Page 17 of Vanquished By A Viscount
Charlie softened, his mouth twitching into a sad smile. Unlike the death of his own father, the Hawthorne family had been devastated by the old earl’s passing far before his time. Charlie had only met the late Lord Felcourt a handful of times, but he’d found the man to be jovial and intelligent. Apparently, his heart had given out suddenly, leaving Robert to become the Earl of Felcourt at only thirty.
“Barbara has an uncanny ability to see the best in everyone and to find the joy in even the darkest night,” Charlie agreed, shifting closer to Gray so that the two of them could move the final obstacle blocking the targets, half of a broken horse trough.
Gray hummed and crouched to grasp one end of the trough as Charlie took the other. “She has been good for Robert,” he said, his voice strained as they lifted the solid oak piece and shifted it to the side. “I know you do not approve of the difference in their ages?—”
“I never said I did not approve,” Charlie interrupted, though not as an argument. He simply wanted to make it clear that he was pleased with Barbara’s choice.
They set the trough down and straightened, both a bit winded. “Barbara is clever,” Gray said breathlessly, moving to lean one shoulder against the first target in the stack they’d just freed.
Charlie huffed and moved to lean against the other side of the same target, crossing his arms. “A bit too clever at times, if you ask me,” he said. “This is not the first time she has attempted to orchestrate an outcome she wishes to see.”
“What other outcomes has she orchestrated?” Gray asked, pushing a hand through his damp hair.
Charlie nearly forgot what they were talking about as he watched the rakish gesture. He’d only ever known Gray as the wide-eyed innocent experiencing his first taste of life and pleasure. Time had changed the man, and even Charlie had to admit that Gray wore his new self-assurance and easy manner well. He made an excellent rake, and Charlie could imagine that he had been a favorite in Spain or Italy or wherever else he’d ventured.
And yes, he was jealous. He hated every man who had ever dared to lay a hand on his lover. May they all be cursed with some disease that wasted their balls away.
But he knew as clear as day that it was his fault Gray had run to anyone else in the first place.
“Barbara always had an uncanny ability to convince her friends’ mothers to host balls whenever she was inclined to attend one,” he said, only remembering he’d been asked a question at the last minute. “She was always able to plant the idea in someone or another’s head in such a way that it sprouted and bore fruit. Not once has my sister gone without a ball when she has been inclined to dance.”
Gray huffed a small but genuine laugh, staring at nothing, seemingly lost in his thoughts for a moment. He finally peeked at Charlie and said, “I believe she convinced my brother this house party would be a splendid idea.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt the entire thing was her doing,” Charlie said, relaxing into his fond feelings for Barbara. “But she is a countess now. She has no need to cajole and manipulate to have her way.”
“Except where the two of us are concerned,” Gray said. To Charlie’s surprise, he still looked at ease and even amused, evenwhen he said, “This is all her way of forcing us into each other’s company, is it not?” He gestured to the targets.
“It is,” Charlie said, frowning again. “I cannot say I entirely approve.”
“Of her meddling or of us?” Gray asked.
The question was pointed. Even more so because Charlie could not determine by his expression alone whether Gray meant the question to initiate another argument or a reconciliation. He did not want to reconcile with Gray. He did not want to open himself up to a rake at the risk of being hurt. He did not want to ruin Barbara’s reputation by hinting to her guests in any way that there was an inappropriate attachment between him and Gray. Just because they were all older and had more settled places in the world did not mean that their reputations would not be irrevocably harmed by discovery now.
“I do not?—”
Those were all the words Charlie managed to speak before Gray stepped closer to him, hooked a hand around the back of his neck, and pulled him close so that he could slam his mouth over his.
To say that Charlie was surprised was a colossal understatement. He was shocked, floored, and baffled. But none of those emotions were enough to stop him from grasping tightly to Gray’s shirt and his hard, fit body beneath it, nor did they dissuade him from kissing the man back with as much sudden passion as was directed at him.
Gray groaned deeply, which only spurred Charlie on. He turned aggressor, thrusting his tongue into Gray’s mouth to take and taste as he wished. It had been so long since he had felt the intensity of Gray’s kiss. Time hadn’t dimmed his want. If anything, it made him want the closeness and connection even more. He tugged a handful of Gray’s shirt out of his breeches so that he could feel the warmth of Gray’s skin.
“Yes,” Gray whispered before mirroring Charlie’s action and yanking his shirt out of his trousers. Gray’s hands felt so good on him after so long without that Charlie made an indignant sound of need and kissed the man harder.
It was every bit as wonderful as Charlie remembered things being between them and then some. Gray was no longer the more inexperienced of the two of them. In fact, Charlie quickly felt himself outmatched as Gray devoured his mouth and gripped his sides. He lowered a hand to squeeze Charlie’s arse and tugged them flush together as well.
The sensation of Gray’s erection pressing against his own, their bodies far more honest than either of them would ever dare to be with words, brought Charlie close to the edge. Too close. He didn’t want to unman himself so quickly, in the dust and dark of a garden shed. If anything, he wanted Gray naked and panting in his bed, his gorgeous body on display for him to touch and taste and play with. He wanted the two of them tangled up the way they used to?—
A clattering from just outside the shed followed by one of the footmen saying, “What’s all this doing out here?” in a voice that carried was just the intervention Charlie needed to push away from Gray.
Gray stumbled back as well, breathless and flushed, and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. “We should?—”
“The targets,” Charlie spoke nearly on top of him.
Gray grunted and nodded, and the two of them just barely managed to grab either side of the target at the front of the stack before two footmen stepped into the shed.
“My lord, my lord,” the young man said, nodding first to Gray, then to Charlie. “We were sent to fetch the archery targets.”
“They’re just here,” Gray said, turning his face slightly away from the two young men and positioning himself so that the front of his trousers was hidden by the target.
