The Englor Affair (32 page)

Something cold—it felt like the razor—was placed on his back, and Payton nudged him with the bottle of antiseptic. “Hold this for me.”

Without looking up, Simon opened his hand for the bottle and held it upright. Payton slung his leg over Simon, straddling him, and his fingers began to poke and prod at Simon’s right shoulder. “There it is, I can feel it.” He took the antiseptic. The cork was removed with a pop, then cold liquid poured over his shoulder and slid down his armpit before Payton blotted it off with the other towel. Payton replaced the bottle in his hand and the razor was picked up and flicked open. Payton’s negligible weight shifted forward.

Taking a deep breath, Si braced himself for the pain, but it never came. “Pay?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to cut it out?”

The bed bounced slightly as if Payton were nodding.

“Okay. Go ahead.” Simon took another deep breath and made himself relax. Another few seconds went by and nothing happened. What was Payton waiting for? He seemed anxious to operate only moments ago. “Pay?”

“Don’t rush me.”

Simon rose up enough to look over his shoulder.

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Payton’s lip was between his teeth and he held the open razor out away from himself. He looked worried. Glancing up, he met Simon’s gaze and offered him a weak smile. He looked adorable and miserable at the same time.

Now he’s having doubts?
Fighting off the urge to smile, Simon asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to remind Payton he hadn’t seemed to mind a few moments ago when he was taunting Simon with being a baby. Simon grinned, unable to help himself. Payton’s hesitance was sweet and actually made Si feel a little better about the situation. “I can handle it. You see that scar on my lower back?”

Payton’s gaze shifted, taking in the four-inch scar above Simon’s left arse cheek. He nodded.

“That’s from falling off a horse when I was twelve. I was waiting by the palace steps for Aldred so we could go on our morning ride in Hyde Park. Aldred was mad at my father and slammed the door on his way outside. It scared my mount and he bolted. I wasn’t expecting it and I landed on the corner of a concrete step. Nothing could hurt worst than that.”

“See this.” Payton’s weight settled on Simon’s lower back and his left leg thrust out to the side. There was a thin horizontal line up the side of Payton’s calf. “When I was eight, Aiden and I found a couple of Cony’s swords lying on his and Father’s bed and we decided to play with them. I knocked the sword out of Aiden’s hands and the blade cut me wide open. We got in so much trouble over that. I swear the beating I got was way worse than the cut.”

“You see the scar here”—Simon let go of the bottle long enough to gesture at his right side—“this was from the battle of Chuzofield on Planet Galvon during my service with the IN. I was sliced by an enemy saber trying to rescue Roc’s sorry arse from a Galvonic Guard. We were without medical aide for eighteen hours and it got infected. I was in the infirmary for a week.
That?
Hurt like bloody hell.”

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Payton nodded, closed the razor and set it aside, before peeling his shirt off his left shoulder. “You see this?” He pointed to a starburst-shaped scar on his deltoid, a grin on his face. “Tarren shot me with an arrow about three years ago. We’d shut down Jeffers to get some time without a chaperone. We went hunting—it was Aiden, Colton, Tarren and me. Tarren was pretending like he was going to shoot Colton in the arse for calling him a brat, and his hand slipped.
That?
Hurt coming out more than it did going in. I swear Father was trying to make it hurt more just to punish me.”

Simon smiled, grabbed the bottle of antiseptic and lay back down, resting his head on his forearms. The love in Payton’s voice when he spoke about his family went right to Si’s heart. He wanted to hear that same tone when Payton spoke about him. As a child, he’d longed for that kind of affection. Aldred loved him, Simon knew that, but he wanted his own family. He wanted to witness what was in Payton’s voice firsthand. He wanted to be a part of something like that. “Cut this thing out of my shoulder. And tell me about your family.”

“Okay.” Payton picked up the razor again. “Here goes. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want to know about my family?” Payton’s fingers danced over his dog tag, finding it under Simon’s skin.

There was a pressure against his shoulder when the razor’s edge touched him. Then the air hit the cut.
Ow.
Simon grimaced, but held real still. “Why do you call your father Cony?” A trickle of blood ran down Simon’s side.

“I don’t call my Father Cony.” Payton blotted the wound with the spare towel. “I call my sire Cony. It’s a nickname Rexley gave him as a baby and all of us have called him that.”

The ache in his shoulder intensified as Payton poked around it. Si couldn’t tell what he was doing, but it sure didn’t feel very good. More blood dripped down his side, almost tickling in contrast to the pain. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried to concentrate on the smooth low voice above him.

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“On Regelence we refer to our parents as Father and Sire. Whomever has the higher title is referred to as Father and the other parent is Sire.”

“So our son would call me Father and you Sire?” Was it his imagination or did Payton stiffen?

“Yes, if we had a son. Give me the bottle.” Payton’s hands left him and tugged at the glass.

If?
Simon opened his eyes and turned his head to ask Payton if he had made the appointment with the Regelence reproduction clinic, and spotted a small cylindrical piece of metal about six millimeters long. “Is that it?”

The cold liquid hit his back, stinging a little.

“Yes. That’s it.” Payton blotted the incision and tossed the razor beside Simon on the towel. He threw his leg over Simon and crawled off the bed. “Stay there. I’m going to find a bandage.”

“Bottom drawer on the left side of the vanity.” Simon closed his eyes again and frowned. Payton had seemed to close up at the mention of a child.
Why?
He knew they needed an heir. With the situation as it was, Simon’s heir was Aldred. Payton came from a big family he loved. Simon couldn’t imagine him being opposed to children. If he could, Simon would wait awhile, but given the circumstances, that wasn’t practical. And he couldn’t deny that the idea of a miniature Payton running around keeping the household on their toes appealed to him. He grinned. It would be scary trying to protect a son and Payton, but it would be fun too.

In no time Payton was back taping him up.

As Simon opened his mouth to ask Payton about the appointment for an heir, there was a knock on the door. That interruption was followed by Payton explaining to him the firing of Baxter and Mrs. Cobbs. They went over the decoration plans that neither of them cared much about, and Payton’s plans for a ball to gain parliamentary support.

Simon wasn’t exactly thrilled about the ball, but even he had to admit it was a good idea, so he reluctantly agreed.

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Simon was exiting his lift and on his way to Aldred’s townhouse door before he realized he hadn’t had a chance to ask Payton about the appointment for an heir or his feelings on it.

The door opened and Dudley’s smiling face appeared. “Colonel, should I inform His Grace you’re here?” He reached for Simon’s coat, bumping his incision. Simon hissed out a breath and shrugged his coat off, then handed over his hat and gloves.

“No. Where is he? I’ll just go find him.”

“I believe he’s in his bedroom.” Dudley turned, already putting Simon’s things away.

“Thank you, Dudley.” Simon started up the stairs, wincing at the sting in his shoulder. He was glad that blasted tag was gone, but it sure didn’t feel too good. Maybe he should have called the family physician, but he really didn’t want anyone to know about the tag being removed. The IN would figure it out after awhile, but Simon wanted to keep it to himself as long as he could. The less the IN knew the better. He didn’t want them realizing he was on to them.

He was anxious to give his uncle the information he had and return home. He wanted to talk to Payton about the heir situation and go over security details for Payton’s upcoming ball. Simon raised his knuckles to knock on his uncle’s bedroom door as he pushed it open.

The smell of sex hit him before the blurred movement caught his attention.

Clayton, Aldred’s valet, was sprawled across the bed, naked hands frantically reaching for the covers. Aldred’s dark head was bent over Clayton’s groin, a look of shock in his wide gray eyes when they met Simon’s.

Oh damn.
Simon gasped and closed the door.
Aldred and Clay?
How had he not seen it throughout the years? They were in love. Had been since they were young. It was so obvious now, the closeness, the shared smiles and discreet touches. Simon had known Clay used to sit and talk to Aldred when he’d get home from a ball, long after he’d helped him disrobe. His bed in the little room that was connected to Aldred’s was always made like he’d never slept in it, and judging from what Simon now knew, he hadn’t.

Even Clay treating Simon as more of a nephew made sense.

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Chuckling, Simon leaned against the door. A wave of pleasure bubbled up inside him. He’d always wanted Aldred happy and he adored Clay. He’d begun to worry Aldred would remain single and lonely for the rest of his life, but now that he knew… He dropped his hand and knocked on the door without ever removing his back from it.

“What?” Aldred growled, and flung the door open.

Simon fell on his arse right into the room. He was so pleased he barely felt the pain in his shoulder as he lay down and looked up at his uncle.

Aldred was now wearing a pair of trousers, glowering down at him.

Tipping his head backward, Simon watched Clay struggling into his shirt, looking rather pink in the face. Simon winked at Clay and glanced back at Aldred. “I expect you to do the honorable thing and get married now that you’ve compromised Clayton.”

“Excellent idea, my boy,” Aldred said over Clay’s immediate protests.

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Dru is a force of nature.

—
from the journal of Payton Marcus Townsend

Payton took a drink from his champagne glass. He’d only just gotten a few moments to himself. Not counting Si, he was the beau of the ball, so to speak. Standing on the edge of the elegantly decorated ballroom of Blake House with the hordes of laughing, dancing people made him glad he’d agreed to let Dru host the ball. He’d been schooled to host balls and dinner parties, but he had no practical experience. There was no way he could have thrown together something like this in such little time. Dru, on the other hand, was a pro.

The Marchioness of Philbert spotted him and her ruddy face lit up.

Dust.
She was a nice lady, but she’d cornered him twice already. Before she could get her petite form in motion, Payton smiled and waved then took off across the ballroom, pretending to be a man on a mission. With any luck she wouldn’t follow. So what if he looked like a coward. He was tired of hearing about Fefe and her best-of-show award. Really, how grand could a poodle be? The woman was worse than Tarren when it came to dogs, but at least Tarren had manly dogs like retrievers, wolfhounds and shepherds.

As he darted around a group of giggling debutantes he marveled at the work Dru had accomplished. The ballroom was decorated in dark green ribbons and cream-colored carnations that went well with the black marble floor in Dru’s ballroom. Nearly the whole assembly wore black in mourning for their late king and queen, but from all appearances, the ball was a smashing success.

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Walking past the refreshment table, he spotted Si and smiled. He’d missed Si the past couple of days. It seemed every time Payton turned around Si was meeting with his advisors.

Si held court in the ballroom corner away from the orchestra with a champagne glass in one hand and the other waving madly, as he made a point. A group of lords encircled him, giving their rapt attention. If it weren’t for Si’s formidable height, Payton wouldn’t be able to see him at all. As it was Payton could only see his gleaming red hair and an occasional glimpse of his handsome profile when the men around him shifted about. He had his audience completely engrossed in whatever it was he was telling them.

A gloved hand landed on Payton’s arm, nearly tipping his champagne, and wrapped around it in a soft grip. “Are you hiding?” Dru asked.

“If I were hiding I’d be behind that”—he pointed to an overlarge bushy plant in the far corner under the balcony that held the orchestra—“plant. It’s rather a great place. I bet there’s lots of room behind it. See how the pot is narrower at the bottom? More room for your feet, but you must be careful that they aren’t sticking out.”

Dru smiled. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I’ve given it a lot of practice. I hate balls and dinner parties.”

“Really?” Dru looked at him, her delicate eyebrow arched. “I’d have never known.

You’re a natural. You’ve been rubbing elbows with people all evening. You’ve caused quite a stir actually. People seem to be accepting you rather well.”

She was right. Even the news, or rather rumors—since they planned on making the official announcement tonight—of his and Si’s marriage didn’t seem to be hurting his popularity, or Si’s for that matter.

“It’s amazing what a lofty title will do for one’s popularity. It would seem that regardless of what they think of my planet or our”—Payton held his hand to his mouth in a mock whisper as one lady had done to him earlier—“our strange notions, they all want to talk to a prince.”