The Hunt Club Chronicles Bundle (43 page)

Ambrose paced his chamber impatiently. He was feeling remarkably good this morning, but he would feel so much better when Francis returned with his son. The club could be a permanent wedge between them, if Rupert allowed it to be.

China
rattled behind him as Smith set out the luncheon tray. “Is there anything else you desire, Your Grace?”

Ambrose winced at the pleading edge to his valet’s words. Francis was right again, the man did spend an inordinate amount of time eyeing his private parts. Damned uncomfortable morning since he’d need assistance donning every article he wore. “No nothing, Smith. You may go. I’ll not need you this evening.”

There was some more fussing behind him then the room grew quiet. When he turned he found a small flower on his tray. He shuddered and tossed it into the fire. He much preferred his footman’s quiet ways to fussing. He picked up a sandwich and returned to the window. Despite the dreary weather,
London
was awhirl with activity without him and for a change he didn’t miss a bit of it.

When he thought about it, he mostly enjoyed his evenings out if Francis was with him and appeared amused by the event. The way he would press his lips together to hold in his laughter would fool everyone else, but Ambrose had always detected the spark of merriment in his eyes and played up until he frowned.

Now that he had Francis in his bed he no longer felt restless, except to see him return. Would society events become a crashing bore and a hindrance to enjoying his life fully? Quite possibly. He would have to find ways to be completely alone more often with Francis. But while his injury had allowed Francis to be by his side constantly these last days, they had to part at night. In Town, in the close confines of this house, Francis’ comings and goings late at night would be noted by the other servants.

His valet would particularly notice the rumpled state of his bed should Francis spend the night in it. Talk would spread fast and that was an unacceptable risk to both of their lives. He finished his tea and set his cup down. He’d have to be very cautious about how he conducted this affair. His mouth turned down at the thought. He didn’t feel like he was engaged in an affair with a temporary lover. This, whatever it was with Francis, felt fated to be.

A timid knock sounded on the door.

“Come.”

The door creaked open and his butler stepped into the room. “Everything is ready, Your Grace.”

He rubbed his hands together and then winced at the pull on his newly healing skin. “Thank cook for arranging the dinner so quickly. You may bring up the dishes at seven and leave the clearing up till tomorrow. But make sure the footmen are unobserved when they come up. I want my dinner to be a surprise for
Redding
in thanks for all of his hard work.”

An extravagant meal was a poor excuse for a thank you but it was the best he could manage at short notice without leaving the house. He strolled to the adjoining chamber, impressed by the alterations that had taken place in the last two hours. The little used bedchamber made a perfectly acceptable small dining room. Since Francis would insist he rest often, he saw little point in traipsing up and down the staircase just for meals. Until he recovered his whole health, he would dine here and not in his bed. He refused to be treated as an invalid.

And today, Francis would dine with him.

He closed the door behind him a touch wearily and returned to his chamber. The bed was freshly made so he took the chair closest to the fire and picked up an open book. He frowned at the sketches as he flipped the pages. The book must be Francis’ because he’d never want to read about the subject. Curing the mad and diseased didn’t interest him but apparently his lover had a curious mind.

Perhaps he could turn his thoughts toward ways to increase their pleasure. His prick thickened at the thought.

“Are you unable to rest, Your Grace?”

Ambrose looked up and grinned. “I was bored, Red.”

“Not an unusual statement.” Francis closed the door with a sharp snap and crossed the chamber. “You must rest.”

“I will later. How did it go?”

“Better than expected. He was fairly surprised but not offended in any part. I introduced him to Marinari as you requested.”

“I thought those two would get along famously.”

Francis settled beside him. “Well, I don’t know about famously, but I doubt their meeting will be one either will forget.” Francis grinned suddenly. “Your boy found out the hard way what Marinari hides beneath her gown.”

Ambrose groaned. “I should have been there.”

Francis nodded solemnly. “I wish you had been.” He raised a brow. “It was so damned funny I couldn’t believe you missed it.”

He smiled at his lovers gentle chiding. That was what he liked about Francis. Every now and then he forgot he spoke to a duke at all and let down his guard. Very few people did that. He set his hand to Francis’ thigh and rubbed. “Come on, out with it. I want all the juicy details.”

The light in his lovers eyes brightened as he related the state he’d found Rupert, rumpled and horrified at where his hand had been. They laughed quietly over his shock while Ambrose gently rubbed the warm thigh under his hand. He dipped his gaze to Francis’ groin and noticed the flattering bulge. He turned sideways and slid his hand over it, hearing a rough gasp pass Francis’ lips.

Ambrose worked the buttons free, opened his trousers. The thick prick sprang out as if desperate for attention. More than happy to oblige, he stroked the smooth papery soft flesh, then wrapped his hand around the hot length. He stroked slowly, sliding his hand far down the shaft then back up to the tip before repeating the maneuver.

He wanted to taste but had an idea his shoulder would protest if he bent that far. He’d have to have Francis straddle his thighs if he wanted that monster in his mouth. The idea was simply too appealing to ignore. He sat back. “Come sit over me.”

Francis frowned at his request. Ambrose tugged on the prick in his hand and encouraging Francis to move toward him. Eventually, he got his lover where he wanted him, knees planted on either side of his thighs, trousers lowered, and his prick level with his chest. He put his hand to Francis’ bare rear and pulled him up. His hot prick nudged his cheek and he turned his head to suck on the tip.

Above him, Francis let out a shuddering breath and cupped his head.

His mouth watered so he lapped the length generously, and then opened his mouth wider. The pleasant taste of seed coated his tongue and he sucked the flavor down quickly, hungry for more of Francis. He slowly bobbed his head but found his shoulder ached even from that little movement.

But he wouldn’t end this because of the pain. He dug his fingers into the full orbs beneath his hands and encouraged Francis to move his hips. Francis started slowly, working his cock past his lips, gently doing his best not to force too much in at once. When they found an easy depth for him to manage, Ambrose wriggled his fingers between Francis’ arse and stoked over his hole.

Francis jerked, pushing his cock against the back of his throat. Ambrose adjusted quickly and was more careful not to surprise his lover. But that tight hole tempted him. He teased the tight pucker, pressed against it softly before teasing again. He withdrew his hand, slipped the digit in beside the cock in his mouth and the returned to play.

“Now I don’t wonder why you are so popular. The things you do, Ambrose.”

He couldn’t grin or respond and not lose the heavy flesh in his mouth so he redoubled his attention to Francis’ arse. He found the center and pressed in a touch. The tight band of muscles resisted then gave a little and clamped around his finger. Francis grunted, his thrusts coming faster and harder at the sensations. Ambrose quickly swallowed and moved his finger in the tight channel.

Francis’ grunts turned to louder groans and then he stilled, then shuddered, coating Ambrose’s tongue with his seed. Ambrose swallowed quickly then licked the prick before him clean and pressed a kiss to the slit. But his own prick ached with unreleased tension.

Francis dropped to the floor suddenly and knelt between his knees. He roughly jerked Ambrose’s trousers open and dropped his head.

Ambrose hissed at the fevered attention, the warm, wet mouth enclosing him, and the fact that it was Francis devouring him. He shifted a little to see his prick being swallowed, but the awkwardness of his lover’s movements excited him too much to watch for long. He closed his eyes. He wouldn’t last beyond a moment. He, a man who could go all night if he desired it, was coming undone at the simplest pleasures.

And then Francis sucked hard. His balls drew up tight, he threaded his fingers into Francis’ hair hoping to hold off but his hips bucked and he shot seed straight down Francis’ throat. Francis gagged in surprise but then swallowed, and lapped at his prick ravenously.

After a while, Ambrose nudged him back. “Do you do everything well the first time, Francis?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t tried everything yet.”

His cheeky grin made Ambrose’s heart flutter and he leaned forward to capture his lips rather than voice the words that had almost tumbled out. It was far too soon to confess that he was in love with Francis, but he very much feared he felt as much for his servant as he had for his late wife. A strange and comforting thought. Francis would never replace Anna. It was a different sort of affection. But both his wife and oldest friend were equally important to him.

He embraced his lover and wondered how long he could hide his feelings.

Chapter Thirteen

It was late by the time Francis returned to his bedchamber, just after the clocks had struck four in the morning. He’d enjoyed the surprise thank you dinner, even if one wasn’t necessary and he’d stayed with Ambrose until he’d fallen asleep, watching for signs of a relapse. But his lover’s sleep was deep, sated, and he’d barely twitched as Francis had crept from the room.

It was strange to think of Ambrose as his lover. Harder still to believe they were so comfortable with the change. But there was that small spark of shared awareness when they would look at each other, and without words, correctly guess what the other was thinking or about to do. And there was trust.

He sank onto his bed and stretched out his long legs. He wriggled to get comfortable, noticing every lump beneath the rough blankets. Not like the duke’s bed at all. Ambrose slept in luxurious comfort. He sighed at the memory of curling up beside him as he had last night. One of the best nights of his life, even if he hadn’t slept a wink. He hadn’t known the duke was fond of cuddling his lovers, or touching them as much as he did. Francis frowned. He couldn’t ever remember seeing Ambrose touch a lover except to kiss her fingers or shake a gloved hand swiftly in greeting.

Well, there was the late duchess. Her Grace had been a tactile person and the duke had followed her around within the house like a faithful puppy. Perhaps that was unkind, but Ambrose did tend to pant when he was aroused and the duchess had known exactly what to do to keep him coming back, even when her mood turned blue. He hadn’t liked her to travel alone either so they had spent almost all of the decade-long marriage side by side. Francis put his hand over his eyes. How long could he keep the duke content before he was replaced?

Would Ambrose be content enough with only him for pleasure while his injury healed? Would he return to the ton in triumph and find someone else as soon as he was well?

Neither thought came with an answer. Ambrose had never kept a lover for long, except perhaps the Duke of Byworth. But that had been long ago, before either of them had married and their responsibilities had overwhelmed them. If the odds played out true to form, at least Francis could be assured Ambrose would not dismiss him when the affair ended. The duke remained on good terms with all his previous lovers, perhaps because he only made love to friends.

At least that was something. Ambrose didn’t choose bed partners lightly. He chose lovers who had an open mind about when the affair would end.