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Unspoken Love (continued)

continued from part two of Unspoken Love

Ben awoke to find himself naked and restrained in a darkened guestroom in the main house at Glen Haven. His arms were tied above his head with rope and his body was covered with goose pimples from the chill of the dank and fireless room. Mr. Colby and his accomplice had no doubt brought him here secretly. He shivered to think of the pleasure they must have taken in undressing him. He squirmed on the bed and pulled at the ropes, but there was no escaping Xanatos this time. The man had told Lord Jinn he wanted his servant returned, and the nobleman had seriously underestimated the lengths to which Xanatos would go to get what he wanted.

Oh, my love. I let you down, Ben thought as he replayed the events in the village.

He should have been more guarded, but his life at Fairfield had made him confident and a bit complacent. In Quentin's love he had felt invincible and truly there had been nothing to fear while he remained under his lover's care. And knowing that the village was under the jurisdiction of the Jinn family as well, Ben had felt at ease there, thinking only the most upstanding people could live and work there. Obviously he had been wrong, very wrong, and he was about to pay for it.

Some time later, the sound of the door creaking open woke Ben from a light sleep. His heart pounded as he saw Xanatos coming toward the bed with a lit candelabra in hand. The man did not speak, but his face revealed his great pleasure with the scene. He set the light on a table near the bed and then sat down on the bed.

"At long last," he said, moving his hands over Ben's trembling skin. "My wandering gypsy has finally returned home."

Ben turned his face away and trembled under the unwanted touch. I'm not yours! he thought fiercely.

"Are you not pleased to be back at Glen Haven? I thought you would enjoy having your own room in the main house. I understand you've become accustomed to such privileges."

Ben shot a look back at his tormentor. How could he know?

"Then it is true!" Guy said in triumph. "I'll have to pay that wench more next time. That's right, I know all about your tryst with the master of Fairfield. How you sleep in his bed each night. It wasn't difficult to discover," Guy said, smiling and rubbing his hands over Ben more hungrily. "Jinn's a light sleeper... or so I'm told. But since you've been ensconced in a private room in the house the master's bed is always rumpled in the morning... and stained," he said with a wink. "Of course the young lady who gave me the information pretends to have no idea what it all means, but you and I both know, don't we, boy?"

Ben's face reddened with embarrassment and rage. Was Xanatos planning to blackmail Lord Jinn?

"Now, we really must get to it. I have guests coming this evening expressly to meet you, but I want you all to myself first."

The youth's body tensed as he watched the man strip out of his coat and vest. Xanatos narrowed his eyes dangerously as he untied his cravat, slipped off his shoes and then unfastened his trousers. He knelt on the bed between Ben's legs, spreading them and holding them down as the boy tried to kick and squirm away.

Guy laughed. "You never learn, do you?" he asked, and then poured oil over Ben's balls and opening. With great strength he held Ben in place as he pressed into him, groaning with sinful delight as he felt his servant's body about his cock.

"Oh, yes," he moaned and immediately began to thrust. "You like to be fucked by men, don't you? That's why you didn't waste any time seducing Jinn." He moaned again as his hips moved back and forth, sliding his hard shaft in the tight heat. "God, you're a good fuck. I always knew Jinn was a bugger. I knew he wanted you from the start."

Ben tried not to listen, but what choice did he have? The man was panting and whispering into his ear. What strange obsession did Xanatos have with him? Surely he could have anyone he wished, so why could he not let Ben go?

Oh, God, Ben thought, closing his eyes tight as he tried to block out what was happening. What could his future possibly hold?

"You like it when he fucks you, don't you?" Guy persisted, feverish in his possession. "You spread your legs willingly for him, I'll wager, but he'll never be your master. I'm your master. I own you!"

And with that last declaration, Xanatos came, spurting deep inside his servant.

That evening, the fire was lit in the bedroom. Xanatos was expecting guests and Ben was to be their entertainment. The situation had been carefully explained to him---if he did not perform as required a hot poker would be shoved up his ass. He had no doubt that Xanatos would go through with the torture.

An elderly woman came in to give him a sponge bath. She did not seem to find it strange that a young man was tied and naked to a bed in her master's house. She went about her task impersonally and then left the room. A few minutes later a man Ben had not seen before came in, threw another log on the fire and re-tied Ben's hands behind his back and to the bed, and then blindfolded him. Ben lay on his side on the bed for an undetermined amount of time, until Xanatos and his guests arrived.

"And here is my prize," Guy said, proudly.

"Oh, Xan! He's beautiful," a man said as they gathered round the bed. "Wherever did you find him?"

"He offered me a light on the streets of London."

"How did he offer you a 'light' when, as you said earlier, he cannot speak?" the man asked, curious.

"They have their ways," Guy said with a knowing grin.

"Ah, then he is a tart!" the man exclaimed. "It's been so long since I had a piece of boy's ass."

Guy tisked. "Now really, m'lord, we must not hurry our pleasures. He's being well paid for his services this evening, so there's no need to rush."

Now Ben understood why he was blindfolded. These men could not afford to be seen. Their reputations were highly prized and even though Xanatos knew he could not speak to condemn any of them, the men needed the reassurance the blindfold gave them.

Next, Ben felt gentle hands on his shoulders. "I need you off the bed," Guy said in a sugar-sweet tone as he untied the rope from the bed.

Ben gritted his teeth at the man's false kindness and let himself be guided from the bed and onto his knees on the carpeted floor.

"Who wants to be first?" Guy offered, magnanimously.

"Oh, let Charles be first... look at him!" one of the men said and then the voices of three men laughed heartily.

Ben was disoriented from the darkness it shrouded him in and unable to see what was happening about him. Of course, as he heard the rustling of clothes the intentions of these gentlemen became only too clear.

Once again he felt hands on his shoulders and then a low chuckle. He could feel someone standing in front of him. Any remaining doubts about the men's purpose fled when the man's hard prick brushed against his lips.

"What a beautiful mouth you have," the man said, as though he felt required to pay the compliment.

Ben obediently opened his mouth and sucked the cock inside. In his heart he knew it was a blessing not to be able to see. There had been enough times in his past when he had seen too clearly the monsters who had demanded his services.

With his hands tied behind his back, Ben sucked and licked and swallowed as required, but put none of himself into the act. He had long since learned not to gag and that seemed enough for the man to think him skilled. "Amazing! This boy is truly remarkable!" the man exclaimed, causing the other men to chuckle lewdly. The man's hands moved from his shoulders to his head, holding him still as he thrust into the wet warmth of his mouth.

Ben could smell cigar smoke now and imagined that Xanatos and the other man were seated across the room, watching the scene as their own cocks hardened in anticipation. The thought of servicing three men in one night revolted him, but he had no choice. He would endure.

Five miles away, Quentin Jinn sat at his desk in his private chambers. It was half past nine and Ben had not yet come to him. He looked up at the clock on the fireplace mantle for the hundredth time. Where was the youth? Usually Ben arrived soon after Quentin retired after dinner, sometime around eight o'clock.

The nobleman turned back to the papers before him, it was the menu for the dinner he was giving tomorrow evening in honor of his longtime friend Lord Alfred Sweeney. It had been several years since the man had visited Fairfield and he had missed him greatly. They had met when Quentin was obliged to work for His Majesty's government as a surveyor some twenty years previously. At the time, Lord Sweeney was in charge of new road and bridge construction in the north of England, and the two men had become fast friends. They were the same age and the same class and both decidedly fond of hunting and philanthropy.

Quentin looked up at the clock again. Ten more minutes had passed.

"This is unbearable," he muttered and got up from his desk. He began to pace. Where was Ben? Had the young man decided not to come to him tonight? Their arrangement was such that it was completely up to Ben whether they would spend their nights together.

The aristocrat could not contain himself any longer. He tightened the sash of his dressing gown about his waist and then grabbed the small candelabra from his desk and set off through his suite of rooms and his mother's. He made his way up the narrow, winding staircase to Ben's room. There he slowly opened the door to find the room empty and the bed unslept in.

"What?" he gasped. This was the last thing he had expected. He had been prepared to beg his lover to join him, but now he did not know what to think.

He looked about the room and quickly discerned that Ben had not been there at all this evening. It would be highly unusual for Mr. Delaney to keep the lad working in the stables after dark, but perhaps he had since Ben had escorted Charlotte into town that afternoon. The idea, though possible, did not sit well and Quentin's heart began to race.

He hurried back down the secret staircase to the main floor and then stumbled out into the hall. The first servant he saw was his butler who was extinguishing the lights about the house.

"Mordecai," he said, approaching the man. He opened his mouth to ask about Ben, but then he realized how awkward that would sound. "Never mind," he said and then walked passed him, heading out to the stables. There he quickly saw that no one was about, so he set off to the Delaney's cottage. Mrs. Delaney answered the door.

"Lord Jinn, please come in," she said, surprised by his visit and his attire.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Delaney. I need to ask your husband if he's seen... if Ben has finished his chores for the day."

The older woman looked at her master curiously. What an odd question. Her husband joined her at the door and had heard the inquiry.

"Sir, Ben is a good worker. I've no complaints."

Quentin sighed. How could he find out what he needed to know without compromising his situation? He could not ask them why the young man had not appeared in his room this night.

"I was surprised that he didn't come back to work after escorting Miss Charlotte today," the man added.

"And he didn't supper with us like he usually does. I suppose he thinks he needs to eat with the domestic staff now since he's rooming in the main house."

The nobleman's mind could not get past the words 'didn't come back.' "What do you mean he didn't come back? Charlotte returned from the village at four o'clock."

He did not wait to hear an answer. He turned from the doorstep and walked with a determined gait back to the house and straight to Charlotte's room.

The pounding at her door startled the young woman who was sitting up in bed reading. She pulled her shawl about her and went to the door, surprised and overcome to see her uncle looking so fierce.

"Is something the matter?" she asked.

"When you came back from the village today was Ben with you?" he asked, speaking the words quickly and clearly.

"No, but you knew he wouldn't be returning. Mr. Xanatos---"

"Xanatos!" Quentin exclaimed. "What does he have to do with this?"

Charlotte blushed, realizing now she would have to admit to meeting the young gentleman. "I'm sorry, Uncle, but Eliza and I had lunch with Mr. Xanatos. He was in the village on business and asked us to meet him there. He was quite pleasant..."

"And what does this have to do with Ben?"

The young woman blinked at her uncle's harsh tone. "Why, he asked us to bring Ben. Something about a delicate matter between Ben and one of the young ladies who works at Glen Haven. Ben returned to Glen Haven with the lady."

"Returned to Glen Haven!" Quentin's heart was pounding in his ears. He knew very well that Ben would never willingly return to that place. "Mordecai!" he shouted as he looked down the hall. "Mordecai!"

The butler came running at the frantic sound of his master's voice. "Sir?"

"Have Mr. Delaney prepare the carriage at once. And ask him and Mr. Markus to meet me in ten minutes."

"Where are you going?" Charlotte asked, confused.

"To Glen Haven."

An hour later, Ben was bent over and kneeling on the bed, taking every hard, thick inch of one of the men up his ass while he sucked his master's cock. He could barely breathe as he continued to pleasure Xanatos while cringing with each deep thrust inside him. The third man was standing at the side of the bed, rubbing his cock on Ben's belly and fondling the youth's disinterested penis.

The men were moaning and trading vulgar comments. "I wonder how he keeps his ass hole this tight." "Let's see if he can take two pricks up his ass next time!" When they at last came, each moaning loudly, they collapsed onto the bed, pinning Ben between them.

"Good show, Xan," one of the men said as he caught his breath. "You've really outdone yourself this time."

Guy wound his fingers about his servant's hair, tugging on it possessively. "I know quality meat when I see it."

The men laughed, and then one of them added, "Give me a minute and I'll be ready for another go."

Outside, Lord Jinn had just arrived. His carriage had not even fully stopped before he jumped from within and raced into the estate house. Mr. Delaney and Mr. Markus dismounted, remaining outside until needed. Both men had been informed of Ben's abduction, yet another example of Xanatos's cruelty to his servants. Mr. Delaney accepted this fact easily, remembering how Ben had been manhandled several weeks ago.

Quentin was stopped in the foyer by Guy's butler.

"Is the master expecting you, sir?"

"No. Where is he?" Quentin asked impatiently, looking down the corridors and listening for any unusual sounds.

"Mr. Xanatos is entertaining, sir. If you would wait in the study..."

"You have exactly sixty seconds to bring your master to me or I will tear this house apart room by room."

The servant took a step back, unused to such brazen remarks from a nobleman. "I'm sure he'll wish to see you, sir. Please," he said, directing Lord Jinn to wait in the study.

"I'll wait right where I am. This is not a social call."

The servant disappeared and Quentin began to pace. He knew that Ben was in this house. He could feel it. It was madness to be here, retrieving the youth like a jealous lover, but what else could he do? If he had sent one of his servants, Xanatos would simply refuse. It was better for them to face each other man-to-man.

The minute ticked by and Xanatos did not appear. True to his word, Quentin began to stalk down the hallway, looking in room after room. All were empty and dark. If Xanatos was entertaining, he was not doing it in the normal fashion. He was elsewhere in the house, in an interior chamber no doubt. Quentin's fears for Ben intensified. Though he had never asked Ben directly if Xanatos had ever sexually abused him, he was sure the demon had taken his pleasure. Dr. Foley had intimated as much when he had examined Ben.

At last Guy appeared. Five minutes had passed and Quentin was just returning to the foyer when he saw his neighbor descending the stairs. The young man looked decidedly disheveled this evening, his suit wrinkled.

"Where is he?" Quentin demanded, dispensing with formalities.

"My, aren't we in a state this evening," Guy said, snickering.

Quentin seethed. "I know Ben is here. Now have one of your servants collect him and we'll be on our way."

"You are in no position to make demands, Lord Jinn. This is my home and you are not an invited guest."

Of course, Quentin had expected this inhospitable response and was more than prepared to take the necessary action to free Ben. Very calmly, he walked over to a row of paintings hanging on the corridor wall. "I assume these are your ancestors?" Quentin asked, sounding almost civil.

"Why, yes, of course," Guy said, wondering what derogatory remark the lord would make to offend him.

Without another word, Quentin reach up, grabbed one of the oil paintings from the wall and flung it forcefully down the hall, shattering its gilt frame as it smashed into the wall.

"What are you doing?" Guy asked in shock.

"I'm making your life unpleasant," Quentin said, in an even tone as he chose another painting, this one of an aged woman, and broke it over his knee.

"Andrew!" Guy shouted for his butler as he stepped forward and tried to restrain the taller man.

Quentin shook off his hold and then grabbed a Chinese vase from an end table and smashed it on the marble floor.

"Really! You're acting like a spoiled child!" Guy exclaimed.

"Bring me Ben and I'll stop."

"He's really gotten to you, hasn't he? I do believe you're in love with him." The realization amused Guy, and he began to laugh. "My God, Lord Jinn is in love with a stable boy. Just wait until word of this gets..."

He was unable to finish his sentence as Quentin's hands wrapped around his throat, pushing him back against the wall and choking the very life out of him.

Just then, Andrew came into the hall. "Master Xanatos!" Knowing that it was useless to try to intervene on his own, the servant retreated to find more help. He was back instantly with two burly fellows.

"Sir, please take your hands off Master Xanatos or we will be forced to harm you."

Quentin turned and growled at the men. "Bring me Ben or I'll strangle your master right in front of you!"

By now, Guy truly feared for his life and believed Lord Jinn was seriously deranged. He waved at his servants to go, hoping they would understand. "Fetch... the damned boy!" he managed to gasp out.

There was a moment's hesitation and then the butler rushed off with one of the men. In no time they returned with Ben, who had been hurriedly dressed in trousers and nothing else.

As soon as he saw Ben, Quentin released Guy, who slumped against the wall, dramatically coughing and gasping for air.

Lord Jinn walked over to Ben, his eyes locking on the youth's tormented gaze. He knew Ben had been taken... he could smell the sex on him... but somehow he managed to contain his rage. "Did he hurt you?"

Ben looked away, ashamed at what had been done to him.

Quentin turned back to Guy, his breathing heavy now as he continued to struggle with his emotions. He wanted to finish what he had begun. He wanted to strangle the demon in his lair, but Ben touched his arm and it was enough to remind him of what was important. Ben was safe.

The two men headed for the door as Guy regained his strength and stumbled forward. "You'll pay for this, Jinn!" he cried out, shaking his fist.

Lord Jinn ignored the remark and escorted Ben out to the carriage where the other men waited.

"Ben, are you all right?" Mr. Delaney asked as he helped him into the carriage.

"Xanatos was up to his games again, mistreating the lad. We'll take him back to Fairfield where he can rest and recover," Quentin said, joining Ben inside the carriage.

The two men mounted their horses and followed behind the carriage on its way back to the estate. In the relative privacy of the covered carriage, Quentin removed his cloak and then moved to sit beside his lover, placing the garment about Ben's shoulders and then taking him into his arms.

"Oh, Ben, my sweet Ben," he said, stroking the youth's hair.

Ben trembled in his lover's strong arms from the chill of the evening and the shock of what had happened to him. He wanted to believe that his ordeal was over, that Quentin was really here. To convince himself he inhaled deeply of the man. No dream could possibly be this vivid, fill his senses so completely with touch and the purity of his lover's clean masculine scent.

When Xanatos had been summoned downstairs, the other two gentleman had quickly fled, sensing danger. Ben had never imagined that the cause of the interruption was Lord Jinn, and now as he clung tightly to the man, he began to cry tears of relief, pain and humiliation, but also tears of joy. The moment he had been brought downstairs and had seen Quentin standing there, with his large hands clasped about Xanatos's throat, looking as if he would snap the man in two, Ben had fallen in love all over again. Truly love had driven the nobleman to free him, to face any risk, any danger in order to have Ben back in his arms. His knight had come for him once again.

"I can't bare to think of what he did to you," Quentin said, rocking Ben gently, even as the carriage jostled over the road.

They held each other the entire journey back to Fairfield, and once they came into the courtyard, Quentin regretfully separated himself from Ben, moving to the other side of the carriage. They were met by Charlotte, Eliza, Mordecai and Mrs. Casey. The elderly woman dotingly took Ben upstairs to his room. Quentin watched them go and his heart ached to be with Ben, to be the one doing the comforting. But for the moment he must keep up appearances.

Charlotte was there, in her dressing gown with Eliza at her side. No doubt the girls had been speculating for the last two hours.

"Dearest Uncle," Charlotte said, as she turned back from the sight of Ben being escorted away. "Whatever happened?" Of course, her true concern was for Guy Xanatos. She feared the news her uncle brought would tarnish her feelings for him.

"Ben was taken against his will. There is no lady servant, as you were led to believe," Quentin said as he moved passed his niece and into the house.

"Mr. Xanatos would not lie."

"He would and he did," Quentin said. "He will never be welcome in this house again."

"Oh, Uncle! Please don't say that!" Charlotte protested as she followed close on his heels.

Quentin paused at the foot of the stairs before ascending to his room. "Charlotte, there are things you cannot know, that no young lady should know. You'll just have to trust me that Mr. Xanatos is not the gentleman he would have you to believe."

With that, Quentin excused himself for the night. He returned to his chambers where he sat down, exhausted from the emotional trauma of the evening. He stared into the fire, clasping his hands, and thinking how close he had come to snuffing out Xanatos's life. How he would have done anything to get Ben back, even if that had meant killing a man. Oddly, the realization did not disturb him. It seemed only natural that he should protect his own, and Ben was certainly his own.

He waited for over an hour before daring to climb the secret staircase to check on his lover. As he opened the door he saw that Ben was alone and sleeping. He moved quietly, setting the candle on the nightstand, and kneeling beside the bed. He gazed at his lover's beautiful face and could see the first sign of bruises forming. Indeed, Ben had been handled roughly. He stroked the young man's hair, stirring him awake.

"I had to see that you were all right," Quentin said, smiling, much relieved to have Ben back at Fairfield. "I think you'd better spend the night up here. Mrs. Casey is sure to check on you in the night."

Ben nodded, though he was disappointed.

"I'll stay for a little while until you can fall asleep again," the nobleman said, leaning over and brushing his lips against the youth's.

Ben grabbed Quentin's hand and pulled it to his heart. Please don't leave me, he thought, feeling a terrible fear that somehow he would be taken in the night.

"He can't hurt you here," Quentin said, assuredly, as he squeezed the hand in his.

But what about what he said? Ben thought, remembering the threat as they had left Glen Haven.

"You must not worry about Xanatos. We will be more cautious in the future."

They kissed, a deep, lingering kiss, and then Quentin pulled up a chair to sit vigil over his lover. He held Ben's hand and caressed his hair and cheek, speaking in a low, soft voice until Ben drifted off to sleep. + +

The next evening, Lord Jinn's dinner party went ahead as planned. The guest list was short, making it an intimate affair among only his closest friends. Those present included himself, Charlotte and her good friend Eliza Beasley, Dr. Foley, and the guest of honor, Lord Sweeney, and his youngest son Evan.

Prior to the dinner, everyone met in the drawing room, where Charlotte and Eliza entertained with a duet on the pianoforte, Charlotte singing as Eliza played. It was lovely and Lord Jinn thought how very innocent these two girls were, and how close that snake Xanatos had been to them. The thought made him shiver and he turned to more pleasant memories, such as having seen Ben today, although briefly. The youth had been given the day off to recover, but did not wish to remain idle and so had moved furniture for Mrs. Casey in preparation for the evening's affair. As with Mrs. Delaney, Mrs. Casey had taken a quick fancy to the bright-eyed young man.

After the song, Mordecai announced that dinner was served, and all the guests proceeded into the dining room. Lord Jinn was the last to go in. Just as he crossed the threshold he heard a commotion on the front steps of his home. He stepped back into the hall and peered down the corridor to see to his dismay that it was Guy Xanatos. Quentin narrowed his eyes as he watched the young man force his way inside. The nobleman quickly made his excuses to his guests and strode down the hall in a rage.

"You are not welcome here," he bellowed as he walked up to the slim man.

Guy sneered. "I've brought the local magistrate and the reverend from your estate church. Would you throw them out as well?"

Quentin looked over Guy's shoulder to the two men entering behind him. "Gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Quentin asked, politely.

Xanatos spoke before either could respond. "I charge you with assault and the destruction of family heirlooms."

Quentin shook his head, peeved at this game. "But what of the clergyman? Surely you haven't brought him to recite the Ten Commandments?"

"Lord Jinn," the clergyman said in his Sunday sermon voice. "I've come to question you on a matter of moral import."

"Moral import?" Quentin asked, knowing now that Xanatos had shared his little secret. "Well, then, gentlemen, shall we go into my study?"

Xanatos smiled in triumph and bowed his head in mock respect as Quentin escorted them down the hall. Lord Jinn was just about to close the door behind him when Lord Sweeney appeared in the hall.

"You have unexpected visitors?" Lord Sweeney asked.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. Please tell the others to enjoy their dinner without me."

"What business could possibly keep you from your guests?" his friend asked, catching a glimpse of the men in the study. "Has something happened?"

"It's a private matter. I won't be long," Quentin said, and then attempted to dismiss his friend, but Lord Sweeney would not budge.

The other nobleman sensed that something was terribly wrong and he thought it best if he stayed to support his long-time friend. "I think I'll join you," he said, and pushed past Quentin, stepping into the room.

Quentin sighed, but knew he had no choice but to include Alfred. Of course, he had every belief that his friend would support him, at least until his sexual preferences were discussed. Then he was not sure he could count on anyone.

With the door closed, Xanatos quickly went on the attack. "I filed a complaint with the magistrate this morning. You assaulted me in my home last night Lord Jinn, and I demand recompense."

"Is this accusation true?" the magistrate asked. He was a lifelong resident of the local village and admired for his fairness.

"Yes, it's true," Quentin answered honestly and boldly.

"Ah, dear friend, you should always deny such allegations," Alfred said, foolishly trying to alleviate the tension in the room.

Xanatos stood at the center of the room as if strategically placed for a battle. He could smell his victory. He would humiliate and ruin the Jinn family name and then no one could stop him from taking Ben back. "I have also received disturbing information regarding the nature of your relationship with Ben."

"Who's Ben?" Lord Sweeney asked.

"Ben is my servant," Guy said. "He's a stable boy whom Lord Jinn has borrowed for the last few weeks. And the reason for Lord Jinn's visit to my home last evening."

"That's right, Guy. I went to Glen Haven to bring Ben back here. You had him abducted from the village yesterday afternoon against his will," Quentin said, defensively.

"Not so. He is my servant and he returned to Glen Haven on his own. The duration of his stay at Fairfield had come to its end," Guy said smoothly.

"Have you any proof of this abduction?" the magistrate asked.

"No, Jonathan, I do not," Quentin said in frustration. "But I do know that Ben did not wish to return to Glen Haven. I wrote Guy to explain as much... to say that we wished for Ben to stay here at Fairfield."

"How can you know this? Ben cannot speak. Besides, I never agreed to this," Guy said.

"He is not indentured to you," Quentin snapped. "He is merely a man in your employ. He is free to work where he will."

The dark-haired young man gave a derisive snort and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a folded document, handing it over to the magistrate. The man opened the document, read it quickly and then pronounced that Ben was indeed beholden to Mr. Xanatos.

"It says here that Ben agreed to work at Glen Haven for five years in return for safe passage to America," Jonathan said.

"Ridiculous!" Quentin said, grabbing the paper from the man's hands. He looked over the document. "It's signed with an 'X.' Anyone could have forged this mark!"

"To what purpose?" the magistrate asked.

"I've no idea," Quentin said, throwing his hands in the air, allowing the papers to fall where they might.

"What is this all about?" Lord Sweeney asked, seeing his friend's frustration. "Really gentlemen, if you have a purpose here, declare it. We are in the midst of a lovely evening."

"I'll tell you why I'm here. This man," Guy said, pointing accusingly at Lord Jinn, "is dangerous and morally corrupt. By his own admission, he attacked me in my home in front of my servants, and his interest in the welfare of my stable boy Ben is highly questionable. I have reason to believe that he's sleeping with the boy."

"My God, man!" Lord Sweeney exclaimed. "Do you know what you're saying? You had damn well have proof of such an allegation."

Quentin shook his head. "Going for the throat, are you, Guy? Do you want me to pay for your paintings and the vase? Is that it? Here..." he said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and pulling out a handful of pound notes. "Take it!" And he tossed the paper money at the bitter young man.

"Ha! You think you can buy your way out this with your riches and your title? I won't rest until you're rotting in jail."

"This is defamation of character, Guy," Quentin shot back, tiring of these threats. "Do you really think a court of law will listen to your slanderous remarks against a knight of the realm?"

"Then call your housekeeper in. She'll explain," Guy said, holding up his chin.

"Mrs. Casey?" Quentin asked, confused.

"No, the pretty one... Maggie is her name."

Quentin looked at the men in the room and knew the only way to be finished with this foolishness was to call the young maid. Surely Xanatos was bluffing, but sadly it would mean the dismissal of one of the servants. There was a code among those who served the rich: never speak of what goes on in the privacy of the employer's home. If Maggie had indeed shared information with Guy Xanatos, then Lord Jinn had no recourse but to end her employment.

The maid was sent for and within a few minutes she timidly appeared in the room. Quentin ushered her in and asked her to sit. She declined. He also noted that she would not meet his eyes.

"Maggie," Guy said gently. "Please tell these good men exactly what you told me about Lord Jinn and Ben, the stable boy."

She curtsied nervously and then began. "It's my job to change the sheets on the beds each morning," she began, blushing.

Quentin closed his eyes, mortified that Xanatos's vengeance would go this far.

"Normally the master's bed is only 'alf slept in and only very lightly."

"Lightly slept-in?" the magistrate asked.

"Yes, sir. M'lord is a light sleeper."

"I see. Go on."

"Since Ben 'as been living here... in an upstairs room... the master's sheets 'ave been rumpled. And they're stained and stiff in places." The girl's blush deepened and she curtsied again.

"What does this have to do with the stable boy?" Lord Sweeney asked, not seeing the connection.

"It's obvious that Lord Jinn is using him as his catamite," Guy snapped.

"What you're suggesting is very serious and could ruin a man," Lord Sweeney said. "This girl's observations are proof of nothing."

"Maggie, you're excused," Quentin said, not wishing the young woman to be privy to any more of the conversation.

She curtsied and was gone.

"Now I'm going to ask you gentlemen to leave my house," Lord Jinn said, his hospitality at an end.

"If these allegations are true... your soul is in danger," the clergyman warned.

"Thank you, reverend, but I assure you my soul does not need saving."

"If you have nothing to fear then call Ben here. Let us speak to the boy in question," Guy said.

Quentin knew that to deny this request would only fuel the legitimacy of Xanatos's accusations. The maid had been called in easily enough, so it would only stand to reason that the stable hand should be, too.

"Very well," he said, exasperated.

He stepped into the hall and asked Mordecai to fetch Ben. He was most likely at the Delaney's, since he had known that Quentin had visitors this evening. While they waited, Lord Sweeney took the liberty of pouring himself a brandy and offering the others one as well. All declined, though Quentin sorely needed it.

It was all of ten minutes before Ben arrived. He had seen Xanatos's carriage in the courtyard and it had taken every ounce of courage to follow the butler to the study where he knew the man would be waiting. Upon entering the room, the first face he saw was his master's, cold and arrogant. It seethed with contempt and the need for vengeance. He shivered at the man's visible rage, but then quickly let his eyes fall away to see that there were other men here, too, most importantly his lover. Quentin looked exceptionally handsome. His eyes met Ben's and Ben felt his breath catch. Quentins' eyes somehow looked more intensely blue tonight than he had ever seen them before.

All those present noticed the shared look. How could they not? The heat of it practically sparked a fire in the dormant fireplace.

"This is the boy," Guy said, almost dismissively.

"This is Ben?" Lord Sweeney asked, putting down his glass a bit shakily.

Quentin noticed his friend's sudden agitation, but thought the brandy had gone to his head.

"Yes, this is Ben," Quentin answered his friend and then turned to Guy. "I don't know what you think you'll accomplish by bringing him here. He can't answer your questions."

"Oh, but he can. He can shake his head yes or no," Guy said smugly.

"Quentin," Alfred said, taking his friend by the elbow. "I must speak to you privately." He now believed that his friend was involved with this young man, but that indiscretion was quickly brushed aside as he took a closer look at the boy's features.

Quentin noticed that Lord Sweeney looked decidedly pale. "Are you all right, old friend? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I think I have," Alfred stammered.

"What?" Quentin asked, laughing, appreciative of the humor at this awkward moment.

"Please... Quentin. That boy..."

"Really, Alfred, now you're worrying me. Just tell me what's wrong. I hardly think anyone has any secrets in this room."

"How old are you lad?" Lord Sweeney asked, taking an unsteady step toward Ben. "Eighteen?"

Ben nodded.

"It must be him," the visiting lord murmured and then, with a shaking hand, pulled a portrait from an inside pocket of his coat. He handed the small, oval portrait to Quentin. "This is my cousin Lord Benjamin Kenobi III."

Quentin could not believe his eyes. He blinked at the painted image staring back at him. The young man in the portrait held an uncanny likeness to Ben. "What an odd coincidence," he said as he looked between the portrait and his beloved Ben.

The other men gathered round and looked at the image, equally amazed.

"Alfred, tell me about your cousin," Quentin said, suddenly feeling very much overwhelmed.

"Benjamin's wife and son were kidnapped by Scottish rebels thirteen years ago," Lord Sweeney explained as he stared at Ben. "His son Benjamin was only five."

Ben's eyes widened to hear the man speak of this. It was his life! Only the name Kenobi did not mean anything to him. That detail of his identity had long since vanished from his mind.

"His lovely wife, Anne was murdered, but their son was taken away. Benjamin searched for him for six years before he finally succumbed to exhaustion and died of grief."

"I remember reading of those events in the newspaper," Quentin said, a bit guiltily. At the time, he was outraged that fanatics could attack such an upstanding family and he sympathized with Lord Kenobi's plight, but he had soon put the incident from his mind. Now he stared at Ben and could see the torment in the young man's eyes. They were quickly filling with tears. He knew this must be Ben's story. This was the tragedy that had plagued his life and had condemned him to silence.

"And you think this boy is the young Benjamin Kenobi?" Guy asked, highly suspicious.

"The likeness is remarkable," the clergyman said.

"There is an easy way to found out," Lord Sweeney said, hope rising in his chest. "The child bore an unusual birthmark. A light brown blotch that ran from his right shoulder blade to under his right arm... something like the shape of the British Isles."

Quentin swallowed. Of course, he knew this birthmark intimately. Ben did carry it! "Ben," Quentin said as calmly as possible. "Would you be so kind...?"

The young man felt equal parts excitement and fear, but did as he was bid, and quickly unbuttoned his vest and shirt and slipped it off his right arm. The men stepped closer and all gasped when they clearly saw the mark Lord Sweeney had described.

"By God, it's him!" Lord Sweeney exclaimed, pulling Ben into his arms. "Dear boy, we've found you at last!"

Ben tensed in the man's arms, not completely understanding what was happening.

At last when the nobleman released him, he continued with the story. "Your father always believed you were still alive," Alfred said. "On his death bed he made me promise I would continue searching for you. I have half a dozen men in my employ scouring the land for you right now. He also made me promise to look after Brae Burn, your ancestral home, until your return."

Ben looked to Quentin for support and answers, but saw only tears in the man's eyes. Did this mean he would have to leave Fairfield? Did this mean they would be separated?

"Ben, do you understand?" Quentin said, finally, clearing his throat to speak. "You're of nobility... Lord Kenobi IV of Brae Burn castle of Scotland."

No, I don't understand, Ben thought, holding back the tears that threatened to come. He yearned for his lover to hold him, to comfort him as he had before, but he suddenly felt very much alone in the world.

"That's right, you have a title now... you have land, wealth, responsibilities," Lord Sweeney said, shaking the youth's hand enthusiastically. "This is a blessed day!"

Guy Xanatos sneered and practically growled at them. His well-orchestrated play had just been upstaged by the discovery of Ben's true lineage. He raged with the knowledge that the boy's blood was bluer than his own and stormed from the room without a word, though revenge was in his heart. No one seemed to notice his hasty departure.

"You must sup with us, Lord Kenobi!" Lord Sweeney declared. The man was completely in awe of his discovery. All these long years of searching... but his dear cousin had not lived to be reunited with his only son.

Ben was swept into the dining room, the clergyman and magistrate hurriedly invited to stay despite their earlier animosity. Ben's story was explained to the others and more places were set at the table. Lord Sweeney gave up his place of honor for the new lord. The guests drank to Ben's good health and good fortune and stared openly at the simple young man, all a little ashamed for not noticing his noble features before.

The party went on until well after midnight. The guests were all found rooms to stay the night, and Ben was escorted into an appropriately grand suite of rooms. When the maid closed the door behind, leaving Ben alone for the first time since he had heard the news, he dropped onto his knees on the cold marble floor and wept.

No, no, no, he thought as tears splashed onto his legs and the floor. I don't want to leave. I can't leave Lord Jinn.

He raised his head and looked about the stately room. He did not belong here. He did not want wealth and possessions and titles if it meant that all his nights would be spent alone. He was frightened and his mind swirled with memories of when he had been locked in the bedchamber, screaming for his mother, never to see her again.

A tap at the door snapped him back to the present. He quickly wiped his tears away on his shirtsleeves, thinking it was the maid come back to bring him extra towels. He got up and stood before the ornate door, staring at the dark wood and feeling the memories threaten to consume him again. He was afraid to open the door, afraid that if he tried he could not and he would be thrown back into that nightmare.

The knock came again, but this time was accompanied by a soft, welcoming voice. "Ben, it's Lord Jinn."

Ben sighed in relief and the tension eased in his body. He opened the door and stepped back to let his lover into the room and then quickly closed it behind him.

"You've been crying?" Quentin asked as he pulled Ben into his arms. "Oh, my love, I pray those are tears of joy." The nobleman felt his own tears welling in his eyes.

Ben shook his head and pushed the man away. He was not happy. His lower lip trembled with his great anguish and he wanted to shout at Quentin, be angry with him for the separation that surely lay in their future.

Quentin's brow tightened on seeing the mixture of grief and anger on Ben's face. "You must hate me for treating you like a servant when you were my equal. No, you were my better all along."

No! Ben thought, shaking his head. No, he tried to say, but all that came out was a little grunt.

"No? You're not angry with me?"

Ben shook his head again. How could I be angry at you when you treated me like a prince? he thought and rushed back into his lover's arms.

Quentin held him eagerly. "This must be overwhelming for you. But don't worry, love, I'll be with you every step of the way," he said, caressing the young man's back. "Don't you see? We're of the same class... that means we can be together. We can travel and socialize in public. Of course, we can't let people know of our love, but it won't matter. We'll be together."

Ben looked up into Quentin's eyes. Is it true? We can be together? Oh, I love you! I'll always love you and want to be with you!

Quentin smiled and kissed the tip of the young man's nose. "I swear I can hear your words as if you've placed them directly in my mind. You love me and you want to be with me," he said humbly.

Ben smiled brightly and wrapped his arms about Quentin's neck, pulling him down into a hungry kiss. His despair of a moment ago had fled. Quentin was here, holding him, loving him, always to be with him. They could make plans, see the world, spend the rest of their days together.

Please don't let this be a dream, Ben thought. He breathed deeply, taking in the earthy scents of the fire and the enticing maleness of his lover. This was no dream, this was real, this was his future.

Scottish Highlands: Four months later.

Mist clung to Ben's face and hair as he gazed back down the hillside from astride his brown mare. Through the thinning fog, he could just make out the shape of his ancestral home, Brae Burn castle, its towers piercing the sky. This was the home of his childhood, the home he had once shared with beautiful, doting parents. They were gone now, but even the passage of thirteen years had not dimmed their memories in the great castle's halls and gardens or in the mind of their son.

As he fixed his eyes on all that was now his, Ben saw a horse and rider coming out of the fog toward him. He smiled and once he was sure the rider had seen him, he turned his horse, spurring her on again. The galloping horse took him further over the hill and into a valley toward a creek. He rode along the creek's banks for nearly a mile until he came to a small grove of trees. He dismounted and looked about him, smiling again. He would wait for his lover here.

That afternoon he and Quentin had been sitting in the family's art gallery listening to Charlotte's excited chatter on the plans for her upcoming wedding to Lord Sweeney's son, Evan. The young man, who had arrived at Fairfield with his father on that fateful day when Ben's true identity was discovered, had swept Charlotte off her feet. How could she not have fallen in love? Evan was of noble birth, kind and generous, and devastatingly handsome. It seemed Evan Sweeney was everything that Guy Xanatos was not and for that everyone was grateful.

In addition to family members and friends, the halls of Brae Burn castle had been filled with visitors from all over the land. The return of the Kenobi heir was something of a miracle and anyone with the ability to walk or to ride had made the pilgrimage to see him. Initially, Ben had been charmed and overwhelmed by these visitors, but increasingly he wondered when life would return to the way it had been just after his nobility had been discovered. Those days had been filled with study and leisure; the mornings spent with tutors and the afternoons with his lover, playing cards, walking in the garden, and making love in secluded places. Ben ached for the luxury of being alone with his Quentin, and as fond as he was of Charlotte he had lost his patience with her.

Quentin had watched Ben as he got up from the hand-embroidered chair in the gallery. The young man had given him a look filled with sexual tension and savage desire. Quentin's eyes had flickered with interest and his cheeks colored faintly. He wanted to follow Ben immediately, but he had to wait for Charlotte to finish reciting her wish list of flowers she wanted for her wedding. As soon as he could politely extract himself from the situation, Quentin had darted out of the hall like an arrow. He rushed upstairs to his guest room, but Ben was not there. Then he rushed to Ben's room, but again, Ben was not there, but the youth had left a clue. His riding crop was lying on the bed.

So he wants to go riding, does he? Quentin had thought with wicked delight. As fast as he could, he was in the stables, jumping astride a gray stallion and following Ben's trail.

The pursuit was easy. Ben wanted to be followed and Quentin soon caught sight of his playful lover on the crest of the hill. Seeing the young man with his cloak swirling about him in the light wind reminded Quentin once again of the freedom Ben's new status gave them. Their extended time together had deepened their love, but to Quentin's dismay, Ben still did not speak. The youth had consented to a voice instructor, and listened attentively to the man make the basic sounds of speech, but never tried to make the sounds himself. The tutor had complained strenuously to Lord Jinn, but Quentin knew Ben would speak when he felt comfortable and not a moment before.

As he rode along the creek's bank, he saw Ben's horse grazing near a grouping of oak trees, but he did not see Ben. He rode up to the trees, looked about and then called out his lover's name.

"Ben," he said, feeling a twinge of anxiety. "Where are you?"

Not surprisingly, there was no reply, but when Ben did not appear Quentin became displeased. He knew the youth wanted him, and he too needed Ben badly, so why the game? Then, as his eyes searched the trees, he caught sight of the hem of the dark green cloak. Quentin smiled, now more patient with the game, he lifted his leg over the horse's neck before sliding down to the ground. His boots squished in the damp grass and then, as quietly as possibly, he made his way to the tree and then quickly came about it, standing in front of his love.

"There you are, beloved," he said, noticing droplets of water on the young man's eyelashes. "Don't tell me Charlotte drove you from my side?" he asked, with a laugh.

Ben shook his head and smiled as he was drawn into Quentin's strong arms for a needy kiss. Quentin let his hands wander over the rich, green cloth, feeling the shape of the youth, and discovering Ben was naked beneath the cloak. The tall nobleman stepped back to look into his lover's eyes.

"You imp," he said, daring to slip his hand inside the cloak to feel warm, bare skin. "I see you have plans for me!"

Ben sensuously leaned into the touch, starved for the man, even though he spent every night in his embrace. Ben had left the castle with the sole intent of leading his lover to this secluded circle of trees to make love. The idea of stripping himself of his fine suit of clothes down to only the boots and the cloak had come to him as he had waited.

The youth's nakedness enflamed Quentin's body and he dove into his lover's lips, tasting deeply of him with his tongue. One of Ben's hands reached down to fondle Quentin's hardness while the other squeezed his backside. Soon, Ben released Quentin from his trousers, stroking the hardened sex with his bare hand as his tall lover moaned into his mouth. Quentin pressed Ben against the ancient oak, the cloak parting to expose the beautiful, pale skin beneath. His hands slid around the youth's waist and then down to cup his firm behind. Ben wriggled, delighted and aroused by the touch and then wrapped one booted calf about his lover's thigh. Quentin responded by lifting his lover to him, bringing Ben about his waist, to wrap his legs around him.

"Yes," he moaned, envisioning Ben impaled on him. "I don't have anything to ease the way," he said with some frustration.

Ben opened his hand and spat onto his palm and then reached down to stroke the cock again. It would be enough. Then the young man leaned back against the rough bark of the tree as his lover positioned himself at his opening, and slowly joined them. The muscles in Quentin's arms and legs tightened to sustain the balance needed for sex in this position. He thrust inside his beautiful lover, and they moaned into each other's mouths, relieved to be one again.

Tiny water droplets formed on their faces, hands and clothes, but they never felt the chill of the air. Their bodies generated heat as they moved, sliding more easily and more deeply with each thrust. Ben gave himself over to his lover, hanging on and letting himself be filled again and again. Their hearts pounded in unison and their desire increased with each kiss, each touch, and each grasp of hand.

The perfection of this moment resonated within Ben. He was home. He had returned to his place of birth and he had found his heart's desire. There could be no greater joy than the one he was feeling in this moment. So overcome by the great love and peace brimming within, Ben pulled out of the kiss, gasping for air. Quentin slowed his thrusts and leaned in to nuzzle his lover's neck.

"Love you," Quentin said as he nipped possessively.

Ben was transfixed as he watched Quentin lock his intense blue eyes on him, heated with need and attraction. The youth could feel a moan nestled in his throat and opened his mouth to declare the pleasure his lover was giving him, and then everything clicked into place.

"I l-love... you," Ben said, the words spilling from him with little effort.

Quentin thrust once more and froze, staring in awe at his lover. "Ben," he gasped, unable to say anything more. They stared at one another, and then both smiled with the shared happiness. "My God! You spoke!"

"Y-yes," Ben said, his heart pounding, even as his face lit up with a broader smile.

"Oh, Ben!" Quentin exclaimed, and all at once his legs began to shake and weaken.

It took every ounce of Quentin's strength to bring them down to the ground gently and still joined. He knelt with Ben straddling his thighs, and the youth's arms tightly around him. Quentin trembled with shock. He had been dreaming of this moment for so long that he could hardly believe it had come.

"My beautiful Ben," he said again, and began kissing the youth's face frantically.

"Quen...tin," Ben said with a little laugh, hugging the man close.

Hearing his name spoken on those sweet lips sent a jolt of desire straight to Quentin's already hard cock. "I need you," Quentin said, thrusting up into the tight heat.

"Yes," Ben said again. The young man now took control of their lovemaking and began to ride up and down on his lover's long shaft. The cloak fell away, revealing a writhing, naked body, as Ben dug his boots into the wet ground to leverage himself as he fucked. "Quen...tin," he said, moaning loudly.

"Ben!" Quentin said in response, feeling a wave of dizziness come over him from the intensity of this moment. He arched back, letting the youth use him, ride him like a wild stallion.

At the pace they were fucking, their orgasms were on them with little warning, exploding, pulsing, radiating through them. They fell sideways onto the grass, exhausted, panting and trembling in each other's arms. Both men closed their eyes as they lingered in the delicious aftershocks.

When at last the world stopped spinning, Quentin sat up, and stared into the angelic face of his lover. "After all these years you finally spoke," he said, shaking his head in amazement.

Ben nodded and smiled brightly.

Quentin searched the green eyes. "To at last hear your voice..." he began to say, but then choked on the words.

Ben reached his hand out, combing his fingers through the damp beard. He loved Quentin more than anything and it seemed only right that his first words in thirteen years would be words of love expressed for this man.

"How?" Quentin asked, taking Ben's hand and kissing it. "After all those lessons you never made a sound and now..." Quentin trailed off again as tears filled his eyes.

Ben nodded. "T-time... was... right," he said, slowly forming the words.

Quentin could see the amount of concentration it took for Ben to speak. In the heat of passion it had just happened, but now the words did not come as effortlessly.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" Quentin asked as a tear fell down his cheek.

Ben grabbed the lapels of his lover's coat and pulled him down into a sweet and knowing kiss. As their lips parted he whispered into his lover's mouth, "Yes, m-my... love."

The fears that had kept Ben's love unspoken were now cast off. His life had come full circle. He had returned to his ancestral home where love had been his cradle, and in the cradle of Quentin's arms he had found love once again.

As Quentin and Ben lay entwined on the wet grass the freedom and surety of love embraced them. Love spoken and unspoken now surrounded and completed them.

The End