The Actor and the Earl (6 page)

Anthony bent down and kissed him possessively, his tongue demanding entry, which Sebastian freely gave and to which he responded keenly. “You say you have not done this before, yet you know just where to touch me to inflame my ardor,” Anthony murmured.

“I know where I like to touch myself.”

Anthony chuckled but did not reply, choosing instead to work a trail of kisses down Sebastian’s body, each one causing Sebastian to squirm in delight, but the sensation was nothing compared to the feeling of Anthony’s mouth on his cock, swallowing him down, surrounding him with wet heat.

This had only happened to him one time before, a rushed and ill-advised tumble after having drunk far too much mead after an opening night, and it had been nothing like this, with Anthony’s mouth and tongue worshipping him, drawing out his pleasure rather than trying to rush him through it. A strong hand stopped him from lurching upward, keeping him in place, telling him who was in charge. Sebastian’s whole body sang, the tremor of pleasure burning upward from his toes and down from his shoulders. He cried out in ecstasy as he found his release.

“Sorry, I couldn’t….” Sebastian said, gasping out each word.

Anthony crawled toward him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a predatory look in his eyes. “No reason to apologize. Tonight is far from over.”

Anthony kissed him again, and Sebastian tasted his own salty essence on the other man’s lips. He was disappointed when Anthony pulled away to retrieve a small vial from under a pillow. “Just a little oil to help ease the way. Now roll onto your belly.”

Sebastian hesitated, biting his bottom lip. Anthony noticed and stroked his thigh with the back of his hand. “Trust me, Sebastian.”

Slowly, he rolled onto his front. He couldn’t help but flinch as Anthony’s fingertips brushed his spine, having expected them to delve straight between the crease of his buttocks, but he relaxed as Anthony kissed each of his shoulder blades and caressed his sides. His own body began to respond, the curl of heat spreading through him as Anthony sat between his legs.

Just because he was inexperienced didn’t mean Sebastian was naïve. He’d heard enough of the other boys’ stories of their escapades in dark corners, coarse jokes at the shape of Sebastian’s arse and how he’d be perfect for a bit of fun under the stage once the theater had cleared out. However, he hadn’t expected the thrill as Anthony teased him open, coaxing fingers that worked inside while his other hand traced patterns on his sides. He was barely coherent, rubbing his hardened cock against the bedding to get some friction, as Anthony entered him. Sebastian moaned as, inch by stretched inch, he welcomed Anthony inside, and the pain he had expected was overridden by the amazing sensation of being totally claimed.

Anthony kept his rhythm constant to begin with, Sebastian pushing back to meet his strokes, his body desperate for the contact, for every touch, every thrust. He gasped and writhed as the pace was upped, tumbling into another release, panting and moaning Anthony’s name as he came. Anthony cried out his own pleasure only moments later.

They fell into a tangle of limbs, with Anthony kissing him fiercely, pressing kisses all over Sebastian’s face and whispering a litany of adulation into his skin. Their breathing finally leveled out and hearts returned to their normal beats. Using his discarded shift, Anthony cleaned away the evidence of their lovemaking, throwing the soiled garment to the floor before pulling Sebastian to him.

Sebastian burrowed closer, wrapping his arms around Anthony. He didn’t know if he should stay, but he had no intention of leaving unless he was asked. Anthony appeared to have no desire to let him go, holding him tighter. Sebastian, happy and content in his lover’s arms, let Morpheus take him, drifting easily into sleep.

Chapter 5

T
HE
soft knocking on the connecting door woke Sebastian. It took a moment to remember where he was. He looked over to the other side of the bed to wake Anthony and was disappointed to find he was on his own.

Sebastian sat up and pulled the bedclothes to chest height before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opened, and Miriam peered around it. “Good morning. When you’re ready, I’ve laid out a clean shift and pair of hose for you. And there’s a bowl of warm water waiting.”

“Thank you.”

She must have sensed his discomfort. “I’ll be in the corridor. When you’re decent, shout out.”

Sebastian nodded, looking back to the bed or, to be more accurate, the empty space where he’d expect Anthony to be. “Has Earl Crofton breakfasted already?”

“Not yet. He’s making preparations for the journey back to Crofton Hall. I’m sure he’ll join you when he’s done.”

“Oh. Of course.”

Miriam made to leave but appeared to stop herself. “You seem like a nice lad, and I’m only going to say this because I don’t want to see you hurt. Don’t go giving your heart to Anthony Crofton, Sebastian. He’s a good man, but….”

Sebastian clung tighter to the bedclothes, not sure he really wanted Miriam to explain further, but at the same time unable to leave things hanging. “But?”

“He’s a man who enjoys his pleasures.” Miriam smiled sadly. “You’re not the first young man, nor woman, that’s woken alone in that bed.”

Sebastian didn’t know how to respond to that, so he chose to say nothing, staring down at a loose thread in the coverlet. Miriam sighed, but left without saying anything more. He waited until he heard the outer door of his room open and close before he swung his legs out of the bed and stood up.

Back in his own room, Sebastian quickly washed and pulled on the hose and shift that had been left on the bed, next to a pile of garments which he suspected would be the dress he’d wear to travel to Crofton Hall. He called out for Miriam to enter, and she bustled in.

He stood still as she dressed him, layering the clothes far more efficiently than he could’ve done on his own. She seemed distracted, and Sebastian wondered what was concerning her when she stopped halfway through lacing his corset. “I spoke out of turn earlier. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I’m playing my sister, his wife. I’ve no illusions that I’m anything more to him than that.”

She hummed, her concern clear in the narrowing of her eyes. “Be careful.”

With a squeeze to his waist, she continued adjusting his clothes, and he was warmed by her gesture. “I will,” he said with a small smile and accepted the wig that she handed to him.

“Right. Breakfast time for Lady Bronwyn,” she said as he made the final adjustments to his wig.

“I need to do my makeup first.”

“Earl Crofton said he already made himself clear on the subject of the strange desire of women to cover themselves in white slop.”

Sebastian laughed. “Ah, yes. He did mention something about it.”

“You’re pale enough to go without, certainly at Crofton Hall, although a little rouge wouldn’t hurt.”

He applied the red paint she gave him to his lips, and a little to his cheeks. “He’ll have to get used to the white if he means me to attend court with him. There’s no way a real noblewoman wouldn’t want to emulate the Queen.”

“Very true. But we’ll fight that battle when the time arrives.”

He followed Miriam out of the room and downstairs. Instead of heading to the large reception room where the wedding feast had been held, they turned left down a corridor and into a smaller family dining room.

Miriam departed with a curtsey, leaving Sebastian alone. The table was set for two, so Sebastian supposed that Anthony had yet to eat, and so he took the seat at the place set to the left of the head of the table. A servant arrived through a side door. She was a young girl that he guessed couldn’t be any older than fourteen, and she carried a basket of bread and a platter of cheese and salted meat. She was clearly curious, darting looks at him as she kept her head down and placed the food on the table, as if knowing that she shouldn’t but couldn’t help her curiosity. She left the way she came, returning moments later with a stoneware jug, only to disappear again once she had filled a wooden cup with beer.

The morning sunlight and its effect on the mahogany paneling gave the room a certain warmth, and a display of flowers in the unlit fireplace hid any underlying unpleasant smells. Sebastian helped himself to breakfast, determined not to dwell on the fact that he had woken alone and would likely be spending much of the foreseeable future in the same way. With the theater, there was always noise, the constant banter filling any silence, and Sebastian supposed he would need to get accustomed to spending time alone.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the arrival of Anthony, dressed for riding in sturdy breeches and boots. “Good morning,” he said, taking a seat. “I trust you slept well.”

“Yes, although I was surprised you did not wake me when you rose.”

Anthony removed his leather gloves and sat down. “I have always been an early riser; I saw no reason to subject you to my affliction when you looked so content to be asleep.”

“I would not have minded.”

Anthony took a large bite of bread, washing it down with a drink of beer. “Are you ready to travel?”

Sebastian tried not to be disappointed that Anthony had already steered their conversation away from the night before. He nodded. “When do we leave?”

“After breakfast. I’ve already seen to it that the carriage is prepared. You should reach Crofton Hall not long after noon.”

“
I
should reach Crofton Hall…. Are you not to accompany me?”

“I am riding up with a friend who is heading in the same direction, but is continuing further north.”

“But….”

Anthony set his cup down firmly. “A man does not travel by carriage if there is the opportunity to ride, my dear. You know as much.”

“I understand.” He drank his own beer, wondering if there was anything he could say that morning that would prevent the downhill direction of their conversation. “I merely would have liked the company.”

Anthony looked contrite, and reached out and held Sebastian’s hand. “It will take some time for the carriage to escape the outskirts of the city. If I ride on ahead, I will be there to greet you.”

“Of course. Perhaps you have something I could borrow to read during the journey. You will be unsurprised that I don’t have a tapestry to work on.”

“I would be more surprised if you had.” Anthony laughed, and Sebastian decided he liked the noise. “I have already placed a volume or two in the carriage for you to read. I thought you would find the journey tedious otherwise.”

“Thank you. That is very thoughtful.”

“It is the very least I can do after everything you have done.” Anthony drained the last of his beer and stood. “I must depart. Edward will be waiting. I will see you as soon as you arrive at the hall. The coach is ready when you are.”

He bowed low with a theatrical flourish and departed, leaving Sebastian alone again. However, it was not for long, as Miriam arrived to escort him to the carriage. “This way, my lady.”

“Will you being coming to the hall as well?” asked Sebastian, keen that there would at least be one other familiar face at his new home.

“I will be in the coach behind with the cook. She hates to travel, but when your lord gets married, he must have a feast, and there is no way she would let anyone else do something so important.”

They walked through the house, leaving by a set of doors that opened into a large courtyard in which there were two coaches. One had a plain wooden frame with benching to seat six people and was loaded with trunks and provisions, and the second was a smaller, four-wheeled coach, more elaborate and decorative and drawn by two beautiful white horses. A male servant climbed down from the second coach, where he had sat next to the driver, and Sebastian noticed he was armed with a cutlass. He’d had to travel from time to time when he was acting, and he’d always carried a weapon in case bandits and thieves thought he was an easy target, but now he had someone else to protect him, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t prefer it.

Sebastian was helped aboard the coach, and was pleasantly surprised at the interior. It was more comfortable than he’d expected, the benches padded with cushions and there were soft woolen blankets he case he should get cold. He spotted a pamphlet and a leather-bound book that Anthony had mentioned, and grinned as he read their titles. The first was
The Choice of
Valentines
by Thomas Nashe, the second Philip Sydney’s
The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia.

There was a crack of a whip and a cry to move out from the driver, and the carriage slowly moved forward and into the main street. Sebastian watched as they made their way slowly out of London. The traffic was busy, carts full of produce heading toward the markets or carrying the fine wares of merchants, people darting in and out of the street, all trying to go about their business. It wasn’t until the town began to thin that they could pick up speed, and Sebastian had already finished Nashe’s poem. By the well-thumbed nature of the pamphlet and the erotic nature of the work, he was sure it was one of Anthony’s favorites.