AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Connor chuckled again, the absolute bugger. “Lions in this part of the country are solidary animals. They come down out of the mountains before spring so they can mate. That’s a female in season out there, calling to the boys. She won’t attack a convoy this large.”
The faint thread of gentleness, of reassurance, in his voice angered Reggie – everything about the man did, really. His long hair, and his scruffy chin, and the way, despite the fact that he was still the rightful Duke of Inglewood, he insisted on dressing the part of the forest fiend he’d chosen to become.
Reggie scowled at him, as their mounts walked forward again, side-by-side, and Connor smiled in return – the sort of lazy, baiting smile that Reggie had sent more than a few footmen, and kitchen boys, and the occasional bastard in his pre-war heyday. They were goading, those smiles, and that was what angered Reggie the most.
They bickered, yes – Reggie was a natural at that; he bickered as easily as he breathed, and usually enjoyed it – but there was something else. A certain gleam in Connor’s gazes, the ones he shot Reggie when Amelia wasn’t looking. A certain patronizing invitation, an air of intent in the flare of a nostril or a curve of the lips; a lingering quality to Connor’s gazes when he mocked Reggie’s silks and high-polished boots. Connor had been married at least twice, obviously liked the nocturnal company of women, but Reggie didn’t think he was misreading the situation. And if he wasn’t…then he didn’t know what to make of the way some of those glances left his insides trembling.
It was his father who’d introduced him to the concept of seeking easy, physical pleasure with other men. In a mortifying, but helpful conversation, held safely behind the closed doors of his study, Lord Arthur had sat down for brandy and cigars with a fifteen-year-old Reggie and explained it in a no-frills, matter-of-fact way.
“Someday you’ll be wed, and hopefully your wife won’t ever turn you out of her bed. But young men seek out pleasure, I know, and so it’s important you don’t go breeding a bunch of bastards before you’ve even of age.”
Reggie had never forced himself on anyone – as he matured golden and lovely, skilled and eloquent, it had never been difficult to find a willing boy, and, later, man. Servants and employees, generally, and Reggie was always the one in control during those encounters.
He’d never felt like the prey before the predator, not the way he did in Connor’s presence.
Perhaps he’d simply forgotten how to feel like himself the past year; perhaps he just needed a good tumble, a chance to get past his nightmares and simmering, constant fear, and regain his old swagger. What little of it he’d tried to show to Amelia – for spite, mostly, at first – had been a painful display. Like working old, torn muscles poorly-reknitted.
“The camping site is just ahead,” Connor said, drawing him from his contemplations. “It’s secure.”
“Yes,” Reggie drawled, calling on his driest tone, despite his elevated pulse. “This all looks so secure.”
“Heh. Don’t worry. If any lions come looking for a pretty boy, I’ll protect you.”
All right, that was definitely a come-on. Wasn’t it?
“Bugger you,” Reggie muttered.
Connor only hummed.
The front of their convey seemed to compress: Strangers moving to stand at the sides of the ride as the horse guard approached; Strangers dropping out of trees, bows on their backs, gazes darting off through the dark trees. They melted in and out of shadows, their movements liquid, silent. Reggie was so used to knights and soldiers in heavy armor, clinking and clanking everywhere, and he struggled to get used to the smoke-smooth movements of Connor’s outlaws.
Connor heeled his horse ahead into a trot, the road made bright by two lines of torches, and Reggie followed, not wanting to be seen as left behind – as lesser.
A path diverged from the road, narrow, grass-lined, and uneven; it forced them to ride single-file. Reggie felt a shiver of unease move down his spine. This was exactly the sort of trail that led to traps…the sort that had lured him, during the war. I know a shortcut, my lord, and next thing he knew, one of his men was a traitor, he was in chains…and then standing on a gallows.
It wasn’t until Connor twisted around in his saddle that he realized he’d pulled his own mount to a halt, and started him jigging with nerves again. Connor’s expression smoothed – no longer taunting nor seductive, but neutral…tired, even. He looked his age, then: still handsome and well-structured, but with stress lines, the torchlight catching on the gray hair at his temples.
“It’s safe,” he said. “I promise you, Reginald. A stronghold of my Strangers.”
Reggie frowned at him. “If you’re lying–”
“Yes, yes, one of your very strong and elegant men will cut my throat. Haven’t we moved past that?”
Reggie didn’t answer, but urged his horse forward, and they proceeded, despite the hollow pit of worry in his stomach.
The path meandered a bit, back and forth, but finally opened up into a clearing that was…not unpleasant. Wide, tree-lined, floored with moss, it could easily host their tents, picket lines, and guard perimeter. A blackened, stone-lined circle at the center spoke of large bonfires past, as did the stack of old, split logs.
“My lord?”
One of his men had appeared at his stirrup, and, belatedly, he shook his head, dismounted, and handed over the reins.
It was a bustle of the usual activity present in any encampment. Horses untacked, tents pitched, smaller fires started.
Reggie’s steward – his now-dead father’s steward – was a strong, gray-headed man named Callan, and he soon had Reggie in a tent, stripping off his armor, putting on a robe, and heading to the main bonfire carrying a flask of good brandy.
The old, worn-smooth logs that framed the bonfire were already full of soldiers from every household, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with outlaws. Other, smaller fires had been lit elsewhere in the clearing, between tents, and at the edges. Strangers stood guard, bows in their hands, gazes trained on the dark tree line that encircled them all.
Despite the heat of the fires, it was a cold night. Reggie chose to blame the chill in the air for the goosebumps that broke out beneath his clothes. He pulled his robe tighter, and moved to find a seat.
