Chapter Twenty #2
“There are windows on all sides of the lodge so that King Nikoli, he who was shot in the backside by his irate queen, could see if any game wandered onto the manicured grounds,” Anders explained as we rolled up to the front door.
Two sets of sandstone steps led up to the door, which now stood open to silhouette three shapes.
“We’ll walk the grounds tomorrow. And who is that third? ”
A bray filled the cold air as we parked and began to exit the SUV. “What the hell is he doing here?” Anders muttered as Rolph, Rani, and Prince Harold walked halfway down the freshly swept and salted steps to meet us. “What are you doing here?” Anders asked his brother.
Harold grinned down at us, tiny snowflakes gathering atop his dark curls.
“Surely you didn’t think I was staying at the Perch after that display of bigotry?
We all left the dining hall after you did, Mother leading the way after railing at dear Papa for driving her baby away yet again.
I suspect Father will be sleeping in one of the guest rooms. Hello, Lady Gilda.
” Harold executed a deep bow in front of my daughter, the liquid in his snifter sloshing forward but not spilling.
“It is Miss Gilda, not Lady Gilda, Your Highness. Using the term lady would indicate that Miss Gilda is of the peerage, and while she is quite regal in bearing, her lineage is not that of any royal house,” Rani informed the bowing prince as Rolph and the driver began toting our bags inside.
“Yes, yes, Rani, my sweet but irrationally clenched equerry, I know that the lady is not truly a lady, but honestly, all these titles are a bit outdated, don’t you think? Perhaps we should all be called lady? What do you think, Lady Gilda?”
Gilda giggled softly as Harold did a tiny little pirouette on the steps. Rani rolled his eyes, turned from Harold, and began addressing Anders.
“Rani, please let us get settled. I’m sure whatever needs my attention can wait until tomorrow, yes?” Anders said, taking my hand to climb the steps while Gilda and Harold, a prince of ?stermon, skipped blithely up the stairs and into the summer getaway of the royal family.
“Yes, of course, Your Highness.” Rani made his way inside, pausing in the foyer as a young woman in dark slacks and a crisp blue shirt bowed deeply before taking our coats and boots away.
“The staff was notified of your arrival several hours ago. All should be ready for you to retire for the night.”
“Thank you, Rani,” I said as I drank in the splendor of the dark cherry paneling glowing from the soft light of a chandelier crafted from antlers.
The vibe of this estate was very different from that of Dragons Perch.
The aroma of pine permeated the air as we moved up a stairwell leading to the second floor.
Harold and Gilda raced by us, Della yipping madly as she darted ahead of all of us to bark at us from the riser. Oils of hunts long past hung on the walls as we climbed upward.
“You’d think you would be much more spry being the youngest, yet there you are laboring up the stairwell like a wobbly bedstefar,” Harold crowed.
“I’m not a wobbly grandfather,” Anders snarked back as we came abreast of Harold and Gilda. “I’m also not a speed fiend.”
“It’s me,” I spoke up. “I’m the old man here and was slowing Anders down as I crept my way up the stairs.”
“Dad, you’re not that old,” Gilda stated. We all snickered.
“My room is down this way.” Harold pointed with his now empty snifter. “Rani informed the staff that I was to be tucked away down by the nursery for some outlandish reason. Lord knows I dislike rowdy little snotters.”
“We put you down there, Your Highness, as it seemed a fitting place for you,” Rani commented as he moved around us, coming up behind on catlike feet. “Miss Gilda and Mr. Baxter are in the blue and green suites, Prince Anders. I’ve had them freshen the plum suite for you.”
Harold shot Rani a look of appreciation. “That’s what I like about you, Rani. Other than the admirable quality of your work ethic, your good looks, and the way that you fill out your slacks. Your dry wit and biting sarcasm are above par!”
Rani huffed lightly, which made Harold smile even wider.
“Yes, that’s fine. I am plum tucked out,” Anders said in a dreadful Western American accent that made Gilda and me wince. “Sorry, sorry, that was terrible. Let’s call it a night. It’s been a long day.”
Harold looked at the gold Rolex on his left wrist. “Anders, my gods, it’s barely ten at night.”
“Yes, and we’ve all been up since six in the morning.
Oh, that’s right. You slept in and were noticeably late for the prayer of blessing because you’d been playing poker with the groundskeeper’s son until the wee hours,” Anders replied, taking my hand to lift it to his lips, his attention flitting from his brother to me.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed my knuckles and pulled me in for a tender hug. “Come to the plum room in an hour.”
Oh. Oh, well, that was exciting! I nodded gently while Harold snickered.
“You sound almost jealous,” Harold replied with a wink to Gilda. “Fine, hop off to your beds. I’ll find someone—sorry, something to do.”
We parted ways, me walking with Gilda to her bedroom, a lovely room done up in various shades of blue that she instantly snapped pictures of to send to her friends back home.
After a peck on the cheek, she nudged me out into the hall for privacy.
I suspected she wanted to talk with Timmy, so I ambled back to where a door stood ajar.
Peeking inside I saw it was a masculine room in tones of dark pine and brown.
Stuffed pheasants and stags hung on the walls as a fire in a smallish stone hearth crackled merrily.
My bag sat on a cedar chest at the foot of a huge bed.
The sheets had been turned down. A small, wrapped mint rested on one of the four fluffy pillows. A man could get used to this…
“Makes me wonder why I’m thinking of going back to Grouse Falls,” I admitted to a glassy-eyed boar looking down at me.
I unwrapped the mint, popped it into my mouth, and dug into my bag for my pajamas and a robe.
The bath was nicely fitted with a tall shower, lots of clean towels, and shampoo and shower gels resting on a rack just inside the door.
I took a long, hot, soapy shower, making sure to scrub all my nooks and crannies extremely well.
I didn’t bother to shave since Anders seemed to like the scratch of whiskers on the inside of his thighs, and I was antsy to get his dick into my mouth again.
The man was addictive. When it was time, I cracked my door, peered into the hallway, and slipped out.
Anders’ room was just forty or so feet away, but it felt like miles as I tiptoed down the hall, my slippers sliding now and again on the highly buffed wooden floors.
I’d just reached his door, hand up to knock, when Alfred appeared out of the shadows, a cup of something hot in his hand. I froze.
“Pleasant dreams,” he said and pulled a spindle-legged chair from in front of an old-time desk and plunked his ass down on it.
“Night,” I whispered, opened the door, and slithered in like a sneaky snake.
The lights were low in here. So low that it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to having only the firelight in the hearth to see by.
Once I could see, my eyes flared after they landed on Anders, spread out over thick covers, naked as a jaybird with an erection that made my mouth water.
I looked around for Della. She was curled up in a lush stuffed bed by the fire, snoring softly, all four feet in the air.
“So punctual,” he said as he took his cock in hand. “Come to bed, Mitchell, I long to feel you bare and pressing into me.”
Into him. Shit. That was something we had not tried yet, but I was certainly willing. Eager even. My cock was throbbing at the mere thought of being inside that man.
He didn’t have to ask me twice. My jammies and robe went flying as did my slippers after I high-kicked them off like a Rockette. One flew up to land on the canopy over the big bed Anders reclined on like an erotic fantasy come to life.
“There’s lube and condoms in the chevet,” he said, his hand palming that juicy cock.
I blinked. “Uhm, in the what now?” I asked as I crawled into bed, the mattress so fat that I sank in so deep I feared I’d disappear from view.
“The nightstand.”
“Sure, I knew that.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me down to capture my mouth.
His strong biker’s legs encircled me, heels on my ass, as he rolled his hips upward.
I mewled when his prick rubbed mine. His mouth was sinful, sweetened by the coffee he must have had recently.
Knees lost in the mattress, I bracketed my hands on either side of his head, the pillows tumbling this way and that. Our gyrations sent a few to the floor.
“This makes it hard to find the lube,” I panted when we broke for air. He mumbled something into my shoulder, his hand skimming my ribs and then under my arms as his cockhead and mine shared precum.
“This makes many things hard,” he replied with a small laugh before he raked my nipples with his thumbnails. My God, the man was like a squid. “I need to be touched and loved so badly tonight, Mitchell.”
“I’ll love you,” I promised while trying to snake out an arm to find the chevet. Fancy word for a nightstand. Probably French. Sounded French.
Mitch, seriously, are we tracing the root country of words right now?
Yes, yes, we are because if he keeps humping my dick while tweaking my nipples, I’m going to come before I can get inside him.
Good point. Carry on.
Right, French. Always sounded so much fancier than American. Take chevon, for instance. Goat meat in American. In French, it sounds so lyrical and—