Page 122 of Their Master

After she left, Luke went to fetch his hat, coat, and cane before walking the few streets that separated his new home from his old one.

The weather was bitterly cold, even for the end of January, but Luke had an extra spring in his step. He’d not realized that keeping his meetings with Smith from Miss Moira had weighed on his mind. It had been an uncomfortable conversation, but he was grateful the matter was now out in the open.

Luke made his way up the front steps, still feeling odd about not using the servant entrance, even though it had been months since he’d been a servant in the house.

“Come in through the front door, Luke,” Smith had said on that very first Monday, his expression lazy with spent passion, his body naked in the sheets they’d spent all night tangling. “You are, after all, my guest.” He’d chuckled at that, as if he’d made a joke. But Luke chose to believe he meant it—and felt warmed by his words.

He raised his hand to ring the bell when the door opened and he almost collided with a person coming out.

“Oops! I beg your pardon,” he said, taking a step back.

Luke almost didn’t recognize Charles Smith: it had been over a year—closer to a year and a half—and he’d been clean-shaven the last time Luke saw him.

Luke inclined his head. “Good evening, Mr. Smith,” he said, even though using the man’s surname felt odd.

“Oh,” Charles said, his brow wrinkling, the quizzical expression making his angelic, gorgeous features look even more charming. “I know you—you are a footman here.”

Mr. Smith appeared behind the younger man, his expression indulgent as he looked from the nattily dressed, golden-haired young man to Luke.

“This is Luke, Charles. I’m sure you remember him.” His cut the younger man a sardonic look. “He works elsewhere, now. He is just paying a visit.”

Charles’s sapphire eyes opened wide; Luke couldn’t blame him. Since when did footmen visit their employers? Former, or otherwise.

“Well,” Charles said, his eyebrows arched, his expression condescendingly amused. “How nice to see you, I’m sure.”

Luke read him like a cheap penny paper: he was jealous—fairly boiling with it, just as he’d always been when it came to Smith.

“I shall see you on Wednesday, then, Charles?” Smith said, his words a dismissal, no matter how polite.

“I look forward to it, darling.” The younger man took his leave, his back stiff as he descended the stairs.

“Come in, Luke.” Smith shut the door and then pulled a face. “I’m sorry about that. I’m afraid it was a surprise visit.”

He held out his hands and Luke stared at them, confused.

Smith laughed. “Oh come, surely I am not so selfish as to not hold a man’s possessions while he divests himself of an overcoat?”

Luke’s face heated. “No, of course not. It is just, er, unusual to see you in the role of a servant, sir.”

Smith took Luke’s hat and cane first, and then returned for his gloves, his mouth curving into a wicked smile as he stepped close—far closer than was necessary to take the gloves Luke had just pulled off his hands.

“Tell me, would you enjoy having me be your body servant?”

Luke couldn’t recall his cock ever becoming so hard, so fast before.

Smith chuckled and went around behind him, lifting his coat from his shoulders. “It would be my pleasure to serve you in any way… master.”

Luke shuddered at the words and Smith whisked his coat away, handing it to David—who’d come hurrying into the foyer and was visibly stunned to find his employer playing at being a footman.

“Oh, sir. I’m terribly sorry.”

Smith grinned, his eyes never leaving Luke. “Have Cook send up a tray in an hour, David. Do you want anything special, Luke?”

Luke’s face heated under his former lover’s scrutiny. “Er, some shortbread if he has it.”

David’s eyebrow was cocked mockingly as he bore Luke’s coat away.

As they made their way up the stairs—which was not exactly comfortable with an erection as hard as the one Luke was currently sporting—he was intensely aware of the man beside him.

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