Page 25 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

“Five years,” Derrek said, his heart beating harder the closer Jeremy came to him.

“Five years is a long time to miss someone,” Jeremy said. He raised a tentative hand and rested it on Derrek’s arm for comfort.

Derrek smiled. He took Jeremy’s hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss Jeremy’s knuckles. “It is a very long time,” he said. He sucked in a breath, forcing his grief away in favor of more useful emotions and the point he was trying to make. “I’ve not been a saint in the years that followed Joseph’s passing. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I enjoy bedsport, be it rough and aggressive, as you hinted, or slow and sweet. My cock has a mind of its own most days, and I’m not too proud to put it to good use.”

“O-oh,” Jeremy said, red as an apple, attempting to pull back.

Derrek wouldn’t let him. “Just because I’m a lusty dog doesn’t mean I intend to gnaw you like a bone,” he said, grinning. “Unless you want me to.”

“Oh, I, well?—”

“Untilyou want me to,” Derrek clarified. “The point being that I have no intention of being like whomever you’ve been with in the past. I have no intention of taking anything from you, in any way, that you’re not deeply willing to give. And when the moment comes when you do want to explore, whether that is here, in the complete safety and seclusion of a cottage in a forest miles from anything, where no one knows we reside, or in the heart of London, amidst the crowd and noise of The Chameleon Club, I will be sensitive to your needs and not push you into anything you do not want.”

Jeremy stood there blinking for a moment. Derrek could practically read his thoughts, though he wasn’t pleased with the story they told. Someone, possibly more than one someone, in Jeremy’s past had pushed him into things he hadn’t been ready for. He might have enjoyed those things once they happened or he might not have. The point was that he hadn’t been ready, and it had left him shy of a part of his nature that Derrek knew was there. He had experienced a bit of that nature that morning, before Jeremy was awake enough to limit himself.

“Thank you, Derrek,” Jeremy said at last, curling his fingers around Derrek’s so that they held hands between them. “That means a great deal to me.”

“You mean a great deal to me,” Derrek said too quickly. It was a daft and sentimental thing to say, but dammit, he meant it. “Now go on with you,” he said, putting on a cheeky look again and letting go of Jeremy’s hand. “I’m the man of this house, and it’s high time I had my supper.”

He took a step forward and slapped Jeremy’s backside as he played the coarse and overbearing husband to Jeremy’s sweet and saucy fishwife.

It was all in jest, though. Jeremy was far too masculine and miles too clever to be the sort of slattern he might have fun pretending he was. And as for him? As he crossed the room to put away some of the household supplies they’d purchased earlier, a twist of unfamiliar worry curled in Derrek’s gut. Because as jovial as it felt to play with Jeremy and make believe they were keeping house together, he feared very much that he was actually falling in love with the man.

Nine

Despite having been raised in the country, Derrek had grown to much prefer London life. Which was why he was so deeply surprised, after a week in the cottage with Jeremy, to discover just how much he enjoyed their interlude of forest seclusion.

“You’ve made tremendous progress on the garden,” Jeremy commented, peering out the window into a sunny, early-April day as he washed up from their morning repast. “It isn’t a heap of brambles any longer, that much is certain.”

“I have to do something to fill my days while you’re stitching away with your missus,” Derrek replied with a grin as he tended the fireplace. They would be leaving soon, but he wanted to make certain the cottage wouldn’t lose its warmth without anyone to tend it for the middle part of the day.

“Your efforts at gardening have been a great success,” Jeremy said with an answering smile, dipping one of their plates in the washbasin he’d insisted be kept in the kitchen before rubbing the plate with a bit of toweling and setting it aside. “If you’ve no further wish to be a policeman, I am certain someone would hire you as their gardener.”

“Would you?” Derrek asked, pushing himself to stand and brushing his hands across his breeches to remove the dirt.

He was very much aware of the way Jeremy’s gaze lingered on his breeches and on the flush that came to his dove’s face. The last two weeks had been filled with such looks and more. They’d continued to share the cottage’s one bed and Jeremy was as restless a sleeper as ever. Nearly every morning had been some sort of repeat of their first, complete with morning tumescence that Derrek was quick to excuse himself to take care of and Jeremy fought to ignore. How the man was not half out of his mind with denial was a mystery to Derrek.

Because for all their growing comfort with each other, for all the amorous looks and occasional flirtatious banter, Jeremy had yet to let down his walls and invite Derrek into his pleasure garden.

“I do not think I would ever be in a position to hire a gardener,” Jeremy stammered, turning quickly back to finish his tidying. “I foresee that I will forever live in rooms above my tailoring shop, whether it remains in Jermyn Street or moves to some other location, and that I will not have the space nor the time for a garden.”

“But that’s why you hire someone else to do the work,” Derrek said, hiding his grin as best he could as he walked over to the table near the stove. “Have someone else do the ploughing while you enjoy it.”

He stood deliberately close to Jeremy’s back, leaning into him and over him as he reached for something on the highest shelf beside where they stood. He did not care much which item he plucked from the shelf. The entire gesture was an excuse to wedge Jeremy against the table and to come as close as he could to pressing their bodies together so that Jeremy could feel the heat he aroused in him.

His teasing gesture bore fruit as Derrek felt a shiver pass through his dove. Jeremy sucked in a breath, and when Derrek rested a hand slightly on his hip as he took down a jar of boot black, which he had no need for whatsoever, he half expected Jeremy to let the breath out on a sensual moan. If that were to happen, Derrek might not have had any choice but to scoop his dove up and take him back to bed.

Nothing happened, of course, except that Derrek was left holding a jar of boot black with no idea what to do with it. His boots were brown. He cleared his throat as he rocked away from Jeremy, then headed toward the front door.

“Are you ready to head into the village?” he asked, his voice coming out gruff and laced with desire.

“I…I…I…yes, I think so,” Jeremy gusted out, leaning heavily against the table for a moment.

He took another few breaths to gather himself, which made Derrek’s smile widen. It would do them both a world of good to simply go to bed, enjoy each other thoroughly once or twice, and get the whole thing over with so that they could move on. Jeremy was as tight as a coil and equally as ready to spring with pent-up desire, whether he knew it or not, and Derrek had gone so long without the relief of a willing partner that his balls felt like rocks in his breeches, despite his new morning ritual with the trees.

“I should not be dallying at all,” Jeremy said once he’d put the rest of the morning washing up away, fetched his coat, and started out into the forest by Derrek’s side. “Clary has received even more requests for gowns for May Day, not only from the people of our village but from as far away as Maidstone and Aylesford. The two of us will have sore fingers from stitching by the time the festival arrives.”

Derrek’s insides filled with light and warmth that had little to do with the pleasant morning around them. “For a man who is in hiding from those who wish to see him dead, you are surprisingly happy.”

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