He took another sip, his damned Adam’s apple teasing Rollo once more.Safely hidden under the table, he shifted uncomfortably.Twice now, Lord Lyndon had shot him glances loaded with intent.Once, Rollo was certain he’d foregone his napkin to deliberately swipe a drop of wine from his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, regarding Rollo as he did so.Hydrangeas be damned.There was a limit to which restraint ceased to be a virtue.
Rollo sank a little in his seat, disguising the movement with a polite cough into his napkin.Then he stretched out a toe and lightly grazed Lord Lyndon’s foot.The lord’s hawkish nostrils flared.
“And do you think they grow best in an open bed?”Miss Nancy pressed.
Fitzsimmons toyed with his wine glass as Rollo ran the tip of his boot up his lordship’s muscular inner calf, eliciting a brief unyielding stare from him, betraying every single one of his desires.None of them noble.
“Whilst they may crave a bed, Miss Nancy,” Lord Lyndon stated calmly, “I find they also behave very well against a wall.Especially from a young age.It trains them.”
“Is that so?”answered Nancy, her eyes widening with interest.
“Oh yes,” he continued wolfishly.“I tend to pin the young ones against it.One must show who’s in charge, don’t you agree, Simpson?”Simpson gave a firm nod as the toe of Rollo’s boot ascended higher.
“Even more so when they lack maturity,” added Fitzsimmons.
By now, Rollo sported a cockstand fit to burst.Reaching the bend of Fitzsimmons’s knees, he nudged them apart.
“Absolutely, my lord,” agreed Simpson.“They require a firm hand; otherwise, they take liberties.”
“Precisely.”Lord Lyndon gave a satisfied harrumph.“I could not have phrased it better myself, Simpson.And when they climb too high, I snip them back down to size.”His dark gaze fastened onto Rollo.“Believe me, I can be quite ruthless.”
A small squeak slipped through Rollo’s lips.Not trusting his own body, he retreated down his lordship’s calf.As his foot touched the floor, a smirking Fitzsimmons once more trapped it under his own.
“Are you quite all right, Duchamps-Avery?”Fitzsimmons enquired, his face a picture of concern.“Have you bitten off more than you can chew?”
“Apologies,” Rollo croaked, waving his hand in front of his face.“It is merely a tickle.”
“I blame this awfully sticky weather,” Eliza responded kindly.“So drying, I find.”She turned her attention back to a surprisingly garrulous Lord Lyndon.“Does your personal taste favour a particular shade, my lord?”
Lord Lyndon tilted his head to one side as if considering it.His polished mahogany eyes continued to bore into Rollo, and the foot pressed harder.Rollo gulped.“I believe I run the gamut of all colours.I like to experiment.Here at the Hall, my tastes vary depending on my mood.”
“And…how is your mood currently, my lord?”Rollo dared.
“Rather splendid, actually.”
Chapter Sixteen
THEIR GUESTS DIDN’Tdepart for another three years.It seemed that way to Rollo, anyhow.When they did, Lord Lyndon suggested, in a tone brooking no disagreement, he and Rollo retire to the drawing room.Whereupon he dismissed Greaves, ordered Rollo to sit, locked the door behind them, and let out a prolonged, frustrated sigh.
“You vex me, pup,” he declared, pacing from the door to the window, where he looked out, his hands clasped behind his back.
“You are not the first to make that observation, my lord.I believe that honour belongs to my father’s valet.”
Fitzsimmons made a huffing noise.“But perhaps my vexation is of a different nature.One which I am…at a loss as how to resolve.”
Rollo could think of several ways, beginning with a renewed exploration between the man’s legs.
His lordship cleared his throat, then addressed the garden.“I have bedded countless women.Too many to recall.I am not proud of it.I have not always treated them with the respect and common decency they deserved.”
Rollo knew the rumours well, thanks to his father’s gossip of a valet.Lord Lyndon Fitzsimmons—recklessly extravagant, a notorious rake.A man of insatiable appetites, housing a mistress in Brighton, a widow in Richmond, a married countess in Wessex.
“Only a good man would have the courage to acknowledge that,” Rollo answered carefully.“So do not be too hard on yourself.”
“Huh.That is a kind sentiment, sir, but misplaced.And I have committed many other, even more severe sins.Directed at people whom I love.”
“But you are reformed, are you not?Since settling back in Goule?”
Rollo suddenly found it vital Lord Lyndon answer in the affirmative.
