Mending Him (14 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Robbie woke with a start, blinking in the dimness, trying to focus on his strange surroundings. It took him all of two seconds to remember that he was in an inn, sleeping with Charles in a rented bed, and that it was almost dark outside. He’d slept more soundly than he could remember doing in a long time—certainly since Charles Worthington had arrived in his life. Since that time, his sleep had often been restless and filled with hungry sorts of dreams. Now that his hungers had reached fruition, apparently his consciousness had let go and dived deep into restful sleep.

Robbie sat up. Charles’s arm slid lifelessly off him, but the man didn’t wake. In fact, he snored with a soft rattle.

Robbie shook his shoulder. “Charles, wake up. We’ve overslept. Wake up!”

Charles opened bleary eyes and squinted at him. “What?”

“I said, we’ve overslept. It’s almost evening, and we haven’t accomplished any of our errands. The stores will be closing soon, and even if we left this very moment, we couldn’t make it back to the hall before dark. Besides, we can’t return without the cloth. What will Aunt Lenore say?”

Charles propped himself on one elbow, reached out and grabbed Robbie’s flailing hand, which was trying to make a point about how serious the situation was. “Calm yourself. The cat’s drunk the cream now. It’s too late to do anything about it. We’ll simply have to wait until morning, then return home. We’ll say we had a problem with the axle or something.”

“We can’t
lie.
Forrester would know right away no work was done on the carriage. Besides, I’m no good at subterfuge.”

“Then we’ll tell as much of the truth as we can. We were unable to accomplish all our tasks. Darkness was falling, and we know how Aunt Lenore feels about traveling at night, it seemed better to take a hotel room and return home in the morning. She’ll applaud our sensible choice when we finally do arrive, bolt of cloth in hand.”

“You make it sound so easy. But right now, Lenore will be panicking. You know how she worries.”

“Nice to have someone to worry about you, isn’t it? Lenore may be as fractious as Gemma on occasion, but underneath, she is a caring woman.” Charles stroked a hand down Robbie’s chest, his abdomen, right to the soft place on his stomach, which he began to rub in small circles.

Equipped with a mind of its own, Robbie’s cock started to rise. What did it care about aunts and obligations?

Charles stomach rumbled like a thunderstorm rolling in. “What say we go appease our appetites? Then we can return here and appease other appetites.”

He patted Robbie’s belly, then threw back the covers and got out of bed, leaving Robbie’s cock twitching in abandoned bewilderment. He retrieved his crutches and stood up. His backside turned toward Robbie offered a sumptuous view of broad shoulders, rippling muscles and lean buttocks. Robbie took a moment to simply enjoy the sight as Charles moved around retrieving his clothing.

As he struggled to snag a stocking with the tip of one crutch and hoist it up to where he could reach it, Charles glanced over his shoulder. “A little help might be appreciated.”

Robbie smiled and climbed off the bed.

In short order, they were dressed and outside of the inn, hobbling through less crowded streets now that the sun was down.

Robbie hadn’t wanted to eat at the inn, so Charles had calmly approached a stranger, a traveling salesman reading a book next to the fireplace off the entrance to the taproom, and asked about other establishments.

And now Charles moved over the uneven cobblestones up the steep hill as if he lived in the city. He’d grown dexterous with his crutches, but more than that, he moved as if he belonged in this place. Robbie wondered if a country mouse such as himself could ever move so comfortably around city streets. During his brief time in London, he’d never truly gotten used to the clamor and confusion and the horrible smells.

“First things first,” Charles declared and confidently led Robbie to the small shop that contained the GPO, the general post office. “We will send Aunt Lenore a telegraph.”

“It might worry her when she sees the delivery boy at the door. I suspect she’ll think it’s a disaster. We don’t get many telegraphs at the Hall.”

“She ought to get used to it,” Charles said. “The Chesters are well-to-do, and their world sends off telegraphs like most people use notepaper.”

“You’d know, of course,” Robbie murmured.

Charles filled out the form as if he sent telegraphs every day of the week. “We shall be vague.” He read it to Robbie. “‘Unavoidably detained, stop. Fine but must stay overnight, stop. Rob and C.’”

Robbie agreed. An Aunt Lenore scandalized by the expense would be better than one lying awake all night worried about the state of her relations and her carriage.

“We shan’t be able to dine in style after this,” he remarked as the postmistress took the form and his coins.

“We’ll be fine,” Charles said airily. Perhaps Charles was improvident and that was how he’d lost his fortune.

They next set off for the shop, also not far from the inn, thank goodness, since Robbie’s legs were tired. They arrived just as the shopkeeper was putting up the closed sign. He allowed Robbie to come in and even smiled his welcome.

Robbie fingered the delicate yellow fabric. His aunt wanted a more unusual theme for her ball than simply the harvest, and he’d decided to create a dazzling display of sunshine and shadow, the two seasons of summer and winter meeting—skipping autumn altogether, or only showing it with a few orange silk leaves. He pulled the scrap of fabric from his waistcoat pocket. The dark blue Lenore had picked for the winter theme made the yellow gleam and seemed to almost glow. He stroked the yellow and made plans. He’d be sure to create some of the leaves from this fabric.

“Even I can see that’s lovely.” Charles peered over his shoulder. “Order buckets of that yellow, and Lenore will be pleased.”

Robbie ordered a bolt, and the shopkeeper promised to have them delivered to the inn first thing in the morning. He also thought to ask the man to deliver a note to the upholsterer requesting him to go to the hall early. Good. The errands were completed.

“And now food, or we shall collapse on the street and be trampled by horses,” Charles said and swung off in the direction of the restaurant.

Robbie drew pleasure from his confident boldness.

How much more pleasant moving to London—or wherever—would be if he had Charles by his side. An ally. A friend. A partner. During these past weeks of fretting about his future plans, Robbie had somehow never even considered that he might not have to leave Charles behind. Why couldn’t they go off on this adventure together? Charles was nearly healed, much more mobile, and hadn’t suffered another of those odd “fits” of tingles or weakness for a very long time.

Of course, there was the way Charles blithely spent money. Well. That would be something to discuss. Robbie knew husbands and wives argued about money. He smiled at the thought that he had already cast himself and Charles into those roles. Charles would soon need to find a job for himself and move away from the nest the Chesters had provided him. Why shouldn’t Charles and Robbie move in the same direction? No one would question the relationship of two practically related bachelors lodging together in order to save funds.

The restaurant wasn’t a grand establishment, and they settled at a plain wooden table with past patrons’ initials carved into its top. Robbie was glad to see that Charles had no objection to cheap food.

Robbie, hungrier than usual, decided on steak-and-kidney pie. Charles ordered chops.

“I have been thinking about Phillip and Samuel and what we ought to say to Phillip. I think we should tell your uncle the truth—about his son, at any rate,” Charles announced after the waiter placed the white platters piled high with food in front of them.

“I haven’t been thinking about it at all today,” Robbie admitted. “I suppose one shouldn’t slough off an important matter, but last night it ran circles in my brain, and I grew tired of the topic. Today, with you, is such a holiday from life. I have not thought of the Chesters for hours.”

Charles beamed at him. “I hadn’t known you could be so carefree, Robbit.”

He returned the smile. “It’s a surprise to me as well. But so much of today has been.” He ate some pie and reflected that even food tasted better than it had before. He even enjoyed the beer.

“Don’t eat too much,” Charles said. “I have plans for you later.”

And just like that, Robbie lost his appetite—vanished because of a combination of apprehension and excitement. He set down his fork and knife. The thought of his possibly outraged uncle and thieving cousin hadn’t put him off food. Pure anticipation did.

Plans.

Did he know what more they could do together? Of course he did. He’d felt Charles’s fingers in his arse. Not such a leap of imagination there.

“It might hurt,” he muttered.

Charles had just a mouthful of chop in his mouth, and after a moment’s puzzled look, he suddenly began to laugh. After he managed to choke down the food and gulp some beer, he gasped. “You’ve been corrupted, Robbie. We will make it so you experience only pleasure. We will take our time.”

Robbie didn’t want to take his time. He wanted to go back to that inn and find out exactly what Charles had in mind. He wanted Charles naked and under him or over him or next to him—just so long as all that warm skin was his.

“You should eat some more. You have a lean and hungry look,” Charles said, amusement in his voice.

“You’re correct. I’m starved.” Robbie pushed the plate away. “Let’s go. Now.”

Considering how badly their lower limbs functioned, they moved to the inn and up the Elizabethan stairs to their room quickly.

Charles sat on the bed. Robbie bolted the door, then went straight to the bed to attack him—or rather his clothes. “Hold still,” Robbie commanded as he unbuttoned Charles’s waistcoat. “I had weeks of practice disrobing you, and I plan to finally indulge in the fantasies I invented over those weeks.”

Charles grabbed him and drew him into a kiss. Pulling back, he asked, “No longer awkward about what we’re going to do together?”

Robbie smiled. “A little, perhaps. But you’ll laugh at me, and everything will be fine.”

The air had grown chilly, and the bedsheets were slightly damp, so they took a few minutes to warm each other under the covers.

“You’re better than a hot brick,” Robbie said as their bodies, gloriously naked, entwined and they pulled each other close.

Charles grunted, gave a little gasp.

“Your leg?” Robbie asked.

“What leg?” Charles wrapped him tight in his arms and Robbie could barely breathe, pressed against the firm heat of his torso and the thick, interesting bar of his erection gently moving against his own. Breathing was not as important as luxuriating in this perfect embrace, although at last he tunneled up so he could reach Charles’s mouth.

They kissed, a slow gentle touch of the lips. Robbie pulled back to examine the so dear face, which smiled back at him.

They kissed again, and now impatience began to bloom, heat and longing and… Robbie lost the words for what that kiss and the feel of Charles, naked, did to him. He felt this new and impossibly huge need from his mouth to his fingers to his already aching cock.

He ran his hands over the long, lean body. Charles wasn’t as thin as he’d been when they’d met—Robbie had memorized so much of him already. And now he got to gorge on the skin and sheer delightful bulk of Charles. He knew he could do anything, touch any part of Charles with any part of himself. Nothing they did would be wrong—it was impossible.

He wanted to tell Charles that fact; he understood that their caresses from a kiss to a pumping orgasm, was right and good, but the urge to talk passed when Charles reached between them and grabbed Robbie’s cock, his grip firm and in control. He stroked Robbie once, twice, then licked his ear.

“If I don’t get this soon, I’ll go mad,” he whispered. His breath chilled the damp he’d left. “Give me this.” His other hand squeezed Robbie’s arse, first one globe, then the other.

“Your leg,” Robbie began.

Charles sat up. “Lie on your belly.”

Robbie obeyed.

Charles’s hand ran down his spine, and Robbie shivered, closed his eyes, waited. The anticipation for the next touch grew—but only chilly air brushed his skin.

“This damn bed is too small,” Charles growled. “Move to the head.”

Robbie opened his eyes and twisted to look at him. Charles’s eyes glittered—and his body was magnificent.

Robbie crawled up the bed and rested his back against the overly elaborate bedstead

“Turn around, and perhaps you might hold on to that ugly thing. Yes, we will manage this nicely.”

Robbie, naked and shivering, but not with cold, faced the wall and molded his hands over the headboard. Charles came up behind him, balancing carefully to keep the weight off his legs as best he could. He slid his hands over Robbie’s sides, those long fingers exploring Robbie’s chest, torso, a teasing, sliding touch over Robbie’s granite-hard cock and his balls, already tight and aching.

Robbie pushed back, silently demanding more, and Charles plastered his front to Robbie’s back. His cock, so large and so apparently eager, pushed against Robbie’s arse. His erection seemed made of iron and the most enormous part of Charles’s large body as it rubbed against Robbie’s crack.

Robbie wanted to protest; he squeezed the headboard instead. Still Charles seemed in no hurry. He reached around Robbie and explored his nipples, which tingled with each passing tweak or brush. Charles must have put some ointment on his other hand, for when he grasped Robbie’s cock again, the slip and pull seemed slick and easy, though so tight and…oh God. This was nerve-racking.

“Get on with it,” Robbie said and pushed his arse back against the rod that moved up and down between his cheeks.

Charles huffed out a breath and pulled back. Now the only part of him that touched Robbie was his hand.

Robbie closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of those slippery fingers, sliding, going inside him. He leaned down and rested his head next to his hands, crouched as if he was some kind of supplicant, and he was.
Please, please
, he chanted in his head.
Please let this be as good as everything else. Please let it start. Please
.