Chapter Nineteen
Bobby
Bobby leans back on his hands, staring up at the beautifully blue sky. The picnic blanket is a little rough beneath his palms,
and his body feels languorous and just the smallest bit sore. It’s a relatively perfect morning-after, and he rolls his neck,
glancing sideways at James.
His legs are crossed and he’s dutifully knotting flowers together for Beth, who takes his strands to weave them into an elegant
flower crown. Gwen and Meredith sit on either side of her, handing her leaves as requested, continuing to gossip a mile a
minute.
James meets his eyes for a moment, a soft blush flaring up his throat before he looks back at his flowers. Bobby could stay
here forever, replaying that little look in his mind. Otherwise, he’ll relive moments from last night, and that won’t do,
as certain parts of his body would hardly behave.
Even the mere thought of what they got up to, again, when he woke for a drink of water in the middle of the night, has him
shifting on the blanket, staring determinedly up at the single fluffy cloud lazing across the sky. He will not think about
James naked, below him, inside—
He closes his eyes tight and then opens them, desperate to find something to do with his hands, and a better position to hide what... might become a problem. Blasted James is just sitting there, kissable and a little rumpled, with delicately knotted flowers in his talented hands.
God, how is Bobby going to survive seeing the man all buttoned up again? How will he ever face James on the street, or in
their homes, or at the club, without just jumping him immediately, or having a very noticeable problem?
How are they even going to continue this once they’re no longer under the protection of his childhood home, with the buffer
of laziness or alcohol or simply good humor to excuse any... friendliness? How are they ever going to hide this from the
ton?
He doesn’t want to think about it, but finds that if he can’t dwell on memories of last night, there’s little stopping him
from obsessing about the hows and whens and whats of their future, since it seems they suddenly have one.
“I certainly think women should be allowed to compete in fencing, even at the casual level,” Meredith says.
“Gwen would vanquish them all, no question,” Beth says, taking James’ line of flowers with a grateful smile. “I think she
could probably best you too, James.”
James shrugs. “If she’s the better competitor, then I’d gladly admit defeat,” he tells Beth, smiling over at Gwen.
“When we get back, we should schedule a match. I’m sure my father’s suit would fit you... if we roll up the ankles,” Gwen
says.
James snorts and gathers another handful of flowers. Even the idea of James in an overlarge fencing costume has Bobby feeling tight around the middle. There’s no way he’ll survive being out in public with the man right now. Though maybe another few romps might cure him of his schoolboy hormones, and then he could be reasonable. Because the comfort of James in his bed every night isn’t something he wants to give up.
James looks over at him again, an eyebrow raised, as if he can read the thoughts behind Bobby’s eyes. Bobby smooths his face
and offers a casual smile. He doesn’t want to share his concerns about the future. James looks happy, bright, even a little
glowing. Bobby doesn’t want to spoil that. Why waste this rare opportunity on the future, when he can immerse himself entirely
in a wonderfully pleasurable present?
“Demeroven, you haven’t seen the lake, have you?” he asks.
All four of his fellow picnickers look over at him, apparently in the middle of a conversation he’s been ignoring. Gwen gives
him a look while Meredith simply smiles. He doesn’t look at Beth, too sure she’ll see right through him.
“Ah, no, I haven’t,” James says, looking befuddled but not disinterested.
“Excellent. Let’s leave the women to their gossip and I’ll take you on the hunting tour, get you ready for the late summer
season.”
“Aren’t you all shooting at the Havenfort estate? My father’s been preparing to stock the lake and the land,” Gwen says.
“We’ll come here after. Don’t rain on my hunting plans,” Bobby says, standing up to brush off his pants as if he’s being entirely
rational.
He’ll need to work on his terrible subterfuge, it seems. Though James has risen gamely and stands with his hands on his hips,
waiting for Bobby’s next move.
“We’ll see you later,” Bobby tells the girls, nodding toward the trees that will, if they want, take them on the winding path
out to the lake.
“I do want to hear about that new cholera treatment you were talking about later,” James tells Beth, giving her a smile before heading out in front of Bobby.
“Have fun,” Meredith says, while Gwen just continues to scrutinize them.
“We will,” Bobby says cheerfully, setting off after James at a leisurely pace.
It takes all the self-control he possesses not to run forward. Instead, he meanders behind James, enjoying the view. James
is wearing just a green vest over his starched white shirt, and the high waist of his brown trousers only makes his pleasing
shape more entrancing.
It’s a long two minutes until they’re safely within the tree line and Bobby approaches James, letting all of his lust and
want and frustration show. James leans back against a thick oak just off the path, watching him in amusement.
“Could you have been even a little more delicate?” he asks.
“I could have,” Bobby admits, stepping right up to James to press his hands on either side of his head. “But why?”
“So perhaps our cousins don’t figure us out, oh, immediately?” James suggests, looking up at him and tilting his head, which
leaves the long line of his throat open and available.
Bobby takes his opportunity, bending to press an open-mouthed kiss against James’ pulse, reveling in his little gasp. “My
focus was on getting you off that blanket, don’t much care about how I did it,” he says, nosing up to trail his lips along
James’ jaw.
James raises one of his hands and glides his fingers into the hair just above Bobby’s ear. It sends tingles all the way down
his spine and Bobby hums, finally pressing his lips to the corner of James’, right against his languid smile.
“Well, I suppose we’re here now,” James mumbles, his hand curling further to rest on the nape of Bobby’s neck.
Bobby hums again, and James sucks on his bottom lip just the way he likes. A quick study, James Demeroven.
James suddenly spins them so Bobby’s back lands against the tree and James can press up against him. Bobby lets out a surprised
huff against James’ mouth. The top of his hips grinds right into where Bobby wants him most, their height difference allowing
James to press every last inch of himself against Bobby, arching up to continue their fabulous snog.
“We should move further back,” Bobby says regretfully a few minutes later, when they’re both starting to tug at each other’s
shirts, hands dipping dangerously toward belt buckles.
James pulls away, looking wonderfully disheveled, his hair sticking out every which way. “Right,” he says.
He takes Bobby’s hand, and then it’s the mad race he wanted to begin with, the two of them running with shirts untucked and
kiss-red lips, until they’re deep within the forest and well off the path toward the lake. Is Bobby entirely sure he can get
them back out? Not particularly.
But with the dappled green light, and the quiet, earthy stillness of the forest around them, and James there with his heaving
spectacular chest, he doesn’t much care what needs to happen in twenty minutes. All that matters now is letting James push
him back up against another tree. All that matters is tripping his fingers down James’ stomach to undo the buttons on his
trousers.
All that matters is the two of them pressed together, hips moving urgently among hands while they breathe around each other’s
mouths, groaning softly in growing ecstasy. The tug of James’ teeth on his lips, the press of his chest, the steady rock of
the two of them into the messy tangle of their hands—it’s pure bliss.
When they’re both spent and breathing heavily, James resting against Bobby’s chest, Bobby can’t help but laugh.
“What?” James asks, his lips pressed to Bobby’s neck.
“I just didn’t see this weekend resulting in the two of us—”
“Coming in the woods?” James suggests, pulling back with a knowing look.
“Oh, I was going to be much lewder. You spoil all my fun,” Bobby says playfully.
James laughs. Bobby reaches down and gently tucks James back into place, doing up his buttons. James sucks in a breath but
then gets to work on Bobby’s trousers. They surely could go for another round, possibly something... lewder, in fact. But
as he watches James button his shirt and goes to right himself as well, he decides there’s more than enough time to fellate
James against a tree later in the week.
For now, it might actually be nice to go see the lake, bask in the afterglow together, rather than return to the group sweaty
and too obviously sated.
“Come on,” he says, taking James’ hand to lead him back toward the path. And while they’ve been entirely more intimate, something
about holding James’ hand in broad daylight feels momentous. The sound of their footsteps crunching leaves and twigs, the
feel of his soft palm against Bobby’s, is almost magical.
They walk lazily through the woods until they finally reach the lake. Sunlight glints off the wide expanse of calm water,
ringed with vibrant green trees. He can see the family of ducks that regularly makes its home on the Mason lands splashing
near the far shore.
It may not be grand, but it’s beautiful, and the bank on the southern shore is always the perfect slope for lying down in the soft grass. Which is exactly what he wants to do with James, so he tugs gently on his hand, releasing him reluctantly to plop down in his favorite spot, just past the biggest, broadest rock on the lakeshore. It looks a little like a toadstool, and he’s pleased to see the patch of moss on the right side is still there. It’s the little things that give him comfort here.
That, and the sight of James sitting gingerly in his linen pants, cheeks still slightly flushed from their endeavors, and
looking gorgeous there in the bright sunlight.
“Your manor is lovely,” James says after a few contented minutes that Bobby spends staring out at the lake and sneaking glances
at his handsome... whatever he and James are to each other.
“Thank you,” Bobby says, as if it has anything at all to do with him. “’S nice to be away from the city sometimes.”
“Yes,” James agrees.
He watches the way James stares out across the water. “Do you miss the country?”
“All the time,” James says, meeting his eyes briefly before glancing away. “I was very fond of my stepfather’s lands.”
“Where are they?”
“Near the Peak District, by Epworth,” James says. “We had twenty acres of land, and he—well, I—was involved in helping the
village and overseeing some of the rents and such.”
“Oh,” Bobby mumbles, surprised. “You’re young for that. What has your stepfather been doing?”
“Helping reluctantly and drinking,” James says. “I didn’t do much . But I helped with some of the trade in town, looked over books—simple things. But it was nice. I felt—” He trails off with
a shrug.
Bobby watches James fiddle with his cuffs. “Have you spent much time at the Demeroven estate?”
James bobs his head. “It’s big. Lovely, but big. I mostly walked the grounds or stayed in the library out of my mother’s way. She redid half the manor. I rather liked Lady Havenfort’s style, but my mother... Anyway. And my stepfather adored the late viscount’s study, almost as much as he loves the one in London.”
“Maybe you’ll find more to do after the season.”
James shrugs. “Not sure I’ll spend much time at the manor, or even keep it. My stepfather’s been going on about staying in
London full-time.”
Bobby notes the way James’ shoulders have risen, how he’s picking at the skin around his thumbnail on his left hand. “Do you
want to live in London full-time?”
“God, no,” James says, immediate and firm.
That would suit Bobby just fine. Not that they need to think about it this week. At least not right now. Instead of letting
that thought fester in his head, he reaches out to still James’ hands.
“Then you needn’t,” Bobby says.
James huffs out a laugh, squeezing his fingers. “It should be that simple, shouldn’t it?” he asks, looking over at Bobby.
“My stepfather wants to buy another townhouse—a better, bigger one. But the only way we’d have the funds for that would be
to sell the northern estate.”
That would break Beth’s heart, he’s sure. More, it looks like it might break James’ too.
“Is that something you’d want to do?” he presses.
James shakes his head. “It’s a gorgeous estate. I’d be happy to stay there.”
“Then can’t you?” Bobby asks, not wanting to push, but wondering if anyone has told James that he has a choice yet.
That he is in control of the Demeroven estate, not his stepfather. From the way he looks now, tense, and smaller, and uneasy at just
the thought of his stepfather, perhaps it never has been a choice before.
James looks down at their hands. Bobby squeezes his and James’ cheek dimples in a half smile. He threads their fingers together, loose but connected and lovely.
“If I were as brave as you? I could,” he says softly.
Bobby feels his eyebrows crease. “Oh?”
“You’re so sure of who you are. You always have been. And here you’ve gotten maybe five sentences out of me, and you see the
whole relationship with my family clear as day. And you know the solution, because it’s simple. But every time I’m in front
of my stepfather, I...”
“You’re a little boy again,” Bobby completes for him. “God, I know the feeling.”
The look on James’ face is a brittle thing. “Yeah.”
“And I may seem brave, but you never saw me with my father.”
James’ fingers tighten around Bobby’s. “But you were always so confident and sure of yourself at school.”
Bobby blinks. “I— We never met. I’ve been wracking my brain, but I’d remember you.”
“No, we never met,” James agrees, his cheeks pinking a little. “But I noticed you. A... lot.”
Bobby stares. “You noticed me.”
“I, ah, fancied you,” James admits, his knuckles squeezing Bobby’s as that blush spreads from his cheeks and down his neck.
“But I was a year ahead of you, and I don’t know why you’d ever have noticed me. I was pretty scrawny until last year.”
“I’d have noticed you,” Bobby says immediately. James gives him a look. “I would have! And we were all scrawny in school.
I didn’t always look like this.”
“You were handsome then, and now you’re handsome and muscular,” James says dryly.
“Well,” Bobby says, preening a little just to see James laugh. “I still would have noticed you, and liked you, and probably fancied you back.”
James rolls his eyes. “You had much better options.”
Bobby frowns. He’s not sure how to fix that hurt, which looks like it runs deep. Doesn’t know exactly how to explain that
while he finds James exceedingly attractive, it isn’t his looks that drew Bobby to him. It’s— “We’re kindred spirits,” he
decides.
James blinks. “Beg pardon?”
“Whether or not you were scrawny, or spotty, or whatever makes you think you wouldn’t have caught my eye, it’s who you are
that drew me to you, not how you look. You’re—steady.” He groans as James’ eyebrow goes up. “Solid. Fuck, no, it’s— Look,
it’s not your... looks, or the fact that it’s convenient for us to have a dalliance, okay? I think you’re brilliant, and
funny, and sharp as hell, and it’s more fun to do things when you’re around, even when we’re fighting. So don’t sell yourself
short, okay?” he finishes.
It’s a far cry from the romantic words James deserves. Especially after admitting that he fancied Bobby, which honestly feels
like an expanding ball of warm light in his chest. He’s honored that a younger James fancied him, and that despite the ugliness
of the early part of the season he still likes Bobby enough to—
James’ lips are soft against his. The hand not tangled with Bobby’s cups his cheek and Bobby sighs into the kiss, lets himself
get lost in its languid pleasure. When James pulls back, Bobby slowly blinks his eyes open, sure he looks as dopey as he feels.
“I think you’re smart, and funny, and handsome as hell,” James says softly. “And I still admire and envy how brave you are.”
Bobby shakes his head. “It’s easy to be who you are when there are no expectations on your shoulders. You could be like my
father, enjoying all the spoils with none of the work. And instead, you’re trying to make a difference. I think that’s brave.”
James stares at him, lips parted, chest rising and falling quickly. Bobby tugs on their joined hands to bring them both down
to lie on the hill, staring up at the sky. It’s a lot, this honesty. It’s wonderful, but aching. He’s never been so candid
with anyone he’s slept with.
And isn’t that a sad thought?
“I want to tell him to bugger off, I really do,” James says, his voice a hoarse whisper.
Bobby turns his head to watch as James stares up at the sky, lip between his teeth. “You don’t have to do all the big things
at once.”’
James takes a deep breath and then turns to meet Bobby’s gaze. “Oh, no?” he says, and Bobby can hear him rallying. “Don’t
have to change the world, and have a secret relationship, and fight my stepfather?”
“Nah, I think two out of three is good,” Bobby says with mock severity.
“I appreciate that,” James says, his thumb tracing the edge of Bobby’s palm in a way that’s more than just pleasant.
Bobby forces himself to look back at the sky. Otherwise, he thinks he’ll be on top of James in about fifteen seconds, and
it’s a little too exposed here for that. Though someday it might be nice.
Whatever someday they have.
“What do you want?” James asks softly, breaking Bobby from the start of another spiral.
“What do I want out of what?”
“Life.”
Jesus. Bobby stares up at the blue sky. You , his mind whispers. But that’s far too bald. This thing between them, whatever this fragile, beautiful thing is, it’s breakable.
But he has to say something. And his heart and brain are too raw to lie. “A family” slips from his lips. James stiffens and
Bobby squeezes his hand. “With someone I truly love. A partner.”
James’ grip tightens. “That best-friend kind of love Prince went on about?”
Bobby swallows, gripping back. “Yeah.”
“That’s a lovely idea,” James says.
His eyes blur a little as he stares up at the sky, their hands still tangled tightly together. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”