Bless Us With Content

Chapter 3

Chapter 3My seventeenth birthday was much like all the birthdays that preceded it since I’d come to Laytham Hall. No special feast, no special gift, even the weather nothing special. That was, until…

A strange groom presented himself at the kitchen door, and I was sent for. “Yes?”

“You be Mr Laytham? I’ve a message for you, sir.” He handed me the slip of paper.

I unfolded it and read the words with widening eyes. It seemed that during an unprecedented run of luck at a faro’s den, Uncle Eustace had won a prime bit of horseflesh.

However, the message went on to state, since the animal is under my weight, I’m passing the colt on to you.

The action surprised me, and I wondered what was truly wrong with the horse; Uncle Eustace wasn’t usually so generous.

“Where is the colt?” I asked the groom.

“Right outside t’door, sir.” He stamped his feet and blew on his hands.

“Cook, see this man has something to warm him.”

“Thankee, sir. I could do with sommat.”

“You may as well stay the night. After you’ve eaten, I’ll have one of the grooms show you where you can put up your horse.”

“Already acting lord of the manor, Awful?”

I scowled at William, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, and opened my mouth to inform him that when I indeed became the seventh baronet, my first act would be to evict him from my home, but John was standing there, as well as Arthur and Arabella, because of course they were always together, and I bit back the words.

“Haven’t you anything better to do than annoy me, William?”

“No.” He grinned. “Cook, my own heart’s delight, would you mind providing us with tea? We’re famished.”

Cook beamed at him and bustled about putting together sandwiches of the leftover Christmas goose and a plate of biscuits while she brewed a pot of tea.

John, meanwhile, looked at William as if his beloved brother had uttered deathless prose, and I hunched a shoulder and stalked out of the kitchen and into the December afternoon.

The colt standing there was small, not much above fifteen hands high, ivory-coloured, with a long, thick mane and tail of a darker colour and unusual blue eyes. Uncle had written that his previous owner had named the gelding for them—Blue Boy. “Of course you’re to change the name at once. Something not as fanciful. Arthur, perhaps, or William after our gracious king.”

Of course I was, I thought sardonically, and I could just see William’s reaction if I named the horse after him or his youngest brother.

The animal’s large, liquid eyes observed me, curious and intelligent. No, I wouldn’t change his name.

“Come along, Blue Boy.” The weather was chill, but not unseasonably so, and I thought I’d take him for a turn in the paddock behind the main stables. “Let’s see how you move under a saddle.”

* * * *

I finished putting the colt through his paces and walked him to the stables. Once there, I dismounted and gave his neck a pat.

The air in the stables was warm from the numerous animals, and redolent of horse and hay.

“Blue Boy is a handsome animal, Master Ash.” Jem, who’d risen to the position of groom, removed Blue Boy’s tack and set about rubbing him down.

“He is that, Jemmy, and a sweet-goer as well.” I wondered if I dared grow too fond of the horse, lest Uncle Eustace withdraw the gift, an act he had been wont to do when he felt that with one more turn of the cards or toss of the dice he would see the end of a losing streak. He saw nothing wrong with wagering away a gift he had bestowed upon someone.

I sighed and patted Blue Boy a final time. “The most wonderful birthday gift Uncle has ever given me.” Truthfully, the only gift he had ever given me.

Jem gave me a sideways glance. “It’s your birthday then, Master Ash?”

“Yes.” It was John’s as well, but for once I’d got the better gift.

“I’ve a gift I’d be liking to give you, sir.” The corner of his mouth tilted in a grin.

“That’s very kind of you, Jemmy, but not necessary…”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but I think it is. You’ve been very good to me and my Mum.” He looked around to make sure we were alone, then took my hand and led me to an unoccupied box stall. “Close the door, if you please, sir. Mr Ruston is away for the afternoon, and the boys are in their quarters, warming up after exercising the horses, so we should have time enough if we’re quick about it. Here’s something that will make it easy for both of us.” He handed me a jar of some sweet-smelling lotion, and his fingers became busy with the buttons of his breeches.

“Jemmy! Where had you this?”

“It’s some of Mum’s store, what she makes for Lady Laytham. She has plenty, and I thought—” He looked uncertain. “Do you not want me then, sir?”

I thought briefly of John. He would never look on me thus, nor offer me his body. “Yes, Jemmy, I want you, and thanks.”

A happy smile flooded his face. He stripped his breeches down enough to bare his arse. “Then have at me, sir.”

I took care with him—my prefect at Eton had taught me well, and among certain of the boys there I was known as a generous lover. Aside from that, I saw no reason to treat Jemmy with less than care because he worked as a groom in my uncle’s stables.

Once I felt he was prepared enough, when his hips rocked backward, taking my fingers deeper into his fundament, I coated my prick with the ointment and slid in, finding his back passage hot and clinging.

Jemmy gasped, and I ceased my movements. “Have I hurt you, Jemmy? Have you not done this before?”

“Aye, a time or two, although none so large as you, sir.”

“Sweet words, Jemmy.”

“True words, sir.”

“Do not call me sir when I’m buggering you, Jem.” I nipped the side of his neck.

“No, sir.” I could hear the grin in his voice, and I pinched his arse.

We couldn’t take too long about this, for we could be walked in upon at any moment, so I sped up my movements.

He bucked like an unbroken steed under me, panting and moaning, and I was breathless, fast approaching the brink of climaxing, when sure enough, someone wandered into the stables.

“Jem Stableboy, I want my horse saddled.” It was John Scarlett, of all people.

I froze, my prick deep in Jemmy’s arse, my hand firmly around his own weeping erection.

“Please, Master Ash! Please don’t stop!” the boy begged in a hoarse whisper.

“Of course I won’t stop, Jemmy, pet,” I assured him, “but hush. Perhaps he’ll leave.”

“Oh, ho! What’s all the noise about then? Sounds to me like someone is having a right time.” John poked his head into the box stall. “Oh my God! Ashton?”

His eyes grew enormous, fastened as they were on my shaft, which glistened with the ointment I’d used. I eased back into the groom, and he whimpered in satisfaction as I stroked across his sweet spot once again. All the while I stared at the burgeoning arousal in John’s trousers.

John couldn’t seem to tear his fascinated gaze from the sight Jem and I made. “Care to join us?” I asked him.

To my surprise, John dithered. The Scarlett brothers were always so honourable, so noble, so pure of heart. And I…I was Awful Ashton: dishonourable, ignoble, impure. John looked as if he wanted to bolt from the stables, but more than that, as if he did, indeed, want to join us. Perhaps he’d got a taste for a prick in his arse at Harrow.

His face grown flushed, he thrust his hand in his trousers, rubbing himself furiously.

“Ahh!” Jem cried out softly, filling my hand with his seed, and with two more hard, swift thrusts, I spent as well.

Never looking away from the middle Scarlett brother, I brought my hand to my mouth and delicately licked at Jem’s essence in my palm.

John trembled and moaned and bit his lip, and a dark stain appeared on the front of his trousers. With a horrified gasp, he left the stables at a stumbling run.

What had I expected, that he truly would want to join us, or better still, pull me away from my friend and demand I keep myself for him alone?

“Well,” I murmured, “I hope he manages to get to his chamber before anyone sees him.”

“Will he tell on us, Master Ash?” Jemmy sounded nervous. It could cost him his position—and any future positions—if he were turned off without a reference.

“No. You need not be concerned. Master John might not have a care for me, but he is too honourable. He would not put a servant in that position.” Nevertheless, I’d speak to him about it. I dropped another kiss on the young groom’s neck and carefully pulled free. “Let’s get cleaned up, shall we?”

“Aye, sir.”

He gave a muffled yelp when I turned him, dropped to my knees, and carefully licked him clean.

“Master Ash, this isn’t right!”

“Hush, Jemmy.” It was more right than he knew. In this little way, I felt as if I were getting some of my own back from John, who would never think to give me a birthday gift like this, who would never think to give me a gift of any kind.

* * * *

Later that same evening, just before the supper tray was brought in, John came looking for me in the billiards room.

“Awful.”

I glanced up from where I was half-lying on the green baize of the table, ready to make my shot, but I refused to say a word.

He shuffled uncomfortably, and I couldn’t help but notice the bulge that again marred the smooth line of his trousers. I was sorely tempted to drop to my knees, unbutton his trousers, and free his prick. I wanted to know what he tasted like. Instead, I lowered my spectacles on my nose and observed him from over them. Not that I could see very well, but the gesture would indicate how little his presence mattered me.

“I…I want—” He licked his lips and gestured helplessly, an action one seldom associated with a Scarlett.

“You’ll have to tell me what it is you want, John. I’m not psychical.” Meanly, I decided he would have to ask. For too many years I’d been shunted aside in favour of his brothers, and I couldn’t resist just a tiny bit of revenge.

He worried his lower lip. It was obvious he was still uncertain as to what he wanted. He sent me a glance from beneath his lashes, no doubt hoping I’d treat him with kindness, and I would have given a bark of laughter at the folly of that thought. Instead I waited patiently.

Finally he managed to stammer out, “What…what you were doing in the stables—”

“Making love to Jemmy?”

Furious colour mounted his cheeks. Did he truly think I would denigrate the act, simply because my partner was a servant?

He avoided my eyes but nodded. “Yes. That.”

“You will speak to no one about what you saw,” I ordered. I never spoke with such firmness, and I could see it surprised him.

“No! I wouldn’t! You must know I wouldn’t.” Of course he wouldn’t; I gave him a mocking smile. He swallowed. “I…I want…” The smooth line of his trousers was still marred by the engorged shape of his prick. John might be embarrassed; he might be unhappy with the state of affairs, but he was still aroused.

He turned away, and my gaze dropped to the tails of his evening coat. I couldn’t help but imagine the firm curves they covered. I’d seen them a time or two when as boys, he and his brothers would strip down to their drawers and go swimming in the pond near the folly. I’d joined them just one time, still with hopes they would befriend me, but I’d been wrong. After they’d very nearly drowned me—thinking it a fine joke—I’d never again made that mistake.

“You want to bugger me?” I gave a harsh laugh. No need to sugar-coat it. John would never see it as making love to me. “Why should what you want make a jot of difference to me?”

He shook his head, and seemed to have to force the words out. “Not…not that.”

It took a moment for his admission to sink in, and then I took pity on him. “You want me to…sodomize you, John?” I dared not call it making love, dared not bring up the word love at all.

He glanced at me over his shoulder and nodded jerkily, his face as pale now as it had been flushed. “Just this once, Awful. And…and you must promise me no one will ever find out. If Will were ever to learn of this….”

“You trust me not to reveal your dastardly secret?” He must want it—I would not permit myself to think he might perchance want me—very badly. “I do believe I’m flattered. However, you need have no worry. This Laytham is honourable in his own way.”

Besides, William would kill me for touching his brother. Did John think I was unaware of that? Did he truly think me that witless?

I brushed how he must view me from my mind—there were better things to think of, such as how I wanted to crowd him forward so his cheek was flush against the wall; I wanted my fingers locked in his, keeping him motionless. I wanted to rock my hips against his, allowing him to feel my arousal against his arse. No fool I, of course I wasn’t likely to act on my various wants.

John must have felt at a disadvantage, with his delectable arse presented to me. As if he knew where my thoughts were travelling, he turned to face me, his face flushed once again.

I took a step toward him, and while he stood firm, his eyes widened and his lips parted. What would he do if instead of drawing in a breath, as he was endeavouring to do, he drew in my tongue instead?

I worried any precipitate actions might spook him, so I smiled ruefully and approached him no further. I’d always been good with nervous animals, and John was no different.

“No one will ever learn from me that you want to be in my bed—”

“I don’t—” he started to protest, and I held up a hand.

“Quiet, John. No matter what you tell yourself, I promise you will enjoy it very much.” In fact, I intended to make this so good that a single time wouldn’t be enough.

“I don’t deserve to enjoy the act.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said I don’t expect to enjoy you buggering me.” He glared at me. “Let’s…let’s just get this done.”

I backed away from him, and it actually seemed as if he would reach for me, but then he dropped his hands and fisted them at his side.

“I have a condition of my own though, John.”

“What?” he asked harshly. “I can promise you nothing—”

“I’m aware of that. Do you think I’m desirous of pledges of undying love? How missish,” I mocked. I would have wagered my soul for that, but I was not so foolish as to wish for what I could never have. “My condition is a simple one—you will cease calling me Awful.”

“That is all?” Again he bit down on his lower lip, although this time apparently harder than he’d intended, for he winced, and I felt the blood flow more heatedly through my veins, wanting nothing so much as to soothe that tiny hurt. “But how shall I explain that to Will?”

I shrugged. “Tell him it’s childish. Tell him you’ve outgrown it. Tell him what you will.” I turned as if to walk away.

“Very well,” he agreed, his reluctance obvious. I faced him once more, an eyebrow raised, and he concluded reluctantly, “Ashton.”

“Shall we give supper the go-by tonight?”

“No!”

I could have sworn in frustration, but I forced my expression to remain bland, inquiring.

“No,” he said in a more moderate tone. “Everything must appear as usual. We cannot be seen leaving at the same time.”

“Very well,” I conceded, “but I give you fair warning, John. If you call me Awful, even once—”

“I promised I wouldn’t, didn’t I?” His reply was surly, and for a moment he was not in the least attractive.

And yet I found I didn’t care. I was about to have my fondest desire fulfilled, and to that end he could be as surly as he chose.

He hurried from the billiards room, and I stared after him for a moment before I finished knocking balls into the pockets. Then I laid the cue aside, smoothed my hands over the placket of my trousers, tugged at the sleeves of my tailcoat, and followed him out of the room.