His Client

Ava March

www.loose-id.com

His Client
Copyright © January 2011 by Ava March
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eISBN 978-1-60737-928-7
Editor: G. G. Royale
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Printed in the United States of America

Published by
Loose Id LLC
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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical
events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.

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Dedication

For my awesome friends in the fabulous M/M group.

Chapter One

May 1822
London, England

“There ye are.”

Jasper Reed looked up from his plate of chicken. A maid stood in the kitchen

doorway, one hand on her slim hip and the other holding the door open. Tendrils of

her mousy brown hair had escaped the confines of her white cap. Her round cheeks

were flushed with exertion, and her eyes narrowed on him.

“Yes, here I am,” he replied before taking another bite.

Her eyes narrowed even farther. “You‟ve been requested. Second floor. Number

five. Client‟s waiting.” With that, she turned on her heel, and the door swung shut

behind her.

Ignoring the maid‟s pique of temper, he glanced at the clock on the wall. Just

after four o‟clock in the afternoon. The house usually wasn‟t busy that early. A few

clients, yes, but the ones who sought men typically did not present themselves until

much later. As if the night sky alone could hide what they did while at the house.

He shrugged. The time of day truly mattered not to him. If someone requested

him, he worked.

Pushing from the wooden table, he grabbed his teacup and swallowed a quick

gulp of tea. Dinner would have to wait until later. He took his cup and plate and set

them beside the basin sink.

“Ye want me to save it?” Cook asked, glancing over her shoulder to the barely

touched chicken breast.

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Jasper shook his head. “Could be hours until I can get back to it.”

Long accustomed to the inner workings of the house, she simply turned her

attention back to stirring the contents of the large iron pot on the stove.

Using the narrow servants‟ stairs, he made his way up to the fourth floor,

taking the stairs two at a time. He only had to flatten himself against the wall twice

to allow maids to pass, their arms laden with piles of freshly laundered sheets as

they worked to finish righting the house before dusk descended. Most of the other

employees were either having dinner in the servants‟ dining room or preparing for

the evening ahead. Something he had yet to do, so he would need to be quick about

it. Clients parted with hefty sums at Madame Delacroix‟s, and they did not

appreciate being kept waiting. Nor did they appreciate unkempt whores.

He went through the door at the top of the stairs and along the barren

corridor, his long legs making quick work of the distance. As the fourth floor held

only employee quarters, it lacked the understated grandeur of the rest of the house.

No plush rugs to cushion his footsteps, no crystal sconces to provide soft, welcoming

light. A few doors were open, revealing glimpses of women clad in white shifts

chatting with each other or contemplating gowns laid out on beds.

He whipped his shirt over his head and entered the last door on the left.

Spartan and barely bigger than a broom closet, the room wasn‟t much, but it was

his, and most important, he did not have to share it. He threw the shirt onto the

narrow bed and toed off his shoes. A flick of his wrist and his comfortable brown

trousers were pushed down his legs. After leaving his trousers and shoes in a heap

on the floor, he crossed the short distance to the washstand, grabbed the soap from

the cracked saucer and the cloth from the hook on the wall, and bathed as

thoroughly as time allowed.

A few minutes later and he was clad in black trousers and a freshly laundered

white shirt, his cravat tied in a simple knot that would take just a tug to undo. Coat

and waistcoat…unnecessary. Delacroix insisted the women dress in fine gowns to

project the proper image for the house. But as the men never graced the receiving

His Client

room, the only requirement when they moved about the main areas of the house

was that they were dressed just enough so any guests they came upon would

mistake them for another patron wandering the corridor on their way to another of

the bedchambers. Delacroix‟s was well-known for its beautiful women, but its

handful of accommodating men like himself were only known to those who had need

of them.

Jasper dunked his hands in the washbasin and ran them through his hair,

pushing the dark waves back and off his forehead. A glance in the small oval mirror

above the basin confirmed that the client should find him presentable enough not to

suspect he had rushed overmuch. Then he left the room, the door snapping shut

behind him.

After emerging from the servants‟ stairs on the second floor, he paused briefly

in the softly lit corridor to gain his bearings. Number five. Third room on the left.

The doors weren‟t marked. That would be vulgar. One need only remember the even

numbers were on the right, the odd on the left, and then count the doors from the

main entrance to the floor.

He reached up to check the knot on his cravat. Reassured he‟d centered it, he

stopped before the appropriate door and took a deep breath to settle his pulse from

the race from the kitchen.

Please don’t let it be a bloated, impotent old man.

The thought of sucking a flaccid cock until his jaw ached and his knees hurt, in

an effort to get it hard enough to fuck him… A shudder of revulsion skipped down

his spine. The possibility of what the next few hours could hold loomed before him.

Clients who were more determined than capable made for a very long night.

His heavy sigh echoed in the quiet corridor. Definitely getting too old for this.

The lure of money was no longer enough to wipe away the distaste already forming

on his tongue. But those in his profession did not possess the luxury of refusal. His

job was to please anyone who requested him, not to please himself. Delacroix

wouldn‟t allow him to work for just certain clients—or rather, one client in

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particular. If he was being brutally honest with himself, that one client was the

reason he continued to tolerate all the others. Yes, he had chosen this line of work.

Had gone into it with his eyes open and could walk away whenever he chose. But a

bastard from St. Giles without any family or connections to speak of did not possess

many options, and no other where he could earn in a decade what others would

count themselves fortunate to earn in a lifetime. And in order to one day leave this

house behind, to never have to serve another again in any capacity, he needed to

work. In any case, Delacroix‟s certainly wasn‟t some molly house in the stews.

Good food, a room of his own, very nice pay, and clients who usually had

enough manners not to try to vent their frustrations with their fists. Could be much

worse.

With that reminder fresh in his mind, he forced a welcoming smile, pulled his

spine straight, and lifted his knuckles to softly rap twice on the door. An ever so

brief pause and he turned the knob.

The door swung open. On the navy brocade couch situated in front of the gray

marble fireplace sat Nathaniel Travers. The man was already in his shirtsleeves,

the brown coat discarded and draped over the back of a nearby armchair.

His heart leaped at the sight of Nate. Then his stride faltered as he entered

the room.

Jasper shut the door and turned the lock. Why was Nate at the house at such

an early hour? A part of him could not be happier at Nate‟s unexpected appearance,

but another part did not know quite what to make of it.

Nate pulled his attention from the almost empty glass of brandy in his hand

and looked to Jasper. Misery, desolation, grief. Jasper read it all in the slump of the

usually straight broad shoulders, in the lines bracketing his firm mouth drawn in a

straight line, and in the complete and utter sadness filling those familiar deep blue

eyes.

Hell. Peter Edmonton‟s wedding.

His Client

Somehow he kept the wince from twisting his lips. How could he have

forgotten?

Jasper didn‟t say a word and neither did Nate as Jasper crossed to the squat

bowfront cabinet. Ignoring the fold of pound notes on the polished mahogany

surface, he grabbed the decanter of brandy from the silver tray. After refilling

Nate‟s glass, he set the decanter on the end table and settled beside him.

“The wedding. It‟s tomorrow, isn‟t it?”

Jasper‟s gaze traced Nate‟s profile as he waited patiently for a reply. The man

was the farthest thing from bloated and old. Everything about him brought the

word rugged to mind. His jaw defined yet blunt. His nose marred by the many

breaks it had sustained; three Jasper knew of, and that nose had certainly not been

straight when he had first made Nate‟s acquaintance five years ago. Even his short,

light brown hair always strayed toward untidy, as if he could not be bothered to do

more than pass a careless hand over it before leaving his apartments. Definitely not

classically handsome, yet the man somehow embodied the very essence of

masculinity.

Nate took a long swallow of the brandy. “Yes, it‟s tomorrow.” He sighed as he

gave his head a slow, weary shake. “It‟s not like I haven‟t known for weeks. Hell,

Peter even told me he was going to ask for her hand before he asked for her father‟s

consent. Still…why does he have to marry her?”

The desolation, the confusion in his voice grabbed hold of Jasper‟s heart and

gave it a fierce tug, wiping away every trace of jealousy the name Peter Edmonton

never failed to spark.

Jasper was a year younger than Nate‟s eight and twenty, yet at times he felt a

decade the man‟s senior. Nate was so physically strong and capable. Five feet ten

inches of blatant muscle and power. The type one would want at his side when

traveling down dark alleys at night. But when it came to matters of the heart, it

was as if he was still the same adolescent boy who had fallen in love with his best

friend. The blinders of youth firmly in place, heart stubbornly fixed on the first

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individual who had roused those feelings within him, unable to see the man sitting

next to him would give anything for even a piece of his loyal heart.

That familiar pain began to wrap around Jasper‟s chest, but with well-

practiced effort, he pushed it aside, focused on Nate, on being the willing ear the

man needed.

He had known today, never mind tomorrow, would be hard on Nate. No way

could it not. An unavoidable pain and one Jasper hoped beyond hope would provide

a measure of closure. But Nate clearly could not see it in that light yet.

Understandable given Peter Edmonton was the only man he spoke of with more

than a casual, passing reference. Jasper doubted that Nate had ever had a

relationship with another man who returned his affections, something more than a

random fuck to sate his needs or a paid playmate to indulge his whims.

“Perhaps it is better this way.”

A frown creased Nate‟s brow. “Why would you say that?”

“Edmonton doesn‟t have an older brother who has already produced two sons,

or a younger brother with a distinct affinity for the fairer sex,” he explained, using

Nate‟s family as an example. “He has only the one sister. He‟s his father‟s only

son—of course, he would marry. If the two of you were lovers, I would think it would

hurt a hell of a lot more than it does right now. Even if he would have been

amenable to continuing the relationship, you would have left him. You‟d have never

been able to encourage him to stray from his wife. At least this way, you don‟t run

the risk of losing him as a friend.”

“Perhaps,” Nate grumbled. He drained the rest of his glass, then shook his

head. “It‟s just…” Mouth pulled taut, he dropped his head and rubbed the back of

his neck, resistance etched in every line of his body. “He‟s going on a wedding

holiday. Ireland of all places. Will be gone for weeks.”

That bit of information wasn‟t what held Nate back from agreeing with him.

But instead of pressing his point harder, Jasper asked, “You‟re losing your sparring

partner?”

His Client

“Yes,” Nate said on a heavy sigh. Then he lifted his head and looked to Jasper,

considering him for a moment. “You could take his place.”

Jasper blinked. Had he heard Nate correctly? “Me?”

“Yes. You have the build for it. I‟m certain you could hold your own.”

“These muscles are for show,” he said with a wry twist of his lips. At

Delacroix‟s, clients expected as close to physical perfection as could be found. One

did not part with a fat fold of pound notes for anything less. “I can fight—any man

can throw a punch—but pugilism? No.”

“If that‟s your concern, I‟ll teach you. It‟s not difficult.”

What Jasper wouldn‟t give to spend time with Nate outside the house. To just

be with him and not have it be about sex. But at Gentleman Jackson‟s?

“Thank you but no.” Leaning left, he reached for the decanter on the end table

to refill Nate‟s glass. “I can‟t afford to walk out of the ring with a cut lip or a broken

nose.”

The solid body next to him stiffened. “I would never hurt you, Jasper,” he said,

low and grave, as if pledging a solemn vow.

Nate held his gaze. The depth of sincerity, the true worry over Jasper‟s

implication that he would deliberately hurt him… Jasper caught himself just in

time, dousing the hope before it had a chance to spark. Nate‟s concern was that of

one friend to another, nothing more.

“But isn‟t that the point of pugilism? To hurt your opponent?” Jasper asked, a

teasing smile on his lips, trying to alleviate Nate‟s worry. Nate opened his mouth,

his expression still serious, perhaps even more so. Before he could respond, before

he could say something else to prod that spark of hope, Jasper reluctantly admitted

the real reason behind his refusal. “In any case, it wouldn‟t do for you to be seen

with me at Gentleman Jackson‟s.” Or anywhere outside this room. “God forbid if

someone recognized me.”

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And the possibility was definitely there. He had made the acquaintance of a

number of gentlemen who would frequent such an establishment. By choice, Nate

did not usually move in the highest circles of Society, preferring his clubs and sport

over strictly formal balls and routs. But he was from a solid, well-respected family—

his father‟s eldest brother was a viscount. Jasper could not risk Nate‟s reputation,

never mind his life. Sodomy was against the law. Where else would a man such as

Nate meet someone like himself, except at a brothel?

Nate gave him an odd look, one Jasper could not quite define. Then he shook

his head as if dismissing a thought, and turned his attention back to his glass.

The fire in the hearth crackled, the flames beginning to sputter. He should get

up to tend to it, but instead he remained exactly where he sat. Nate‟s contemplation

of the contents of his tumbler indicated tomorrow still pressed heavily on his mind.

Pushing him to proceed beyond a conversation wasn‟t what Nate needed right now.

Content to give Nate time to think over their discussion thus far, Jasper let

silence descend between them. He shifted, settling more comfortably against the

back of the couch, legs casually spread with a knee resting against Nate‟s. The

house had many different types of rooms, all with their own distinct intention, and

Delacroix had designed this room to make its aristocratic guests feel at home,

comfortable, and at their ease. The furnishings and fabrics were all of the highest

quality. The rich mahogany wood and subdued yet saturated colors spoke of wealth

in just the perfect inflection. But the room‟s true purpose was still clear in the

choice of a couch and not merely a pair of chairs, each only designed to fit one,

composing the sitting area before the fireplace, and the large bed with its ever

versatile four-posters that took up most of the space on the other side of the room.

They would eventually either make better use of the couch or relocate to the

bed. Nate did not visit just for Jasper‟s conversation skills. Before Nate left this

room, they would play. The game…well, that would be left up to Nate. But

regardless of which game Nate selected, it would involve those strong, calloused

His Client

hands on his body, the man‟s thick cock in his arse, and those beautiful deep blue

eyes focused fully on him.

A low hum of anticipation began to build in his body. He took a deep breath

and detected the faint hint of starch from a cravat, male skin, and that unique scent

that made Nate different from all the rest. Spicy yet not exotic. Closing his eyes, he

took another deep breath, let the scent sink into his senses. Sandalwood? No, not

quite. Perhaps it was his shaving soap. One of these days, he needed to gather the

courage to ask Nate what variety of soap he used. Though Nate might find it odd if

he started using it himself. Only a lovelorn fool would do such a thing.

But that you are.

“I sucked him off once,” Nate stated, breaking the silence.

The statement jolted Jasper from his thoughts. He blinked his eyes open.

“When?”

As soon as the word left his lips, he wished he could yank it back. Hell, why

had he asked? There was no question to whom Nate referred, and Jasper certainly

did not need to hear details of such an incident.

“Years ago. We were adolescents. It happened at school. Our beds were next to

each other, and one night when I heard him stroking himself off, I climbed into his

bed. I had only intended to lend him a hand, but he let me take it further.”

He couldn‟t help but find the information interesting. From what Nate had

told him, he and Edmonton had been the best of friends since their school days at

Eton. But there was a line even best friends did not cross, unless said friends

shared a particular interest in each other. He had assumed Nate had been

stubbornly pining for a man who could never return his affections, yet if Edmonton

had once allowed Nate to suck him off…

“How did he react the next day?”

“As if nothing had happened. At first I thought that meant his interests

aligned with mine. He didn‟t shun me, and he didn‟t look on me any differently than

he had the day before. He still called me friend. But no matter how hard I looked for

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it, he never gave me that opening, that nudge to indicate he would welcome me in

such a way again. He must have brushed it off as one of those things that tended to

happen at night in the dormitories. Such play was not entirely uncommon. Still, he

had let me and I couldn‟t help but wish…” He let out a snort of disgust. “Foolish of

me.”

Jasper reached out, laid a comforting hand on Nate‟s thigh. The heat from his

body penetrated the fine wool trousers, warming Jasper‟s palm. “No. Not foolish.

You were young.” And you love him. He could well understand that instinctive need

to hold on to hope, no matter how thin.

Nate let out a self-deprecating grunt. “But I‟m not anymore.” Another long

swallow of brandy. “It‟s just…we are such good friends.” He looked to Jasper, as if

seeking confirmation. Jasper did not need to ask for clarification to know Nate did

not refer to himself. “So alike in our interests.”

Not entirely, Jasper was tempted to point out, but he held his tongue.

“It would have been nothing at all to hide our relationship. He‟s slept on my

couch countless times when the evening ended closer to my apartments than to his

town house.”

“And you did not get a wink of sleep on any of those nights.” Whereas thoughts

of himself certainly had never once disturbed Nate‟s slumber.

“Indeed,” Nate said, tipping his head in weary acknowledgment.

Nate drained the last splash of brandy in his glass. He did not put up a fight,

did not even glance at Jasper in question when he pulled the empty glass from his

hand.

“Why does he have to marry her?” The question, even Nate‟s tone, down to the

desolate confusion in his voice, was an exact match from when Jasper first settled

beside him on the couch.

But this time, Jasper did not remain silent. He set the tumbler on the end

table and turned back to Nate, held his gaze. “Because he prefers women.” The crux

of Nate‟s problem. The man could wait indefinitely, and it would do no good.

His Client

Edmonton clearly would never wake up one morning with the realization that he

wanted an intimate relationship with his best friend.

A painful wince crossed Nate‟s rugged features. His heavy exhale filled the

room as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The sputtering flames

in the hearth held his attention for a long moment, the golden light flickering across

his face, caressing the line of his jaw and those knots on the bridge of his nose. And

then his shoulders sagged. In defeat, perhaps?

“She‟s a lovely young lady.” Head bowed, Nate picked at the cuff of his sleeve.

“He seems quite fond of her. I dare say he loves her. He hasn‟t told me as much, but

I can tell. It‟s in the way he looks at her.”

And you can’t recognize that same look in me?

The limits of Jasper‟s compassion were breached. The irritation and jealousy

he had somehow managed to keep at bay surged forth like water rushing through a

ruptured dam, stinging his nerves with the brute force of it.

Enough.

If Jasper allowed it, Nate would go on about Edmonton until dawn. Time to

turn Nate‟s attention away from the man his heart stubbornly clung to.

Without a word, Jasper stood. He rounded the couch, went to the tall dresser

near the bed, and pulled open the top drawer. His gaze swept over the assortment of

leather goods contained within—cuffs, a flogger, a plain brown collar—then paused

on…

Perhaps. From beneath a pair of silk stockings, he pulled the black leather

corset.

It might do, but he needed another option. The corset clutched in one hand, he

shut the drawer and tried the next one. He pushed aside the don‟s robes, the

footman‟s livery with its deep green coat edged with gold braid trim, and the plain

black coat, the type commonly worn by tutors. None of them would do tonight. His

fingertips paused over white linen. Perhaps an even better option. The fabric was

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very thin and obviously new—garments like it rarely lasted a night in one piece.

Clients, including Nate, had a preference for ripping them.

He pulled out the shift, tossed the two garments onto the navy coverlet, and

quickly removed his cravat, shirt, and trousers. Before shutting the drawer, he

grabbed the small silver tin tucked in the corner, opened the lid, dabbed a fingertip

to the rouge, and smeared a bit on his lips.

With everything at the ready, including himself, he moved to stand at the foot

of the bed. “Nate,” he called.

The man glanced over his shoulder, his gaze going from Jasper to the bed, then

back to him again. His posture shifted, his spine straightening, the defeat vanishing

from his shoulders.

A flush of warmth rolled through Jasper at finally having Nate‟s full attention.

Blood pooled in his groin, his cock thickening, lengthening at the knowledge of what

was to come. He quirked a brow, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “Which

do you prefer?”

His Client

Chapter Two

All thoughts of Peter flew out of Nate‟s mind. The desolation that had hung

over his head like a damn thundercloud vanished as if it had never been there. He

tore his gaze away from Jasper and back to the garments on the bed.

If pressed to give an answer, they were two of his favorites, yet distinctly

different in the mood they set. One hinted, teased. The other was blatant,

demanding. With black leather came that wicked edge, and the small metal rings

strategically positioned at the bottom of the corset provided so many interesting

opportunities. Yet the contrast of soft white linen over a hard male body…

Lust spiked his senses. Spreading his legs wider, Nate reached down and

adjusted himself, giving his hardening cock what room could be found in the

confines of his trousers. “The shift.”

The smile lingering at the corners of Jasper‟s mouth broadened. Reaching

behind, he grabbed the linen shift. Cock bobbing with each step, he crossed the

distance separating them and rounded the couch, stopping at the end table.

“Any particular preferences this evening?” Jasper asked, as casual as could be,

wanting to know if Nate had anything different in mind that he should be aware of.

He shook his head. “No.”

That casual acceptance was one of the many traits that drew him to Jasper.

The man indulged him with an openness he had never encountered with another.

Nate was well aware his tastes ran toward the eccentric. His acquaintances would

think him fit for Bedlam if they knew what went on in this room. And Peter…the

man would likely never call Nate friend again. Yet with Jasper, he felt completely

free to voice any request without fear the man would think him an oddity. And the

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stiff prick jutting from between Jasper‟s thighs indicated he enjoyed their time

together as much as Nate.

Long familiar with this particular game, Jasper pulled a small glass bottle of

oil and a black marble plug from the drawer and set them on the table. He reached

up to slip the shift over his head. White linen flowed over the perfect contours of his

chest and abdomen, the length catching on his prick. A little tug and the hem

fluttered down, stopping just above his masculine calves.

Jasper righted the narrow straps on his shoulders with a flick of his fingers.

He left the delicate ribbon ties hanging loose at the top of the bodice. The garment

was sized to fit the dimensions of a woman‟s body, not the hard bulk of a man, and

as such, the broad width of Jasper‟s chest stretched the short V opening of the

simple bodice, exposing a few more inches of porcelain skin to Nate‟s hungry gaze.

Closing his eyes, Jasper dropped his arms to his sides. The fire in the hearth

behind him crackled. The golden light easily cut through the thin fabric, revealing

the lines of Jasper‟s body beneath the white linen. Six feet of stunningly gorgeous

male. Narrow hips and strong, sleek thighs. The shadow of the dark hair on his

groin. The hard arch of his substantial arousal. No doubt about it. Even with a

smear of red rouge on his lips, just enough to stain them a shade darker than their

usual soft pink, Jasper was 100 percent a man.

On one occasion, Jasper had donned a crimson silk gown for him, and on

another, black silk stockings. Neither had even come close to masking his

masculinity, yet still, they had been…too much. But the shift… A grunt rumbled

from Nate‟s chest. He could not explain it, but there was just something incredibly

erotic about it.

Jasper‟s broad chest expanded, and as he let out the breath, his entire posture

changed. The shifts so subtle, so fluid, Nate could not have pinpointed each one if he

tried. But the overall effect…

Absolutely amazing. Gone was the easy confidence, the self-assurance he

usually wore like a second skin. In its place, the distinct edge of uncertainty.

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Long black lashes fluttered faintly against high cheekbones before slowly

sweeping up to reveal soft, innocent, light green eyes.

“You called for me?” Even his voice sounded different. A fragile hesitancy

behind each word.

“Yes.” He surveyed Jasper, taking a moment to orientate himself. The shift

meant Jasper would play the eager innocent to his experienced seducer. Though he

had never seduced anyone in his life, it was still a wonderfully wicked game. Even

more so, since he did not have the responsibility of a true innocent to contend with.

He beckoned Jasper with a flick of his head. “Come closer.”

Jasper stopped between Nate‟s spread legs, close enough to reach out and

touch. Through sheer force of will, Nate resisted the urge to grab him and tumble

Jasper onto his lap. To crush his mouth against those full, rouged lips. Instead, he

looked up at Jasper looming above him and kept his features schooled in an

expression of mild interest.

“I‟ve noticed you have been watching me of late. May I ask why?”

Chin tipping down, Jasper dropped his attention to his bare feet. A chunk of

his dark brown wavy forelock fell forward, the ends skimming his eyebrows. He

lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “You are a handsome man. I…I can‟t help but

notice you, think about you. My apologies if I have offended you in any fashion.”

Handsome? Him? No. Especially not when compared to Jasper. But rather

than disrupt the game, he kept his opinion to himself and gave the reply Jasper‟s

comment begged. “No apologies are necessary, I assure you. Tell me, what do you

think about?”

Capturing the edge of his bottom lip between his teeth, Jasper admitted in a

low voice, “You. Your hands on my body. Your mouth on my skin. Your…your…” A

scarlet blush stained his cheeks.

Goddamn, the man could blush at will. Incredible.

“My cock in your arse,” Nate finished for him. Even more incredible, his ability

to speak the line without growling it.

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Jasper‟s breath stuttered, catching in his throat. “Yes.” The reply was quiet

and hesitant, barely a sound, yet urgent and desperate, as if voicing a deeply

forbidden desire.

Nate could well remember that feeling. Wanting something so desperately, but

so very afraid to reach for it. Not certain if he should and fearful of what would

happen if he did. Those days were long behind him, and certainly long behind

Jasper. But it was…nice to pretend they weren‟t, if just for a night. That he was the

first man to ever touch Jasper.

Had Jasper been like this, almost to the point of trembling with need? Was he

thinking about it right now, calling upon those memories? If so, Nate sure as hell

hoped the other man in his head was himself, because the thought of Jasper

thinking about another when with him…

Hot and viscous, jealousy seeped into his gut. “Would you like that?” he asked,

unable to keep the bite out of his tone. Absolutely ridiculous to feel even a twinge of

jealousy. For God‟s sake, he paid the man to be there with him, and he knew Jasper

did not sit idle on the nights he did not visit. But logic seemed to have failed him.

“Do you want me to fuck your arse?”

Jasper‟s teeth dug harder into his bottom lip. His hands curled into fists at his

sides, his biceps flexing with the motion. “Yes. Please.”

That threadbare plea, soaked in need, soothed the hot sting in his gut. Took it

down a critical degree, allowing rational thought to once more descend. Hell, he‟d

forgotten the possessive streak this particular game brought out in him. The way it

made him want to grab hold of Jasper and never let him go.

The need to touch, to possess, too strong to suppress, Nate reached out to cup

his hip. Heat seared his palm through the fabric. The erection tenting the fine white

linen twitched. Then he skimmed his hand down to the hem, delved beneath. He felt

the tremble rack Jasper‟s body as he coasted his hand up Jasper‟s hair-dusted leg,

pausing briefly when he encountered the soft, delicate skin of his inner thigh.

His Client

“Have you ever been with a man?” he asked, whispering his fingers over the

hot silken skin of his erection.

He knew what Jasper‟s answer would be. To play the innocent, he needed to

pretend to be one. Yet still, he asked, needing to hear the answer, to know that at

least here and now, he was the only one.

Jasper shook his head and thrust into Nate‟s touch. A short little nudge.

Compact and quick, a silent demand for more. Yet Nate kept his touch light,

teasing, drawing out the anticipation.

“No. But I want to be with a man. And I want it to be you.” Jasper‟s lashes

swept up. The force of the pure longing and need in those light green depths…

Nate shot to his feet. Caught unaware, Jasper stumbled back a step. Grabbing

Jasper‟s hips, Nate jerked the man full against him and slanted his mouth over

Jasper‟s. It took less than a second for Jasper to respond. With a muffled groan, he

opened eagerly. Nate swept his tongue inside. The unique taste of Jasper, of man

and need, saturated his senses. He slanted his lips over Jasper‟s, again and again,

tongue delving deep, as if the kiss alone could mark the man as his own.

Jasper‟s arms came up to wrap around his neck. Fingers threaded into his

hair, then gripped the strands to deliver a firm tug, crushing their mouths harder

together. Harsh, desperate, they rubbed against each other, Jasper‟s fabric-covered

erection dragging over his own, ratcheting the lust even higher.

Gasping for breath, he pulled back. Jasper delivered a quick nip to his jaw and

then met his gaze. This close, he could make out the tiny flecks of amber around the

irises of Jasper‟s heavily lidded green eyes, like hints of copper visible beneath a

patina. The kiss had smeared the rouge about his mouth. He looked like a freshly

debauched innocent.

Though he wasn‟t quite yet, nor would he be if Nate continued to forget

himself.

Mentally shaking his head at himself, he forced his hands to unclench and

release the linen balled in his fists. He nudged Jasper back a step. At the look of

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confusion making its way across Jasper‟s handsome face, Nate lifted a self-

deprecating brow.

The edges of Jasper‟s lips kicked up in a rueful smile before he let the bashful

mask fall back over his features. Though the effect was muted by the rapid rise and

fall of his chest, the flush of color that had nothing to do with modesty staining his

cheeks, and the blatant erection straining the limits of the now wrinkled white

linen.

“You want my cock in your arse?” Nate asked, picking up the game where he

left off.

Jasper‟s tongue darted out to swipe across his bottom lip. “Yes.”

“Then bend over.”

With a hand on his biceps, he guided Jasper a step to the left. A brief

hesitation, a quick questioning glance to Nate, and then the man obediently bent at

the waist, resting his hands on the end of the arm of the couch.

Nate let out a low grunt of satisfaction as he set to work unbuttoning his

waistcoat. So very tempting to take him right then and there. To pull out his cock

and shove it into the man‟s body. To grip those hips and pound into him. To give

him exactly what he asked for. Instead, Nate tossed his waistcoat behind him and

simply pushed the shift up to Jasper‟s waist, exposing his ballocks drawn up tight

and the round, muscular curves of his arse. Flawless porcelain skin backed with a

hint of warmth. The ideal canvas for a few hard smacks, and Jasper‟s skin took

color so well. Each handprint a distinct red mark.

Unable to resist, he passed a hand over the warm, smooth skin. Breath

catching, Jasper shook beneath him.

“It‟s all right,” he murmured, voice husky with need, in an attempt to soothe

Jasper as though this was all truly new to him. “Not yet. We‟re going to take it

slow.” He followed the line between those rounded cheeks, pausing briefly over his

hole. The tight ring of muscle contracted beneath his touch. A bolt of lust shot

His Client

straight to his groin, his cock jerking against the placket of his trousers, greedy to

feel that tight, clinging heat. “First, you need to be prepared.”

Jasper glanced over his shoulder, worry pulling his brow. “What do you mean?”

Nate could not keep the smug smile from curving his lips. “You shall see. Trust

me. You‟ll enjoy it.”

Reaching around Jasper‟s shoulder, he grabbed the bottle of oil from the end

table. He poured a generous amount onto his fingers. “Oil,” he explained, as he

coated the man‟s entrance, fingertips slipping over the delicate skin. “Don‟t ever let

a man take you without it. Would not be pleasant.” Hell no. His own arse clenched

at the old memories of those rough drags, the burning sting. “But with it”—he

pressed a finger inside, suppressing a grunt as Jasper‟s body clamped around the

digit—“more pleasure than you could ever imagine.” He picked up a rhythm of

smooth, gentle thrusts, easily sliding in and out. “How does that feel?”

“Ah…different.”

“Different good or different bad?” Pressing deep, he curled his finger to rub

across Jasper‟s gland.

A strangled gasp shook Jasper‟s throat. Head bowed, he widened his stance

and pushed back into the next thrust. “Good.”

“Well then, this will feel even better.” He pulled free and reached for the plug.

His hand shook the slightest bit as he oiled the length. Narrow and sleek and

possessing just enough width to stay in place, it was the ideal instrument to

accustom a virgin to the sensations of being stretched and filled. Well, at least he

thought so.

With his free hand gripping Jasper‟s hip to pull back his cheek, he bumped the

plug lightly against his entrance. Once. Twice. Then he slid just the narrow tip

inside. “Now rock back. Slowly.”

Jasper nodded, a quick jerk of his bowed head, and began to rock his hips. Sort

little nudges. With each one, he took a tiny bit more of the tapered length. The

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muscles of his shoulders went lax with obvious pleasure, the barest bit of a moan

behind the increasing tempo of his panting breaths.

When he reached the widest point, Nate tightened his grip on Jasper‟s hip.

Held him still and took a moment to savor the sight of Jasper‟s oil-slicked skin

stretched around the black marble.

Goddamn beautiful.

Jasper shifted, back arching. “Nate.” His name was a gasp.

“More?” At Jasper‟s nod, he pushed the plug in the remaining distance, the

rectangular base settling snuggly against his skin.

“Yes.” Jasper rolled back his head as he moaned.

He reached down and tugged Jasper up full against him. Coasted one hand

over his chest, found the hard point of his nipple beneath the linen, and pinched.

With his other hand, he pressed on the base of the plug, bumping it within Jasper.

Caught between two points of pleasure, Jasper arched back against him, a low

chant of “yes yes yes” tumbling from his lips.

A quick nip to his shoulder and Nate dragged his mouth up the side of Jasper‟s

neck. Flicked his tongue over the rapid beat of his pulse. Tasted the hint of sweat

beginning to form on his heated skin. Jasper turned his head, mouth seeking his.

Nate eagerly gave it to him as he continued to torment Jasper: toying with the plug,

tugging on his nipple, sucking on his tongue. Determined to drive Jasper past the

point of sheer, desperate need.

“Do you want me?” he asked, his breath mingling with Jasper‟s. He nudged his

erection against the firm globes of the man‟s arse.

“God, yes. Please, Nate.”

After delivering one more hard pinch to his nipple, he released Jasper and

stepped back. He took a moment to rein in the lust pounding hard and fast through

his veins. The sounds of their panting breaths filled the room. Every muscle in

His Client

Jasper‟s body was drawn tight, from his bulging biceps to his taut calves. Fists

clenched at his sides as he waited for direction from Nate.

The width of Jasper‟s hard shoulders made the delicate straps of the shift look

like mere threads. Nate could easily press a hand between those shoulders. Push

the man back onto the arm of the couch. Pull out the plug and take him. Jasper

certainly wouldn‟t protest if he abruptly dropped the game. The man had just

begged for his cock. But first he wanted that beautiful red-stained mouth on him.

When he felt he could speak without gasping for breath, he tapped Jasper on

the flank. “Then come along.” He settled back on the couch. Lifting his hips, he

unbuttoned the placket and pulled out his cock. Cool air rushed over his heated

skin. Damn, it felt good to finally let his prick free. Lightly dragging his hand along

his length with a grip that did nothing at all to soothe the all-encompassing itch for

more, he asked, “Have you ever sucked a cock?”

The fists balled at Jasper‟s sides unclenched. With a little tug that held more

than a hint of impatience, he pulled the shift back down to cover his prick. “No.”

“Would you like to?”

His hesitant nod could not hide the eager spark in his eyes.

Nate didn‟t push him. Didn‟t rush him. He waited for Jasper to come to him.

One step and then the man paused on a grunt before taking the next step.

“Maybe I should have you take a few circuits about the room first?”

“Bastard,” Jasper shot back under his breath, a playful smirk pulling his lips

as he dropped to his knees.

Nate couldn‟t help but chuckle. The sound turned into a groan as a warm, wet

tongue swept over his crown, lapping up the bead of fluid.

From beneath his lashes, Jasper speared him with a hot stare. “You taste

good.” His breath fanned the wet head of Nate‟s cock.

“Why thank you,” he replied, oddly embarrassed yet pleased by the

unprecedented compliment. He had come down Jasper‟s throat countless times. The

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man always swallowed him with distinct eagerness, but he had never before told

Nate he tasted good.

Jasper‟s hand came up to cover his own. Nate let go of the base of his cock,

sliding his hand out from under Jasper‟s. The man bent his dark head, pressed light

kisses along his length, tongue slipping out to occasionally tease his skin. Light,

hesitant, yet lingering as though savoring each kiss.

Impatience gripped hold. Had him reaching out to cup Jasper‟s jaw and move

those reddened lips back to the head of his prick. “Open your mouth. Take me

inside.”

Lips as smooth as silk slid down his length, engulfing his cock in wet heat.

Nate‟s head tipped back, fingers drifting up into the soft waves of Jasper‟s hair to

palm his skull. The man‟s mouth was the very definition of pleasure. Hard,

satisfying suction. The tight grip of his lips stroking his length. The silken pressure

of his throat caressing the crown.

“Bloody hell.” Hot and thick and lush, pleasure coiled down his spine,

tightening his ballocks with a teasing hint of an orgasm.

His mouth never leaving his prick, Jasper tugged at Nate‟s trousers. Lifting

his hips slightly, Nate gave him access to pull them farther down. A gentle palm

cupped his ballocks, fingertips reaching back to stroke the smooth expanse of skin.

While another hand coasted up under the hem of his shirt, splayed fingers flexing in

a subtle motion on Nate‟s abdomen in rhythm to his strokes.

Nate tugged at the knot on his cravat. Pulled it from his neck. Then whisked

the shirt over his head, flicking it to the floor. His gaze traveled over Jasper‟s body.

Hard shoulders bunched and flexed with each bob of his dark head. The shift had

ridden up, the wrinkled hem just covering the sleek curve of his lower back,

exposing the rounded curves of his arse. And buried in that arse…

The man was slick and ready for him. Any moment Nate could pull him onto

his lap, tug out that plug, and replace it with his cock. Sink into the hot, welcoming

heat of his body.

His Client

He tried to wait. To savor the anticipation. To savor Jasper‟s expert mouth on

his prick. But each bob of Jasper‟s head brought the orgasm closer and closer. A tiny

tremor shook his thighs. The impending climax gripped the base of his cock.

Reaching down, he tugged on Jasper‟s upper arm. “Up,” he grunted.

With a crude pop, Jasper pulled free. He scrambled up onto Nate‟s lap, knees

straddling his hips. Hands braced on either side of his shoulders, Jasper crushed his

mouth to Nate‟s. The kiss quick and hard. Their cocks bumped against each other,

the satiny length of Jasper‟s rubbing over his spit-slicked skin in a decadent caress.

Jasper pulled back, breaking the kiss. “Take it out. Please.”

Nate did not need to ask what Jasper was referring to. Gazes locked, chests

rapidly rising and falling, he reached behind Jasper and under the shift, following

the crease of his arse, fingertips finding the smooth marble base of the plug.

“Ready?”

At Jasper‟s nod, he pulled. The man‟s body briefly resisted, and then with a

short little hitching gasp from Jasper, the plug slipped free. He let it drop to the

floor with a thump.

One hand on Jasper‟s hip, he took his own cock in the other, held it steady.

“You want me? Take me.”

Those light green eyes didn‟t leave his as Jasper slowly lowered. The head of

his cock slid over Jasper‟s oil-slicked entrance before being engulfed by tight heat.

He resisted the urge to lift his hips, to push into Jasper‟s body, and instead let the

man take him at Jasper‟s own pace.

A wince flickered across Jasper‟s brow. “Damn, you‟re thick,” he muttered.

“And long,” Nate couldn‟t help but add. “But you wouldn‟t have me any other

way.”

A short chuckle issued from Jasper‟s throat. The edges of his lips, now flushed

scarlet and plumped from sucking Nate, kicked up. “Hell, no.”

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One last wiggle of Jasper‟s hips and his ballocks rested against Nate‟s groin.

His lashes drifting closed, he let out a long sigh of undeniable pleasure. “You feel so

much better than that plug,” he said as he began to rock his hips.

“I should damn well hope so.” The words were a growl. Nate released Jasper

just long enough to grab the shift‟s bodice. A sharp tug and the satisfying sound of

fabric tearing rent the air. He felt the shiver rack Jasper‟s body, muscles tightening

around Nate‟s length. He pushed back the garment now ripped down the center,

exposing Jasper‟s flushed chest. Then grabbing hold of his arse, Nate urged him to

move faster, to thrust, to increase the maddeningly slow pace.

Jasper took the hint and then some. He lifted up until just the head remained

inside him and sank back down in a long, determined stroke that frayed the last of

Nate‟s control. The scents of sweat and sex filled his senses as Jasper rode his cock.

Slamming down onto him, pulling the climax hovering so close ever nearer.

Leaning back, Jasper rested his hands on Nate‟s knees. Thrust harder. Faster.

His cock bobbing with each stroke, slapping against his abdomen.

Nate grabbed Jasper‟s prick. “Yes. Fuck me. Come for me,” he urged, pumping

the iron-hard length, flicking his thumb over the crown, spreading the moisture

there.

Tension gripped Jasper‟s body, muscles straining beneath sweat-slicked skin.

His breath hitched in his chest, and then he let out a sharp grunt. The first pulse of

hot seed shot from the head of his cock, landing on Nate‟s stomach. The sight of

Jasper‟s orgasm sparked his own. The climax barreled up his length in a searing

path of exquisite pleasure. Nate threw back his head and came, pouring deep into

Jasper‟s body.

A hard, sweaty body slumped against him. Nate forced his hand to release

Jasper‟s prick and then wrapped his arms around the man‟s waist. For a long

moment, the only sounds that broke the silence were their hard pants as they

struggled to catch their breaths. Then Jasper shifted. Soft lips coasted up Nate‟s

neck, over his jaw and found his. Lazy and slow and oh so familiar, the kiss lulled

His Client

Nate‟s senses, tempting him to remain right there, with Jasper in his arms, for the

rest of the night. But…

Damnation. Keeping the groan inside, he turned his head, broke the kiss. That

damn thundercloud of desolation settled right back over his head, dousing every

last bit of the postorgasmic euphoria from his veins.

He opened his eyes to find Jasper staring down at him.

“Something the matter?” Jasper asked, undeniable concern reflected in his

heavily lidded eyes.

“I have a supper I need to attend tonight. Need to celebrate Peter‟s last night

of bachelorhood.” The last thing he wanted to do, but he had given the man his word

and couldn‟t very well back down now.

Jasper shifted off his lap—Nate‟s sated cock slipping from his body—and stood.

A shrug of his shoulders and the shift slipped down his arms, falling to the floor.

Turning, he reached down and picked up Nate‟s shirt, then handed it to him. “Any

plans besides supper to celebrate the dreaded event?”

Nate shrugged. “Likely he‟ll want to go to some gambling hell or other.” The

destination mattered not to him. Wherever they went would involve a long night of

smiling and putting on an entirely false pretense of happiness. A long night of

pretending as though his heart wasn‟t breaking.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and got to his feet to finish dressing. He

didn‟t bother to take much care with the cravat Jasper handed him—he‟d need to

stop at his apartments to change and clean up before going on to Peter‟s town house

anyway. Hell, why did the man have to get married? And tomorrow…Christ,

tomorrow he had to watch it happen.

And right now, even his bloody coat wasn‟t cooperating. Darn top button

refused to slip through its hole.

“It will be all right.” Jasper‟s words sounded quiet and sure, holding a wealth

of compassion, but Nate found no comfort in them.

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“No it won‟t. It will be terrible.” Was that his voice? He sounded like a

disgruntled adolescent. Hell, Jasper had just fucked him into oblivion, and now

Nate was acting like a maudlin fool once again. Jasper had the patience of a saint to

put up with him.

Deciding he‟d have to make do with one less button done up, he gave his coat a

sharp tug to straighten it and looked up.

With a faint click, Jasper set the brandy decanter back on the silver tray on

the cabinet. Bare as the day he was born, he turned to face Nate. Occupied with

locating Nate‟s clothes and righting the room, he had not yet pulled on his own

trousers. His limp cock hung between his legs, but Jasper made no move to cover it.

Nate found the man‟s ease in his own skin…comforting. A reminder there were no

secrets between them. Nothing to hide. Nothing to shield from prying eyes. They

accepted each other as they were.

“Thank you for tonight.”

Jasper lifted one bare shoulder in a half shrug. “Anytime. You know that.”

Jasper watched Nate‟s retreating back as he left the room. The door snapped

shut. He grabbed the torn shift from the floor. As he tossed it into the bin beside the

washstand in the corner of the room, he glanced into the oval mirror. The dark

tousled waves of his hair hung over his brow. His cheeks were still flushed with a

hint of color from the orgasm Nate had given him. And faint smudges of rouge were

smeared around his mouth.

He winced. It wasn‟t that he did not adore playing with Nate. Rather, the

image in the mirror held a harsh reminder of exactly how Nate saw him—as a

whore and nothing more.

His shoulders slumped as pain began to wrap around his chest once again. He

hoped to God Nate would let Edmonton go and move on. But even if he did, what

then?

His Client

Chapter Three

“…join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony, which is an

honorable estate, instituted of God…”

The clergyman‟s booming voice echoed off the high barrel ceiling of St.

George‟s, seeming to surround Nate, a physical force he could not escape. Each word

a mocking taunt jabbing at his heart.

Nate shifted in the box pew and glanced down the wide nave, toward the

entrance of the church. The very definition of torture to remain exactly where he

was, yet he did not make a move to stand. Leaving would not change the inevitable.

Hell, it had gone far beyond merely inevitable. It was happening not more than

thirty paces from him.

With effort, he turned his attention back to where it should be. Still, his gaze

skipped over the figures standing before the minister. Morning sunlight streamed

through the many windows, casting the interior of the church in a rich, warm light.

The pews across the nave and in front of him held over two hundred individuals,

most of whom were well-respected members of the ton. Above the altar, Kent‟s Last

Supper presided over the proceedings. Somber and worked in dark, brooding tones,

the large painting felt more appropriate for a funeral than a wedding.

Nate quirked a brow. Perhaps it did fit the occasion perfectly.

He should not have agreed to attend. Should have spared himself this agony.

Should have conjured some excuse, rearranged his schedule so he was needed at his

office, something, anything. But what sort of man missed his best friend‟s wedding?

He had even been with Peter at the very ball where the man had first made the

acquaintance of Miss Catherine Harper. Had witnessed the spark that had filled his

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friend‟s warm, brown eyes. Though he had tried to turn a blind eye to it, he had

known even then this day would soon be upon him.

And in less than half of an hour, Peter would officially belong to another.

Forever.

He closed his eyes, a wince creasing his brow.

“If any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined

together, let him speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”

Nate clamped his lips together in an effort to remain silent. To hold back the

desperate need to say something, anything, to put a stop to it all. But what could he

say? Not a just cause to be found. Nothing beyond his own selfish wishes.

“Require and charge you both,” the clergyman continued, his tall form draped

in heavy ivory robes, his attention now on the couple before him, “as you will

answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be

disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why you may not be lawfully

joined together in Matrimony, you do now confess it.”

Nate‟s gaze bore into the back of Peter‟s auburn head.

Stop it, Peter. Now. Please.

Breath held, he waited, heart in his throat, pulse pounding in his ears, every

fiber of his being focused on willing the words from Peter‟s lips.

The moment the clergyman‟s voice broke the silence, resuming the ceremony,

Nate‟s heart sank, dropping like an iron weight, and with it descended the stark

smack of reason.

He resisted the urge to shake his head at himself. Absolutely ridiculous notion

that Peter would come to his senses and suddenly realize he loved Nate, just as

Nate had loved him for too many years to count. Though it had hurt to hear the

truth put so bluntly, Jasper had it spot-on last night. Peter preferred women like

most every other respectable man in London. Hadn‟t Nate learned by now that

wishing it weren‟t so would not change that unfortunate fact?

His Client

Obviously not.

Pathetic.

Even though Nate had chosen the farthest possible pew, as though distance

alone could dull the truth before him, Peter‟s deep baritone voice filled his ears as if

the man stood at his shoulder.

“I will.”

That thin thread of hope, that gossamer strand of blissful possibility, the one

he had clung to for so long, snapped.

The breath whooshed out of his chest.

Dropping his gaze to his white-gloved hands, he bit the edge of his bottom lip.

The metallic tang of blood teased his tongue, yet he clenched his jaw harder. Tried

to focus on the pain, on anything beside those two words that continued to bounce

off his skull.

How was he to attend the wedding breakfast? To plaster on a smile, to offer up

his congratulations when all he wanted to do was howl with misery? To grab Peter

by the shoulders and demand to know why the man could not love him? Christ, they

would have been so perfect together.

Didn‟t help matters that he had never revealed the full extent of his feelings to

Peter. Perhaps maybe if he had… Perhaps maybe if he had not simply waited in

silence… Perhaps Peter, like himself, had kept his true nature hidden not only out

of fear of social ruin and the distinct possibility of gaining an intimate knowledge of

the hangman‟s noose, but also for fear of destroying their friendship.

No. What was he thinking? Deep down, he had known since the day after that

night at school that Peter was not like himself. No use taunting himself with what if

now. He should count himself fortunate the man had remained his friend and not

turned his back on him in disgust.

Letting out a small sigh that barely hinted at the desolation within, he pulled

his attention from his hands and looked up the nave. Catherine was beaming as

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Peter slipped the ring onto her delicate finger, her love for the man reflected in her

wide hazel eyes. Even though Nate could tell Peter was doing his best to give the

occasion all the solemnity it deserved, he could hear the man‟s happiness behind

every word as he pledged himself to his new wife.

Ah, hell and damnation, what was wrong with him? Peter deserved to find

happiness. To marry a woman who would give him beautiful children and adore him

for the rest of his days. Men of their standing were expected to wed. Not as if Peter

had ever given any indication he intended to snub his nose at Society and remain a

bachelor, just as Nate himself intended. As Jasper had reminded him last night,

Peter was an only son. But it damn well hurt that Peter did not love him the way he

had hoped for so long. Peter loved him as a friend, as one loved a brother, but never

as a cherished lover, nor would he ever. And Nate could no longer deny it.

Peter would never be his.

A blanket of loss settled over him, thick and heavy, his shoulders slumping

under the weight of it.

The drone of the clergyman‟s voice filled his ears, yet Nate heard not a word.

He just sat there, beyond numb. That familiar and comforting tendril of hope now

utterly gone, leaving him completely adrift and feeling for all the world as if he had

just buried his best friend.

Not a bit of jealousy sparked within; in fact he felt nothing at all as he watched

Peter take his new bride‟s hand and follow the clergyman behind the tall double-

decker reading desk and through a narrow door along the wall. No doubt to sign the

church register, to make it official before not only God‟s eyes but England‟s as well.

Wood creaked and fabric rustled as the other attendees began to prepare to

leave. He grabbed his black top hat from beside his hip and flicked off a speck of lint

from the brim. He would go to the wedding breakfast. No way could he not. He

would force a smile and shake Peter‟s hand. Give him a hearty slap on the back and

wish him well. Sit through the meal and do his best to appear as if nothing at all

was amiss. A bloody brilliant repeat of last night. Afterward though…

His Client

The thought of returning to his lonely bachelor apartments held absolutely no

appeal. His office? No. Gentleman Jackson‟s? A gambling hell? White‟s? No, no, and

no. He did not want to be surrounded by others, and he had a strong premonition he

would not make good company.

Jasper? The ache in his chest lifted so it no longer hurt to breathe.

Yes, Jasper. A bit indulgent to visit him two evenings in a row. All right,

significantly more than a bit indulgent, but Jasper wouldn‟t think less of him. He

would understand. He always did.

* * *

It was just before five when Jasper stopped at the door to room number five.

Another early evening, and this time he had a fair idea who awaited him on the

other side of the door.

Please, don’t let Nate be consumed with misery.

After last night, he wasn‟t certain if he could take another evening filled with

talk about Edmonton. A man could only endure so much. But it wasn‟t as if he had a

choice. Nate had requested him. And more importantly, Nate needed him. He

instinctively knew Nate never spoke of his feelings for Edmonton to anyone but

himself.

Where other clients were solely focused on their reason for being at the house,

Nate preferred to have a drink and talk first and sometimes share a late supper

after. Even during his first visit, he had spoken with Jasper for well over a half an

hour, treating him like a newly acquainted friend. The pattern of his visits almost

resembled those of a married couple‟s evening, or what Jasper imagined one would

be like. The couple retiring to the drawing room after supper, the wife patiently

listening as her husband discussed the trials and successes of his day. That sense of

comfort and ease, of trust, that could only be borne from a long-established

familiarity.

Over the past five years, Nate had poured out his soul to him. Jasper knew

how hard it had been for Nate when he lost his grandfather. How, even though he

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didn‟t seem to spend much time at his office, he worried over whether he would

make a success of the small shipping company he had inherited from his

grandfather or prove himself a spectacular failure. How he detested the rigid

structure of formal balls with their herds of simpering young misses. How, when

given the choice, he‟d choose beef for supper. How he had harbored a deeply hidden

love for his best friend for more years than he could count. And how he hadn‟t the

faintest notion Jasper felt the same way toward him.

Pain lanced into his heart, stealing the breath from his chest. But before it

could fully take root, he pushed it back and reached for the brass knob on the door.

Nate waited for him. In any case, there would be time enough later to wallow in his

own pathetic sorrows.

He entered the bedchamber to find an almost identical image to last night.

Nate, seated on the couch, nearly empty crystal tumbler in hand, desolation written

in every line of his body.

So much for his hopes of not finding a miserable Nate. In all honesty, he had

known his plea had been for naught.

After refilling Nate‟s glass, he set the decanter on the end table, moved Nate‟s

black top hat and white gloves from the couch cushion to the nearby chair, which

already held his black coat, and settled beside him. “Was it that terrible?”

Nate brought the tumbler up, downing a good third of the brandy and drawing

Jasper‟s attention to his mouth. Frowning, Jasper reached out to brush the slightly

swollen spot near the corner of Nate‟s bottom lip. The physical proof of just how

hard the day had been for him. If Jasper ran his tongue over it, he knew he would

detect the faint tang of blood from where Nate‟s teeth had cut the delicate skin.

“You shouldn‟t do that,” Jasper murmured.

Nate‟s brows drew even farther together, distinct self-consciousness reflected

in the quick glance he shot Jasper from the corner of his eye.

“So it was that terrible?”

His Client

Nate shrugged, his hard shoulder rubbing against Jasper‟s in a slow drag of

linen against linen. “Worse. I should be happy for him. And I am, but…” His lashes

at half-mast, he swirled the glass, his attention on the amber liquid sloshing

against the sides of the crystal tumbler. “The supper last night was bad enough, but

it was torture watching him wed that girl today.”

“Did you expect otherwise?” he asked, careful to keep any censure out of his

tone. By God, they had discussed this just yesterday. With effort, he held back the

frustration beginning to churn inside him.

“No, but I didn‟t expect it to be so bloody damn hard.” Another long swallow

left a finger of brandy remaining in the tumbler.

“I take it you went to the wedding breakfast.” Jasper tipped his head toward

the top hat and white gloves on the chair. Given the hour of the day and his formal

attire, complete with an embroidered, dove gray silk waistcoat and intricately tied

cravat, Nate must have come directly from Edmonton‟s.

“Of course. Had to attend. Didn‟t have much of an appetite though, and the

damn thing seemed to go on forever.”

Hours of having Edmonton‟s bliss held right up to his face. No wonder Nate

hadn‟t had an appetite. “Do you want me to ring for something to eat?”

Nate shook his head and took another long swallow of brandy, draining the

glass.

Jasper‟s eyes narrowed. Nate had finished that glass awfully quickly, and on

an empty stomach, no less. His gaze swept over Nate‟s face, then down to the large

hand wrapped around the tumbler. No physical signs he was deep in his cups, but

still…only one way he knew to lift Nate‟s spirits and turn his mind away from

Edmonton, and the man would only end up frustrating himself if he could not even

stand upright. “I hope you haven‟t been imbibing all day.”

Another shake of his head. “Stuck to coffee at the breakfast. I never get foxed

in front of Peter. Wouldn‟t be…prudent.”

“Wise choice,” Jasper said sagely.

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Rather than refill Nate‟s glass again, he pulled it from the man‟s loose grip and

set it on the end table. Time to cut directly to the heart of the matter—the reason

today hurt for Nate so very much. They could talk for hours and get nowhere, unless

Nate realized that what he believed he lost today was in reality not all he thought it

could be. An idealized image built on a youthful infatuation and nothing more.

“Nate, I know you firmly believe you and Edmonton would have been perfect

together. But would you have really? Your interests align outside of the

bedchamber, but what about within?” From what Nate had told him about

Edmonton‟s character, Jasper highly doubted the two men would actually have been

compatible. “Assuming he preferred men, of course,” Jasper added. “Could you have

been yourself with him?”

A wince tightened Nate‟s brow, and his lips compressed into a straight line.

“I…I…” He dragged a hand through his hair, the gesture distinctly uncomfortable

and further disheveling the short layers. “Hell, I know I have eccentric tastes.” His

shoulders tightened into a hard, defensive line. He avoided Jasper‟s gaze. “But I

would not have expected him to indulge me the way you do. I would have

been…different for him.”

But of course.

He had known what Nate‟s answer would be. Had anticipated it. Hence why

he‟d asked the question—he wanted Nate to come to the conclusion on his own.

Still, it hurt to hear the truth.

He swallowed down the constriction in his throat and focused on Nate. “But

would you have been happy?” He laid a hand on the man‟s strong thigh and gave it

a reassuring squeeze. “Nate, look at me.” Nate turned his head. Wary, deep blue

eyes met his. “When you are behind closed doors with another, you should never

need to be anyone other than yourself.” He hated the thought that Nate would have

felt it necessary to hide his true desires, as if they were something to be ashamed of,

if he and Edmonton had ever become lovers. “You‟re wonderful, Nate. Any man who

wins your heart should count himself very fortunate.”

His Client

Jasper‟s pulse skipped a beat. But judging by the way Nate arched his brow in

sardonic disbelief, the man hadn‟t read anything more into Jasper‟s statement, nor

had he heard the longing hidden behind it.

“Really?”

“Indeed.” Jasper threw him a playful smile. “Who wouldn‟t count himself

fortunate to be guaranteed a lifetime of orgasms of amazing proportions?” He

bumped Nate‟s knee with his own. “And very interesting nights.”

Nate rolled his eyes, a hint of smile teasing his lips. “A damned fool, when put

that way.”

“Exactly. It‟s just that sometimes…” Jasper let out a breath, and when next he

spoke, the levity was gone. “Sometimes people are better suited as friends than

lovers.” He held Nate‟s gaze. “You need to let him go,” he said, just above a whisper,

hoping beyond hope Nate could not detect the heavy plea behind his words.

“I know.” His lips barely moved, his voice even softer than Jasper‟s. More a

low, reluctant rumble from his broad chest than actual words.

Jasper felt himself lean forward, slowly closing the distance between them,

pulled by the all-encompassing need to press his lips to Nate‟s mouth. To erase that

hard, melancholy line.

The kiss started with just the lightest brush of skin against skin, but Jasper

felt it down into his bones. Nate opened, and the first brush of Nate‟s tongue against

his pulled a moan from his throat. He pressed up against the hard bulk of Nate‟s

side, needing more. A large hand grabbed his hip and tugged. Jasper quickly shifted

to straddle Nate‟s lap, their kiss unbroken, their tongues stroking together, mouths

hungry and eager.

Jasper ground his hips, rubbing his rapidly hardening cock against Nate‟s,

fueling the flames of lust even higher. Nate gripped his arse hard enough to leave

bruises, but Jasper could not have cared in the slightest. All he wanted was Nate.

The man‟s body beneath him, behind him… It didn‟t matter, as long as he was with

him.

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His fingers threaded into Nate‟s hair, held on tightly to the short strands. He

dragged his lips down to the other man‟s jaw. Nipped hard and then flicked his

tongue over the spot. An inch farther down and he encountered starched linen

instead of hot skin.

Starched linen that refused his attempts to free it from Nate‟s neck.

He pulled back, glared down at Nate. “Did you use a bloody square knot?” He

tugged again on the offending knot.

“Hardly.” Nate chuckled. “I‟ll strike you a bargain. I‟ll see to mine if you see to

yours.”

“Agreed.” The word had barely left his lips before his own cravat was fluttering

to the floor. The next moment, he pulled his shirt over his head and flicked it behind

him to join the cravat.

He felt the force of Nate‟s hot gaze sweep over his bare chest as the man undid

the intricate knot on his own neck cloth.

“Do you know what would be interesting tonight?” Nate asked, pulling the

white linen free and revealing the strong lines of his neck. “The second option.”

“Pardon?” Jasper‟s fingers paused, hovering over the fabric-covered buttons on

Nate‟s dove gray waistcoat. He dragged his gaze up to meet Nate‟s.

“The second option from last night.” Nate swept his hands up Jasper‟s chest,

leaving a path of tingling skin in his wake. “You wear black leather so well.”

His Client

Chapter Four

“The corset.” A statement, not a question. Jasper knew exactly what Nate

referred to.

“Indeed.” The most wicked of smiles curved Nate‟s lips. He brushed the pads of

his thumbs across Jasper‟s nipples.

A hot shot of lust spiked his senses, but with it…a hint of resistance? For the

first time in as long as he could remember, he wanted just Nate. Nothing more. No

decadent games. No pretending to be someone he wasn‟t. But…

He was suddenly very aware of the stack of pound notes on the cabinet,

nestled next to the silver tray. A firm reminder of exactly whose desires reigned.

The arrogant smirk Jasper had employed countless times with countless other

men pulled the edges of his lips. “I do wear it so well, don‟t I?” Sharp and hard, a

heady mix of pleasure and pain flared across his chest. He let out a groan through

gritted teeth and then stared down at Nate. “You have to let go if you want me to

get it.”

Another delicious pinch. A grunt shook his throat, his cock twitching against

the placket of his trousers. He met the challenge in Nate‟s eyes and resisted the

urge to push out his chest, to beg for more. Tension crackled in the air between

them. The moment stretching on. Then the pressure on his nipples eased. Coasting

his hands down Jasper‟s chest, Nate leaned forward, flicked his tongue over a

smarting nipple. A luscious shudder skipped down his spine.

At the nudge on his hips, Jasper pushed off Nate‟s lap and crossed to the

dresser. Focusing solely on the task at hand, he removed his clothes and found the

corset in the top drawer. He turned from the dresser, his gaze going to Nate, who

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was pulling off his waistcoat, and then to the back of the navy brocade couch. No,

not there tonight. He moved to stand at the foot of the bed.

The muscles in Nate‟s back bunched and flexed as he whipped his shirt over

his head. He flicked the garment to the floor, then shifted on the couch to look over

his shoulder at Jasper.

Determined to get Nate to come to him, Jasper widened his stance a bit, slid

his free hand down his abdomen, took his cock in hand, and stroked lightly along

the length. Arching a brow, he held out the corset.

With a faint creak of wooden joints and steel springs, Nate got to his feet. He

returned the brandy decanter to the silver tray on the bowfront cabinet along the

wall. Bared to the waist, the man somehow looked even more rugged. Broad, strong

shoulders. Thick forearms. Clearly defined muscles honed from endless hours in the

sparring ring. Though Jasper had about two inches in height on Nate, the man

always felt taller than him. As if Jasper should need to tilt his head back to meet

Nate‟s eyes.

The sound of a drawer closing jolted Jasper‟s attention back to what Nate was

doing at the cabinet. Nate turned, and Jasper‟s gaze snapped to the objects in the

man‟s hands. A glass bottle of oil, a length of narrow black rope, and a short, thick

metal dildo.

Jasper‟s gut tightened. It wasn‟t that he couldn‟t take the steel phallus. Nate

had worked it into his arse, tied the rope to the rings on the bottom of the corset,

strapping the dildo in place, many times. A thoroughly pleasurable experience. He

enjoyed sucking Nate off, lapping at his ballocks, licking his arse, driving the man

to distraction while his own hole was stretched obscenely wide. Yet…

Nate stopped before him. He tossed the bottle, rope, and dildo onto the end of

the bed and then paused, fingertips an inch away from black leather. His gaze

swept over Jasper‟s face. “Perhaps something else this evening?” he murmured.

Somehow Jasper kept from stiffening. Instead he willed the tension from his

limbs and smiled, slow and seductive, letting his lashes drop to half-mast. After

His Client

their conversation earlier, he needed to be careful not to hamper Nate‟s desires. A

man‟s ego could be a delicate thing, and right now, Nate‟s needed bolstering.

He pushed the corset into the other man‟s hand. “Perhaps you can put this on

me and fuck me.”

Nate let out a low grunt, the question now completely gone from the deep blue

depths of his eyes. “Then perhaps you can turn around.”

Jasper tipped his head, lips quirking, and presented Nate with his back.

Avoiding the objects on the bed, he closed his eyes and tipped down his chin. Let

himself sink into the moment. He was acutely aware of the man standing behind

him. The faint scent of Nate‟s skin. The rhythm of his breaths. The creak of

floorboards as Nate shifted his weight.

Anticipation flared over his skin in a hot rush of sensation. Warm, moist air

fanned his nape an instant before soft lips pressed against his shoulder. At the

touch on his hip, Jasper lifted his arms, locking his fingers together against the

back of his head. Arms reached around his waist, the fine hairs on Nate‟s forearms

ticking his skin. And then cool, smooth leather was laid against his chest, wrapping

around his sides.

Jasper pressed a hand to the top of the corset to hold it in place. Another creak

of floorboards, and then the soft swoosh of the cord as Nate began to thread it down

the back of the corset. First one hole, and then another. Swoosh. Swoosh. Nate‟s

fingers brushed his back as he threaded the cord. Each touch sent a fresh jolt of

anticipation through him.

His pulse sped up. One tug, and then another, as Nate worked his way down,

now tightening the cord. His prick twitched, his ballocks lurching up.

He passed his hand over the flat front of the corset. The top edge hit right

below his nipples. The leather hugged his body, spanning down to just cover the jut

of his pelvic bones. The perfect hint of confinement. Anything more, as in true

confinement, he tolerated when the situation required it. Thankfully Nate‟s

preferences did not include cuffs and leather lines binding him to the bed. Though

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perhaps with Nate he would not find the experience of being completely at another‟s

mercy so…unsettling.

“Done,” Nate murmured against his shoulder.

Opening his eyes, he turned to face Nate. He could well imagine how he must

look. Bare except for the black leather covering his chest, skin flushed with desire,

prick jutting stiff and hard between his legs. Judging by the heat in Nate‟s deep

blue eyes, the image met with his satisfaction.

The man‟s gaze darted over his shoulder to the bed behind him. Before Nate

could voice a request or make a move toward those objects, he reached out and

palmed Nate‟s erection through the placket of his trousers. Breeching the distance

between them, Jasper stepped closer. So close their chests brushed with each rapid

rise and fall. At the first touch of the leather corset against his skin, a visible

shudder went through Nate.

Jasper nipped at his jaw, tugged on the waistband of his trousers. “Do you

plan to leave these on?”

Nate swallowed, his Adam‟s apple bobbing beneath the skin of his throat.

Tilting his head to one side, Jasper ducked under Nate‟s jaw, flicked his tongue over

the spot, then brushed his chest against Nate‟s again. The man‟s entire body

stiffened. Jasper sensed the fight in him. The fight to keep the upper hand, to not

bow to the lust stringing him taut. But Jasper didn‟t want a dominate Nate tonight.

He wanted the man panting for breath, frantic with need for him.

He pushed harder, determined to send Nate over the edge. Whispered his

fingers down to cup his ballocks through his trousers. Rolled the heavy weight of

them in his palm. “Shall I suck on them?” he whispered against the hot skin of

Nate‟s neck.

He didn‟t wait for a response.

Dragging his lips down Nate‟s chest, Jasper dropped to his knees. Slow and

meticulous, he took his time freeing the buttons on the placket, keeping the man

fully focused on him, letting the anticipation build within Nate. Within himself.

His Client

With every movement he made, the ends of the cords lacing the back of the corset

tickled the crease of his arse. Nate clenched his hands in tight fists at his sides. The

sounds of his heavy breaths echoed in the room. Jasper glanced up, met heavily

lidded, deep blue eyes, and then pulled the trousers down his hips. Soft, black wool

slid down powerful legs. Nate kicked his trousers free, widened his stance. He took

his erection in one hand and angled it up so the crown almost pointed to the ceiling,

exposing his ballocks in an unspoken yes to Jasper‟s question.

Bracing his hands on Nate‟s thighs, Jasper arched his back, pushed out his

arse, and leaned closer. Close enough so his breath fanned Nate‟s ballocks. He

tormented the man for a long second, waiting until his hips canted forward the

tiniest bit. Then he pressed his lips to the delicate skin in the lightest of kisses.

Low and hoarse, Nate groaned. The sound washed over Jasper in an audible

caress. A bead of fluid formed on the head of his cock. Jasper‟s mouth watered with

the need to taste it. Instead, he opened his mouth, drew one testicle inside, and

sucked gently, rolling the weight on his tongue. He pulled free with a crude, wet pop

and lavished the other with attention.

The muscles beneath Jasper‟s hands were hard as iron. The soft swoosh of skin

on skin as Nate worked his fist along his erection in short strokes urged Jasper

onward. The knuckles of Nate‟s other hand, clenched at his side, began to turn

white. Jasper alternated between long licks and openmouthed kisses, pulling Nate

back into his mouth only to release him to press more kisses over the spit-slicked

skin. A luscious massage calculated to keep Nate on this side of a climax.

A hand suddenly grabbed his upper arm, yanked him to his feet. They came

together in a harsh kiss. Teeth nipping, mouths desperate.

Jasper pushed on Nate‟s shoulders. Shoved him roughly back a step and met

Nate‟s gaze. The blue depths were banked with lust edged by more than a hint of

aggression. The man‟s broad chest rose and fell rapidly, his cock standing stiff and

hard, his ballocks gleaming with moisture.

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Their panting breaths cut through the air between them. He could feel the

tension coiling tighter and tighter, a tangible force that sent Jasper‟s pulse

hammering through his veins.

Nate‟s arm shot out. He grabbed Jasper by the nape, hauled him close. Hard

muscle met hard muscle. One long line from chest to thighs. Nate crushed his lips

over Jasper‟s in another harsh kiss. Jasper ground his hips, rubbing his cock along

Nate‟s, needing the friction. Then abruptly shoved at Nate‟s shoulders again,

breaking the kiss.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” he demanded.

Nate‟s eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared, muscles bulging as though poised to

attack. God, he loved seeing Nate like this. So raw and stripped bare, aroused to a

fever pitch and consumed with lust for him.

A low, rumbling growl reverberated throughout the room. Nate whirled him

around. A large hand pressed between his shoulder blades. “Down,” Nate

commanded.

Jasper braced one hand on the edge of the mattress and with the other,

grabbed the bottle of oil, and handed it back to Nate. A second later, the bottle

landed back on the mattress. Oiled fingertips passed over his entrance. Two digits

pressed inside on one long thrust. In and out, too quick to be savored. On the next

thrust, Jasper grunted. Three fingers. There and then gone. And then…

“Ah, hell,” he gasped. Four.

Those fingers didn‟t leave him. They stayed lodged deep in his arse, stretching

him beyond wide. Damnation, Nate certainly did not possess the fine-boned,

delicate fingers of an aristocrat.

“Too much for you?” Nate asked, more a taunt than a question.

Lip curled in defiance, Jasper shot a quick glance over his shoulder. “Never.”

A loud smack rent the air. Jasper shuddered as the impact radiated

throughout his body, tightening his ballocks, hardening his cock even further, his

His Client

muscles clamping around Nate‟s fingers. The spot on his left cheek where Nate had

slapped him smarted, the skin beginning to heat.

Jasper pushed out his arse. “More.”

“I‟ll give you more. Turn your arse red with my handprints.”

Another smack. And then another. Nate rained blow after blow on him. Jasper

hung his head, gasped for breath. Rocked back into each delicious impact, working

himself on Nate‟s fingers.

Abruptly those fingers were gone, yanked from his body. With his ears ringing

from the sound of that last smack, he felt the blunt head of Nate‟s cock push against

him, demanding entry.

“You want to get fucked? Then take it,” Nate snarled.

“Yes yes yes,” Jasper chanted under his breath as Nate pushed inside on one

long stroke.

Nate grabbed the laces at the small of his back and tugged hard, settling hilt-

deep. A groan ripped from Jasper‟s throat. For a long moment, Nate didn‟t move.

Kept Jasper pressed tight against him, damp ballocks kissing his skin. The full

length of the man‟s thick cock filled him, stretched him, his nerve endings

screaming in delicious, razor-sharp ecstasy. A tremor shook his legs. Sweat pricked

his skin under the leather. With each heavy breath, his chest reached the limits of

the corset, serving as a constant reminder it was there.

Nate pulled back and slammed into him. Rough. Hard. Frantic. Nate‟s ballocks

slapped against him. The sound of skin meeting skin filled his ears. The most

intense pleasure flooded Jasper‟s senses. With each thrust, Nate‟s pelvis bumped

his arse cheek that stung and smarted from the man‟s palm, sending fiery-hot jolts

of pleasure along his nerve endings, reverberating in his achingly hard cock. Jasper

struggled to catch his breath under the onslaught of sensation.

Nate wrapped an arm around his waist, pulled him upright, as he continued to

pound into him. Jasper reached back, tugged on Nate‟s hip, wanting even more.

Pleasure coiled down his spine, gripped his ballocks. He turned his head, needing

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Nate‟s kiss. Urgent lips met his. The kiss was sloppy and wet and the absolute

definition of perfection.

Nate grabbed his cock. One touch and the orgasm rushed through him, his

shout lost in the hot recesses of Nate‟s mouth. He felt Nate stiffen behind him, and

then warmth filled his passage as Nate came on a groan, buried deep inside him.

If not for the strong arm around his waist, Jasper would have slumped to his

knees. Forcing his unsteady limbs to cooperate, he turned in Nate‟s arms,

suppressing a wince as the man‟s prick slipped out of him. He was going to feel that

rough fuck for days, but the ache, the constant reminder of Nate, would be well

worth it. His mouth found Nate‟s again. Their lips slid over each other‟s in a long,

slow kiss.

Nate broke the kiss. One edge of his mouth curved up in a smug smile. “Did

you get your answer?”

Are you going to fuck me or not? His earlier question echoed in his head. Jasper

chuckled. Goddamn, how he loved this man. “Indeed I did.”

* * *

The mattress shifted. Sprawled on his back, Jasper lifted his arm to rest it

over his head, making room for Nate to settle closer beside him. His breathing was

almost back to normal, though the sweat had yet to completely dry from his skin.

The room was so quiet he could hear the faint sound of a female voice in the

corridor as someone passed the door. Nate‟s knee bumped the side of his own as the

man shifted, likely onto his side, judging by the way his toes gazed Jasper‟s ankle.

The most dangerous of moments with Nate. When Jasper gave in to the

postorgasmic lethargy and let his eyes drift closed. The heat of Nate‟s body warming

his own. The soft, gentle touch of Nate‟s fingertips coasting up and down his side.

That feeling of true intimacy settling over him like a lush, comforting blanket. A

potent temptation to believe Nate loved him. That the man wasn‟t simply admiring

the impressions the corset had left on his skin.

His Client

But he doesn‟t love me.

His heart clenched, the hurt encompassing his entire body. With effort, he kept

his muscles lax and focused on taking slow, even breaths as he absorbed the pain.

The vicious flare died down, settling into his bones, to an ache he knew well.

He should know better. Hell, he knew better. He should not have even crawled

onto the bed after Nate removed the corset. Yet still, he had done so, knowing Nate

would follow him. Wanting Nate to follow him. His poor heart needing that moment.

Something, anything to cling to.

He blinked his eyes open and met Nate‟s drowsy, sated blue gaze. Head resting

on the palm of a bent arm, Nate looked down at him. The tiniest hint of a content

smile curved the edges of his lips. His gaze slid down to Jasper‟s mouth. The lulling

whisper of his fingertips paused.

Jasper‟s heart slammed against his ribs. Don’t kiss me now. I couldn’t bear it.

“Hungry?” Beyond desperate to distract Nate, the word popped out of his

mouth before it even formed in his head.

“Famished.”

Jasper nodded. “I‟ll get us some supper.” Needing to put distance between

himself and Nate, he pushed up and swung his legs over the side of the mattress.

He grabbed his trousers and shirt from the floor and quickly pulled them on.

Without another glance to Nate lying naked on the bed, he left the room.

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Chapter Five

Jasper shut the bedchamber door behind him. Resting his back against its

surface, he dropped his chin to his chest, squeezed his eyes closed tight. His pulse

skittered through his veins, filling his ears, his breaths shuddered and quick. He

clenched his hands at his sides, trying to will the tremble from his arms.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. Harsh and heavy, frustration churned in his belly.

Frustration at himself for being reduced to such a state.

The faint sounds of voices and footsteps reached his ears, coming ever nearer

from the main stairway to the floor. Instinct had him pushing from the door, quick

strides taking him in the opposite direction of the voices coming down the softly lit

corridor, hand reaching out to grasp the knob on the narrow door to the servants‟

stairs.

By the time Jasper pulled open the door to the kitchen, his pulse had slowed to

something that approached normal levels. He quickly sidestepped, holding the door

open to allow a maid bearing a silver tray laden with covered dishes to pass. The

relative calm from his stop earlier that evening for his usual solitary dinner was

long gone. One scullery maid was at the sink washing wineglasses and crystal

tumblers. Another at the counter cutting carrots and potatoes into neat little cubes.

A third emerged from the narrow door that led to the cellar, carrying a couple of

bottles of wine.

The stove kept the kitchen warmer than the other rooms in the house, the air

thick with scents of freshly baked bread and cooked meat. It smelled like a beef

roast was on the menu this evening.

His Client

He weaved around the maids and requested a supper tray for two from Cook.

He had absolutely no appetite, but he could not very well sit idle, leaving Nate to

eat alone.

“Any preferences?” She lifted the lid on one of the pots on the stove, releasing a

gust of steam.

“Nothing too extravagant. Though it would be ideal if you had some of the

roast to spare.” Cook could do wonders with a roast, and Nate was partial to it.

“I‟ll see what I can do.” She tucked a stray strand of her dark hair, heavily

streaked with silver, back into the tight bun at her nape.

“And a couple of pints of ale, please.” He resisted the impulse to request the

largest bottle of gin that could be found. Nate preferred ale with supper.

At her nod, he crossed to the small wooden table in the corner of the room and

pulled out a chair. He let out a little grunt under his breath as he sat down.

Definitely a bit sore. One would think his body would be used to such excesses by

now, but at least the aches were usually gone by morning. Never a pleasant evening

when he still bore the aftereffects of a prior night. Given that clients had requested

him the last two evenings, Madame Delacroix would offer up the other two men

employed at the house tomorrow before offering him up. As most visitors preferred

those of the female gender, at the very least he should have a quiet night tomorrow.

A quiet night with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him. Not exactly a recipe

for a good night, especially after tonight.

The maid at the sink shot him a questioning glance from the corner of her eye

as she grabbed a towel and set to drying the glasses. He knew he should return to

the bedchamber, have one of the maids deliver the tray when it was ready. Better

yet, he should have rung for a maid to see to the entire task. But he had needed to

get out of that room.

He passed a hand over the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension there.

Then he scowled. Hell, he‟d forgotten to don his cravat. Delacroix would have his

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head if she saw him moving about the house, looking distinctly like he‟d just been

fucked, never mind loitering in the kitchen instead of tending to his client.

When was the last time he had been this unsettled after being with Nate?

Stripped bare and vulnerable, emotions so close to the surface he frankly could not

trust himself not to say something he shouldn‟t? He couldn‟t recall.

All right. He rolled his eyes at himself. The night he realized he‟d fallen in

love. Nate had mentioned Edmonton, and all Jasper had been able to think was,

You don‟t belong with him; you belong with me. It had been all he could do to keep

his mouth shut, to listen patiently as Nate went on about the man he loved, and not

bolt from the room.

Nate did not visit the house for a fortnight after that, and Jasper had needed

every bit of those fourteen days to reconcile himself to the fact he had indeed been

fool enough to fall in love with one of his clients. Not just any client, but a

gentleman whose heart was already taken. And when next he had walked into one

of the bedchambers and found Nate waiting for him, he had been able to smile and

talk with the man as though his heart didn‟t ache.

A skill he had perfected over the last four years, and one that had failed him

tonight.

If only Nate had simply sought sex. Then Jasper could have looked on him as

he did all the others—as a means to a stack of pound notes and nothing more. But

by wanting just that critical bit more. By wanting Jasper‟s willing ear in addition to

his body, by treating him like a friend and not like a toy he had purchased…

Kindness. Who would have thought it could be so damn dangerous?

Letting out a heavy sigh, he propped his elbows on the wooden table and

dropped his head into his hands.

Deep down, he knew why he was so unsettled. Jasper had endured countless

discussions about Edmonton, but he had never been so blunt with Nate as he had

these last two nights. He had finally voiced the questions he had held back for so

long. Practically grabbed Nate by the chin and forced the man to take a hard look at

His Client

what he‟d convinced himself he wanted. Forced him to see his dreams for what they

were—nothing more than a fantasy.

“You need to let him go,” he had told Nate.

“I know.” Nate‟s response echoed in his head.

Nate wasn‟t a simpleton. In love and in possession of an extremely loyal heart,

but not daft. It might take a bit more time, but Nate would soon follow his advice.

The one obstacle Jasper hung all his hopes on would soon be gone.

How long had Jasper waited for this moment? How many nights had he lain in

his lonely bed, pacifying his aching heart with the promise someday Nate would let

Edmonton go? And now Nate was right there, on the cusp of it.

Instead of joy or excitement, instead of the sweet taste of anticipation teasing

his tongue, instead of even a sigh of relief, he felt…distinctly unsettled, as though

he wanted to turn his back, close his eyes tight, clamp his hands over his ears, and

yank back that question he had posed to Nate: “I know you firmly believe you and

Edmonton would have been perfect together. But would you have really?”

He didn‟t doubt the answer at all. Nate and Edmonton would not have suited

one another. That wasn‟t what unsettled him. Rather, the core of the question did.

For just like Nate, he had never asked himself that particular question.

Did he and Nate truly belong together?

The answer sounded in his head. A solid, irrefutable fact that required

absolutely no thought at all.

No.

He flinched. The urge to deny, to argue, to offer excuse after excuse rose from

deep within. But he fought it down.

He had forced Nate to open his eyes. To face the stark, grim truth. To accept it.

And Jasper could do no less. For if he didn‟t, it would lead to nothing but

disappointment.

Agonizing, heart-wrenching disappointment.

Ava March

As he had told Nate last night, he could not be seen outside of the house with

the man. They could not go to any of Nate‟s usual haunts. White‟s would never

admit him. Even if on the off chance Nate realized he truly cared for Jasper, it

would end up just like this. Nate visiting him for sex and not much more. And it

would destroy him. To have a glimpse of what he needed most of all, to reach out

and touch it, but never truly be a part of Nate‟s life.

The full extent of their relationship must always remain behind closed doors.

An unfortunate reality and one he was not protesting. But he could never stand at

Nate‟s shoulder, to have the man proud to call him friend.

Never have more than what he had now—a thin illusion of intimacy.

No matter how much he did not want to, no matter how much his soul rebelled

and screamed and shouted its protests, he knew he needed to take his own advice.

He needed to let go.

A harsh wince compressed his mouth, squeezed his eyes shut. That familiar

pain sliced into his chest, sinking deep. Straight and true, a direct hit to his heart.

Somehow he managed to keep the groan inside. The drone of the kitchen—the clink

of glasses, the clang of a pot, the tap of a knife on a cutting board—served as a firm

reminder he was not alone. A good hour remained before he could escape to his

small room, shut the door, and let lose the agony tearing his heart to tiny little bits.

He took a deep breath. Then another. Nate will never be yours. He fought down

the ball of resistance welling up, threatening to clog his throat, then took another

deep breath, focusing all his efforts on forcing the telling hitch from the exhale.

Had he actually believed Nate would someday love him? It would never even

occur to Nate to look on him as anything more than what he was—a damn bastard

whore from the lowest classes. How the hell had he allowed himself to forget that?

Bloody pathetic fool.

Perhaps in an odd sort of way, he and Nate were perfect for each other. Both

blind fools. Both wanting something so badly, so desperately, that they had refused

to see it could never be.

His Client

A bone-deep resignation settled over him, slumping his shoulders. Beyond

weary, he scrubbed his hands over his face. He knew what he needed to do, and he

needed to get on the path now. Take that step tonight. No way Jasper could sit and

listen as Nate one day told him he‟d met someone. That he had indeed found a

gentleman he could truly be himself with. That he had found a replacement for

Jasper. One who did not allow men to use him for a mere fold of pound notes.

“Rough evening?”

Jasper started, bolting upright. Cook stood beside the table, holding a tray

complete with two pints of ale.

He blinked and took a moment to process her question. Indeed, very rough.

But the cause was not what she would assume. He got to his feet. “Just tired. Had

an early start tonight.”

Grabbing the tray, he offered his thanks and quickly left the kitchen. She did

not truly care if he had a rough evening anyway. No one in the house cared. The

staff focused on their responsibilities; the other employees focused on themselves.

The house was never quiet, never empty. Countless souls labored under its roof and

walked through its front door. Yet it felt so…empty, so lonely at times that he might

as well be living alone.

Ah well. He could compare it with the actual thing soon enough.

* * *

The bedchamber door clicked shut. Crouched before the fireplace, Nate glanced

right to see Jasper entering the room bearing a silver tray. Finally. Any longer and

he would have rung for a maid, inquired after Jasper‟s absence. That sense of

comfort vanished when Jasper did. Being alone in one of the rooms in the house for

any length of time always made him a bit…restless. He gave the fire one last nudge

and then rested the iron poker against the hearth‟s marble surround.

“You didn‟t need to do that. I could have seen to it.” Jasper set the supper tray

on the cabinet.

Ava March

“It wasn‟t a bother, I assure you.” He stood and gave his waistcoat a little tug

to straighten it. He‟d dressed while Jasper had been gone but hadn‟t bothered to

don his coat yet.

Jasper picked up the candlestick from the end table next to the couch. Before

he could put it on the cabinet, Nate lifted the end table. He had not exaggerated

earlier. He truly was famished, and the little wisps of steam seeping from under the

silver covers on the dishes reminded his stomach he had barely eaten since dawn.

“Nate, you don‟t—”

Eyebrow raised, he shot Jasper a glance, silencing the man. “I‟m capable of

moving a table.”

“Well yes, but—”

“You‟re damn stubborn sometimes, you know that?” he muttered, setting the

table down in front of the couch.

Jasper placed the tray on their makeshift dining table. His pursed mouth

indicated he did not agree, yet he clearly was determined to keep his opinions to

himself.

“Very stubborn,” Nate added.

Jasper moved Nate‟s top hat with the gloves inside it to the floor and pulled

the armchair up to the table. “Am not.” The low words barely made it past his tight

lips.

Nate chuckled as he sat on the couch, pleased with himself for getting a

response out of the man. “Yes, you are. I would say even more so than I.”

That earned him a scowl, but the edges of Jasper‟s lips did quirk in a hint of

amusement. Jasper had a way of getting what he wanted, without asking or

demanding. A very neat trick he‟d already demonstrated once that evening. Not

that Nate had any complaints. The man possessed an amazing mouth.

His Client

As Jasper settled across from him, Nate lifted the silver covers from both

dishes, releasing the delicious aroma of roasted beef, and set them on the floor. “Did

the cook butcher the cow before turning it into our supper?”

“Of course not,” Jasper said with a roll of his eyes. “Why would you even ask?”

“You were gone an awfully long time. Almost sent a maid after you.”

Jasper‟s hand stilled for an instant, suspended an inch from the tankard.

“Busy evening.” He took a swallow of ale. “None of the maids were available. I

waited until the tray was ready and brought it up myself.”

“Well then, thank you.” Jasper had gone out of his way to see to their supper,

and here Nate had been grumping over his absence. Ungrateful arse. He took a bite

of the roast and then smiled, wanting to ease the hint of tension in Jasper‟s

shoulders. “Definitely would not be as delicious cold.”

Jasper tipped his head. “Glad it meets with your satisfaction.”

“If White‟s was wise, they‟d lure your cook to work in their kitchen. The chef

there can turn out a decent meal, but nothing that approaches this.” He should

know, as he took supper at his club most every evening he wasn‟t with Jasper. The

company could also have something to do with his partiality for the house‟s fare.

Nate‟s stomach grumbled, and he set to work pacifying it. He had almost

cleared his plate when Jasper asked if he had stopped by his office recently.

“Not for a few days.” His office had been the last thing on his mind of late.

“Though I should stop by tomorrow. Received a note from Overton the other day.”

The man managed most everything for Nate, except for the larger decisions. Those

Overton left to him, unfortunately. Why the secretary thought that he, Nate, would

have a better understanding of the intricacies of shipping, he did not know. It

wasn‟t as if Nate had managed the office for years for his grandfather. He‟d only

stepped foot in the place a handful of times before his grandfather willed it to him.

“Overton wants to know if I want to change the routes for one of the ships. Send it

to Portugal instead of Italy.”

Ava March

“I‟m sure you‟ll make the best decision,” Jasper said with a confidence Nate did

not at all feel.

Not for the first time, he wished his grandfather had left him the property

outside of Bath and given the small shipping company to his brother, David,

instead. Nate rather thought he would have made a better farmer. Had to be less

complicated than keeping abreast of trade routes or which goods were currently

fetching the best prices.

He glanced to Jasper‟s plate and frowned. “Didn‟t care for the roast tonight?”

Jasper pushed a piece of beef to join the other untouched pieces. He could not

have eaten but a handful of bites. “Wasn‟t all that hungry. I had dinner shortly

before you arrived.” He set down his fork, giving it a little nudge with the tips of his

fingers, straightening it next to his plate. “Just so you are aware, I‟ll be out of town

for a few days.”

Nate‟s gaze snapped up to Jasper‟s face, but the man‟s long, dark lashes were

lowered, his attention still on his fork. “For how long?”

“A few days. Maybe a week.”

“Which is it?”

Jasper shrugged. “A week.”

Gone for a week? First Peter and now Jasper? At least Jasper would only be

gone for a week, still…Jasper was always there. But for the next week, Nate would

not find him within these walls.

With effort, he snapped his jaw shut and held back his protests. Jasper had

every right to take a holiday or…whatever he planned. He was certainly under no

obligation to Nate to be at his beck and call. And it was only for a week. Not as if he

saw Jasper on a daily basis anyway. Couldn‟t afford it and he didn‟t want the house

to think him a glutton. A week often passed between visits. Still…

Nate shifted. Then he got to his feet and grabbed his coat from the back of the

couch. “I should be going.”

His Client

Jasper stood. His light green eyes briefly met Nate‟s. The easy self-assurance

was completely gone, replaced with a heavy note Nate could not define. On some

level, Nate understood he was acting a bit of an arse again. Yet still…

He pushed the frustration aside and tipped his head. “Thank you for the

evening and for supper.”

Jasper handed him his hat. “You‟re welcome.”

As he shut the bedchamber door behind him, it did not escape his notice that

Jasper‟s response had not echoed last night‟s. Unease tightened his stomach. There

would be no anytime for the next seven days.

Ava March

Chapter Six

Nate shrugged out of his coat and tossed it onto one of the brown leather

armchairs as he crossed his parlor to grab the brandy bottle and a glass from the

cabinet. He hoped to God he had made the right decision today. Overton had not

offered up a counterargument. He took that as a good sign. Perhaps Portugal was

indeed the better route, though only time would tell. At least he could take solace in

the knowledge there were still decisions to be made. It meant he hadn‟t run the

office into the ground…yet.

Letting out a sigh, he settled onto the couch. After pouring himself a drink, he

set the brandy bottle on the floor by his feet. It did not take long before the glass

was empty. Another sigh. With his free hand, he tugged on his cravat, fingers

absently working the knot. Floorboards creaked overhead, from the apartments

above his, and then nothing.

Silence pressed against his ears. Damn quiet in his apartments. It was always

empty as he lived alone, but for some reason, his apartments actually felt it tonight.

He stood, set the glass on an end table, and opened the window near the couch.

The faint sounds of the city drifted into the room on the cool May evening air: the

clop of horses‟ hooves, the drone of voices so soft he could not distinguish the words,

and the rumble of carriage wheels. He sat back on the couch and picked up the

Times.

The next moment, he flicked the newspaper back onto the cushion. Should

have picked up today‟s edition when he had been out and about. Yesterday‟s news

barely held his attention when he had read it at dawn. A second perusal did not

stand a chance.

His Client

At a loss for what to do, he glanced about his parlor. A couple of armchairs, a

gray marble fireplace, the hearth dark as he had not bothered to light a fire, and a

tall bookshelf near the door to the small dining room that was used more for a card

room. Not exactly Spartan, but nothing to hold his interest. The books he‟d read

ages ago at university—he had no idea why he kept them—and he wasn‟t of a mind

to play a game of patience.

He had already been to his office and to White‟s. Had joined a table of

acquaintances for supper, though the company had left much to be desired. As if he

cared if Bronson‟s sister garnered a marriage proposal. But unless he wanted to

dine alone, he would have to accustom himself to such inane chatter. He doubted

Peter would be joining him as often as he once did now the man was married. Likely

he would want to spend most meals with his new wife.

Nate tipped back his head and stared unseeingly at the white plaster ceiling.

His heavy sigh filled the room as that now familiar sense of loss washed over him.

Why did Peter have to get married? Why did he have to prefer women? Why

couldn‟t the man love him? It would have been so…easy.

He and Peter had been friends for so long no one would have suspected if their

relationship turned far more intimate. It wasn‟t easy to prefer men. Damned

difficult at times, and finding other men like himself even more so. He hated being

reduced to quick ruts with nameless souls in dark alleys at night. Hence why he

had first walked through the door at Madame Delacroix‟s. There he had met Jasper,

a man who gave him free rein to indulge his rather eccentric desires, the ones that

had once been mere fantasy, fuel for his solitary nights. Hell, he and Jasper were so

of the same mind, the man had suggested more than a few games that had never

been on his list of masturbatory fantasies but damn well would have been if Nate

had thought of them first.

But if Peter had ever joined him in one of those rooms at Delacroix‟s…

Ava March

The image refused to materialize in his mind‟s eye, yet that sense

of…trepidation was unmistakable. The same feeling he‟d had when he sucked off

Peter all those years ago. Bracing for a hand to shove him away.

He let out a frustrated grunt. Why the hell did Jasper have to be correct? Not

that it mattered now. All hope of anything more had vanished the moment Peter

had slipped that ring on Catherine‟s delicate finger.

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and speared his fingers into

his hair. The last few days…definitely not easy. Not in any sense of the word. Left

him wrung dry yet restless and distinctly out of sorts. That familiar hope gone, but

the instinct to reach for it, to lean on it, still there. And why had Jasper left town?

Where had he gone? Nate couldn‟t recall any instance over the last five years when

he‟d arrived at the house and Jasper had not been in residence. On a rare occasion,

he‟d been occupied. But at least then Nate held secure in the knowledge that a

couple of hours wait, if he so desired, would earn him time of his own with Jasper.

Now though, that option was gone. At least for the next six days.

He had just spent the last two nights with Jasper. It wasn‟t as if his prick

begged for attention. Jasper had damn near drained him dry last night. Six days

shouldn‟t seem so long, but for some reason, it did.

“It‟s just because he‟s not there,” he grumbled under his breath as he pushed

off the couch. Perhaps he just liked to torture himself, always wanting what he

could not have. First Peter and now Jasper.

He closed the window, grabbed the candlestick he‟d lit upon first returning

home from the console table, extinguished the candles on the mantle, and made his

way into his bedchamber. The thought of stopping by a tavern for a pint held

absolutely no appeal. Peter was in Ireland, and Jasper only God knew where. Might

as well retire early.

After undressing, he climbed into bed and blew out the candle he had placed

on the bedside table. He tugged the blanket to his chest and rolled onto his side.

His Client

With the faint wisp of smoke from the candle still lingering in the air, he got out of

bed, opened the window, and crawled back under the blanket.

A punch to his pillow, and then he settled in, waiting for sleep to overtake him.

A carriage passed below his window. The rumble of carriage wheels eventually

faded into nothingness.

He rolled onto his back and blinked into the darkness. Perhaps a visit to

Gentleman Jackson‟s would do him good. If he stopped by tomorrow, he could find

someone willing to spar with him. He‟d hire the man himself if need be. Yes, a long,

hard brawl. He needed to work up a sweat and put his muscles to good use. It

always made him feel better. If nothing else, when he went to bed, the day‟s

exercise would have his eyes drifting closed as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Not something that would happen tonight, though.

* * *

Jasper trailed a fingertip over the mahogany dresser, disturbing the faint hint

of dust on the surface. “Does the furniture remain with the house?”

“Yes, everything you see remains with the house.”

The current owners had not left everything, but most of the necessary pieces

remained. He would only need to purchase a comfortable armchair for the sitting

room, a desk for the study, and a bed. The other two bedchambers and the one he

currently stood in were by no means empty, but he wanted something larger for

himself than a bed that appeared to barely fit two. Not that he planned to have

company. No, highly doubtful someone in Shere would wish to share his bed. But

after enduring that narrow thing at Delacroix‟s, it would be well worth the expense

to roll over and not worry about landing on the floor.

“Would you like to have a look at the kitchen?” Mr. Miller asked. “Then I can

show you the grounds.”

A good five inches below Jasper‟s six feet and with a well-rounded belly, the

solicitor was a pleasant fellow. He looked approximately fifty years of age. Jasper

Ava March

guessed the man managed the sale of properties for those in the neighborhood as

more of a courtesy. Shere was certainly not large enough for the task to serve as a

regular source of income.

Jasper tipped his head and followed Mr. Miller out of the bedchamber and

down to the first floor. Comfortable and unassuming, Westborne Cottage could not

come close to rivaling the grandeur of Delacroix‟s, yet it was definitely a far cry from

the tiny boarding house room in St. Giles, with its broken windows covered with

dirty rags, that he had called home in his youth. Mr. Miller had shown him one

other property before the country house. A rather large property. Jasper had no

need for servants‟ quarters or miles of farmland. But this one…

A smile spread across his mouth as he entered the kitchen. The room fit with

the rest of the house. Not too small, not too large. Clean and tidy yet it gave the

distinct impression it had been well lived-in. Copper pots hung from an iron rack

above a wooden worktable. Ivory curtains dotted with red flowers framed a window

situated above a white basin sink. A stove, plenty of cabinets, and the narrow door

in the corner likely led to the larder. Everything a kitchen needed.

“Are you married, Mr. Reed?”

“No, no wife,” he said as he opened one of the cabinets, revealing a neat stack

of dishes. Nor would he ever have one, but he kept that to himself. At only twenty-

seven years of age, no one would question his lack of a wife. Most gentlemen did not

settle into married life until their thirties. To Mr. Miller‟s knowledge, Jasper was

simply a young gentleman from London of reasonable means who had grown tired

of the city. If the man knew Jasper worked as a prostitute, never mind had a

preference for those of his own gender, he would not be so accommodating. Likely

would refuse to show him one property. The neighborhood would not welcome the

addition of a whore to their midst.

“If you have need of a cook or a housekeeper, one can easily be found in the

village. And if you need assistance in your search, you need only to ask.”

His Client

“Thank you.” And it would take a bit more time before he became accustomed

to such accommodation. Never had a gentleman been so eager to please him, in any

capacity. Though Mr. Miller needn‟t bother to go to such extremes. Jasper did not

plan to hire a servant. If he kept an eye on expenses, he could live comfortably for

the rest of his days and never work for another again. Never have to suck off

another bloated old man.

A shudder skipped down his spine. In all honesty, he had tucked away enough

money two years ago to leave Delacroix‟s. Could have left that house and saved

himself many unpleasant nights. He might not have been able to afford Westborne

Cottage, but his bank account could easily have managed a small cottage with a bit

of property. Yet he had stayed because of Nate.

But there was no future for him and Nate. None at all.

Before his heart began to ache anew, he turned from the cabinets. “The

grounds?” he inquired.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Mr. Miller pulled open the door along the back wall of the

kitchen and motioned for Jasper to precede him. “This way, Mr. Reed. I believe the

garden will meet with your approval. Mrs. Talbot had a fondness for roses. It‟s

really quite spectacular in the summer.”

Jasper stepped out of the house and onto a small flagstone terrace. The late-

afternoon sun bathed the grounds in rich golden light. A great expanse of green

grass was off to the left, bordered in the distance by a forest. To the right, a small

stable tucked among a few large oak trees. And before him, what must be a rose

garden. Though too early for flowers, come July, the meandering rows of green

bushes would be in full bloom.

“The stable can hold four horses with space inside to keep a carriage. There‟s a

nice paddock on the other side of the stable, as well.”

Nodding absently, Jasper walked into the grass and stopped beside a wooden

bench. Closing his eyes, he tipped his face up toward the sun, letting the golden

Ava March

rays warm his cheeks. A bird chirped off in the distance. The light breeze rustled

the leaves on the nearby rosebushes. A sense of peace settled over him.

On occasion, he took walks in Hyde Park, so it wasn‟t as if he never had grass

beneath his feet. But it could not compare to this.

He turned back to Mr. Miller, who stood at the edge of the terrace. “How far

does the property extend?”

“It includes the forest and approximately ten acres beyond the stables. Do you

fish?”

“No, but I could be persuaded to give it a try.”

“There‟s a nice pond beyond the hill. Excellent for fishing.”

Fishing and gardening. How different his days would soon become. The

beginnings of a chuckle rumbled his chest.

Hands clasped behind his back, Mr. Miller rocked on his heels. “Do you have

any other questions, Mr. Reed?”

“They wish to sell, correct?” He hadn‟t worked a decade on his knees to merely

lease a property. He wanted something he could call his own.

The solicitor nodded and then pushed his spectacles back in place. “They‟d

prefer an outright sale. Already settled in Northumberland and would rather not let

the property.”

Jasper glanced about the garden again. Not another house within sight. The

property was an easy distance from the village to make visits to the butcher

reasonable yet far enough away so neighbors were not in close proximity.

He tamped down the grin building within. A gentleman did not get overly

excited about the purchase of a property. “This one will do. When can the sale be

completed?”

Mr. Miller‟s gray eyes lit up behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. “As soon as

you wish to see it done. We can return to my office and see to the paperwork.”

His Client

He followed the man back through the house that he would soon call his own

and then out the front door to where he had left the rented horse from the inn tied

to the wrought-iron rail beside the front stone steps. He gave the mare a pat on the

neck, flipped the reins over her head, and swung into the saddle.

Mr. Miller pulled himself up onto the driver‟s bench of his cart and gathered

the lines. “May I ask why you chose to settle in Shere?”

“Close enough to London to make visits a reasonable distance yet far enough

away to be firmly in the country.” And none of his previous clients had ever

mentioned the name of the village. Those had been his primary requirements when

he had looked over the map yesterday morning, locating the various properties

listed in the advertisements in the Times, and Shere had fit them. Less than a day‟s

ride from London and someplace obscure enough to make the probability of coming

face-to-face with a former client practically nonexistent.

Mr. Miller shrugged, that pleasant, welcoming smile firmly on his lips. “A new

resident is always welcome. There is an assembly at the Harton Inn on the last

Saturday of every month. Nothing much, as there aren‟t many families in the

neighborhood. But there will be supper and dancing for those younger than I and a

card room for the gentlemen. Please consider joining us. It would be an ideal

opportunity to become acquainted with the neighborhood.”

A country assembly? Trepidation had his grip on the reins tightening. His first

instinct was to conjure an excuse to avoid the dozens of questions he would certainly

be bombarded with. He could well imagine himself being set upon the moment he

walked through the door of the inn. The residents of Shere would be understandably

curious about their new neighbor. But he‟d definitely rouse suspicions if he did not

attend. If he could play the innocent, he reassured himself, then he could play the

gentleman. As long as his answers were sufficiently exact yet vague, he should

satisfy their curiosity without raising more questions. And it wasn‟t as if he planned

to become a fixture in their little society. Most of his days would be spent right here.

Ava March

Though he would need to think up an excuse to avoid the dancing, as he hadn‟t a

clue how to dance.

Concerns placated, he smiled at Mr. Miller. “Thank you for the invitation. It is

most welcome.”

A snap of Mr. Miller‟s lines and a nudge of Jasper‟s heels, and they set off

down the dirt drive. Less than a day in the country and he had already found a

house, one that would be his before dusk fell. He hadn‟t anticipated finding

something so quickly. Even planned to go on to Mayford if he could not find a

suitable home in Shere. He could be back in London by tomorrow evening.

They took a left turn onto the road that led to the village and to Mr. Miller‟s

office. Jasper kept the mare a few paces behind the cart to avoid the dust kicked up

by the wheels. The thought of returning to Delacroix‟s early sat like a leaden weight

in his belly. Yesterday morning, his heart heavy in his chest, he almost gave

Delacroix his resignation, but he had told Nate he would return. So he simply

informed the madam of his weeklong absence from town. She hadn‟t been pleased,

but given he had never requested a holiday before, never even asked for a single day

away from the brothel, she had grudgingly assented.

Perhaps he would return to London tomorrow and rent a room at an inn. No

hope Nate would walk through the door for another five days. There were many

things he needed to see to before he could settle into his new home. Furniture to

purchase, a stop at Tattersalls for a horse and cart—the village was much too far to

walk to—and a visit to a tailor for a wardrobe suitable for the country. He would

need more than his only coat, the bottle green one currently on his back, and at

least a couple pairs of breeches.

In five days, he‟d return to his little room on the fourth floor. And the morning

after Nate walked through the door, he‟d inform Delacroix of his resignation. Leave

that house and leave Nate behind.

He took a deep breath. The thought didn‟t hurt as much as it had two nights

ago, but he had a strong feeling it would hurt like hell in five.

His Client

Chapter Seven

Hand on the doorknob, he paused.

Jasper had left the hotel in Cheapside and arrived four hours ago. Plenty of

time to have a bite to eat and wash up. Then he‟d waited in his little room for one of

the maids to fetch him.

The longest damn wait of his life.

And it would be over if he just turned the knob.

The doorknob of room number four on the third floor. Not the usual room Nate

was shown to. Still, that could merely signify a busier than usual house for seven

o‟clock on a Thursday evening. Of course, the maid hadn‟t told Jasper who

requested him. She would not have known in any case, so he hadn‟t bothered to ask.

The identity of his clients remained a mystery until he came face-to-face with

them—advanced notice a courtesy never bestowed upon him. Gentlemen either

pulled one of the girls in the receiving room aside to make their request, or in Nate‟s

case, if the house knew their preferences well, then a girl simply showed them to a

bedchamber. The girl would have only told the nearest maid who was needed and in

which room.

But what if Nate wasn‟t on the other side of the door?

Jasper winced. It didn‟t matter if it was the kind young lord with the dark mop

of hair who had a distinct preference for getting buggered, though Jasper had not

seen him in at least a few months. Still, it did not matter. The thought of any other

man beside Nate touching him, using him, kissing him…

His arm shook, his hand tightening on the knob, as a cringe of revulsion

gripped his body. Hell, he shouldn‟t have this reaction. He had walked into the

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bedchambers at Delacroix‟s so many times he should be numb to it. But after having

just a small taste of his future in Shere, after purposefully waiting to return to the

house until that afternoon, until the day he‟d told Nate he would return and early

enough in the event Nate stopped by before supper, the thought of it being anyone

other than Nate in room number four…

No, he couldn‟t do it. He‟d claim he had mistaken the room and then conjure

some excuse to give Delacroix. Something. Anything.

But it shouldn‟t come to that. Nate had asked specifically when he would

return, and Edmonton wouldn‟t return to town for weeks. So Nate would not be

with his best friend tonight.

Though if it was Nate…

It would be the last time Jasper saw him. The last time Jasper touched him,

pressed his lips to Nate‟s.

His last evening with Nate.

His heart clenched, the pain encompassing his entire body. He squeezed his

eyes closed tight against the sudden prick of tears.

Bloody hell. He gave his head a sharp shake, tried to throw off the desolation,

but to no avail. A part of him wanted to run back up to his little room, to postpone

tonight indefinitely, to never have it be the last night.

No.

He kept his feet planted firmly on ground, resisted the urge to turn on his heel

and flee like a coward. They had no future beyond this house, and their time here

needed to come to an end.

One last night. No more and no less.

His resolve in place, he pulled his spine straight. The click of the knob turning

echoed in the corridor, the ominous sound filling his ears. He pushed the door open.

A man stood near the fireplace, his back to the door. But Jasper knew the strong

line of those broad shoulders. Knew the slightly disheveled light brown hair. Knew

His Client

every intimate detail of the powerful body hidden beneath the navy coat and tan

trousers. A wave of the sweetest, purest relief washed over him, clashing with the

despair weighing down his heart.

Jasper shut the door behind him. “Good evening—”

Nate whirled about on his heel. Three swift strides and a strong hand closed

around the back of Jasper‟s neck. A firm mouth slanted over his, cutting off his

words. The force of the kiss pushed Jasper against the door, his shoulder blades

connecting with hard wood. Nate‟s tongue thrust into his mouth, demanding entry.

The taste of Nate lit up his senses, sent passion and need roaring through his veins,

so thick and strong it obliterated every trace of that soul-wrenching despair.

Grabbing Jasper‟s arse, Nate roughly jerked him closer. Jasper‟s hands came

up, fingers tangling in Nate‟s hair, pulling him even closer. For the first time,

Jasper let his defenses drop completely. Soul bared and heart desperate, he crushed

his mouth over Nate‟s. Poured every drop of love he‟d kept hidden from view into

that kiss.

Nate would mistake it for lust, for nothing more than empty passion. Never

suspect the truth. But once, just this once, Jasper wanted to kiss Nate as if there

weren‟t a stack of pound notes between them. As if Nate were his own.

The kiss continued on. Each stroke of Nate‟s tongue, each harsh slant of his

lips, imprinted itself on Jasper‟s senses, forming a memory he would keep with him

always. The scent of Nate‟s arousal poured off him, filling Jasper‟s every breath.

The lingering hint of brandy on Nate‟s tongue, the rasp of his day‟s beard against

Jasper‟s cheek, the hard muscles surrounding him…

Jasper‟s head swam under the onslaught of sensation. Too much, yet he

wanted, needed more. Moaning low in his throat, he pressed even closer to the

unyielding bulk of Nate‟s body and rubbed his cock against Nate‟s. He felt rather

than heard the growl rumble in Nate‟s chest. Then Nate‟s hands left his arse to tug

at the knot on Jasper‟s cravat. Clothes, yes. Must remove them. Jasper worked his

hands between their bodies. Within a trice, the buttons of Nate‟s coat and waistcoat

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were undone and he was pushing the garments off Nate‟s shoulders, their kiss still

unbroken.

Needing to touch Nate‟s skin, he frantically tugged Nate‟s shirt from his

trousers, delved his fingers beneath, brushed the soft skin of Nate‟s abdomen. A

quiver shook Nate. Then that wonderful, delicious mouth left his. He caught a

glimpse of heavily lidded, blue eyes blazing with lust before Nate whipped his shirt

over his head.

Jasper quickly followed suit. He was flicking the shirt cuffs from his wrists

when that mouth slanted over his again. Bare skin met bare skin as they came

together. The light smattering of hair on Nate‟s chest teased his nipples, the heat

from his body scorching his skin. A groan rumbled throughout Jasper‟s entire body,

the sound lost in their kiss.

Nate thrust his hips, bumping the hard arch of his erection against Jasper‟s.

Once. Twice. Insistent. Demanding. Then he tugged at the waistband of Jasper‟s

trousers.

Not here! He did not want his last time with Nate like this, rutting up against

a door.

Jasper pushed on his shoulders, but Nate didn‟t budge. He felt the buttons on

the placket of his trousers release. Desperation rose within, sending his pulse racing

to frantic levels. A harsh twist of his head and Jasper broke the kiss. “The bed?” he

panted.

Please, the bed, Nate.

Nate tore at the placket of his own trousers. Toed off his shoes, kicked his

trousers free of his feet. The plea filled Jasper‟s throat, but before it could work

itself free, Nate grabbed his wrist, yanking him from the door.

When they reached the side of the bed, Jasper tugged, turning Nate around

and breaking the man‟s hold on his wrist. He pushed hard on Nate‟s chest, clearly

catching him off guard, for he landed flat on his back on the mattress, exactly where

Jasper wanted him. Jasper reached into the bedside table drawer and tossed a

His Client

bottle of oil onto the bed. His gaze didn‟t leave Nate‟s face as he pushed his trousers

down his hips.

“I‟ll take this as a yes,” Jasper murmured as he crawled onto the bed.

Crouched over that perfect, thick cock standing stiff and hard between

powerful thighs, he looked up. Nate had levered up onto his elbows. His hair stuck

up at odd angles, his broad chest rising and falling, breaths coming quick and fast.

His eyes were darkened to a lust-banked midnight blue and focused fully on him.

Unable to wait a moment longer, Jasper bowed his head, opened his mouth,

and took Nate inside.

“Christ, Jasper. Your mouth…damn amazing.”

Jasper practically purred in response. He used every skill he had acquired over

the last decade to drive Nate to the edge, determined no other man would ever

surpass him in Nate‟s memories. From there on out, anytime another‟s lips touched

Nate‟s prick, he would think of Jasper. Recall how perfect they were together. If his

heart wouldn‟t ache for Jasper, at least his body would.

A few long strokes and then he pulled free to lavish the crown with attention.

Swirled his tongue over the silken skin, lapping up the drop of fluid beading at the

tip. Weight braced on one arm, he wrapped his other hand around the base. His grip

firm, he stroked—fingers sliding easily over spit-slicked skin—as he sucked on the

crown. Short strokes of his mouth coupled with the long pumps of his fist had Nate‟s

hips thrusting up in no time, demanding more.

Sucking hard, he released his hold on Nate‟s length, let the man fuck his

mouth at will. Let Nate take everything he needed from him. Nate‟s cock bumped

the back of his throat. Short grunts punctuated each quick thrust. Jasper could feel

the orgasm building within Nate, tensing his muscles. His own cock hung hard and

heavy between his legs. But Jasper did his best to ignore the demands of his own

prick and instead reached behind him, found the puckered skin of his entrance, and

pushed two slick digits inside. Then quickly followed with a third, stretching

himself, preparing himself for Nate.

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He heard the low growl an instant before a hand wrapped around Jasper‟s

upper arm and tugged. “Up.”

More than eager, Jasper quickly shifted up, knees bracketing Nate‟s hips. Nate

grabbed the bottle and added oil to his already wet cock. Then he grabbed Jasper‟s

prick and pumped the length, his oiled fingers sliding over his skin, pulling the

eminent orgasm closer to the surface. His ballocks lurched up. His arse tingled with

the need to be filled.

“Nate,” he gasped, desperately trying to fight off the climax coiling down his

spine. He was a second from swatting Nate‟s hand away when he released him.

Holding his own cock steady, Nate held Jasper‟s gaze. “You want me? Then

take me.”

“Gladly.” Hands braced on Nate‟s chest, Jasper lifted up full onto his knees

and then lowered. The head made the breech. The stretch stung his muscles. A

wince flickered across his brow. But he didn‟t pause. He sank down, all the way

down onto Nate‟s thick cock in one long stroke.

Nate groaned, the sound mingling with Jasper‟s. His eyelids threatened to

drift closed against the intense pleasure, but he kept his eyes open. Wanting to

watch Nate, refusing to miss a moment.

He stayed still for one long delicious second. Savored the way Nate filled him

completely. Savored that feeling of being joined with him. Then he leaned down,

captured Nate‟s mouth with his own, and began to rock his hips. Nate‟s hands were

on his arse, his grip unyielding, hips thrusting up in rhythm to Jasper‟s strokes,

pushing deeper, harder.

He wrapped one arm around Jasper‟s waist. “Hold on,” Nate murmured

against his lips.

Nate‟s body gathered beneath him, and then in a tangle of limbs, he rolled

over, taking Jasper with him, the contact of their bodies unbroken. Settling between

his spread thighs, Nate pushed up and hooked his elbows under Jasper‟s knees,

lifting his hips so each long, plunging thrust rubbed against his gland.

His Client

Jasper‟s lashes fluttered. A sound caught between a groan and sigh tumbled

past his lips as Nate pumped more pleasure into his already overloaded senses. By

God, it would never be like this with another. Never.

With each thrust, Jasper‟s cock bumped his abdomen. The oil-slicked crown

slid against his skin in a delicious caress that added yet one more layer to the all-

encompassing pleasure soaking every one of his nerves. Unable to resist, he reached

down to grab his prick.

“Not yet,” Nate gasped with a shake of his head. Sweat beaded on his temples,

dripped off his jaw. He drove harder into Jasper, his ballocks slapping against him.

Shaking the bed. Increasing the pace.

The orgasm barreled closer and closer, yet he didn‟t want it to end. He

clutched Nate‟s forearms bracketing his sides, fingers digging into the taut tendons

and solid muscle, and tried to hold back, to hold off, to savor the look of

unadulterated lust and need on Nate‟s rugged face.

“Now.”

Jasper‟s arm shot up. He wrapped a hand around his cock and furiously

worked the length as Nate pounded into him. Each downward thrust sent a fat

burst of pleasure soaring through his body. The climax coiled unbelievably tight,

and then the grunt burst from his throat as fluid shot from his cock, landing on his

chest. The next thing he knew, Nate‟s mouth was on his. The sheer force of the kiss

stole the breath from his lungs. He wrapped his arms around Nate‟s neck and held

on tightly as the man‟s thrusts turned rough, relentless, almost bruising. Then Nate

stiffened above him as he came, buried deep inside him.

After pulling free, Nate flopped onto his back beside Jasper and gasped for

breath.

Jasper winced as he lowered his legs, his muscles protesting the movement. He

would not be surprised if he had pulled something. Hell, Nate had bent him almost

in two. But that last kiss had definitely been worth it.

Last kiss.

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The words echoed in his head. His eyes squeezed shut as the despair he‟d felt

before he walked into the room gripped him anew.

The moment would soon be upon him. The moment when Nate walked out the

door. The last moment he would be with the man he loved.

He hoped to God Nate did not ask for a supper tray. No way could Jasper sit

across from him and make polite conversation, pretend as though this night was the

same as every other before it.

“Where did you go?” Nate asked, his voice rough and scratchy as if he had just

woken from a deep slumber.

Jasper kept his eyes closed. “For a short holiday in the country. I haven‟t been

out of London in a while.” Why had he added that? It wasn‟t that it was not the

truth. Well, technically his first time out of London had been exactly seven days

ago. Still, it rang of an excuse for his absence designed to cover the truth, to delay

the conversation he promised himself he would have with Nate.

Nate was his friend. He deserved nothing less than honesty…well, up to a

point. Nate would leave this house tonight blissfully ignorant of the knowledge he

was the only man Jasper had ever loved.

“I haven‟t been out of London in quite some time,” Nate said. “I should though.

It‟s been a while since I spent any time in the country. Haven‟t gone hunting in

ages.” The mattress shook as Nate shifted. “Did you visit family?”

“No. I haven‟t seen my mother in more years than I care to count. Would not

even have a clue where to find her.”

“What about your father?” Nate asked, the frown clear in his voice.

“Never met him. Reed is my mother‟s family name.” Hell, he doubted his

mother even knew his father‟s name. Likely one of the countless men who had

visited that tiny boarding house room and left a half-empty bottle of gin for his

mother in their wake. He had always slipped out when those men came to the door,

and one time he had decided not to return. He highly doubted his mother had

His Client

noticed his absence. All right. She‟d likely noticed when her linens had not cleaned

themselves.

Jasper refused to open his eyes. To see the pity surely reflected on Nate‟s face.

He had never told Nate he was a bastard, but he had to have guessed. Men from

solid families did not work at a place like Delacroix‟s. If the notion of them together

outside this house had ever brushed against Nate‟s mind, it was now completely

and utterly gone.

He heard a slow yet deep breath expand Nate‟s chest. Desperate to distract

Nate from more questions about his family, Jasper blurted, “I looked at properties.”

“An investment?”

“No. Nothing extravagant enough to be considered an investment. I was

looking at houses.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Yes. I purchased a property in Shere.”

A pause. “That‟s almost a day‟s ride from town. Do you plan to visit often?”

Jasper opened his eyes. Nate had rolled onto his side, upper body propped on a

bent elbow. The hair at his temples was slick with sweat. A hint of color still stained

his cheeks from their frantic fuck. He was so close one tiny shift of Jasper‟s arm

would have his fingers brushing warm, bare skin. Yet he kept his hand firmly at his

side.

“Yes, as I plan to reside there indefinitely.”

Nate‟s brow furrowed. “You aren‟t going to be here anymore?”

“No.” Hell, it had been harder than he had imaged to get that word out. To

force it past his lips. “It‟s time I retire. Past time. I‟ve had the means for a couple of

years now.” Nate certainly did not need to know why it had taken him so long to get

to this point.

Silence hung in the air, so thick and heavy it pressed against his chest. The

furrow marring Nate‟s brow deepened. Caught between the desperate wish for Nate

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to ask him to stay and the knowledge their time together needed to end, Jasper

could do nothing but stare up at Nate.

Lips compressed in a tight line, Nate rolled over and got off the bed. Unwilling

to lie in the bed alone, Jasper pushed up and swung his legs over the side of the

mattress. He sat mutely as Nate crossed to the door to retrieve his trousers. He

should help Nate gather his clothes. At the very least, he should get up and start

tidying the room. But he was locked to the spot, his gaze locked on Nate, soaking up

the last glimpses of the man‟s nude body as he pulled on his clothes.

His fingertips ached with need. He should have touched Nate a few moments

ago when he had the chance. Should have seized the opportunity. Now it was gone

forever.

“When are you leaving?” Nate asked as he tied his cravat.

Jasper swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Tomorrow.”

Nate‟s hands stilled. “Must it be tomorrow?”

“Why not tomorrow?”

The man opened his mouth. Jasper held his breath. His heart slammed

against his ribs.

Please, ask me to stay.

Nate snapped his jaw shut. Lips pursed, he turned his back to Jasper to grab

his coat from the floor. “You‟re leaving me as well.” The low, barely audible words

were almost lost in the rustle of wool as Nate slipped his arms into the sleeves.

“Edmonton will return from his holiday soon enough.”

Nate went still. Then the strong muscles in his back bunched and flexed

beneath the navy wool as he finished buttoning his coat. Giving the end a tug to

straighten it, he turned to face Jasper.

He was dressed, ready to leave him.

With great effort, Jasper pushed from the bed and got to his feet. He was

suddenly acutely aware of the fact he had not dressed. Why hadn‟t he thought to

His Client

don his trousers? Now the last image Nate would have of him would be of him

naked, without a stitch of clothing to cover his limp prick and with dried seed

splattered across his belly. An image that surely screamed well-used whore.

He wanted to shake his head at himself in disgust. But what did it matter

now? The end had arrived.

“I shall miss you.” More than you shall ever know.

Nate‟s footsteps echoed in the room, slow and measured, as he breached the

distance between them. Stopping before Jasper, he held his gaze, that furrow heavy

on his brow. “As I you.”

Jasper‟s breath stuttered in his chest. One last kiss. His soul screamed for it.

Begged for it. But Nate did not even lean toward him.

Instead, he contented himself with taking the man‟s hand, hanging limp at his

side, and giving it a squeeze. Briefly closing his eyes, he savored the feel of Nate‟s

hand in his. The calluses on his palm. The strong grip. The way Nate‟s hand fit

perfectly in his.

Firm lips pressed against his. Before he was aware of it, he was opening for

Nate, his tongue twining with his, soaking up every detail, committing it to

memory.

Then those lips were gone, and Jasper was watching Nate‟s back as the man

walked from the room for the last time.

The door snapped shut.

It‟s better this way, he reminded himself firmly as he clenched his hand by his

side, holding on to the lingering heat from Nate‟s palm.

In a daze, he pulled on his trousers and shirt and grabbed his cravat from the

floor. Of its own accord, his gaze landed on the narrow console table, on the stack of

pound notes nestled beside the crystal brandy decanter.

He turned his back on those pound notes, on the blunt reminder of what he

was to Nate.

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No. What he had been to Nate.

Not bothering to right the bedchamber, he made his way to the fourth floor

and to his own room.

The snap of the door shutting echoed in the small space. Thin wisps of weak

moonlight seeped through the breaks in the threadbare curtain covering the narrow

window, barely providing enough light for him to make out the outline of the

washstand. But he did not make a move toward the pewter candlestick on the

dresser. Instead he stopped next to the bed. His legs gave out from under him. The

ropes under the thin mattress creaked in protest as he settled on the edge.

He sat there in the darkness; for how long, he didn‟t know. The quiver seizing

his muscles grew stronger and stronger as a ball of complete and utter anguish

welled up inside. And he gave up the fight. Declared defeat. Dropped his head into

his hands and let the grief consume him.

His Client

Chapter Eight

Jasper dropped to his haunches and inspected the young plant nestled at the

end of a row of rosebushes. Weed or plant? He captured a light green leaf between

his forefinger and thumb and gently rubbed the smooth surface. Given it was only

late May, it could also be some sort of flower that had yet to bloom. Whatever it

was, he hadn‟t the faintest notion.

After wiping his hands on his trousers, he got to his feet and glanced about.

Nor did he have the faintest notion how to care for anything in the back garden. The

previous owners had certainly known what they were about when it came to

gardening. The deep green leaves and sturdy branches of the surrounding bushes

spoke of diligent, loving care. With its meandering rows and curved dirt paths, the

space had the feel of deliberate organization without being overly obvious.

Given the full, late morning sun and last evening‟s rain shower, he had a

feeling it could quickly become disorganized. The next time he went into Shere, he

should stop in the small shop next to Mr. Milburn‟s bakery. He remembered seeing

a few books in the shop window, in addition to bolts of fabric, the last time he had

passed it. He could do with a book or two on the care of roses, and perhaps he could

find a book to help him determine if that little plant was a weed or something that

had been deliberately planted. It was his garden, after all. Wouldn‟t do for it to

become overrun.

He turned and followed the dirt path out of the garden. As he passed a wooden

bench, he picked up the brown coat he‟d abandoned earlier on his way back from

tending to Spot. Who named a black horse Spot? The gelding had a single, small

white spot on the tip of his dark nose. Still… Jasper shook his head as he pulled

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open the back door to the kitchen. It was a name more fitting for a dog. But if he

renamed him, the poor beast would likely have no idea who Jasper referred to when

he called him in from the paddock.

He hung his coat on one of the pegs lining the wall just inside the door and

opened the ivory curtains on the window above the white basin sink. Sun streamed

into the kitchen, strong and warm yet not quite holding summer‟s heat. Soon the

back garden would be awash with color. For now though, it was a lush sea of green.

Calm and soothing. Exactly what he needed.

Pulling his gaze from beyond the window, he grabbed the copper teapot from

the counter and filled it with water. After lighting the stove, he put the pot on one of

the burners and set about making a small plate of bread and cheese from the

meager contents of his larder. Unless he planned to take all his suppers at the

innkeeper‟s tavern, he would need to learn to cook. He could manage eggs for

breakfast and yesterday‟s sausages had been somewhat edible, but that was about

it. Perhaps he should also look for a book of recipes during his search for one on

roses.

Once the water had heated, he made a cup of tea and then took it and his plate

into the study. The house had a sitting room, but after only three days he had

already developed a distinct preference for the study. The bare bookshelves

bracketing the fireplace were in need of books and the walnut desk was more for

appearances‟ sake, but the room just felt so easy to be in.

He set the plate on an end table and sat on the comfortable brown leather

couch situated along the wall across from the three open windows. The drapes were

drawn back, providing a view of the grounds on the side of the house and a glimpse

of the stables nestled among the oak trees. He brought the teacup to his lips, blew

across the surface, then took a sip. Hot but not too hot. He could well image himself

spending the vast majority of his evenings right here.

The last of the furniture he had purchased a week ago in London, which

included the desk, had been delivered yesterday. He had everything pretty much in

His Client

its place. Though those horrid brown and black plaid drapes bracketing the study‟s

windows could do to be replaced.

He shrugged and placed the teacup on the table. He had no plans to host

guests, and drawn back, the drapes were not too much of an eyesore. No reason to

rush to replace them.

Settling more comfortably on the couch, he crossed one booted foot across his

knee and took a bite of cheese. It felt a bit odd to have so much time available to

him. No wait for a maid to fetch him. No one to please but himself. But he had a

feeling it would not take much longer to grow accustomed to the luxury of time.

The golden rays of light began to ease out of the room as the sun made its way

toward the top of the sky. A light breeze brushed across his face, carrying the fresh,

clean scent of the country. A soothing balm that had done wonders to help repair his

broken heart. Three days and his mind no longer constantly turned to Nate. He had

been in the stables for most of the morning, and not once had Nate tugged at his

heart. Though the mornings were still the most dangerous. Upon first waking, his

mind heavy with sleep. The sheets warm and his defenses lowered, his thoughts

would turn to their last night together.

The harsh grip of Nate‟s hands on his arse. The hard press of the door against

his back as Nate had plundered his mouth. The hoarse grunts rumbling his broad

chest. The sheer, overwhelming urgency soaking every move the man had made.

In the hazy light of dawn, it was so easy to confuse lust with something more.

To mistake urgency for true need. And as he lay there, feeling so very alone in his

large bed, he could not help but wonder if it had meant—

He shook his head, dismissing the thought before it could grip hold anew. That

last night had simply been a by-product of Jasper‟s weeklong absence. Nothing

more.

He got to his feet and took his cup and plate back to the kitchen. “You’re

leaving me as well.” The low rumble of Nate‟s voice echoed in his head, making him

question, yet again, his decision to leave so soon after Edmonton‟s wedding and

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before the man returned to town. But a day longer would have turned into another

day. Each day weakening his resolve until the passage of another year found him

still at that house. Still holding on to hope when there was none to be found.

Nate would be all right, and most important, he wasn‟t still pining over

Edmonton. Jasper had done his duty as his friend and left Nate poised to start on a

new path that did not include the possibility of a future with his best friend as his

lover. And Nate had his office and his club and his acquaintances to occupy him.

Once Edmonton returned, he‟d have his friend back and Jasper would drift to the

recesses of his mind. A mere memory that would eventually fade to nothingness.

Nor did Jasper have any worries Nate would become a monk. It just might

take a bit of time for him to become comfortable with another—Nate was a creature

of habit, after all, and his visits to Jasper had definitely fallen firmly into the realm

of a habit. Ideally Nate would look among his acquaintances for a new companion

and try to find a discreet gentleman who shared his preferences, but habit would

likely push him back to the house he had visited for the past five years. Hopefully

Delacroix would not recommend Cameron. About Jasper‟s height but with golden

blond hair, the man was too slick, too…blatant for Nate. Yes, Cameron had a

certain fondness for erotic games, but he cared for nothing except the next stack of

pound notes he could shove in his pocket. Though Nate might rub along well with

Gregory. With his midnight black hair and lithe frame, Gregory was perhaps too

beautiful to fit Nate‟s usual tastes, but their temperaments would suit. Gregory had

the patience to be the willing ear Nate needed, and he would quickly pick up on the

hint if Nate nudged him toward a game.

Jasper winced as he put the plate he‟d just cleaned back into the cabinet. Over

the years, he had come to think of Nate as his, and the thought of him kissing

another, trusting another with his most guarded thoughts and worries—

A sharp slam cracked through the kitchen.

Jasper started, then removed his hand from the cabinet door.

He’s not mine.

His Client

Nor was he ever.

Enough. He forced his gaze beyond the window above the sink to the calm,

tranquil garden. One deep breath and then another. The flare of pain receded,

settling to a low ache that would eventually fade.

Time. He had plenty of it now.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned on his heel. Leaving London had been the

correct decision. No use questioning himself. Nate would move on to another. Hell,

Nate needed to move on to another, and that man would not be Jasper.

He grabbed his coat from the hook, pulled open the back door, and stepped out

into the sun. Perhaps he‟d pull Spot from the paddock. Take a ride into the village

and visit that little shop next to the bakery, for he was in sore need of a distraction

from the ache weighing down his chest.

* * *

“We are planning to host a supper party next Wednesday evening. Nothing

overly elaborate. Perhaps only two dozen guests. The invitations haven‟t even gone

out yet, but we would be overjoyed if you could attend, Mr. Travers.”

Peter‟s new bride beamed at him from across the dining table. A few guinea

gold curls framed her round face, the rest pulled back in a neat knot. Her wide,

hazel eyes sparkled with anticipation. Nate forced his lips to curve into an

appreciative smile. Earlier that day, Peter had informed him of his wife‟s plans to

host an event, but as this was his first evening with the complete married couple, he

understood the invitation was her way of acknowledging him and her husband‟s

long-standing friendship.

“Thank you, Mrs. Edmonton,” he said with a tip of his head. Oddly enough, the

address did not leave a sour taste on his tongue. “I would be honored to accept.”

As he reached for his glass, he caught Peter‟s answering smile from the corner

of his eye. He felt rather than saw the tension drain from his friend‟s broad

shoulders. Though Peter‟s invitation to dine that evening at his town house had

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been casual enough, he had not succeeded in hiding that hint of apprehension. Peter

desperately wanted Nate to accept his wife into their midst.

Over the years, he had sat at this table often enough with just Peter, but now

that the man was married, it appeared the table would hold three from now on. Not

much he could do but accept it.

Catherine prattled on about her plans for the supper party. The feminine lilt of

her voice washed over him with no ill effects as he picked up his fork. He took a bite

of the roasted quail and hid the wince as his skin stretched over the bruise on his

jaw. Still sore, and the damn thing had flared to a spectacular shade of deep violet.

The sight alone had brought forth another apology from Peter when Nate had

arrived for supper, and the last thing he wanted was to garner one more. If his mind

had been on his opponent, Peter‟s fist would have never connected with his jaw. The

lack of sleep had definitely caught up to him, with no reprieve in sight.

Peter had returned to town four days ago. They had already met twice at

White‟s, engaged in a bout of sparring, and visited a gambling hell. But last night

had been yet another sleepless night to add to what had become a very long list.

Hell, even working up a sweat and getting bested embarrassingly easily by Peter

yesterday had done nothing to make sleep come easier.

Almost three weeks since Jasper had retired. Felt like a damn year.

A footman approached his elbow. Nate set down his fork and leaned back in

his chair, giving a nod to the footman to take his plate. The quail sat like a brick in

his belly, but he had forced himself to eat most of it, knowing his lack of appetite

would have drawn Peter‟s notice. He had not wanted to deliver any sort of insult to

Catherine‟s kitchen, but more than that, he had wanted to avoid any questions. If

he did not have the answers, he could not very well supply them to Peter.

He reached for his wineglass and downed the last splash within. Should have

refused the glass earlier, and he should have waved aside the footman when the

servant had refilled it, twice, but he had needed something more than coffee. The

three glasses of wine had not done a bit of good though.

His Client

Having Peter back should have settled him. Eased the restlessness that had

been his sole companion of late. Much to his frustration, it had done nothing of the

sort.

He glanced to the head of the table, to where Peter sat, his attention focused

on his wife as she debated the merits of various dishes for their supper party. His

auburn hair was perhaps a tad longer than usual, the ends at his nape just touching

his starched white collar. The deep green coat that stretched across the width of his

broad shoulders must be new. Nate couldn‟t recall seeing it before. Other than that,

his friend physically looked the same. Same stout, muscular build that matched his

own. Same open, friendly features. Yet the intrinsic pull, that focused sense of need

he felt whenever he was near Peter, was absent.

No. That pull remained, riding heavy behind the restlessness. Yet its object did

not sit at the head of the table.

The footman finished clearing the table. Arms laden with the remnants of

their meal, the man left the dining room.

Catherine set her linen napkin on the barren white tablecloth. “I will leave you

gentlemen to your port.”

An odd sort of desperation seeped into his veins. “You needn‟t leave on my

account,” Nate assured her.

She smiled, indulgent and gracious, ever the accommodating hostess. “You are

too kind, Mr. Travers, but I would not want you gentlemen to censor your

conversation on account of my presence. In any event, invitations do not write

themselves.”

She made to push from the table. Within an instant, Peter stood at her side,

his hand outstretched to help her to her feet. Years of ingrained polite manners

brought Nate to his feet before he was aware of it. He didn‟t miss the way the man‟s

attention drifted ever so briefly to the bodice of her lilac silk gown before settling

once more on her pretty face. Petite and with a lush figure, the sight of her alone

proved a heavy reminder Peter‟s interests resided firmly with the female gender.

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Why had it taken Nate so long to accept it? Why ever had he felt there could

have been the possibility of more with Peter? Except for the one incident at school,

Peter had never given him cause to believe otherwise.

He resisted the urge to shake his head at himself in reproach. Ridiculous…and

rather embarrassing. Thank heaven Peter had never been the wiser.

“Thank you, my dear,” she murmured, low and intimate, the endearment

meant for Peter‟s ears and not his own. A little smile on her lips, she kept her gaze

locked with Peter‟s for a long moment. Then she turned to face Nate across the

table, her small hand slipping from Peter‟s, her delicate fingertips seeming to linger

for one last instant before sliding free. “Good evening, Mr. Travers.”

He gave her an abbreviated bow and bade her good evening.

The soft tap of her footsteps on the gray marble floor faded as she left the

room. He clenched and unclenched his right hand at his side, trying to throw off the

tingling sensation in his palm.

“Port, sir?”

Nate gave a small start. The footman stood at his elbow, silver tray in hand.

How long had the man been standing there? He could definitely use another drink,

though. Nate tipped his head and settled back in his chair.

The footman set a glass of port before Nate and then Peter. He turned on his

heel and then left the room, leaving them alone.

Needing to give himself something to do, he brought his glass to his lips. As he

took a sip, he could feel Peter‟s gaze on him.

“Something on your mind?” Peter asked.

He went still, then carefully put the glass on the table. Schooling his features

in what he hoped would appear a merely curious expression, he looked to Peter.

“Pardon?”

“I barely heard your voice this evening. You seem a bit”—Peter motioned with

his glass—“preoccupied. Out of sorts.” His gaze turned serious. “Would you have

His Client

preferred it if Catherine had not joined us for supper? Nate, I hope by now you know

you can be honest with me.”

A fist of apprehension closed around his stomach. He suddenly wished he had

not forced himself to eat the quail.

Peter continued, brows pulled together, true worry reflected on his face. “I had

hoped the two of you could become friends of a sort, but if you don‟t care for her…”

He shrugged. “And you needn‟t come to the supper party if you don‟t wish it. I

understand you don‟t relish such affairs. I‟ll give her some excuse. She‟ll never be

the wiser. It‟s just…” Absently trailing his fingertips up and down the short stem of

his port glass, he let out a sigh. “The two of you are…important to me, and I had—”

Nate held up a hand, cutting off Peter. In the back of his mind, he was aware

that not a few weeks ago, his heart would have jumped on the phrase important to

me from Peter‟s lips. Yet now his overriding concern was to ease his friend‟s obvious

distress. “Peter, no, it‟s not Catherine.” Or was it? He certainly couldn‟t forget that

look in her eyes when she had gazed at Peter. Obvious love. So very familiar, yet in

the same breath, oddly not quite familiar. “She‟s a lovely young woman.” At the

hesitant hope in Peter‟s warm brown eyes, he added, “Truly. My apologies for

proving a poor supper companion. I have been out of sorts of late. Haven‟t been

sleeping well.” That much was the truth. “The office is to blame. Changed routes for

a ship recently and…” He trailed off, giving his head a weary shake. Not an outright

lie. The decision had weighed on him. Had being the operative word.

To his relief, Peter did not question the validity of the excuse. “Well, that

explains your inattention in the ring yesterday. And here I thought marriage had

somehow sharpened my skills. Ah well. So much for that hope. Which route did you

change?”

“Italy. Changed it to Portugal.”

Peter pursed his lips, then shrugged. “Either one should prove lucrative.”

His knowledge of shipping was only marginally less than Nate‟s. In other

words, not much. The man managed one of his father‟s properties and had never set

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foot on a merchant vessel. Still, Nate appreciated Peter‟s attempt to soothe his

worries.

“That is my hope.” Nate finished off his glass of port. “I should head home.

Thank you for supper, and please extend my apologies to your wife. I did not intend

my silence to make her uneasy.”

“I doubt she even noticed. It‟s not that she‟s too self-absorbed to give a care to

anyone but herself, but she‟s quite looking forward to hosting her first supper party.

Spent the afternoon compiling the guest list and debating which silver service to

use, and I‟d hazard a guess that at this moment she‟s ensconced in her sitting room,

penning the invitations.” He lifted one shoulder in an apologetic shrug. “It doesn‟t

take much to make her happy.”

“Only you.”

Peter tipped his head, a self-conscious chuckle rumbling his chest. “And supper

parties.”

They made their way out of the dining room and down the stairs to the small

entrance hall. The elderly butler pulled open the front door as they approached.

Peter gave him a hearty slap on the back. “Get some rest. Don‟t worry about

the new route. In any case, Overton would have voiced his concerns if there were

any to be had. And stop by the apothecary tomorrow. That jaw of yours is hard on

the eyes.”

“Thank you for your concern,” he said dryly, with a wry glance to Peter.

“Someone must look out for the inhabitants of London.”

With a shake of his head and a little rueful smile pulling the edges of his lips,

Nate stepped outside. The door clicked shut behind him.

The night air was cool and thick and held more than a hint of moisture. He

glanced up to the midnight gray clouds hanging low in the sky and obscuring the

moon. Hopefully the rain would hold off until he reached his bachelor apartments.

His Client

Shoving his bare hands into his pockets, he turned right, his feet automatically

taking him back home. Well, that settled it. Peter‟s absence had not been the source

of his restlessness. Consciously, he knew he missed visiting Jasper, but he had

hoped—no, truly believed—with Peter‟s return that restlessness would quickly fade.

Yes, he had missed his friend. Was happy to have him back. But…

He let out a low grunt of frustration.

If he thought it would at all help, he would stop at Delacroix‟s. But with a

harsh grimace, he had shoved that option aside a good two weeks ago. Would not do

a bit of good.

Three weeks of celibacy, during which he only touched his prick for bathing

and the necessary. The urge for more simply gone. Vanished. As if it had never been

there.

Why the hell did Jasper have to retire? Damnation, he missed him.

He stopped in his tracks.

The realization smacked him upside the head, so strong he nearly stumbled

back a step.

He truly missed Jasper. Not the visits, not their games. Jasper himself.

The man understood him, accepted him. Was his confidant. His best friend.

Five years they had been together. Five years and Nate had never even once had

the slightest inclination to ask for any other than Jasper when he walked through

the front door of that house. Never had an urge to seek out another. Never been

tempted by another. Even when alone in his bed, stroking himself off, thoughts of

Jasper brought him to orgasm.

His body had known whom he needed ages ago. Hell, his body had likely

known since their first night together. Why had he continued to fixate on Peter?

Why had it taken his thick, stubborn head so long to figure out whom he truly

needed?

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The clomp of many hooves and the rumble of carriage wheels snapped his

attention to the left. A team of four passed him, moving along at a nice clip. Nate

picked up his ambling pace, thoughts of Jasper tumbling about in his head as he

continued on his way home.

Why hadn‟t he realized it sooner? Hell, at the very least, four weeks ago. He‟d

had a bitter taste of this…restlessness when Jasper left town for a week to look for a

property. And when Jasper had returned… The frustration rubbing his nerves near

to raw had instantly turned to unadulterated need the moment he had laid eyes on

him. So quick and so fierce, the bite so sharp and so swift, he could not get the man

under him fast enough. The immediate lust slaked, he had known a moment of

absolute calm. Of peace and complete ease. Blessedly perfect tranquility. Because

that was where he belonged. With Jasper.

But an ever so brief moment. Snatched harshly from his grasp when Jasper

informed him of his retirement.

Nate paused, key in hand and poised at the brass lock on his front door. That

moment before Catherine had left the dining room materialized in his mind‟s eye. It

had been tugging at the back of his mind ever since. So very familiar yet not

familiar…because it hadn‟t been quite right.

Pensive and grave. No lingering smile. And those eyes were not hazel, but a

beautiful, soft light green.

Another frustrated grunt rumbled his throat.

“Blind fool,” he muttered harshly as he shoved the key in the lock and turned

the knob. A bloody blind fool for not seeing what had sat right next to him for so

long.

What must Jasper think of him? Likely thought him an uncaring, selfish

bastard. Justified assumption, given after five years together, he had walked out

the damn door with barely a parting word.

His Client

“At least I kissed him,” he grumbled, tossing his coat toward the ladder-back

chair in the corner of his bedchamber. And that kiss had lingered on his lips the

entire walk home that night.

The man‟s silence. The heavy weight of his regard. The way he had sat on the

bed, so silent and still. Hadn‟t made a move, had not tidied the room as Nate had

dressed. Nate flexed his hand by his side, the memory of Jasper‟s hand in his so

fresh it felt as though he‟d just pulled free. His heart clenched, grabbing at his gut

and tugging on his insides, as if he had a moment ago turned his back on the man.

With his clothes strewn about the room where he had left them, he blew out

the candle on the dresser and climbed into bed. Another sleepless night loomed

ahead of him, but he desperately hoped it would be the last one. At the very least,

he could take some solace in the knowledge he had finally determined their cause.

Tomorrow. He would seek out Jasper tomorrow. And he‟d inquire with every

damn resident of Shere if that was what it took to locate the man.

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Chapter Nine

Nate swung his leg over the horse‟s back and dismounted. The moment his feet

touched the dirt drive, he grunted, his joints shouting their protests. He walked

most everywhere he went when in Town, and it wasn‟t like he did not enjoy putting

his muscles to good use. But it had been quite some time since he had spent the

greater part of the day in a saddle. Hopefully he wouldn‟t find himself back in that

saddle anytime soon.

The long ride to Shere had provided ample opportunity with his thoughts. As

the rolling hills had slipped by on either side of the road, moments from his time

with Jasper played themselves out in his mind. He must have cursed himself a

hundred times over in the past seven hours. Frankly he was surprised he hadn‟t

frightened the cows in the pastures.

He knew what it felt like to stand alone, to watch the one he wanted merely

dance with another. Knew that hurt. And for years he had shoved Peter right under

Jasper‟s nose. He would not deliberately hurt Jasper for anything in the world, yet

he had done so. Time and time again.

That ache sank further into his chest. Why had Jasper tolerated him?

Because I paid him.

He winced. Hopefully that had not been the sole reason. Hell, if he believed it,

he would not have made the journey to Shere. But still, the worry remained. A

lurking presence he could not ignore. How often and to what degree had those

pound notes influenced Jasper?

Not a comfortable thought in the slightest.

His Client

He looped the horse‟s reins over the wrought-iron rail and gave the chestnut

gelding a pat on the neck. He made to turn from the horse when his attention

snagged on the leather bag tied to the saddle. With a shake of his head, he left the

horse in the shade of a large tree. Much too presumptuous to take the bag with him.

Best to leave it for now.

Surrounded by lush grass dotted with the occasional oak tree, the quaint two-

story house defined country. Picturesque and idyllic. Two squat chimneys rose from

the low slate roof. A green, leafy vine snaked up one side of the gray stone facade.

The midafternoon sun glinted off the square windows. He had not known what to

expect. So beautiful and so handsome, Jasper could easily blend in with the polished

creatures of London. Yet Westborne Cottage somehow fit him.

Nate‟s boot heels clicking faintly on the flagstone path, he made his way to the

plain wooden door. As he lifted his knuckles, tendrils of apprehension began to wind

their way into his gut. His gaze passed over the house again. What if he was too

late? What if Jasper had already forgotten him? He could vividly recall their last

conversation. It was clear to him now Jasper had been waiting for something more

from him. Something considerably more than a parting kiss. Had given him plenty

of openings too. “Why not tomorrow?” Jasper‟s voice echoed in his head. Too off

balance by the sheer fact Jasper was leaving—and for good this time—Nate had not

recognized the question for what it was.

Above that, though, Jasper had been under no obligation to him. Nate had no

right to ask him to stay at the brothel. Yet that had not been the only option

available. He could have asked for more. He should have thought beyond those four,

comfortable walls.

An oversight he fully intended to remedy. And one he couldn‟t attempt to

remedy until he knocked on the front door.

The sound of his double knock rang in his ears, sharp and far more decisive

than he felt. He shifted his weight. Clasped his hands behind his back. A fat

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bumblebee buzzed in front of the window to the right of the door. It bumped against

the glass, then flew away, disappearing around the side of the house.

Was Jasper even home?

He lifted his knuckles to knock once more when he heard the faint sounds of

footsteps approaching from within the house. He snapped his arm to his side as the

door opened.

For a long moment, Jasper did not move. Just stood in the open doorway, knob

in hand. Then he blinked. “Nate?”

“Good afternoon, Jasper.”

Jasper opened his mouth and then shut it. He glanced over Nate‟s shoulder, in

the direction of the horse. Those light green eyes met his once again. “What brings

you to Shere?” he asked, all politeness, as if Nate were merely an old acquaintance

come to call. As if there had never been anything more between them.

Nate swallowed hard. Lifted his chin. “You.”

There was a flash of…something in the depths of Jasper‟s eyes. So quick and

fleeting, Nate wasn‟t even certain it had been there. Then a blank mask fell over his

beautiful features. The edges of his full, kissable lips tightened.

“As I previously informed you, I have retired from Delacroix‟s. I am no longer

in that line of work.” Hard and firm, his tone brokered no debate. “Good day to you.”

He took a step back and made to shut the door.

Nate lurched forward, palm smacking the door, holding it open. “No…wait.

That‟s not…” He gave his head a shake, trying to gather his thoughts. Did Jasper

truly believe he had traveled all the way to Shere simply to bugger him? Hell, no. “I

wish to speak to you. That is all.” He wanted to do more. So much more. Wanted to

grab him by the back of the neck, haul him close, slant his mouth over those full

lips. Have the man in his arms once again, and this time, he would not let him go.

Jasper‟s expression did not change. He still regarded Nate with that hard

stare. A stare he had never before focused on Nate.

His Client

Those tendrils of apprehension turned into a tight fist of desperation, gripping

his stomach like a vise. “Please, Jasper. Just a moment or two of your time. And

then if you still wish me to leave, I will do so, without argument.”

Just when he was certain Jasper would refuse his request, the man arched one

dark brow. “You have your moment. I suggest you use it wisely.” Jasper didn‟t

move. Kept his hand on the knob, as if just waiting for the moment to be over so he

could slam the door on Nate.

Through sheer force of will, Nate removed his palm from the door. Jasper had

granted his request. He should not continue to press for more, but… He shot a quick

glance over his shoulder, to the lush grass behind him. “Must we have this

conversation at your front door?”

“The closest neighbor is half a mile away. They won‟t hear you, even if you

shout.”

“Please, Jasper. Have I ever shown myself to be untrustworthy?”

Their years together had to count for something. He had trusted Jasper with

his fears and his failures, his hopes and his most hidden desires. Certainly that

earned him enough trust in return to warrant a few minutes in the man‟s home.

Without a word, Jasper turned on his heel and disappeared into the house,

leaving the door open. Accepting the unspoken invitation, Nate hurried after him,

pausing only to flick the door shut. The most delicious aroma lingered in the air. His

stomach grumbled, identifying the scent and reminding him that he had not eaten

since he changed horses at an inn shortly after dawn.

Ignoring the twinge of hunger, he followed Jasper down a corridor and into

what appeared to be a study or perhaps a library, though the bookshelves flanking

the fireplace were on the good side of bare. Just a few books took up a middle shelf,

with another book open on the end table beside a brown leather couch. As he passed

the end table, he took another glance at the book. It was open to a page with a

drawing of a rosebush. Roses?

Jasper flicked his fingers to the couch. “Please, have a seat.”

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Nate settled onto the couch, close to the thickly curved arm. Instead of sitting

beside him, Jasper rested a hip against a nearby squat cabinet and crossed his arms

over his chest.

“Would you care for something to drink? A cup of tea perhaps?”

“Not at the moment.”

Nate could discern nothing from his shuttered expression. He felt the change

in the dynamic of their relationship acutely. He was no longer Jasper‟s client but

simply a man. A man very uncertain of where he stood. If this was four weeks ago,

there would not be a bit of doubt in his mind that Jasper loved him. Now though…

Jasper looked to his right, toward the three open windows along the wall. The

slightest of furrows marred his brow. Nate resisted the urge to shift and instead

soaked up the sight of him. Handsome as ever, perhaps even more so. His casual

state of dress suited him—buckskin breeches, black leather boots that held more

than a hint of dust, a tan waistcoat, and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his

elbows. He must have been spending time out of doors, for a wash of rose warmed

the porcelain skin of his cheeks and his exposed forearms were a bit tanned. He

looked like a young country gentleman, the type who would own a house like

Westborne Cottage.

“You have a beautiful home,” Nate said, needing to break the silence.

He pulled his attention from the window. “Thank you. I‟m rather fond of it.”

“Are you enjoying country life?”

“Very much so. Attended an assembly last weekend.”

“I‟ve attended a handful of those in my time. Were there many simpering

young misses? They unfortunately tend to congregate at such affairs.”

“Thankfully none. The young ladies were all quite well behaved. Not a simper

from one, even when I refused to stand up with any of them. Don‟t yet know how to

dance.” Jasper shrugged, a poor attempt at careless disregard. The self-

consciousness evident in the way his shoulders rounded before he drew them back.

His Client

He glanced to his boots, then met Nate‟s gaze. “You said you wished to speak to

me?”

“Yes.” Nate took a deep breath, the air shuddering on the exhale. He shouldn‟t

feel so hesitant. Nate had told Jasper things he‟d never even contemplated sharing

with another. But the comfortable ease, that rock-solid sense of unconditional

acceptance was gone. And it was his own doing. “I came to answer your question—

Why not tomorrow? Because I don‟t want to lose you.”

Jasper went back to studying the view beyond the window. Not the response

Nate had hoped for.

After a long moment—a very long moment—Jasper asked, his voice absolutely

without emotion, “None of the others suited?”

“Pardon?”

“Understandable if you did not care for Cameron. But you should give Gregory

a chance.

The two of you might rub along well together.”

“Who are Cameron and Gregory?” And why the hell was Jasper pushing him

toward other men?

Jasper‟s attention snapped back to him. The furrow on his brow deepened.

“They work at Delacroix‟s. You haven‟t returned to the house?”

“No. Why ever would you assume as such?”

Compassion touched his gaze, giving Nate a glimpse of the man who had come

to mean so much to him. “It‟s understandable to be reluctant to be with someone

you aren‟t yet comfortable with. But it will come with time. You need to give it a

chance, Nate. And you needn‟t worry the other men at the house will hesitate to

indulge you.”

Frustration rose within, tightening his jaw. “That isn‟t what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?” His own frustration echoed in Jasper‟s question.

“Explain it to me, Nate.”

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Unable to remain seated, he got to his feet. “I didn‟t want to lose you. I know I

have been blind and stubborn. These past few weeks have been… Well, hell most

aptly describes them. But I see now what I lost. I miss you, Jasper. Not the visits.

Not our games. But you.”

“You miss your friend. You‟ll feel differently once Edmonton returns.”

That patient, compassionate gaze had returned. Rather than soothe or

reassure him, it only served to try the limits of Nate‟s patience. “He returned four

days ago. I‟ve seen him on five separate occasions, and on one of them, he left this

lovely mark.” He flicked his fingers toward his jaw.

Jasper‟s eyes flared. His weight shifted forward, his hip coming off the cabinet,

as if he meant to breach the distance between them. Yet he did not take a step

toward him. “He punched you?”

“Sparring,” Nate explained. “He bested me handily, because my attention

wasn‟t on him, but on you.”

Jasper dragged a hand through the dark waves of his hair. Again the view

beyond the windows drew his attention, tempting Nate to shut the damn curtains.

But he remained where he stood and waited.

With each passing second, the worry he had in fact been too late built.

Growing stronger and stronger, gaining momentum.

“You need to do a better job of explaining why you are here, because I truly do

not understand.” The unmistakable doubt and confusion in Jasper‟s voice, in the

tight line of his mouth and in the defensive hunch of his shoulders, made Nate‟s

heart ache with the need to take him in his arms.

Nate took a step forward, but the heavy hurt in Jasper‟s murmured “Don‟t”

stopped him in his tracks.

“I miss you, Jasper. I miss you.” Damnation, why couldn‟t Jasper see what he

was obviously doing a miserable job trying to explain? He should understand. He

always did. So why couldn‟t he now?

His Client

“You only feel this way because Edmonton married,” Jasper said, barely above

a whisper, still refusing to look at Nate. Was he speaking to Nate or himself?

“You‟re lonely, and you‟re scared to search for someone new. If I would not have

retired, you would not feel this way.”

“I‟ve given you every reason to doubt me. I‟ve been selfish and stubborn. I‟ll

admit, it was easy to visit you at that house. But had you not left, I would like to

think I‟m not so dim that I would have persisted in my ignorance for much longer.”

“You love Edmonton.”

“As a friend and nothing more.”

That got Jasper‟s attention. He snapped his head around, jaw slack with

accusatory disbelief. “You have loved him for years. You believed the two of you

would be perfect together. He is the only man you have ever wanted.”

Nate winced. “That‟s not true.” He knew that now without a doubt. Jasper was

the only man he had ever truly wanted.

“You deny it?” Jasper threw his arms up in obvious frustration. “Do you forget?

I was sitting right beside you not a month ago. You were heartbroken.” He slung the

word at Nate. “You would have bemoaned his marriage all night if I had allowed it.”

Nate certainly did not need another reminder of what a damn fool he had been.

“I‟ve already admitted to being blind and stubborn. What more do you want from

me?” He scrubbed his hands over his face, wincing when the heel of his palm rubbed

over the bruise on his bristly jaw. The string of sleepless nights, the ever-present

restlessness that kept his nerves strung taut, the worry that had lain heavy on his

shoulders since dawn… He suddenly felt it all, yet he refused to announce defeat.

He let out a sigh and tried again to explain. “I‟ve had seven hours in the saddle with

nothing but my thoughts. Seven very long hours. Plenty of time, even for me, to

realize I was more in love with the idea of him than with the man himself.

Preferring men is not at all easy. But he was the easy solution. If I could be with

him, then”—Nate forced the humiliating truth passed his lips—“I wouldn‟t be

reduced to dark alleys or paying a man to be with me.”

Ava March

He fought the urge to look anywhere but at Jasper and kept his gaze locked on

the man. Time had turned those pound notes into habit. Slowly wiped away the

distaste until all traces of the hesitation that had gripped him on his first visit to

the house had vanished. But that did not mean it had never existed.

A sigh slumped Jasper‟s shoulders, one Nate recognized well. It made it even

more difficult to not look away. Nate captured the edge of his lip between his teeth.

But the bite of pain did nothing to distract him from that all-encompassing sense of

vulnerability. That sense Jasper could see into his very soul.

“Nate, I‟ve told you before. You‟re wonderful. Any man would be lucky to win

your heart. You just need to expend the effort to look for him.”

“I have. I‟m here.”

The absolute and compete conviction in Nate‟s deep blue eyes was a potent

temptation. But Jasper stopped himself just in time from grabbing hold of it with

both hands.

“I still have not convinced you, have I?” Nate shook his head, mumbling

something under his breath that sounded like “damned stubborn.” He rubbed at the

back of his neck, shaking his head yet again.

He looked so very tired. So worn-out. Dark smudges underscored his eyes.

Jasper was accustomed to seeing him in the evening when his jaw held a faint

shadow of a day‟s beard. Considerably more than a shadow was there now, though

not yet enough to cover the ugly bruise. Jasper doubted he had paused to shave

before he left his apartments, and he must have left town at least by dawn to arrive

at his doorstep by midafternoon. The man needed to take better care of himself.

From his wilted cravat to his dirt-smudged breeches, the exhaustion was clear as

day, but equally clear was the determination behind it.

But determination would not be enough.

Nate‟s deep breath echoed in the study. He met Jasper‟s gaze. “First and

foremost, you have always been my friend. Yes, it was easy to visit you at that

His Client

house. You were there whenever I wanted you. But I want…more. I need you, and I

need to know you want to be with me. And the only way to do that is like this.” He

gestured to the room. “When the choice is as much yours as mine.”

How could he be so cruel? How could he taunt him with something that could

never be? “You need my body and my ear.” But you don’t need my heart.

“I need you,” Nate repeated.

Jasper wanted to clamp his hands over his ears. Vanquish Nate‟s words from

his mind. Words he had wished, dreamed to hear for so very long. Words that only

just a fortnight ago had finally stopped filling his dreams. But regardless of what

Nate believed he felt for Jasper, regardless of how Jasper‟s heart begged him to just

acquiesce, to just give in and greedily take everything Nate offered, it did not

change the fact they did not belong together.

“But Nate—”

Nate held up a hand. “You once said you had the means to retire two years

ago. Why didn‟t you?”

Jasper shrugged. “The money.” At the hurt finding its way across Nate‟s face,

the truth tumbled past his lips, “No. I had sufficient funds. I stayed because of you.

Because I”— love you—“enjoyed spending time with you. But that doesn‟t mean it

will work between us. You‟re a gentleman. A nephew to a viscount. A man like you

does not take up with someone like me.”

“That‟s nonsense.” A short grunt issued from Nate‟s throat as he scowled. “You

don‟t hold yourself in very high esteem, do you?”

“It‟s not nonsense, and I am simply being realistic, whereas you are not. I am a

bastard from St. Giles. I have been a whore for a decade. You cannot be seen with

me about London. Someone would eventually recognize me, and it could destroy

your reputation. It could see you hanged. It‟s a risk I am not willing to allow you to

take.”

“When did I mention London? Since you were invited to an assembly, I assume

your neighbors are not aware of your past and that you plan to keep it that way.” At

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Jasper‟s nod, he continued. “As far as the differences in our backgrounds, why

should it matter? We would have to keep our relationship hidden even if you were

the son of a duke.”

Nate made it sound so simple, but it was the furthest thing from simple. Once

he realized that, the protests would stop and he would leave, never to return. It

would hurt, watching Nate walk away from him again. Better now than after he

had given Jasper a glimpse of what could not last. “And how would you propose we

go on from here? Just so you are aware, I will not allow you to merely visit for the

night whenever the whim strikes.”

Nate bristled. “Of course not, Jasper. You don‟t think much of me, either, do

you?” Jasper thought the world of him, and therein lay the problem. “But I‟ve at

least given you cause to think poorly of me, and for that I apologize. I want more

than just evening visits and games. I want you in my life. I don‟t need to be in

London on a daily basis. Overton manages the office. I could easily remain in Shere

for weeks at a time. Could stay at the inn or…with you, if you‟ll allow it. And don‟t

claim it is impossible. Gentlemen often visit their acquaintances in the country. As

long as we do not provide your neighbors with cause, they will not suspect

otherwise.” He quickly glanced over his shoulder to the open study door. “Do you

have servants?” he added, as if the thought just occurred to him.

Jasper shook his head. “I live alone.”

“That can get lonely fast. My apartments have felt downright empty since you

left town.”

Jasper arched a brow. “I‟ve never been to your apartments, Nate.”

“I know. It‟s odd, but it‟s the truth. Ever since you left…” He trailed off,

pursing his lips. “And before you say it, that feeling did not go away once Peter

returned from his wedding holiday.”

The silence stretched between them, so thick Jasper could taste it. Nate had

countered every one of his arguments, leaving the path clear of every obstacle,

except the one that would eventually drive him away. Himself.

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Jasper clamped his eyes shut, clenched his fists at his sides, and fought with

all his might to keep the wince of self-disgust from showing itself.

“Please, Jasper. I need you.”

The floorboards creaked. Once. Twice. Three times. The sounds coming ever

nearer.

The tremble began in his knees. Worked its way up to his chest, hitching his

breaths.

“I need to check on supper.” The excuse rushed desperately out of his mouth.

Without a glance to Nate, he brushed passed the man, who was but a pace from

him, and did his best to keep his strides to a walk.

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Chapter Ten

Hands braced on the kitchen counter, Jasper hung his head and struggled to

will the tremble from his arms. The sharp pants of his breaths filled his ears. A

warm breeze from the open window above the sink brushed across his forehead, but

it did absolutely nothing to soothe him.

Please, Nate, don’t follow me.

He could not face him. Not now. Not like this.

A few minutes. Maybe ten. No twenty. Hell, perhaps in a couple of days he

could regain his composure enough to send Nate on his way. To do what must be

done. But bloody well not now.

The sound of footsteps approached, then stopped. Nate‟s presence filled the

room, sent Jasper‟s pulse racing through his veins.

“Jasper?”

His throat tightened at the heavy concern in Nate‟s voice, yet he forced the

words out. Forced Nate to see the ugly truth that would soon drive him away. “Do

you have any idea of the number of men I have been with? Do you know what I have

done with them? What I allowed them to do to me? I worked at that house for ten

years, Nate.”

“That matters not to me.”

A large hand settled on his upper arm. Before the warmth from his palm could

penetrate his linen shirt, Jasper sidestepped, keeping his back to Nate. He could not

look at him. Could not bear to see the disgust grip hold. “Someday it will, and the

mere thought of pressing your lips to mine will repulse you. As well it should. For a

fold of pound notes, I have dropped to my knees and sucked off bloated old men.”

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His stomach clenched. The bitter taste of bile rose in his throat. He swallowed hard,

pushed it down, pushed onward. “I‟ve bent over for them. Let them use me like the

lowest of beasts. Let them strap me to the bed and—”

“Stop.” Just as firm as his words, Nate gripped Jasper‟s shoulders.

He twisted out of Nate‟s hold, turned to face him. Anger clashed with the self-

disgust that coated his skin like foul, rancid oil. “You don‟t even want to hear what I

have done to have this.” He gestured to the kitchen. “What I continued to do to be

with you. How can you have any respect for someone who willingly allowed himself

to be used thus?”

“It matters not, Jasper,” Nate repeated, firm and resolute. “Listen to me. Your

former profession does not matter. Hell, if anything, it is what brought us together.

If it bothered me, I would not have continued to visit you for five years.”

“But it should matter, and someday it will. I am the whore you hired for those

five years, but I‟m…I‟m afraid you can never see me as more than that.” Jasper kept

his chin up, continued to press onward. “I love you, Nate. If you stay, it will destroy

me when you come to your senses and leave. So you need to leave now.”

Slow yet determined, Nate reached out a hand.

Every muscle in Jasper‟s body drew tight. “Don‟t,” he muttered.

Yet this time Nate did not heed his warning.

He cupped Jasper‟s jaw, those strong, calloused fingers curving around the

side of his neck. The heat from Nate‟s palm seeped into his skin. Jasper squeezed

his eyes closed as a tremor of pure need racked his body.

“Believe in me, Jasper. I will never leave you.”

Jasper shook his head: short, quick, and beyond desperate. Nate‟s other hand

came up to hold him still.

“Have I ever shown myself to be fickle?”

“No.” Jasper kept his hands clenched at his sides, resisting the overpowering

urge to reach out, to touch Nate. “It is one of the qualities I admire in you. Your

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loyalty.” It simply wasn‟t in Nate to be unfaithful. If the man had preferred women,

he would have married young and never strayed.

“And it is yours. You‟ve had it for the past five years. I haven‟t touched another

since I laid eyes on you, and I will never be with another. All I want is you.

Forever.”

The heavy threat of impending tears stung Jasper‟s throat. He wanted to pull

back, pull out of Nate‟s hold, yet he was locked to the spot. “But you could never

love someone like me,” he whispered. If his time at that house had taught him

anything, it was that those like him were made to be used and discarded. Nothing

more.

“But I already do.” Soft yet gruff, the words brushed Jasper‟s lips an instant

before Nate‟s mouth met his.

Stronger than the summer sun, warmth filled his body, wrapped around his

heart. Every drop of tension slid out of him. Arms limp at his sides, he simply

soaked up Nate‟s kiss. Let the soft, chaste press of his lips vanquish the doubts, the

fears. Until hope blossomed anew.

After he did not know how long, Nate pulled back, his hands dropping from

Jasper‟s jaw. For a moment, Jasper merely stood there.

Nate loved him.

He should doubt it, question it, demand proof. Yet he did not. It was an

undisputable fact, already lodged deep into his bones, into his very soul.

He blinked his eyes open. Worry pulled at Nate‟s brows, clouded the depths of

his eyes.

“Thank you,” Jasper whispered, awed by the knowledge this man loved him.

“Would…would you like to stay for supper?” No reason to ask if Nate would stay

forever with him. He already knew the answer to that question.

A little smile flittered on Nate‟s mouth, amused yet still a shade uncertain. “I

would like that. You cook?”

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“Learning to. My skills in the kitchen haven‟t yet progressed much, but I can

manage a passable roast. It won‟t be ready for another couple of hours, though. I

usually dine around five.” An early supper was a habit long ago ingrained in him. “I

hope you don‟t mind country hours.”

“No, not at all.”

“Well then, come along. We‟ll put your horse in the stable. Shouldn‟t leave him

tied to the rail all afternoon.”

It did not take long to settle Nate‟s horse in the empty stall next to Spot.

Jasper threw the chestnut gelding an armload of hay as Nate went to the pump to

fill a bucket with water. Nate did not say much, just kept casting glances at Jasper

from the corner of his eye. That shadow of uncertainty remained, but for a reason he

could not explain, Jasper held back. Only a few words would fully reassure Nate.

Yet…

Everything settled, Jasper secured the latch on the stall door. He looked to the

leather saddlebag hanging on a hook outside the stall. Jasper had put it there,

deliberately, while Nate had run a brush over the horse. He had not missed the

numerous times Nate‟s silent gaze had fallen onto it, either.

He took a deep breath, but it did little to settle his gut that had somewhere

along the way tied itself into a knot. He could feel Nate‟s presence behind him as

the man waited patiently for him to finish up. Turning from the stall, he flicked his

fingers toward the bag. “Best bring that with you.”

He strode out of the stables, but not quick enough to miss the spark of hope

light Nate‟s eyes. Nate followed close on his heels as he went back into the house.

“Come along,” Jasper repeated as he went up the stairs. A strange sort of

nervousness seeped into his veins. Nate‟s footsteps echoed behind him as he passed

first one closed door and then another before entering the room at the end of the

corridor.

Nate stopped just inside the room and glanced about. “It‟s your bedchamber.”

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The shaving kit on the washstand, the bottle green coat he‟d left draped over

the back of the wooden chair in the corner, and the freshly laundered shirts folded

on top of the mahogany dresser, which he had yet to put away, made it obvious

enough they stood in Jasper‟s bedchamber.

Jasper rounded the bed and opened one of the windows to allow a fresh breeze

into the room. “I should put you up at the inn. At the least, in the guest room down

the corridor.” He lifted one shoulder in an attempt at a casual shrug.

A part of him wanted to make Nate wait. Thought he should make Nate wait.

Allow his visit but install him in the little guest room. To not even let the man press

his lips to his again for at least another couple of days. Give them time to settle in

together outside of a bedchamber, to start their relationship anew. One where not a

single pound note would ever hang over his head. But…

Turning from the window, he motioned to the chair in the corner. “You can put

your bag down.”

Nate nodded and crossed the room, dropping the bag on the chair that was but

two paces from Jasper. “Thank you for the hospitality.”

Jasper shrugged again. “Think nothing of it.”

Nate gave his head a little disapproving shake. “Quite the opposite.”

A bird chirped somewhere off in the distance. Jasper‟s pulse quickened. Arms

hanging at his sides, he rubbed his fingertips over his suddenly damp palms. The

large bed to his left a looming presence he could not ignore. Did not want to ignore.

Head tilted slightly to one side, Nate regarded him with deep blue eyes banked

with wicked intent. Jasper‟s breath hitched, the sound amplified in the quiet room,

as the full force of Nate‟s desire slammed into him.

Two strides and Nate breeched the distance between them. He reached out,

grabbed the back of Jasper‟s neck, and crushed their mouths together. The passion

simmering beneath the surface instantly ignited. A hoarse grunt rumbled Nate‟s

chest. He tugged Jasper even closer against the hard bulk of his body and thrust his

tongue into his mouth. Desperate need rode hard and heavy behind each slant of his

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lips over Jasper‟s. The soft bristle of his day‟s beard rubbed against Jasper‟s cheek.

The pure masculine scent of him filled Jasper‟s senses, sending need as desperate

as Nate‟s roaring through his veins.

Jasper tore at the buttons of Nate‟s coat and waistcoat as Nate‟s hands worked

just as urgently on his own clothes. Within no time at all, Jasper was flinging his

shirt to the floor to join Nate‟s. Nate abruptly dropped to his knees and grabbed one

of Jasper‟s booted feet. Jasper flung out an arm, reaching for the bed to steady him

lest he tumble to the floor. Head bowed, Nate made quick work of Jasper‟s boots,

then yanked at the falls of his breeches. Tugged them to his feet. Wrapped a hand

around Jasper‟s hard cock and opened his mouth.

Jasper‟s eyes flared. Instinct had him reaching down to push Nate away, but

his hands stopped an inch from those broad shoulders. “No, Nate. You don‟t have to

do that.” It wasn‟t as if Nate had never sucked him off, but the image of Nate on his

knees before him made Jasper a bit uncomfortable, as if the man did not belong

there.

Hand stroking Jasper‟s cock, Nate looked up. His light brown hair was tousled

from the hasty removal of their clothing, his cheeks flushed and his eyes blazing

with lust and determination. “But I want to. It occurred to me on the ride here that

I have been quite selfish.”

“No, I would never label you as such,” he said, rushing to correct Nate. “You‟ve

never been—” Nate flicked his tongue over Jasper‟s crown, pulling a gasp from his

throat and silencing him.

“How long have we been together, Jasper?”

Clearly a rhetorical question, as they both knew the answer, but Jasper

answered anyway. “Five years.” It did not escape his notice that Nate classified

their time at that house as together.

Another luscious flick of Nate‟s tongue, warm and wet and much too fleeting.

“And when was the last time I sucked you off?”

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“Last April. We were on the couch. You dropped down before me to remove my

trousers. You wanted to do it yourself.” “No.” Nate‟s hands had settled over his own.

“I want to take them off.” “We were playing „tutor.‟” They had not kept the game up

long. Nate had slid his trousers off, then sucked him for a few minutes before

pushing Jasper‟s legs up to his chest and fucking him senseless.

“Over a year ago. Point proven.” With that, he took Jasper‟s cock inside his

mouth and picked up a rhythm of determined strokes.

“Ah,” Jasper gasped. His hands flexed over Nate‟s shoulders as a shiver of

absolute pleasure rippled down his spine, briefly shaking his knees. Bloody hell. He

revised his earlier assessment. It would take no time at all for him to grow

accustomed to Nate bending himself to Jasper‟s desires.

Threading his fingers into Nate‟s hair, he gave a little tug, urging him to

quicken the pace. With a firm grip on the base, Nate worked his mouth along the

length, the suction on the perfect side of hard. He didn‟t release him for an instant.

Didn‟t provide a moment for Jasper to catch his breath, to push back the orgasm

quickly building within. If Nate continued much longer, Jasper would come down

his throat.

“Enough.”

The moment Nate stood, Jasper pushed him toward the bed, a hard shove that

landed Nate on the edge of the mattress. Dropping to his knees between Nate‟s

spread legs, he quickly divested Nate of his remaining clothes, flinging a boot

behind him that, based on the sharp thud, hit the wall. If it cracked the plaster, he

would figure out how to mend it tomorrow.

His attention slid up Nate‟s powerful legs to his prick, standing stiff and hard,

the crown flushed with need. Fluid beaded at the tip. Jasper shifted full up onto his

knees and reached for that thick cock, the taste of Nate already teasing his tongue.

Strong hands closed around his upper arms. “Don‟t even think about it,” Nate

growled as he pulled Jasper up onto the bed.

Jasper landed on his back. “Nate—”

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Nate pounced on top of him, cutting his protest short. In a tangle of limbs,

Nate rolled onto his back, taking Jasper with him.

Nate‟s legs came up to bracket his hips in undeniable welcome. “But you can

think about this.”

Hands gripping Jasper‟s arse, he tugged him closer. Jasper‟s cock slid against

the hot crease where the top of Nate‟s thigh met his pelvis.

The man‟s intent could not have been any clearer.

Crouched over Nate, Jasper pushed up onto his forearms and stared down at

the other man. His mind locked with shock. There was no other word for it. His

mind simply locked.

“You have done this before, haven‟t you?” That shadow of uncertainty

returned, drawing Nate‟s brows together.

Jasper nodded. Not often, not in the slightest sense of the word, but he had

been on the other side of matters before. “Have you?” In all their years together,

Nate had never asked Jasper to bugger him, and Jasper most certainly would have

never asked it of Nate. Would not have even hinted at the idea.

“Yes, but the last time was years ago. Many years ago,” Nate added.

Many years? “How long has it been?”

“I was at university at the time.”

“So why now? And don‟t give me the selfish answer again.”

“Because it‟s you. Because I love you.”

“You don‟t have to do this, Nate.” He knew that feeling of obligation—no, of

requirement—well. And he never wanted Nate to feel pushed to give himself up if he

did not truly desire it. “You don‟t need to prove your love like this. I believe you.” He

should not have held back. He should have reassured Nate in the kitchen, and

definitely before they had walked into the bedchamber.

“I know, but I want to.” Nate flexed his hands and tugged on Jasper‟s arse

again.

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The slow, luscious drag as Jasper‟s cock slid against Nate‟s skin was a potent

temptation, but he refused to take it. At least not yet.

“Now? Five years of paying for the freedom to do anything you wanted with

me, and yet now this is what you want?” Quite hard to believe. Even harder to

believe—arguing with Nate over this, of all topics, when he was crouched naked

over the man, his prick inches from the target he so very much wanted to explore.

“Hell, Jasper.” On a roll of his eyes, Nate dropped his arms to his sides. “Must

we have this discussion now?”

Jasper rocked back on his knees a bit, just enough to break the contact of their

bodies. “Yes.”

“Damn stubborn,” Nate mumbled under his breath. He dragged a hand over

his face and let out a heavy breath that could only be defined as resigned. “It‟s not

that I‟ve never thought about it. I have. On more than one occasion. I had a feeling I

would enjoy it with you. But…”

Nate turned his head, his gaze darting off to the right, toward the chair in the

corner. The knots marring the bridge of his nose reminded one firmly of his

strength. Of his blatant masculinity. It meant more to Jasper than he could ever

express that such a man as Nate trusted him with his most guarded thoughts.

“It‟s not what a man asks for at a house like Delacroix‟s. I…I wasn‟t… I didn‟t

want you to think…”

And Jasper understood what Nate could not say. “I would never have thought

you less of a man,” he said solemnly. He did not take Nate‟s worries as a slight

against himself. He instinctively knew Nate did not see him as less of a man

because he bent over for him. Playing the dominant, taking what one wanted, had

been much easier for most clients when compared to making oneself vulnerable. It

was ingrained in some that a man‟s role was to take. Though it had never occurred

to him before, he could well understand how Nate would have felt that pressure.

“Just so you are aware, there are some who frequented the house expressly for that

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purpose. You would not have been unique in your request, and I would have been

more than happy to indulge you.”

Nate glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then went back to studying the

chair. A furrow flickered across his brow. Jasper waited patiently, giving Nate time

to think through their discussion. No use rushing the man. But if the uncertainty

did not leave his expression soon, Jasper would call an end to their afternoon in bed.

Perhaps he should not have pushed Nate. Perhaps he should have done as

Nate asked and postponed this particular discussion. But he could not have taken

Nate with the worry in the back of his mind that the man did not truly want it.

Nate shifted beneath him. He looked up at Jasper and lifted a brow. “Are you

going to fuck me or not?”

Jasper could not help it. A chuckle burst from his throat. He had thrown that

demand at Nate on more than one occasion. “Bastard.” He leaned down, nipped at

Nate‟s lower lip, avoiding his bruised jaw. “And you will enjoy it.”

“Really? That begs to be seen.”

Leaning left, Jasper slid open the bedside table drawer and grabbed the bottle

of oil. He‟d brought it with him as an aid for lonely nights, but he had a feeling his

nights would not be so lonely anymore. Even when Nate went to Town, thoughts of

him alone would keep the aching loneliness at bay.

His prick jumped, eager and impatient, as he slicked the length. Pushing back

the heavy surge of anticipation, he braced his weight on one arm and leaned down.

Captured Nate‟s mouth with his own as he reached down between their bodies.

Nate‟s legs came up again, granting him access to slip one oiled finger inside him.

Lips fused together, tongues twining, Jasper prepared Nate. Adding another

digit when he felt the tight muscles begin to relax. Nate‟s arms, wrapped around his

waist, briefly tensed when he added a third, but within a handful of slow strokes,

those arms tugged at him yet again for more.

“Ready?” Jasper murmured against his lover‟s lips.

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“Hell yes,” Nate replied, more a grunt than an actual word.

Jasper carefully pulled free and grabbed his cock with a hand that shook from

more than just impatience. Before he pushed inside, his gaze swept over Nate‟s face,

looking for even the tiniest trace of hesitation. His firm mouth was wet from their

kisses, his heavily lidded eyes blazing with the most unbelievable combination of

love and need that momentarily stole the breath from Jasper‟s chest.

“Love you,” he whispered. Then he pushed inside and made Nate his.

Nate gasped as the head made the breech. His eyes flared, his body reflexively

tensing against the intrusion. Even though instinct and lust demanded Jasper snap

his hips forward, sink fully into the tight heat of Nate‟s body, he held back. Waited.

Gave his lover the moment he knew he needed.

Crouched over Nate, he pushed deeper. A long, slow glide until his ballocks

rested against Nate. His eyes threatened to roll back in his head. Christ, so

goddamn tight. Hopefully Nate did not expect him to last long. If he did, then the

man sure as hell should not have sucked him off first, for that earlier threat of an

orgasm now gripped him anew.

“All right?” he managed to ask.

A groan rumbled Nate‟s throat. “More than all right.”

Reassured, Jasper kissed Nate as he began thrusting. Careful, slow strokes.

Pulling almost all the way out, stopping just before the flared crown stretched the

ring of muscle, then sliding hilt deep. With one hand on the back of Jasper‟s neck

and the other on his hip, Nate urged him for more. Jasper eagerly gave it to him.

Shook free of all restraint and slammed into him. Hoarse grunts echoed in his ears.

Sweat trickled down his back. With each thrust, the head of Nate‟s hard cock

slapped against his abdomen. He never used to even tease himself with the thought

of having Nate beneath him like this. But now, the man was his. Forever.

The orgasm seized his senses, seared a path up his length. He could not have

held it back if he tried. With a hoarse shout, he poured deep into his lover, his hips

sputtering to a halt.

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His mind still reeling from the force of that climax, he forced his limbs into

action and shifted down Nate‟s body, going straight for his target. Took Nate‟s cock

inside his mouth. Nate‟s hands fisted in his hair. His grip turned harsh as his entire

body tensed. Jasper sucked hard, flicked his tongue under the crown, and then salty

seed hit the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, every last drop, until the

climax left Nate lax beneath him.

Jasper shifted up and flopped down on his back next to Nate. He swiped a

forearm across his wet mouth and struggled to catch his breath. “Did you enjoy it?”

For that, he got an elbow to his side. “You need to ask?”

Valid point. Rather ridiculous question, especially since he could still taste

Nate‟s seed on his tongue. “Just wanted to be certain,” he grumbled.

The mattress shifted as Nate rolled onto his side. Mouth slightly pursed, he

regarded Jasper. Then he leaned in to press his lips to his. A long, slow glide that

vanished that tiny wisp of doubt.

“Thank you, Jasper.”

The solemnity in his gaze indicated Nate was not referring to their recent

activities. “For what?” Jasper asked.

“For everything. I can‟t believe I was so blind. All that time and you were right

in front of me. Always there. Always in my heart. I—”

Jasper pulled him down for another kiss, silencing him. “Enough. For now.

Anymore and…” He swallowed hard. “I never dreamed you could actually be mine.

Well, I did dream it, but I never believed it. I loved you, wanted you for so long,

that…” He shook his head, struggling to find the words.

Nate cupped his jaw, brushed the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip. “I‟ve

been a selfish, blind fool, and you have my eternal apologies.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It‟s enough that you‟re here. It will take me

some time, that‟s all, to grow accustomed to actually having what I never believed I

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could have.” To grow accustomed to the wonderful, all-encompassing feeling of

Nate‟s love.

“You and me both.”

“Pardon?”

“You. Us. It‟s what I‟ve always wanted.” He gave a little self-conscious shrug,

then flopped back onto his back at Jasper‟s side.

Calloused fingertips found his palm, slid between his fingers. Nate gave his

hand a squeeze.

Jasper stared up at the ceiling. He was what Nate wanted. Strong, stalwart,

loyal Nate. A man who would stand by his side until the end of his days.

The knowledge sank into his bones as the sun began to creep down the sky. A

breeze drifted across his bare skin, the perfect complement to the warmth radiating

from the strong body beside him.

A smile curved his lips. “I love the countryside.”

Nate‟s chuckle shook the mattress. “As do I.”

His Client

115

Epilogue

July 1822
Shere, Surrey, England

“Keep your left up. Now block as I move in, and then jab with your right.”

Nodding, Jasper readjusted his stance, lifting his left arm that had dropped to

somewhere around his navel. The afternoon sun played happily over the powerful

muscles of his lover‟s upper body. A droplet of sweat trickled over Nate‟s collarbone.

It clung to his skin for an instant and then began to make its way down his chest.

The soft swoosh of grass beneath Nate‟s bare feet barely penetrated his

thoughts. Did gentlemen routinely strip down to their breeches to practice

pugilism? If so, he was damn glad he had never agreed to accompany Nate to

Gentleman Jackson‟s. Even if no one had recognized him, he had a strong feeling

his hardening cock would have revealed the full extent of his and Nate‟s—

A white linen-wrapped fist darted toward his face. Jasper instinctively lunged

back, right fist swinging out to knock Nate‟s blow aside.

“No, that‟s not…” Nate exhaled through his nose. “Let‟s try again,” he said

with deliberate patience. “But this time, block with your left and try to hit me with

your right.”

“I‟d rather not.” Sweat tickled his palm. Jasper flexed his hand at his side. The

linen wrapped over his knuckles rubbed against his skin, soothing the itch. Nate

claimed the fabric would help prevent injury. Highly doubtful a few layers of thin

linen would do anything of the sort, but it felt slightly less barbaric than aiming a

bare fist at Nate.

116

Ava March

“You aren‟t going to hurt me.” Nate spoke with such confidence, as if Jasper

had the strength of a mere kitten.

Jasper scowled. He had two inches in height on Nate. While he did not have

Nate‟s bulk, the hours he had spent in the stables and in the garden of late were

starting to show themselves. It wasn‟t as if he had been a slip of a thing before

purchasing Westborne Cottage, but now he had muscles that were more than just

for show. If he came upon Nate in a dark alley at night, he was fairly confident he

could hold his own against the man. Might not come out the victor, but he would not

go down in a handful of seconds.

“You have no problems shoving me around in the bedchamber,” Nate added.

“This is not much different.”

“Yes, it is. I don‟t hit you with a closed fist. What if I leave a bruise?” He did

not like the thought of replacing the bruise that had fully healed a few weeks ago

with a new one.

“If you do, it will heal. Come along now, fists up.” Nate shuffled back a couple

of steps, getting back into position. “If it will ease your mind, don‟t aim for my face.

Aim for my upper arm.”

A slightly more palatable option. “All right.”

A smile filtered across Nate‟s mouth before it thinned with concentration.

Jasper knew Nate thoroughly enjoyed pugilism. He should give the sport a chance,

especially given Nate, who preferred to avoid social functions, had accompanied him

to his second country assembly. As nephew to Viscount Redding, Nate‟s presence

alone had added significant support to Jasper‟s claim he was merely a young

gentleman from London.

Jasper lifted his fists. He flicked his chin up, signaling to Nate to begin again.

He managed to block the first blow and connect with Nate‟s bicep with his right.

Nate‟s pleased chuckle was music to his ears. The man possessed amazingly quick

reflexes, his fists snapping out in almost a blur. Yet each impact was as light as a

His Client

117

mere child‟s. A tap with no force at all behind it. Definitely deliberate and a marked

display of Nate‟s skill.

They shuffled in the clearing next to the back garden, advancing and

retreating, dodging and attacking again. Sweat coated his forehead, dripped down

his back. He had to admit, it was exhilarating, testing his strength and agility

against Nate‟s, trying to predict the man‟s next move, but…

Gathering his muscles, Jasper sprang forward, blocked Nate‟s left hook, and

grabbed him by the back of the neck, hauling him close. Nate‟s sweat-slicked chest

met his as Jasper crushed his mouth over his. Strong arms wrapped around him,

jerking him closer. Jasper drank up his lover‟s growl of approval, and then his feet

were suddenly not beneath him. His back impacted with the ground.

He glanced right. Nate‟s straight arm bracketed his shoulder, other arm still

wrapped around the small of his back. Explained why the impact had not knocked

the breath from his chest. His lover had cushioned his fall.

He looked up at Nate crouched above him, broad shoulders blocking the direct

force of the sun. A thoroughly pleased smile curved his mouth.

“I do not believe tackling your opponent to the ground is an acceptable

maneuver in pugilism.”

“No, but it should be.” Nate‟s voice had dropped to a low rumble. He flexed his

hips, rubbing his hardening cock against Jasper‟s.

Jasper groaned. “Perhaps.”

Lifting a brow, Nate ground against him again. “Only perhaps?”

“All right. Most assuredly. Though can we resume this after a swim in the

pond?” He shifted beneath Nate, the grass sticking to his bare back. Fun to work up

a sweat while naked with Nate, but starting sweaty and sticky did not hold much

appeal. In any case, while the forest bordering his property blocked the view of his

closest neighbor, it would still be more prudent to continue indoors.

118

Ava March

Nate stole a quick kiss, much too quick in Jasper‟s opinion, then pushed off

and stood. He held out a hand. “All right, but only if we can stop in the study after

the pond.”

Jasper slapped his hand in Nate‟s and let the man pull him to his feet. The

blatant arousal straining the falls of Nate‟s breeches indicated he did not want to

indulge in a book. “„Secretary‟ or „tutor‟?”

“Your choice.”

“Secretary.” One of their newer games and one of Nate‟s creations—Jasper‟s

diligent secretary to Nate‟s haughty lord. Fortunately the desk he had purchased

for the study had shown itself sturdy enough to bear his weight, along with a bit of

rough handling.

That pleased grin turned wicked. “We best get to the pond then,” Nate said as

he began to unravel the cloth from his knuckles.

They cut through the rose garden, taking what had become a familiar route to

the pond. Almost as familiar to Jasper as the man at his shoulder. Except for one

short visit to London for Edmonton‟s wife‟s first supper party—an occasion Jasper

agreed Nate had been obligated to attend—Nate had been ever present at his side.

His face the first thing Jasper saw in the morning and his touch the last sensation

before sleep claimed him at night. The past month had proved true the hope he had

clung to for so long.

Where once he believed, he now knew it with certainty. Nate belonged with

him, just as Jasper belonged with Nate.

Loose Id Titles by Ava March

Bound by Deception

Bound to Him

Convincing Arthur

His Client

Ava March

Ava March writes Regency-set erotic romances. She has a daughter and is

married to a wonderful man who doesn‟t mind in the slightest that she spends her

evenings writing naughty books.

Ava loves to hear from her readers. See what she‟s been up to by visiting her

on the Web at

http://www.AvaMarch.com

Document Outline

Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Loose Id Titles by Ava March
Ava March

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