A Proper Lover (Ganymede Quartet Book 2) (23 page)

“You have so many good qualities, Sir, and I don’t want to discount those, but I do recall that Mr. Hastings was very impressed with your name. I imagine that a great many young men would welcome the opportunity to befriend Mr. Blackwell’s son.”

Henry grimaced, uncomfortable with this idea. At least his school friends were all well used to him and unimpressed with his father’s stature in the business community. He might be the richest boy in school, but his money was the newest, and the Blackwells didn’t always do things the way people expected them to be done. Henry’s friends did not hesitate to judge him when he did things differently, when he did things
wrong
.

“I don’t want to be friends with people like that,” Henry said. “I have plenty of friends as it is, and I have you—and you’re all I want anyway.”

“I appreciate that you like me so well, Sir, you know that,” Martin said in a low voice, “But you should try to be a little more eager to spend time with free boys.”

“Even bores?” Henry asked. “Even dullards who talk too much?” He coaxed Marigold into a bouncy trot and almost immediately came abreast of Cora on her pony.

“Maybe not those people, Sir,” Martin conceded, bringing Partita to a trot, as well. “But
some
boys. I hear things from the other slaves, Sir. There’s talk amongst your friends about how you keep to yourself. You don’t want to be thought stuck-up, and you don’t want anyone guessing how fond you are of me. You could go to the dance hall with your friends tonight, Sir, if you wanted.”

“I wasn’t invited,” Henry said, slowing Marigold back to a walk again. Riding with Cora required him to be so
thoughtful
!

Martin pressed his lips together and frowned as he reined Partita in. “Sir, really. You know you weren’t asked only because you already said you wouldn’t go. Mr. Briggs would be very happy to include you, Sir. You’re his best friend.”

Henry thought about it. He did like to dance, but he was a snob, and couldn’t help but imagine a working-class dance hall as being squalid and odorous, full of unwashed bodies wearing dirty clothes. He’d be required to make small talk with uneducated girls in whom he had no interest, and he’d have to avoid getting in fights with rough boys, and if he took Martin with him, he’d have to worry about Martin, too. It seemed so much simpler and better to stay home with Martin doing exactly what he preferred to do.

“Maybe another time,” he said with a shrug. “I’m staying in with you tonight.”

Cora turned around to look at them. “Why are you riding so slowly?” she complained. “Daisy can go much faster than this!”

Actually, Daisy could not, at least not for any sustained period of time. It became clear that they’d not be able to cover their usual route up to and around the reservoir, that it would be too much for the pony and would simply take too long. They brought the horses to a halt just south of the reservoir, preparing to turn around and head for home. Cora, however, had ambitious goals for poor Daisy.

“We can ride all day,” she suggested. “Daisy won’t get tired,” she promised confidently. “Daisy’s a good pony.”

Henry was about to get cross with his sister, to tell her that her pony was tired already, and to tell her to behave, when Martin spoke up, creating a solution.

“But Partita
does
get tired, Miss,” Martin offered. “I weigh a great deal more than you do, Miss, and it’s a lot of work for her to carry me all about. I don’t think she can go any farther than to the reservoir and back home again.”

Cora seemed a little suspicious, but Martin looked terribly sincere and regretful and so she said. “All right then, if Partita’s tired. Partita’s such a pretty horse, Martin. Did you pick her out yourself?”

“Your brother helped me, Miss. She
is
pretty, isn’t she?”

“What’s that color called?”

“Blue roan, Miss. It’s unique, isn’t it? You don’t see many horses this color, do you, Miss?”

“No,” Cora agreed. She thought a moment and then turned around on her saddle so she could see Martin’s face. “Do you like being Henry’s slave, Martin?”

Martin laughed and colored a little. “Yes, I do, Miss. I am very fond of your brother.”

“It’s too bad I’ve got to have a girl slave,” she mused. “I’d rather have one like you.”

“No, Miss,” Martin assured her. “You’ll like having a girl slave, I’m sure. You’ll choose a special girl and she’ll be your closest friend.”

Cora seemed doubtful. She turned to Henry. “Is Martin your closest friend, or is it Louis?”

Put on the spot like this, Henry was flustered and embarrassed. His cheeks grew hot and he fumbled with his reins.

“Henry?” she asked, waiting for her answer.

“It’s Martin,” Henry said, flush with relief at the admission. “Martin knows me better than anyone. But Louis is still my best friend besides Martin.”

“I like Louis,” Cora said cheerfully. “Sometimes I play with Alice, even though she’s older. She wants to marry you, Henry, did you know?”

“She doesn’t really,” Henry said, embarrassed anew. “She’s only little. She doesn’t know who she’ll want to marry when she’s actually old enough.”

“
I
want to marry Martin,” Cora offered in a confidential tone, though of course Martin was right there to hear her.

“You can’t,” Henry said bluntly. “He’s a slave and he’s mine anyway.” He cringed at how he’d put it, staking his claim so blatantly. Martin gave a muffled laugh and when Henry looked over at him, he was trying to arrange his face in a neutral expression.

Cora seemed hurt by this, eyes cast down and lower lip trembling.

“Your brother’s right, Miss. You can’t marry a slave. But when you’re old enough, you could marry a boy who has the same qualities you like in me, or in your brother.”

“I can’t have a boy slave,” Cora complained, “and I can’t marry Martin, I can’t have
anything
I want!”

Henry laughed. “You can have almost everything you want,” he told her. “You’re one of the luckiest people in the world, Cora. You’re rich and pretty and you have people who love you and look after you.” That the caring people were mostly slaves need not be mentioned. “It’s all right for you to like Martin, though, if you want, Cora. He’s a very special person to me, after all, so I understand why you’d like him.” He glanced over at Martin, who beamed at him and seemed extremely gratified by his little speech.

They made their way back to the stables at a slow pace, making concessions for the tired little pony. Cora chattered to them about her school friends, a girl called Celeste who sounded quite honestly like a little bitch, and Rose Franklin, Wendell’s little sister. Martin paid more attention to these stories than Henry did, Henry instead focusing on Martin, on how kind and solicitous he was, how patient and thoughtful.

At the stables, the grooms and Little Bob took charge of the horses. Cora liked to watch Daisy be groomed so they loitered by the pony’s stall and watched Little Bob work. Cora stood leaning against Martin’s side gazing up at him adoringly. Henry wondered if he looked as besotted when he looked at Martin; he thought he probably did. When Daisy was groomed, Cora wanted to give him and the rest of the horses carrots and she was indulged in this by Old Bob.

Walking home, Cora skipped between them holding their hands and chattered more about her little friends. Henry looked at Martin over the top of her head. Martin looked back at him and his smile was dazzling and tender and Henry felt so very, very lucky.

“Don’t you think so, Henry?”

“Hmm? What was that, Cora?”

“I think Celeste was mean to say that. Don’t you think so, too?”

Based on what Henry had heard of Celeste today, chances were good that whatever she’d said had been mean, so Henry made an educated guess. “I do,” he said. “I think you’re right.”

Up in the nursery, Nurse was eager to hear all Cora had to tell her about their ride.

“Daisy kept up with the big horses,” Cora told her. “You thought he wouldn’t be able to, but he did!”

“I’m glad I was wrong, Miss,” Nurse told her. “Daisy’s a very good pony, isn’t he?” She smiled at Henry, then Martin, amused, as she took Cora’s cape and hung it up.

“We rode all the way to the reservoir,” Cora continued, “but Partita got tired so we had to come back. Partita is Martin’s horse. She’s a special color, Nurse, did you know? What color is it again, Martin?”

“She’s a blue roan, Miss,” Martin reminded her. He was looking around the nursery with interest. There was all manner of doll furniture scattered about and a plethora of dolls, none of which had been in the nursery when Henry was small, of course. Martin crouched down and looked at a doll with a messy wig that had a crack running through her porcelain face and was missing part of her nose.

Cora saw him looking at the doll. “Oh. That’s Baby Ann. She’s my
favorite
. She’s had a terrible accident, you see, and now she’s an
invalid
and the other dolls have to take care of her.”

“Is that so, Miss? Why is she your favorite?”

“She’s a good listener,” Cora explained. “Do you want to meet my next favorite?”

Cora introduced Martin to what seemed like dozens of dolls and he asked her questions about all of them. At first, Henry thought that perhaps he should involve himself in the proceedings, but realized that today Cora didn’t really care about anyone but Martin anyway, and it was probably better to let her have Martin to herself for a few minutes.

“My, he’s so good with her, isn’t he, Sir?” Nurse said. “She’s been talking about nothing but the two of you since she saw you in the parlor Thursday, and I imagine she’ll have trouble getting to sleep tonight, she’s so excited.”

“He’s better with her than I am,” Henry admitted, and Nurse didn’t contradict him. “But then again, I didn’t grow up with dozens of little kids around me all the time.”

“No, Sir, you didn’t,” Nurse said a little wistfully, and Henry remembered that she would have been just as eager for more Blackwell babies as his parents.

“I was really happy up here with you, you know,” Henry said in a low voice, a little embarrassed to be saying this. “It was hard to go live downstairs.”

“It was hard to let you go, Sir,” Nurse said, squeezing his arm. She laughed and said, “If I’d had a choice in the matter, you’d still be up here with your sister and me. But I imagine you’re happier downstairs now, Sir, now that you have Martin to keep you company.”

Henry blushed. He’d wondered sometimes if Nurse had ever guessed about him, what he was really like. When he’d been little, he hadn’t known that he should be any different, of course, and hadn’t tried to hide anything.

Nurse looked at his reddening face with a tender expression. “You were always such a gentle child, Sir. I did worry sometimes that those wild Briggs boys would roughen you up, but you’re still a shy, sweet boy, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Henry said, his embarrassment excruciating.

Martin and Cora approached hand-in-hand. Martin’s expression was a little strained. “Sir,” he said, “Little Miss has invited us to a tea party.”

“When?” Henry asked.

“Now!” Cora bounced on her toes. “Come on, Henry! Come sit down!”

Henry did not want to do this; he wanted to take Martin to his room and lock the door. Martin would likely enjoy a tea party, but Henry suspected he would enjoy sex even more. Besides, being with Cora was exhausting, and Martin looked a little tired.

“I-I’m sorry, Cora,” Henry told her. “We can’t stay.”

“Please, Henry?
Please
?”

“Not today, Cora.”

“Oh, Henry, why not?” Cora stomped her foot, frustrated.

“Miss,” Nurse said firmly. “Mind your temper. Your brother has been very generous with his time today. Say thank you to the boys and let them get about their business.”

Cora gave Nurse a very defiant stare, her dark eyes narrowed, but Nurse held her ground and Cora relented, her little shoulders slumped.

“Thank you, Henry,” she muttered. “Thank you, Martin.”

“You’re quite welcome, Miss.”

“Yes,” Henry said, “You’re welcome.”

Cora hugged them both goodbye, throwing her arms around Henry’s waist and hanging off of him, then going to Martin, who got down on one knee and let her cling, her eyelids fluttering in raptures. Henry kissed Nurse’s cheek and then she invited Martin to do the same.

“I always wanted another boy,” she said, patting his shoulder.

On the way down to the second floor, Henry said, “Cora adores you. I might be a little jealous.”

Martin laughed. “It’s just that I’m still new and exciting to her, Sir.”

Henry stopped him mid-step with a hand on his arm. “You’re still new and exciting to me, too,” he whispered.

Martin laughed again and leaned closer still. “Let me surprise you, then, Henry.”

They hurried down the rest of the stairs and then along the hall to Henry’s room. Martin locked the door behind them and Henry took him by the shoulder, spun him around, and pushed him up against it. They shared a leisurely kiss, hands sliding over the planes of each other’s bodies, possessive and assured.

Henry leaned against Martin, pressed full-length, and nuzzled his neck. Martin smelled good, a hint of fresh sweat, and Henry tasted salt on the skin of his throat.

Martin undressed him and then undressed himself while Henry watched from the bed. He walked around the room with a hard cock, glistening wet at the head, while he put away their riding clothes. He bent over to put Henry’s boots in the bottom of the wardrobe with his other shoes, and in bending over showed Henry the view of his ass and balls that made Henry feel a little crazy.

“Finish doing that later,” Henry suggested.

Martin smiled. “I’m done.” He launched himself onto the bed and landed with a bounce and Henry gathered him close and felt the length of him, warm and supple. Martin rolled on top and kissed him, his tongue sliding alongside Henry's in a slow tangle. Henry grew impatient with the pace and flipped Martin onto his back and lay on top of him, kissing him hard and insistent.

Martin broke the kiss and said, “Will you play a game with me?”

Henry blinked. “What kind of game?”