Page 54 of Their Master

“Relationship? He is my servant and I am his employer; we both signed a contract to that effect.” His clipped tone had indicating that was the end of the matter.

Joseph Leather—Smith’s prior valet—had also been a servant and her brother Robert had been certain that Smith had been in love with Leather.

Of course, that was not information she could admit to having.

And so, Moira had let the matter be.

Chapter 13

Luke was in the kitchen with several other servants—which is where he’d been spending his evenings since Miss Moira had moved into the house—when one of the service bells went off.

Michael craned his neck to see the bells.

“That’s you, Luke—it’s Miss Moira’s room.”

“They must have worked up an appetite,” Frank, one of the grooms said, making all the others chortle.

“I’m glad the master’s stayin’ around more now,” Cook piped up. “Gives me a chance to earn my keep. Sometimes it’s a wonder he pays me at all considering the paltry amount of food he takes at his own board.”

“Aye, well, I reckon he’ll stay close now that he’s got a reason to,” Clark, one of the inside servants commented, setting off a series of speculations about the master’s newest lover.

Luke left the men to their chatter, ignoring the twinge of pain that had blossomed in his chest at their words.

He’d bled inside and continued to do so with every pleasant greeting and nod he exchanged with Mr. Smith, who’d not called him to his bed even once since Miss Moira’s arrival.

Even as miserable as he’d been, Luke had provided excellent service. He’d been trained by the very best at the Birch Palace, and it was a badge of honor to obey his master’s orders both quickly and respectfully, without giving any sign of how much Smith’s neglect was crushing him.

As he mounted the stairs to answer the bell, it occurred to him that if his desire to please overwhelmed even his own anguish at losing his lover to another, then maybe it wasn’t love at all that he felt.

He was wrestling with that thought when he entered his mistress’s bedchamber.

The sight that met his eyes drove everything from his mind.

It was Mr. Smith, naked and sprawled on top of the bedding.

Beside him, slit-eyed and sweaty, was Miss Moira, her bare torso rising and falling rapidly, as if she’d been sprinting—or fucking Smith, which was guaranteed to leave a person just as breathless.

Mr. Smith was absently stroking one of her breasts, the image of a man whose every sensual need had been satisfied.

“Ah, Luke,” his master said, “there you are. I would like my slippers and a robe—tell Knox I want the velvet one, it is quite chilly. Miss Moira would like some of Cook’s shortbread. I’ve promised her that it is the best in Britain. Is that not true, Luke?”

He cleared his throat and managed to croak, “That is the general consensus, sir.”

“There, you see?” Mr. Smith said to Miss Moira, tweaking a nipple hard enough to make her squeak. “Lukeneverlies.” He pulled her body on top of his and the two lost themselves in kissing, forgetting that Luke even existed.

Luke silently left through the connecting door and then sagged against the wall, struggling to catch his breath.

The emotions that battered him were so confusing he felt as though he was losing his mind. Bitter rejection and rampant arousal struggled inside him like drunken street brawlers. His sadistic mind’s eye kept replaying the scene he’d just left: the two lovers entangled in each other arms, their bodies naked and sweaty.

For all that his eyes prickled with unshed tears of frustration, his cock throbbed so hard it was a wonder they couldn’t hear it in the next room.

Luke laid a hand over his bulge, not to stroke, just to hold himself—desperate to find some comfort in touch… even if it was his own.

But all he felt was a soul-rending desire for a man who’d cast him aside without a care.

He never lied to you. There has never been any love—at least not on Mr. Smith’s side.To him you’re merely a servant he hired to fulfill particular duties. And now those duties have changed.

Luke couldn’t argue with the chiding voice. This was all his fault; he’d allowed his feelings for the other man to careen out of control. And now watching Mr. Smith behave with somebody else the way he’d only recently behaved withhimwas the punishment.

---