgeon. You have an instinctive understanding of the way the human body works—I’ve seen it when you’re fencing or coaching others at Jackson’s. Would you like to accompany me to the hospital one day soon, and see what it’s like?”

“I couldn’t be a surgeon,” Tristan said stiffly. “It’s not appropriate for one of my station.”

“No one says you have to practice,” Charles said, “but wouldn’t you like to
know
?”