The Sinners Club (4 page)

She realized she'd been standing in front of the kitchen door for so long that she was getting cold. After a quick prayer, she pushed open the door and walked inside. Mrs. Lowden sat with the cook at the large kitchen table, sharing a jug of ale. The fire was banked up for the night, and the black leaded stove glowed a sullen red. At this time of night, the majority of the staff wasn't in evidence, having retired to bed in preparation for their early starts.

“What do you want, lass?”

Mary raised her chin. “I would like you to prepare a bedchamber next to Mr. Picoult's for Mr. Smith.”

The housekeeper sighed. “All right, then. I suppose you want it done now?”

“Yes, please.”

Mrs. Lowden exchanged a look with the cook. “Yes,
milady,
certainly,
milady.”

The cook snorted with laughter she didn't even bother to conceal. Mary felt her cheeks heat.

“If you continue to treat me with such a lack of respect, I will turn you both off.”

The cook's smile disappeared, and the housekeeper turned around to stare at Mary. “You'll do what, missy?”

“I'll turn you off. Do you think I can't do it? Jasper is dead now. I am the mistress of this house.”

“Mistress indeed, my lady. If that Mr. Smith speaks true, you won't be in that position for long now, will you?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I hear he represents the new earl.” Mrs. Lowden's smile wasn't pleasant. “When the new bloke finds out what you've done, you'll be the one being turned off, my lady, not us.”

Mary glared at the grinning woman. “As that is not going to happen, I suggest you attend to your duties and mind your tongue!”

“Yes, milady.”

“And be quick about it!”

Mary turned on her heel and stomped back up the stairs to the drawing room. At the doors, she paused long enough to take another deep breath and fix a pleasant smile on her face.

Both men looked up at her as she entered.

“It is all settled. My housekeeper, Mrs. Lowden, will prepare a room for you immediately.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Mary sat opposite Mr. Smith and reached for her sewing. “Simon, I meant to ask you if you were acquainted with a family in the area named Keyes. Mr. Smith said he was seeking them.”

“Keyes?” Simon looked thoughtful. “It does sound vaguely familiar. Perhaps I have encountered them at the county market or assizes.”

“I understood them to live about twenty miles or so from here,” Mr. Smith said. “I will have to inquire further.”

“I'll ask the Fakenhams down at the home farm,” Simon said. “They know everyone.”

“I thought to ask the vicar of St. Deny's too.”

Mary set another tiny stitch in the white satin. “That is an excellent idea. If you decide to stay with us while you search for this family, we can ask the Reverend Tyler to call one day and offer his services.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Mr. Smith attempted to conceal a yawn behind his hand. “I do apologize. It's been rather a long, tiring day.”

Was he eager to go to bed because he was anticipating a visit from Simon, or was he as tired as he looked? Mary was unable to decide. She glanced up at her brother, who was watching Mr. Smith intently.

“Simon, do you want to show Mr. Smith to his room? He will be right next door to you.”

“Of course I will.” Simon came over and kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, love. Sleep well.”

Mr. Smith approached her, too, and punctiliously kissed her hand. “My lady.”

“Good night. Please ring the bell if you require any assistance from the staff and they will be happy to help you.” At least she hoped they would. One could never tell these days....

The men departed and Mary attempted to sew another seam, but gave up because of the poorness of the light. Should she attempt to ascertain if Mr. Smith really did have everything he needed, or should she leave that in the capable hands of her brother? She put away her sewing and decided to seek her own bed. If anything did happen, Simon was sure to tell her in the morning.

J
ack took the candle Simon offered him and followed the broad back of the land agent up another flight of stairs and then another. Simon took a turn to the left and headed down a wide corridor lined with dark paneling and hunting pictures. Their gigantic shadows flickered up the walls and around the corners ahead of them as if announcing their presence.

“Are we in the attics?”

Simon glanced over his shoulder at Jack and smiled. “No, there's another floor of those above for the servants. We're in the bachelors' quarters in the old stone tower.”

“Away from temptation.”

“You could say that.” Simon stopped and waited for Jack to come alongside him. He held up his candle. “My room is to the right, and yours is on the left.”

He unlatched the door on the left to reveal a turned-down four-poster bed and a warm, crackling fire. “It seems that Mrs. Lowden has already been in to attend to your needs.”

Jack walked into the surprisingly large room, which was dominated by the tapestried bed. “This is excellent and very kind of you both.”

Simon shrugged. “My sister and I are glad of the company.” He pointed at the dresser, where a jug of still steaming water and a bowl sat ready. “There's water there to wash in. If you leave your boots outside the door, they'll be cleaned for you.”

“Thank you.” Jack crossed over to the window to close the curtains. “Good night, Mr. Picoult.”

“Good night, Mr. Smith. If you need anything in the night, please don't hesitate to seek me out. There's a dressing room between us. I'll leave both the doors unlocked.”

“Thank you again.”

Simon nodded and went out through the main door, shutting it carefully behind him. Jack remained staring thoughtfully at the space his companion had recently occupied. Had he been issued an invitation to investigate the unlocked doors, or was Simon merely being a good host? Would bedding one of his potential adversaries help or hinder his cause? If they thought he was on their side, wouldn't it be easier to bring them down from within?

Jack sighed, shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat, and hung them on the back of the chair by the fire. In truth, he wouldn't mind bedding either of the Picoults. They were both enticing in their own ways, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd been involved in a threesome....

A tap on the interior door concealed in the round wall of the tower drew his attention. He went over and unlocked the latch, swinging the door wide to reveal Simon in his shirtsleeves. He held something out to Jack.

“I thought you might require a nightshirt or a cap.”

Jack slowly let out his breath. “That's very thoughtful of you, but I prefer to sleep in the nude.”

Simon's eyes widened. “That's rather unusual.”

“You have to remember, I was brought up in France,” Jack said almost apologetically. “It does make me rather unconventional.”

“You didn't attend school in England?”

“Sometimes.” Jack loved spinning a convincing tale. “My father was a baronet and I was his third son. I attended a minor public school from the age of fourteen until I was eighteen.”

“Like Eton?”

“As I said, not quite that high-flying, but a fee-paying institution nonetheless.”

Simon licked his lips. “Is it true, what they say about such schools?”

“Is what true?”

“That the younger boys had to fag for the older ones, and carry out their every wish?”

“It was not unheard of, even at the school I attended.”

“Did you, were you—?”

“Did I fag for someone?” Jack smiled. “Indeed I did.”

“Were you treated well?”

He leaned his head back against the door frame and stared into Simon's eyes. “Do you mean, was I fucked by him?”

“Yes.”

Jack removed the modest jet pin from his serviceable cravat and started to unwind the linen from around his throat. “I was required to serve one of the senior prefects who had a reputation as a ruthless boxer and was a much-admired athlete. I must admit I was rather concerned about his
size.”

“His size.”

Simon's gaze was riveted on Jack's hands. “I was neither as tall nor as strong as I am now. I feared he might overpower me and force me.”

“And did he?”

“No, he was far more subtle than that.” Jack took the nightclothes out of Simon's unresisting hands and let them fall to the floor. “One night, after I'd finished serving dinner to him, he offered me a drink of whisky. I'd never touched the stuff, and I didn't realize quite how powerfully it would affect my senses.”

“He took advantage of you when you were drunk?”

“Oh no.” Jack smiled. “He started talking to me about women. Not ladies, you understand, but about the sort of women men of his class and even mine consider fair game. Servants, barmaids, and dairymaids—you know the kind of girl. One who wouldn't be averse to a roll in the hay for a few coins, no questions asked, or give a gentleman any ‘trouble'.”

Simon's mouth firmed into a straight, forbidding line. “I know the kind of man who thinks like that.”

Jack took note of his companion's strong reaction and filed it in his memory for further thought before returning to the far more interesting business of seduction.

“I don't like the aristocracy much myself these days, but you have to remember that I was young then, and eager to impress this sprig of nobility with my worldliness and masculinity. And, in truth, as he talked about having such a woman, fucking such a woman, my cock started to grow.” He reached down to cradle the growing bulge in his soft buckskin breeches. “I was drunk enough not to know how to hide it, or how to extricate myself from the situation. I'm sure you know how it is. And, as I could see that his cock was also erect, I assumed I was behaving in an appropriate manner.”

He reached out and touched the front of Simon's breeches. “You understand, I think?”

Simon pressed his hand over Jack's and held it firmly against him. “I believe I do.”

“The prefect suggested we both stroke ourselves to release, and again, I was too intimidated to argue with him, so I did what he told me.” Jack shifted his grip on Simon's cock, rubbing his thumb roughly up and down the length until the other man shuddered. “It's not as though every boy, or man for that matter, hasn't shared such a moment with a friend.”

“Indeed.” Simon moved closer and cupped Jack's cock and balls, closing his fingers around them with gentle strength. “What man hasn't helped out a friend?”

“Before I knew it, the prefect had his hand on my shaft, and I had my hand on his, and we were shoving our cocks together into the slick wetness of our pre-cum and our thrusting fingers and—” Jack groaned as Simon attacked his breeches and then his own, baring them both and wrapping his large hand around both their throbbing lengths.

“And what?”

Simon was breathing as hard as he was, both their gazes directed downward to the erotic sight of Simon's fingers enclosing both of their lengths. Jack added his own.

“And don't stop.”

They worked together in silence, hands locked together in an ancient rhythm, bodies aligned, faces tightening with pleasure as they took each other's full measure and climaxed together in shuddering ecstasy.

Simon's head was on Jack's shoulder as he struggled to breathe. “God...”

Jack bit his throat. “I haven't finished telling you the story of my seduction yet.”

“There's more?”

He slid his hand down past Simon's balls and stroked the skin of his taint.

“Ah, that's good, I—”

“While I was still recovering, he touched me, here, his finger wet from our joint climax, rubbing and circling until I was groaning and moving against him. I didn't even care when I felt his finger rimming my arsehole, venturing inside....” Jack suited the words to his actions, as Simon's cock started to fill out again. “Do you like that as much as I did?”

“Yes.” Simon groaned. “Give me more.”

Jack bit his ear. “That's exactly what I said.” He wrapped one hand around his own cock, and pushed the tip of his finger further inside Simon. “But unlike my prefect, I don't want to hurt you by doing this dry.”

“It's all right. I like it.” He groaned and flexed his inner muscles, drawing Jack in deeper.

“I'd much rather strip you naked and fuck you on my bed,” Jack murmured.

“Are you sure? Most men like the idea of having another man like this.”

“So do I.” Jack eased his finger deeper to the knuckle and Simon gasped. Temptation throbbed in Jack's skull, and in his cock to take what was being offered, to mount the other man and have him at his mercy.

“I'd like to fuck you raw, but I'm not going to.” He kissed the side of his throat. “Do you have any oil?”

Simon sighed. “Yes. In the drawer beside the bed.”

“In your room or this one?”

“Both.”

“You often invite potential bedfellows to stay the night, then?”

“If I can.” Simon's grin was as disarming as it was unexpected. “As I said, it gets very lonely out here in the wilds of Lincolnshire sometimes. Will you strip for me too?”

Jack pulled his shirt over his head. “Naturally. As I said, I usually sleep naked.” He stepped out of his breeches and small-clothes and took off his stockings. “Now you.”

Simon followed suit, baring his well-muscled chest and arms to Jack's appreciative gaze. “You are very well made, Mr. Picoult.”

“As are you, Mr. Smith.”

Jack rubbed his stomach. “Unfortunately, at my age I am going to seed.”

“Don't say seed.” Simon fell to his knees in front of Jack and kissed his way across from Jack's hipbone to the very tip of his cock. “Don't say it unless I can sample it.”

“Be my guest. We have all night. I can wait to have you for a little while longer.”

Simon circled his tongue around Jack's wet crown, gently easing down the foreskin to expose the whole of the throbbing, heated head. He licked up the pre-cum, swirling it over his lips as if tasting the finest brandy.

“I've missed this. I never thought I would.”

Jack slid his fingers into the other man's thick auburn hair and pressed his cock hard against Simon's lips. “Take me inside. Take my seed, suck me dry.”

Simon's groan of compliance vibrated against Jack's shaft, making his hips thrust forward until he filled Simon's mouth and he began sucking. Jack tightened his grip in his hair, shuddering as his companion wrapped his arm around his hip, his hand palming Jack's arse, and pulled him in closer.

To his surprise, his climax was just as quick and explosive as the first one and Simon took every drop, swallowing him down and then licking him clean. It had been a long time for Jack too. He'd forgotten the power of a man's mouth on him, the struggle for dominance and the lack of need for caution with a strong male body that equaled his own.

He reached down, drew Simon to his feet, and led him over to the vast bed.

“Lie down on your back.”

“If that is your pleasure, Mr. Smith.”

“It is.” Simon's cock was still hard and Jack studied it with lascivious intent. “You may call me Jack if you wish.”

“Jack and not John?”

“Never John.” He blew softly on the other man's crown. “I prefer Jack. Now place your hands behind your head, and don't touch me until I give you leave.”

Simon instantly obeyed, his breathing ragged, the taut muscles of his abdomen gleaming with exertion. Jack knelt on the bed and trailed his fingers over his companion's nipples until they tightened. He kissed his way down over the hard chest and concave stomach, pausing to bite and nip at a jutting hipbone and the concave arch of the muscle below. He paused only long enough to check the drawers next to the bed, and found a vial of unscented oil, which he carefully uncorked.

“Spread your legs.”

Jack crawled between them and studied the upthrust of Simon's big, thick cock, which was surrounded by dark auburn hair. Droplets of pre-cum slid down his shaft shining in the candlelight.

“Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

Jack slid a pillow under Simon's buttocks, raising his hips slightly, and moved closer, one finger now coated with clear oil. He stroked his finger from the root of Simon's cock down to his anus, back and forth, back and forth, adding more oil as he went, rimming the puckered hole until Simon was pushing up into the rhythm, offering his arse to Jack in an instinctive way that made Jack's cock come to life again.

“Please,” Simon murmured.

“Please, what?” Jack leaned in, delicately licking the collection of pre-cum gathered on Simon's crown into his mouth, and then licking him again just to watch him shiver.

“I want your cock.”

“Eventually.”

Jack was enjoying himself far too much to want to rush. He'd often got into difficulties with previous missions because he forgot himself in the sheer pleasure of another naked body, the scent, the play of muscle in the candlelight, the need.... “My finger, first.” He slid one oiled finger inside and eased it slowly deeper. Holding it steady, he looked down into Simon's eyes and planted the tip of his tongue in the slit of his cock.

“Ah, God...”

While he flicked his tongue deep, he slid his finger in and out of Simon's arse until he was clenching his internal muscles around Jack's finger and rocking his hips into the motion. Jack added another finger and then another, his gaze alternating between watching the play of his fingers and licking and nibbling at Simon's exposed crown.