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Unspoken Love (continued)

continued from part one of Unspoken Love

Lord Jinn joined the young ladies on the lawn. He was a fortunate man having such youth and charm about him, but he must face the fact that Charlotte would marry sooner or later. Of course, she was only fifteen, and he would prefer to postpone the inevitable another few years to come, but many believed she was now of age. He shook his head at the notion. She was still just a girl to him, like his sister had been when she married all those years ago.

He supposed that life was about relationships, familial and otherwise. Charlotte had notions of love and romance, but they were all gained from reading those silly novels she so enjoyed. He had considered denying her such trivial reading, but the girl read sensibly, too, devouring volumes on exotic places and England's glorious history. How could he not allow her some whimsy?

His thoughts were interrupted as he saw Mr. Delaney coming from the servant's door at the rear of the house.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but the missus asked me to convey a message," the man said, taking off his cap and bowing slightly.

"Yes, Mr. Delaney?"

"She says to tell you not to worry, she's treating Ben as her own. She's got him resting in Thomas's old room."

Quentin smiled, and could not stop himself from looking over at the little cottage.

"Oh, and she thanks you, sir... for going after him."

"Please tell your wife I appreciate her care of the young man. He's had a hard life, Mr. Delaney, and you know that I cannot abide by the mistreatment of man or beast."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

The nobleman nodded to his stable master and watched as the man headed off toward his home. Quentin flexed his hands, feeling the urge to accompany Mr. Delaney back to the cottage and see Ben for himself.

The dream took him to a garden, a lovely, fragrant garden with roses and lilacs along gravel paths. His mother held his hand, singing to him as they strolled companionably. Her hair was curled and golden red in the afternoon sun.

"Mama," he said, tugging on her hand. "When will papa be home?"

She stopped in the middle of a lyric and knelt down next to her child, just five years old, and gave him a warm smile. "Your father is at court with His Majesty. He has important business in London. We shall see him within the week."

She stroked her son's long hair and the boy smiled at her as they continued walking...

"Shush, don't cry, my dear Benjamin," his mother said as she cradled the boy in her arms on the bed.

The door to the bedchamber slammed open, the hinges creaking loudly as though they would break under the strain. Two large, bearded men stood in the doorway, dressed in kilts and wearing swords at their sides.

"Go on wit her then," the larger and less dirty of the two men said as he pointed to the woman.

"What do you want with us?" she asked, pulling her son more closely to her bosom.

The other man came forward and grabbed her, she screamed and tried to hold on to her son. "Come on, wench," he said and threw her to the floor.

"Mama!" Benjamin cried, leaping from the bed to go to his mother.

They embraced and the woman turned fierce eyes on their tormentors. "My husband will be certain the King hears of this outrage!"

"Och, the king," the man in the doorway said. "We dinnae care about yer English king."

And with that, her son was torn from her arms and she was dragged, screaming from the room. The boy tried to follow, but was knocked down by one of the men. The door closed and locked behind them.

"No!" Benjamin cried, getting up and going to the door. He banged and pulled on its handle, desperate for it to open, but he was too small. He could do nothing but cry. "Mama! Mama!"

Ben woke gasping for air, sitting up in bed. He looked about the room, wild-eyed. It was just a dream. He was in the Delaney's home, in their son's room.

Hardly a minute later there was a knock on the door and Mrs. Delaney came into the room. "I thought I heard you cry out," she said, looking on the young man sympathetically. "But of course that's not possible." She walked over to the bed and noticed the light perspiration on his brow. "You've had a bad dream, haven't you?"

Ben nodded. Yes, he remembered it clearly. He was calling for his mother. But how could Mrs. Delaney have known? Had he actually called out in his sleep? He had not spoken in so many years.

"There's potato and leek soup waiting for you downstairs. Why don't you finish dressing and come down?"

He nodded again, much relieved to be free of his dream and to have this kind woman looking after him. She left him and it took only a moment to put on his shirt, vest and shoes and go downstairs to the small kitchen. It was about a third the size of the kitchen in the servants' quarters where Mrs. Delaney spent most of her day. He sat at the kitchen table and was immediately served soup, warm bread and a glass of milk.

"It's going on three o'clock, but I suspect you'll be hungry again come supper time," she said, smiling brightly as she joined him with a cup of tea.

After the meal, though he was still tired from his lack of sleep the night before, Ben could not bring himself to go back to bed. He set about trying to help Mrs. Delaney with her meal preparation in the servants' kitchen, but she forbade him, saying that the master of the house wanted him to rest. She did however, allow him to watch and entertained him with delightful stories about the cast of characters at Fairfield.

That evening at supper Mr. Delaney talked of the band of gypsies who had been spotted on the master's lands.

"He'll want to go out and meet with them, and make it clear that they can't stay," he said, taking a mouth full of stew.

Ben thought this sounded harsh, but was soon corrected by Mr. Delaney's next remarks.

"The gypsies have caused problems in the past, and he's a good man to allow them to stay at all. And Ben, you'll be interested to know that he's wanting you to accompany him, though I can't imagine why."

All eyes turned to the newcomer. The other servants had been pleasant enough, but none of them had gone out of the way to get to know him as the Delaney's had. He had even overheard a couple of them talking about the "dumb stable boy" who was getting more attention than was right. Their stares made him uneasy.

"Usually Mr. Markus, the game keeper, rides out with him, but for some reason the master's asked for you instead."

"Maybe he thinks the boy would like to see some real gypsies," Mrs. Delaney said.

"How do we know he ain't one himself?" asked one of the farm hands.

"It's plain enough to see," said the missus. "He's much too fair."

"Right," Mr. Delaney said, agreeing with his wife, even as he looked at Ben that much more critically.

The sun was low in the sky by the time Lord Jinn and Ben set off to find the gypsies. Mr. Markus had voiced his concern. It would be dark before they returned and on his advice, the master was given a loaded pistol that was tucked inside a saddlebag.

Ben was honored and embarrassed to be singled out like this. Fortunately, Mrs. Delaney had given him one of Thomas's coats to keep the night chill off.

"I know it's getting late, but we'll be welcome," Lord Jinn said as he looked to his companion as they set out.

Welcome? Ben wondered. Were they not on their way to give the gypsies fair warning?

"I know what you're thinking," the nobleman said and smiled. "The servants believe I'm protecting my lands, but that's not it at all." He turned in his saddle to look at Ben more fully. "This morning when I was searching for you I came upon the gypsies. They are the reason I found you."

Ben's eyes widened.

"Yes, that's right. I want to thank them for leading me to you."

The young man shook his head not understanding.

"It was important that I found you, but it wasn't until I met up with the gypsies that I realized just how important."

Impulsively, the nobleman reached his hand over and touched Ben's arm. The young man stared at the hand and felt a warmth race through him. He did not pull back from the touch, but felt confusion flood him. What was happening? Was this man trying to tell him that he cared for him?

The hand withdrew and Lord Jinn said nothing more the rest of the journey. Not surprisingly, when they reached the gypsy campsite they were greeted with suspicion, but a boy quickly came forward having recognized the nobleman.

"Aye, sir, is this your friend you were looking for?" he asked, anxiously.

Quentin nodded. "Yes, this is Ben. I'd like to thank your grandmother for her help in finding him."

The boy laughed. "She said you would be coming," he said and nodded for them to follow.

They dismounted their horses and followed the boy through the camp. There were at least twenty people gathered here amid the trees. Ben could not help but stare; they were all dressed so colorfully and some of them were playing guitars and singing.

Perched on a painted stool in front of a warm campfire sat the old woman Quentin had spoken with that morning. She nodded and smiled when she saw them. "Come, come," she beckoned, gesturing for them to sit around the fire with her.

The boy brought two more stools and then settled on the ground near his grandmother. Ben was at a loss as to why Lord Jinn had brought him here. Yes, he had been told it was to thank this woman, but weren't gypsies beneath the nobleman's station? And wasn't this dangerous?

The woman's dark eyes settled on Ben. "You are as I saw," she said, seeming quite pleased.

"Your words led me to him," Quentin said, eager to convey his thanks.

The woman laughed mildly. "My words merely told you what you already knew," she said.

Quentin felt his cheeks warming, but in the glow of the fire the blush would go unnoticed. He was nervous coming here and a little guilt-ridden. He hoped the old woman's directness would reveal his growing feelings for Ben. He needed her to voice his heart's desire since he could not.

"I came to thank you..." he continued.

She held up her hand to silence him. "I see a woman with red curls," she said, tilting her head as she looked at Ben. "And a boy weeping for her."

Ben tensed and looked about. How could she know about his mother?

"Your sorrow runs as deep as the ocean and has been borne for many years, but your journey's end is in sight."

Ben shot up from the stool and stumbled back.

"What is it?" Lord Jinn asked, stunned by the young man's reaction.

The youth shook his head and then turned and ran back toward the horses. Quentin leaned over to the woman, taking a bag of gold coins from his pocket and placing it in her hand. "I must go after him. Again, thank you."

"You both fear much. You will never love so long as you fear," she said.

Quentin nodded. Indeed her directness seemed to always hit its mark. He left in earnest to find Ben and at last came upon him with their horses at the edge of the camp. Ben turned from him as he approached, his shoulders shaking. The nobleman knew he was crying.

"Please," Quentin said as he came up behind him and placed his hands gently on the young man's shoulders. "Is that why you don't speak? Because of your mother?"

The question was too close to Ben's pain and nearly drew out a vocal sob as he doubled over, pulling away from Quentin.

"Ben!" Quentin said, laying his hands on the youth's back and caressing it. "I can't change what happened to you, but if you'll let me... I can give you a better future... one I hope that would be without suffering."

Even in his renewed misery, Ben felt comfort in those words and that touch, a comfort he had not known since he was a child. He held still, afraid that this moment might slip away as in a dream.

"I am determined that you will be safe and happy," Quentin continued, feeling the sobs ease. "I want you to stay at Fairfield... always."

Ben gasped and stood up immediately, turning to look into the man's face. Tears glistened in the nobleman's eyes, unshed tears for a stranger's sorrow? Ben wanted to speak, longed to ask, "how, why, what is it that you want?" but no words came.

Quentin looked on him and was moved by the youth's innocent, pained beauty. His hands moved up to cup the tear-streaked face. "Do you feel it, too, Ben? Do you feel what's happening between us?"

Ben flinched as those large hands settled on his face. They held him still and calmed him as thumbs caressed his cheeks. He had never been touched this way. The only raised hands he had ever seen had been ones ready to strike. But somehow he knew these hands had never struck out in anger and their softness spoke of a gentleman's life. These were the hands he had longed for, gentle hands to guide him in love, to soothe him of the ache of his life. He nodded, weak and trembling, as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. Yes, he thought. Yes, I feel it, too!

"You do," Quentin said, relieved and elated as he saw the recognition in Ben's eyes. He bent down and to his joy his lips were met eagerly.

The kiss held all the rightness of lovers destined for each other since the beginning of time. Both were delighted at the sensation and taste of the other and quickly took the kiss deeper. Their tongues twined and Quentin moaned deeply into the younger man's mouth. God, how he had wanted this moment, but as true as the gypsy's words, he had been controlled by fear. Now he could not fathom this kiss ever ending as they wrapped their arms around each other and held tight, exploring each other's mouths.

Ben had never experienced a kiss such as this. The only kisses he had received from men were rough and demanding, a prelude to rape. But there was no fear in this moment. Lord Jinn's searching kiss and gentle hands... and all that the man was... told Ben that he had nothing to fear. This was not about control or abuse or the power of one man over another, this was true affection, this could even be love.

Long moments later they pulled apart, each man's arousal awakened. Quentin fought the urge to take Ben here, in the horse corral. He held the young man to him, feeling the other's hardness and unable to resist the urge to grind his own erection on him. He breathed heavily in Ben's ear, kissing it as he gathered his thoughts.

"Be mine," he said, panting. "I must make you mine, but not here."

Ben looked up into the deeply passionate blue eyes and nodded, his face flushed with desire. He was terrified of what this might mean, but something stronger than fear was pushing him on.

Quentin kissed him again. "Where can we be alone?" he wondered aloud. He could not bring Ben back to his chamber in the estate house, nor did he want to make love to him out of doors where it was unsafe. "The stables," he said and pulled back to look into his lover's face. "May I come to you tonight? In the stables?"

The young man hesitated. No man had ever asked permission to take him, and his own master had taken him so brutally only the day before in those very stables.

"If you're not sure, I will wait," Quentin said, seeing the indecision on Ben's face. "I would wait a lifetime to be with you."

Ben touched his hand to his heart. If he was not afraid, just for a moment, he could hear its plea---this man is gentle, he's not like the others. Ben then pressed his hand to Lord Jinn's lips and nodded.

"Then it's agreed," Quentin smiled in relief and anticipation. "We'll return to Fairfield and I'll come to you tonight."

At midnight, the master of the estate left his bedchamber in the main house, fully clothed, and crept silently out into the cool night air. The moon was full and bright and no candlelight was needed to guide his way. He had spent the evening thinking of nothing else but Ben. The beautiful youth was bright and pure despite the hardships he had suffered, hardships that Quentin would never know.

I will be gentle with him, he thought as he moved across the grounds, careful to avoid the servants' sleeping quarters.

When at last he came to the stables, he stood outside and took a deep breath. His heart was beating wildly and there was no calming it, and why should he try? A heart so enflamed, so filled with the desire to love should not be suppressed. Indeed, a beautiful lover awaited him, was only moments away, and with that thought he pushed the servants' entrance open and stepped inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the near darkness, but then a dim, flickering light beckoned him... come hither through this darkened corridor... come hither and the reward will be great.

His old fears made a final attempt at stopping him, reminding him of the near tragedy of a youthful dalliance in male love, but he brushed them aside. Years had passed. He had grown wiser, more hungry perhaps, but wiser all the same, and Ben had made all the difference. He was the truest reason for Quentin's renewed vigor.

Step by step, the nobleman drew closer, until he stood in the doorway of the tiny chamber lit solely by one candle. Ben was seated on the edge of the straw-filled bed, but rose as soon as Quentin entered. The young man was dressed only in his shirt, the tails hanging to just above his knees. Quentin swallowed at the sight, his groin registering the delicious implication of the boy's state of undress.

"It's midnight," Quentin said, in apology. "I thought it best to be sure the servants were asleep."

As he spoke, Ben stepped forward until he was standing less than a foot away, his own heart pounding in anticipation. He reached out to touch the man's lips. Quentin smiled and took his hand, kissing it.

"I hope this is not a dream..."

Ben shook his head, and with his other hand tapped his own lips with a finger.

"Ah, you're trying to tell me that I talk too much."

The youth felt at ease and smiled, and it was all Quentin could do to smile in return and not collapse onto the floor from the devastating beauty and significance of that smile. He touched the young man's mouth, fascinated by the new _expression, letting his fingers glide along the curved lips and straight teeth, wanting to memorize this moment.

Oh, how Quentin wanted to speak now, wanted to declare his love and recite sonnets and make promises. But Ben had instructed him to be silent and he supposed that there was wisdom in that request.

Ben had the feeling that he was in control, that the nobleman was eager to take direction from him and eager to please him. A tiny thrill coursed through him, an energy he had not experienced before. Again he wondered about this man's intentions. Could they really be pure? He saw passion in those deep blue eyes and it frightened him. Had he made the right choice? But there was kindness, too, and it was that kindness that led him on. He stepped back and with a small, knowing grin pulled his shirt slowly over his head and then let it drop to the ground. The youth knew from experience that men enjoyed him naked, but this was the first he wanted to share that nakedness, and the gasp that escaped Lord Jinn's lips told him that he pleased his lover.

"Beautiful," Quentin said, unable to stop the word from forming as he gazed hotly at the pale skin, so softly golden in the candlelight. His eyes lingered, studying the young man's body as if it were a work of art. Ben was pleasingly slender and finely muscled, and his chest and forearms were covered in a light dusting of reddish-blond hair. Even more pleasing was the half-erect cock nestled so delightfully in the same golden hair.

He does want me, Quentin thought, releasing his last doubts. He held out his hand, but reverently did not touch, the awe of the moment just too great. He knew well the amount of trust needed for this to have happened. Ben, an abused young man, truly trusted him and wanted to be with him.

Ben took Quentin's hand in his and drew it to him, placing it on his chest. He was surprised by his own boldness, by his own swelling need. Please touch me, he thought, eagerly.

"Yes," Quentin said, understanding.

Now he had both hands on the youth, caressing the gentle curve of his chest, the line of his collarbone and the muscles in his arms. This was the first time he had seen a naked man in years, had even permitted himself the luxury of such desires, but he did not care to ponder this now. What did it matter anyway? Ben had changed everything. Ben had reawakened his sexuality, his drive. Ben could so easily completely possess him, but even that thought did not frighten him.

He stepped closer, encircling the naked youth in his arms. The embrace held more warmth than he shared with family and friends, but less than a preamble to sex. It seemed necessary that they take time to hold each other and linger in this moment of joy, both men profoundly aware of the transformation about to take place.

Ben considered the moment and the man whose arms were wrapped around him. He was being held, tenderly held against another man's chest. Unbelievable, he thought, and then looked up at Quentin, thinking this a dream. The man's eyes were closed and his lips curled in a contented smile. Surely this was a dream, because if this moment were real then Ben would be pushed down and forced into service. But no, Quentin was gentle and taking things ever so slowly. It was this patience that encouraged Ben. He nuzzled Quentin's chest with his cheek, breathing in the masculine scent of the other. The signal was understood and Quentin pulled back slightly, looking down at him and then kissed him. The kiss was slow at first as they learned each other, their lips meeting and parting again and again, almost chaste in their brevity. Then Ben reached his tongue inside Quentin's mouth, eager to experience the man more intimately. The nobleman moaned, pleased that Ben wanted more.

As they continued to kiss with their tongues wrapping around each other, Quentin reached one hand up and began unbuttoning his vest. Ben's hands soon joined his and together they kissed and worked open the vest and white shirt, exposing a broad, lightly haired chest.

Anxious, Ben pulled out of the kiss to concentrate on removing his lover's clothes. Though part of him went through these actions automatically, trained as he was to give into the pleasures of men, the other half of himself felt a deep desire burning within. He did not hate men, only feared them, and secretly wished that one day a man would love him and end his torment.

He pushed back the lapel of the coat, but before Quentin could wriggle free of it, the nobleman reached into an inner pocket and removed a small glass bottle filled with olive oil. Ben knew instantly what the oil's role would be this night and was grateful for the man's thoughtfulness. The bottle was set on the desk and the coat discarded, falling to the dirt floor haphazardly as they next worked to remove the vest and shirt completely.

Now half-naked, the rise and fall of Quentin's chest was even more visible. Ben's mouth dropped open as his eyes raked over the impressive form of the man's upper body. His torso was exquisitely broad, his stomach flat and his arms amply muscled. He was much more developed than Ben had expected of a man of luxury. Certainly this was a phenomenal discovery, one of which many could not be aware. But the sight made Ben shiver. His old fears were rising within him, telling him that this man could dominate him all too easily. Lord Jinn could break him, mount him, and throw him aside with very little effort. Ben swallowed hard, gritting his teeth. No, I will not succumb to my fears now, he thought. This was the only chance he might have to love, to trust a man, to experience the pleasure of having a man take him and hold him close.

Swallowing again, more determined than ever, Ben drew close into waiting arms. The lovers embraced more passionately than before, finding each other's mouths to feed their desires. They soon moved over to the narrow bed and Ben sat on it as Quentin stood before him. The erection protruding from beneath Quentin's trousers was now plain to see and with trembling hands, Ben reached up to free it.

Quentin ached at the sight of the tremors and placed his hands over Ben's to calm him. "You're nervous," he said, more interested in Ben's comfort than in the earlier request to be silent.

Ben looked up at him and their eyes met. Yes, he was nervous. As much as he trusted Lord Jinn, he had never had a true lover before. All he had ever known were rough men who pushed him down and forced him to suck or turned him onto his belly and fucked him raw. But looking up into Quentin's eyes, Ben was reminded once again of the true nature of this man. He'll never hurt me, Ben thought as he held the gaze.

"I would never intentionally hurt you," Quentin said, as though he could read Ben's thoughts. "We can take this as slow as you want. My desire for you will not falter."

I want you now... I don't want to wait, Ben thought, letting his hands slide to Quentin's waist and then up his chest. The simple pleasure of this freedom invigorated his desire.

"We'll go slowly," Quentin said, and as Ben's hands caressed his torso he finished unbuttoning his trousers, releasing his hardened shaft.

Ben took Quentin's hands and drew him down onto the bed. They lay at length next to each other and kissed hungrily. Their hands drifted until each held the other's sex. Again this was about trust, holding each other so intimately could produce pleasure or pain, but both eagerly sought to give the other pleasure. How exquisite it was to touch this way, to let one's hand form around the other's cock and caress its head with thumb and forefinger.

The whinnying of a horse startled Quentin, who froze momentarily, and then laughed in relief when he realized they were not discovered. Even so the reminder of the outside world pushed him to quicken the pace. Ben mirrored the rhythm and his hand tightened over the larger man's cock. In seconds they were enjoying the delicious tingling of their impending release, and then Quentin was moaning as he spent himself on Ben's stomach. The youth covered his mouth in a deep kiss as he came a moment later, silent as ever.

It was several minutes before either stirred. The shared pleasure had been intense and unique for both and certainly bonded them closer. Ben reached over to the wash basin for a towel to clean them. Quentin relaxed in the ministrations, wrapping an arm about his lover and smiling as he admired the youth's beauty.

"And so ends twenty years of celibacy," he admitted, suddenly feeling an imperative to share this aspect of his life.

Ben slowed his cleaning, but did not stop.

"It's incredible I know, but I hadn't missed sharing sex until I met you. I put those desires aside to fulfill my duties as the heir of this estate."

Ben wondered what could have possibly happened to make a man deny himself in such a way.

"I see the question in your eyes," Quentin said, grinning. "When I was very young I realized my attraction to the male body and indulged myself in it. As the son of a lord I had advantages in that respect, but it also made the risk greater. If I were caught it would tarnish our family's name and my father would most likely disinherit me. Sodomy is a sin, or so the church leaders say, but I could never understand this when it felt so natural."

Ben put the towel down and snuggled against the long body next to him. Talk of sin surprised him when so many men had taken him over the years, even a clergyman, and none of them had ever mentioned sin or hell fire. What they had done was more a sin and a crime than the tender affections of Lord Jinn.

You have the heart of a lion and a saint, Ben thought as he lay his head on the man's broad chest. God would never condemn you.

Quentin caressed the youth's soft hair as he reflected on the ignorance and fear of people who wished to prevent male love. In this moment he could think of nothing more right and wondered how he had denied himself for so many years.

"I knew I would have to take a wife someday, it was my duty as my father's only son," he said, conjuring the memories again. "I hoped to postpone the inevitable as long as possible. Then in my twentieth year I was caught in bed with the son of an earl... my father learned of this of course and made a very unpleasant scene. He must have bribed half the village to keep the affair quiet and then to my surprise did not disinherit me, but sent me off to work as a surveyor for His Majesty's government. You might suppose that out from under his watchful eyes I indulged in my lusts, but I did not. I had brought my family too close to ruin and it had frightened me."

Ben raised his head and looked into those inviting eyes. But you're risking that now, with me?

"Hmm, you're wondering why now..." Quentin began, trailing off as his gaze shifted to the dancing shadows on the wall. "I was enchanted from the moment I saw you." His gaze returned to the blue-green depths staring back at him. "I had become so comfortable in my celibacy that I never questioned its place in my life... and after my father's death a few years later I no longer felt pressured to marry. Of course, I had hoped my sister would produce a male heir, but that is another problem entirely. And now I have met you and all my old desires have been rekindled."

Quentin shifted on the bed, cupping Ben's cheek as he looked deeper into his eyes. "I was afraid... I tried to suppress my feelings for you, knowing the consequences for such a love could be great. But I can't fight them any longer, I have to be with you."

Yes, be with me, Ben thought, leaning in and taking the nobleman's lips in a passionate kiss.

In moments their arousal was renewed and they worked to strip Quentin of his boots, trousers and underclothes. Now they were luxuriously naked together and both eager to complete their joining.

Despite his earlier nervousness, Ben was now committed to making love to this beautiful nobleman. He lay back on the bed, spreading his legs willingly, for the very first time, as Quentin knelt between them and rubbed his thighs. The older man reached for the olive oil, uncorking the bottle and dipping his fingers into the cooking oil and then setting it aside. Just being with another man in this way was arousing, but the sight of Ben was decidedly maddening. The young man's beauty could not be questioned and his eagerness was obvious in his erection and his caresses.

Quentin took the youth's cock in his left hand, stroking it firmly, as with his right he searched for his opening. He caressed the heavy balls and then just underneath them found the opening he so desired. He rubbed it gently, noticing a slight tensing in Ben's legs.

"I promise I'll go slowly," he said, and pressed the finger inside.

He took his time preparing Ben, making certain to watch his reactions to every touch. Without vocal cues, Quentin made a science of learning Ben's physical responses. Most of the youth's emotions registered on his face and in his eyes, but his legs and hands told of relaxation or tenseness and his cock told of his interest.

Now two fingers stroked and stretched the youth as deep inside him as possible. Quentin watched hungrily as Ben arched under his attentions and reached his hands up to touch his face, to caress his beard. Then the stable boy's hands reached around to the tie holding the nobleman's shoulder length hair back in a tail. At first he merely played with the tie and pulled teasingly on the hair, then he tugged the leather tie off, letting Quentin's hair fall forward sensuously. Its nutty brown color shimmered in the candlelight.

You are so beautiful, Ben thought, as he put his hand over Quentin's, stopping the movement within him.

"You're ready?" Quentin asked, having expected to stretch him further with a third finger.

The youth nodded and his face revealed his desperate need to be loved completely. The olive oil was retrieved again, poured over the nobleman's sex, and then set aside. Ben greedily ran his hands over the hard length, pulling a moan from Quentin's lips.

"I never dreamed this could be possible," Quentin said, but then Ben was silencing him again with fingers to his lips.

No more words were necessary as nature took over. Though it had been twenty years since Quentin had enjoyed the unique pleasures of male love, he did not need to be reminded of how it was accomplished.

He knelt close to Ben's bottom and hooked the youth's legs over his elbows. Their eyes never left each other as with a final deep breath, Quentin pressed the head of his cock to Ben's opening and then pushed inside. The head slid in, and then an inch and another inch until he was fully sheathed. The tight warmth of that passage gripping his cock, was almost enough to bring him to orgasm.

How could I have forgotten this? Quentin wondered, but then quickly realized that he had never experienced love with sex before. He had never shared such an intense affection for another and that made all the difference.

Slowly, Quentin pulled out to the crown and then pushed back, taking his time. He pulled out again and when he plunged back in the most remarkable thing occurred, Ben moaned.

"You spoke?" Quentin asked, staring in bewilderment. He had not thought the youth capable of making any sound, even though the doctor had said his vocal chords were healthy.

Ben smiled, equally amazed and a bit startled, but certain it had everything to do with this wonderful man. He thrust back, unable to restrain his desire and clenched his buttocks around the length inside him. It felt so good, this gentle loving.

Quentin moved again, pulling out and then thrusting back in, and this time they moaned together. Both men smiled brightly at this miracle, and Quentin bent closer to hear the wonderful sounds being emitted. Again and again, moans and little whimpers came from the youth as they moved in synchronicity, rocking their bodies together.

The sensations that Quentin gave Ben were new and exciting and ones the youth wanted to repeat. He especially delighted in the pleasure of being fucked so lovingly. The man's slick, hard cock slid in and out of him with ease. He memorized its shape and size and moaned and writhed as it took him again and again.

Those moans were enough to drive any man wild, but the fact that Quentin knew of Ben's habitual silence made them even more erotic. He could not hold back much longer and Ben's responsiveness was growing. All too soon their orgasms were upon them, seducing them over the edge.

Ben came first, spurting seed on his stomach, the sight of which triggered Quentin's release. He poured himself inside the youth as each of their bodies trembled from exertion. Then he released Ben's legs and dropped down on top of him.

It took several minutes for their breathing to recover. They were both now covered in sweat and come and tangled around each other.

Quentin at last pulled himself up onto his elbows and then pushed Ben's bangs back to look into his eyes. "You are a beautiful boy," he said, noticing how Ben's eyes now looked more blue than green. "I don't know if you can believe me, but I love you... I truly do."

I love you, too, Ben thought as he smiled, patting his chest over his heart.

The nobleman smiled, understanding that his love was returned. "Sometimes I think I can hear you... as though you're speaking directly to my mind. It must be that we are growing close and we understand each other's emotions."

Ben nodded, safe in the knowledge that he had at last found love.

Late the next afternoon while Ben was feeding the horses, one of the servants from the main house came out to the stable. Mr. Delaney spoke with the man briefly before nodding toward Ben.

"Please follow me," the servant said to Ben.

Ben leaned the pitchfork he was using against a wall and tilted his head at the man. He was dressed in the respectable attire of a domestic servant, a black suit and tie and polished shoes. Normally, these clothes made servants look important, but amid the hay dust and dirt floors of the stables the man looked ridiculous, and Ben nearly laughed.

"I was told you can understand what people say to you," the man said, condescendingly.

Lifting his chin, Ben gave a firm nod.

"Right then. Please accompany me to the main house. The Master wishes it."

Ben's heart was set to racing. Lord Jinn had summoned him! After they had made love the night before, Quentin had stayed less than an hour before retreating back to the house, afraid that he might fall asleep and be caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. Ben had spent the subsequent day, hoping for a glimpse of his lover, and when he had not, worried that he had been used... again.

Now he was on his way to the main house, following close behind this uptight middle-aged man. They entered through the servants' door where Ben was shown the kitchen and then passed off to another servant, a woman of more considerable years with a kind face and wearing a simple gray dress and lacey, white apron.

"I'm Mrs. Casey, the housekeeper," she said as she led him through the servants' passageways.

Ben had never been in the main house before, not even at Glen Haven. Though the servants' corridors were somewhat narrow they did subtly reflect the grandeur just beyond them in the master's home. Up several flights of stairs, Ben and Mrs. Casey at last emerged onto a landing.

"Several of the servants have rooms at the end of this hall," she said pointing to the right.

Ben nodded, not sure why she was sharing this information with him.

"Your room will be here," she said and led him to the left beyond the public staircase to a small room. "This was the Master's play room when he was a boy," she said fondly. "Now he's asked that it be converted for your use."

The young man could not help but gape at the meaning of this move and loveliness of the room. It was bright in the afternoon sunlight and all the windows were open to air it out---lace curtains blew in the light breeze. The walls were covered with floral wallpaper and dozens of framed pictures of the English countryside and fairytale characters. In the center of the room sat a large cast iron bed and next to it a desk, a chair and a dresser, most likely recent additions, having displaced the toys and the cradle which now sat grouped in one corner.

"The toys and cradle will be removed tomorrow. The Master insisted you move in today."

Ben looked at the old woman, trying to sense if she suspected anything between him and Lord Jinn. If she did, it did not seem to bother her.

"I'll let the Master know you've been shown your new room. If you like you may join the rest of us for dinner in the kitchen, or you may eat with the Delaneys as usual." She smiled at him, but before turning to go asked, "may I tell the Master that everything is satisfactory?"

Overwhelmed and a bit confused by all the fuss, Ben nodded dazedly.

"Good," she said and closed the door behind her.

Ben looked about the room, biting on a thumbnail as he did. What could this mean? If he was going to be living in the main house would he be working with Mr. Delaney any more? Then his heart fluttered as he realized how close he would be to Lord Jinn. They would be sleeping in the same house. He sat down on the bed, wriggling into the feather mattress. What luxury! Was this truly to be his room?

Questions and hopes swirled in his mind for long minutes until there was a light knock at the door. Ben went over and opened it and was delighted to see his lover standing there. Quentin pushed inside quickly, but left the door open.

"Are you pleased?" he asked Ben, watching the young man's reaction carefully.

Ben nodded vigorously and smiled.

"I thought you would be," he said and then pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal a small bouquet of lavender. "For you."

Ben smiled more brightly, even to blushing, and then Quentin moved them away from the door, out of the line of sight of any passersby, and took him quickly into his arms.

"Ben, I've thought of nothing but you all day," he said as he nuzzled at the young man's ear. "I want you near to me, that's why I had this old room converted for you." They kissed deeply and then Quentin gently pushed Ben from his arms. "I have something to show you," he said and setting the flowers down on the bed he took Ben to the far end of the room. They both had to duck their heads as the ceiling slanted down. "Here," Quentin said, pointing to the wall. He pressed it at a certain point and a door popped open. "Take my hand," he said and stepped inside.

Without a lantern to guide them, and closing the door behind them, the secret stairwell was completely black. Ben felt an uneasy fear, but Quentin spoke to him gently as they descended down one flight of spiraling stairs. At last they came into an elegant room.

"This was my mother's room," Quentin said.

Heavy green drapes were pulled across the large windows, but even so Ben could see the beauty and wealth of the room's furnishings.

Still holding Ben's hand, Quentin led him through his mother's suite of rooms and through another secret door into his own apartment. "This is my private sanctuary."

Ben was awed by the magnificence around him. Burgundy drapes, upholstered sofa and chairs, a marble fireplace, bronze sculptures, candelabras, all leafed in gold, and in the next room more of the same only this time the item that drew his interest was the massive bed.

"It's Venetian," Quentin said, pleased with Ben's reaction.

They stepped closer to admire the four-postered bed. Its dark wood was hand-carved and finished with gold accents, and its posts and mattress were draped in cream and blue silks. To top off its resplendence the bed was covered by a wooden canopy that had a delightfully painted mural of birds and cherubs flying amidst clouds in a blue sky.

"It's a bit whimsical, I know, but..."

Quentin was not able to finish his comment as Ben wrapped his arms about his neck and kissed him fiercely. The nobleman reciprocated with the same intensity and they quickly fell onto the bed. In seconds, they were grinding hard cocks into each other's thighs as hands wandered to buttocks and kisses became more intense. This was not how the lord of the manor had intended for the tour to end, but he would not refuse his young lover for the world.

They rolled on the bed and soon Ben was on top, grinning as he straddled the other man's waist.

"You have the advantage now," Quentin joked, and then was quickly silenced as Ben slid down his legs and began to unbutton his trousers.

The nobleman swallowed in anticipation and soon was rewarded as young Ben descended on his cock. He licked the shaft and teased the slit of the crown with his tongue, bringing delicious moans from Quentin, before he sucked the entire organ into his mouth and throat. With pleas from his lover, Ben hurried Quentin to his release, handling the man's balls as Quentin spent himself in Ben's mouth.

The deed was hardly done when they heard a loud knock on the door in the adjacent dressing room. "Uncle!" the voice called. "Uncle Quentin!"

"It's Charlotte," Quentin said, taking a deep breath to bring his heart rate down. "I must go."

Lord Jinn righted his clothes and then giving Ben a lantern instructed him to go back through his mother's unused rooms and take the secret stairway. "You may come to me any night," he said, kissing the young man's forehead. "But only if you wish."

And so their affair truly began. Each night from then on, Ben made his way to his lover's room. There they would make love through the night and fall asleep in each other's arms. Cautious not to be found out, they would wake before dawn in order for Ben to return to his room, get a few hours of sleep and go out to the stables to tend to the horses for the day. On one occasion they were nearly caught when Lord Jinn's valet came in to wake him early for a hunting expedition with some fellow gentlemen. Ben had slipped from the bed to hide underneath it until he could dart back to his own room.

Publicly, both men fit the roles assigned to them by society. Lord Jinn continued to manage his vast land holdings and the upbringing of his sister's child while Ben worked with the horses under Mr. Delaney's direction. Despite outward appearances, each man spent his days thinking of the other and counting the minutes until another night of passion.

When Ben would come to him, Quentin was most often at his writing desk, finishing his correspondence for the day. The young man would hug him from behind and kiss his ear and then sometimes tease him by stripping off his clothes, leaving a trail for the nobleman to follow into the bedroom. There, Quentin would find Ben happily under the silk covers, wriggling deliciously as he awaited his lover. Quentin never failed to be enticed, and Ben never failed to please.

On one such night when Ben arrived, Quentin was eager to share a letter he had received that morning. He had never shared any of his private correspondence before, but this night he asked Ben to pull up a chair next to him.

"I received an interesting letter today," Quentin began, after having kissed his beloved. His right hand rested on the youth's shoulder where he could easily play with the reddish hair while his left hand held the letter in question. "It's from Guy Xanatos."

Ben tensed. He had not thought of the man in days and it had been a blessing.

"I want to share this, since it concerns you," Quentin said, squeezing Ben's shoulder to try to ease his tension. "He has an elegant hand and his wording is most proper, but the underlying message is clear. He feels he has been more than patient with my 'use' of you. He wants you returned to Glen Haven at once."

Ben shot up from his chair, knocking it over in the process. His hands were clenched and his lower lip trembled with fear. Quentin got up and with a little coaxing was able to put his arms around the young man to comfort him.

"Please, Ben, I would never let that happen. I meant what I said that I want you to remain at Fairfield." He caressed the youth's back and very slowly he could feel him beginning to relax. "That is why I composed a letter of my own and sent it to him this afternoon."

Ben turned dark green eyes up at him, still concerned at what might transpire.

"In the letter I explained that you've been most helpful to Mr. Delaney and that you've become very much at home here at Fairfield. We would all be disappointed to see you go, and so I asked that you remain."

It can't be that simple, Ben thought.

"I know, Guy Xanatos, is not a particularly generous man, unless he can gain something in the bargain. Well, I won't bargain for you like chattel. I've offered him nothing in return, merely that he see your release as what's best for you."

Ben shook his head, unable to believe that Mr. Xanatos would give him up so easily. And yet, he had been left undisturbed for the last couple of weeks. If he dared to hope, it could mean a new life.

The young man wrapped his arms around the nobleman's waist and hugged him tightly. Please let this be possible, he thought.

"I won't let him take you back. He has no legal hold over you, Ben, you're simply not in his employ anymore."

And with that, Quentin led Ben into what had become their bedroom, their sanctuary. A lovely fire was already burning in the fireplace and the covers on the bed were turned down to receive them. Quentin, still deeply concerned over Ben's reaction to Guy's letter, took extra care with him and began to slowly undress the young man as he kissed his cheek, neck and lips.

Soon they were both naked and tangled together under the silk sheets, moving languidly over the smooth surface as they kissed and writhed against one another, exploring warm skin and hard muscle. If this act had not been forbidden, condemned in fact, Quentin would have commissioned an artist to paint them just as they were now, with the orange glow of the fire playing on their skin and the rumpled cream colored sheets about them.

The nobleman made every effort to please his young lover, to pull hungry, desirous moans from his lips, lips that now smiled easily, but still formed no words. In moments he had taken Ben and moved inside him as sweat glistened on his broad chest.

"Ben," he moaned, as he pleasured both of them with the thrust of long, even strokes. "We belong like this... always. I want you... always."

The youth moaned and arched beneath him, drawing his chest upward in invitation, an invitation the lord could not refuse. He laved at the hard nipples, sucked and licked as his hips continued to move, to drive them each to the height of their desires.

"My entire being needs you," Quentin said, biting lightly at a dark pink nipple.

The young man's legs were wrapped around his thighs, slick with sweat, but gripping tightly. Ben was sinfully beautiful in his desire to be fucked, but also remarkably angelic in his need to be loved. He made Quentin's body soar with new sensations and a depth of feeling the man had never thought possible.

Taking anyone in this way was certainly a possession, but Quentin did not want to own Ben the way other men had tried. He would never force himself upon him. He truly loved Ben, loved him even in his muteness, and somehow understood that he was loved in return even though Ben's love was unspoken.

Their orgasms came on like a rush in near unison, erupting as each man tensed and shuddered and moaned. They fell back onto the bed, chests heaving as each gasped for breath, their bodies deliciously exhausted.

Once Quentin's body had stopped trembling and he had regained his wits he lifted his head and kissed his lover, eager to share his devotion. "I love you, Ben." He looked deep into the young man's eyes, brushing back the sweat-dampened reddish hair. "I feel close to you, connected in some deep way. When I look into your eyes I am yours... you have me... I never want to be without you."

Ben's eyes glistened with tears. God, how he wished he could speak now. He prayed to be given the voice and skill to form the words that his dear Quentin so deserved to hear. I love you, too, Ben thought. I love you! In his fervent hope, Ben opened his mouth, trying to force out the words, but all that was heard was a choked grunt. It was far from the elegant words of love he had hoped to express or even the intimate moans Quentin so easily pulled from him during lovemaking. He began to cry.

The nobleman was all at once joyous and pained as he realized his young lover had tried to speak. Watching the tears fall down Ben's pale cheeks brought tears of his own. "Oh, Ben," Quentin said, drawing the youth close and kissing his face. "I know you love me... I know."

Ben had not spoken outside of his dreams in thirteen years, since his family had been torn from him. Hatred and fear had driven him to silence, and then it had become a matter of principle not to respond to his captors. No amount of abuse, manipulation or control could produce a single sound. Men had tried and failed again and again, assigning cruel and demeaning tasks, torturing him for the pleasure of it in hopes of pulling a scream from his lungs... but no sound came.

The silence had become a comfort and the only control Ben had in his life. But now it seemed a curse, now he trembled in Quentin Jinn's arms as they lay together in the aristocrat's bed.

I want to speak for him, Ben thought, holding his lover more tightly. I want him to know my voice, to know me.

For a long time, Quentin simply held Ben, held him in an embrace filled with warmth, love and understanding. Even in the silence, Quentin could feel Ben's frustration. He knew that his muteness must have been induced by a tragic event, something involving his mother as the gypsy woman had said.

Ben is not dumb, Quentin thought, feeling his own frustration boil at the remarks he had overheard in regards to the new servant.

People feared those who were different. Ben was certainly different, but as far as Quentin was concerned that difference lay in his heart and his will to survive, not in some supposed defect.

He wiped the tears from Ben's cheeks, noting the youth's angelic features once again: his pretty face, bright eyes and even the sprinkling of freckles on his shoulders.

"What if I were to hire a tutor?" Quentin began, the idea forming as he spoke. "If you wish to speak, I could get you a tutor..."

Ben shook his head. The shame of having to learn to speak again at eighteen could not be borne.

"You would be taught in private," Quentin persisted. "I would stay away."

Again, Ben shook his head.

The nobleman sighed. "Of course I won't force you, but please consider my offer. There would be many benefits if you could speak... our conversations wouldn't be so one-sided," he said and laughed lightly. "And perhaps one day you could be my private secretary?"

Ben raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. It intrigued him. As a private secretary he would no longer be a servant, earning a meager wage, but a respected assistant and confidante earning enough to pay for his own lodgings and clothes. It would give him a freedom he had never known. He smiled at the notion and then pulled his lover to him, kissing him hungrily.

In moments he was moaning again...

Two days later Charlotte received a letter from Guy Xanatos. She and her friend Eliza Beasley stole away to the conservatory to read it in the privacy of the potted palms.

"He wants me to join him this afternoon in the village for a late lunch," Charlotte said with a giggle.

"What else does he say?" Eliza asked eagerly, clasping her hands to keep from ripping the letter from her friend's grasp.

"'My dearest Charlotte,' he writes," Charlotte said, taking on the role of her suitor. "'I pray you are well and not very disappointed in me for not visiting of late. Affairs at my estate have made my life very busy and rather dull. Thoughts of you have been my only consolation. You must know that your friendship is very dear to me. Would it be wrong of me to hope that you might feel the same for me?'"

The young ladies burst into uncontrollable giggles at the declaration.

"Oh, he must surely love you!" Eliza declared.

Charlotte blushed. "I had no idea..."

"Don't be so modest. He was very attentive to you when he last visited."

"But that's been two weeks and this is the first I've heard from him!" Charlotte said, feeling a mix of elation and hurt.

"Perhaps he was busy as he said. And besides if you had received letters from him on a regular basis your uncle might have been displeased."

Charlotte nodded, making her pretty brown curls bounce. "Uncle Quentin is very protective. I must not tell him that I'm meeting Mr. Xanatos in the village. You and I will go... oh, and Ben, too, and we'll meet him at The Lamb as he suggested."

"Ben? You're taking the stable boy with you?"

"Mr. Xanatos expressly wishes it," Charlotte said, quickly scanning the letter for the reference in question. "Here it is... 'be so kind as to bring my young stable hand Ben along. There is a young lady who wishes to see him on an urgent matter, but please do not mention this to Ben, we wouldn't want to spoil the lady's chances.'"

"Whatever does that mean?" Eliza asked, trying to read the fine handwriting upside down.

"I think it must mean that Ben is involved with a young lady at Glen Haven. One of the other servants no doubt."

"Do you think he got her in a bad way?" Eliza asked in a hushed tone.

Charlotte's brown eyes widened. "Oh, dear, I hadn't thought, but that would make sense why we are not to speak of the rendezvous with him."

The idea of two servants having an affair and the young lady in question becoming pregnant was both titillating and fiercely embarrassing for Charlotte and her friend.

"I never thought Ben capable," she admitted as she folded the letter and tucked it into the pocket of her high-waisted dress. "Though he is rather compelling."

"Charlotte!" Eliza screeched. Both girls started laughing again and ran off to their rooms to change for their outing.

Ignoring convention, Charlotte announced that they would walk to the village. It was only two miles and the weather was fine for a stroll in the countryside. Ben did not mind the exercise either and was glad for the reprieve from his usual duties. He kept a few paces behind the young ladies, but was still subjected to their fast-paced conversation. Once they even gazed back at him and then giggled, making him blush from their unwanted attention.

When they arrived in town, Charlotte quickly dismissed her servant. "Ben, Eliza and I are going to shop and have lunch," she explained nervously, not wanting to reveal any of the circumstances of this trip. "Why don't you wander about. We'll find you when we're ready to go back to Fairfield."

Ben blinked at the girl's anxiousness to be rid of him, but shrugged it off as a privilege of class. It seemed his presence had been merely a decoy to fool her uncle into thinking she was being escorted.

It's not my business, Ben thought and left the girls to their ways. What possible harm could there be in leaving them alone for an hour or so?

It was fortunate that Mrs. Delaney had given him some money for refreshment, though unlike other young men, Ben would not enter a public house for all the jewels of the Crown. His looks always drew unwanted attention and once men realized he was mute trouble was soon to follow. Instead, Ben walked about the village, keeping to the shadows as much as possible until he came upon the farmers' market. There he bought some milk and a pastry and enjoyed them as he admired the fruits, vegetables and crafts on display.

He remembered how Mrs. Delaney had told him that it was the Jinn family who made this village prosperous. They had paid for the town hall and they employed many of the locals on their vast estate. But greater still was the commerce the village enjoyed because of the current Lord Jinn's commitment to entrepreneurial ventures by loaning out small sums of money to hopeful businessmen.

Just ahead, a blacksmith pounded a red hot horseshoe, the distinct clanging of metal on metal drawing the youth's attention further from the people around him. He watched for a moment, admiring the man's large muscular arms, and then went over to examine the fine gray mare tied at the side of the shop.

He caressed the horse's nose as he looked into her eyes, surprised that the noise from the anvil did not make her nervous. As he ran his hands over her haunches, checking for any scars left by mistreatment, he heard the shuffle of feet behind him. Ben did not have time to react as hands clamped down painfully on his shoulders, yanking him backward.

He was quickly dragged behind the shop, out of sight, where he came face to face with his attackers--- Mr. Colby and another servant from Glen Haven.

No! he thought, frantic to get away. He struggled, but knew the outcome of this scenario all too well. How could he have been so foolish? His first time away from Fairfield in two weeks and he had the bad luck to run into these two.

"My if you ain't prettier than the last time I saw you," Mr. Colby said in an oily tone. His hand slid down to grope his captive while his helper held Ben tightly about the waist and neck. "Holiday's over, brat," Colby said and punched Ben in the stomach, doubling the lad over in pain. "You're wanted at Glen Haven." And with those words, the man struck Ben in the face, knocking him unconscious.

Charlotte and Eliza sat enthralled as they listened to Guy Xanatos's description of a party he had recently attended in London.

"There was so much finery that I didn't know where to look!" he said with a devastating smile. "But you dear ladies would have outshone everyone there with your fresh country glow."

The young Charlotte wished desperately that she had brought a fan to cool herself. The combination of Guy's dark good looks and his compliments were making her faint. She could scarcely believe how perfectly this afternoon had turned out. After the brisk walk, she and Eliza had shopped for hats and then met Mr. Xanatos in this quaint inn for lunch.

"Dearest Charlotte," Guy said, leaning forward across the table to create more intimacy between them. "We must meet again... and soon. You and your charming friend have much relieved the boredom of my life. You are like bluebells heralding the spring!"

Naturally, the young ladies blushed and giggled, and Guy was most pleased. He had not lost his touch with the fairer sex, but truly it was not their amusement or approval he sought. They were merely a diversion. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and glanced quickly at his watch before tucking it away again.

"Are we keeping you from business in town?" Charlotte asked, politely, though she dreaded the thought of him running off so soon. They had barely finished their meals.

"Please forgive me for seeming distracted," he said smoothly. "I did have business in town, but it's been concluded."

The smile that tugged at his lips could not be stopped, but its true reason would never be ascertained by these innocents. They had no way of knowing that the business he had just concluded involved the re-acquisition of a stray and very much missed servant named Ben. His body quivered in anticipation. He would only need to keep up this charade a little longer and then he would be off to Glen Haven where he would become intimately re-acquainted with his pretty stable boy.

Guy impressed himself by speaking of poetry, anemones and the benefits of walking while his mind swirled with indecent thoughts of Ben. Somehow he managed to keep his body's reactions contained until their luncheon plates were removed.

"Promise me," he said, interrupting Eliza's chattering about the wild peacocks at Fairfield, "that we'll meet again."

"Most certainly Mr. Xanatos," Charlotte said, smiling brightly. "That is our hope as well."

"Then I must bid you ladies a good afternoon," he said, standing. "I'm expected back at Glen Haven."

"Yes, of course," Charlotte said as she and Eliza rose from their chairs. "Perhaps you will call on us at Fairfield soon?"

"It would be my pleasure," Guy said, bowing.

He paid for their meals and then escorted the young ladies outside, surprised to see they did not have a carriage to take them back.

"Shall I hire you a carriage?" he asked, praying that they would not expect him to escort them back to Fairfield.

"Oh, you must think us very simple, but we walked," Eliza said.

"Walked? No, I think it's charming."

Charlotte looked about the street and frowned. "Where is Ben? I told him to wait for us."

"I suspect you will not see Ben again," Guy said gently, though the words sent a delicious chill through him. "He's met his young lady you see and she had some delicate news for him. I'm sure they've gone back to Glen Haven together."

Charlotte and Eliza looked at each other and then to their handsome companion. "I see," Charlotte said, feeling a blush color her cheeks. It was not entirely proper for young ladies to speak of such things. "Then you must wish them well for us."

"Indeed I shall!" Guy said, smiling. "And please, do not feel any need to discuss this with Lord Jinn. I addressed the matter in a letter and it is all settled. Ben will be taking up his duties at Glen Haven once again... and we are most glad for his return."

"Of course," Charlotte said, pleased at Mr. Xanatos's care of his servants. "Good day to you, sir."

With that the group dispersed, Charlotte and Eliza walking off in the direction of Fairfield, giddy and all smiles, and Guy mounting his black steed and spurring it toward Glen Haven, his groin stirring in anticipation.

go on to part three of Unspoken Love