Simply Pleasure (4 page)

Mr. Harrison chuckled. “You are most amusing, Valentin.”

Ever since their rescuer had discovered that Val's claims to have an aristocratic family were true, he'd been toadying up to him and ignoring Peter. But what would happen if Val's family chose to cut him off? It was unlikely that Mr. Harrison would offer them a home out of the goodness of his heart. Fear closed icy fingers around Val's throat.

He glanced across at Peter, but his friend was studiously ignoring him, his gaze locked on the view outside the carriage window, and his shoulder turned away. Peter understood him better than he understood himself, and had probably worked out what he'd done to Captain Ford the moment he set eyes on him that morning. The trouble with Peter was that despite everything he'd gone through, he was too nice, too eager, and far too willing . . .

Val couldn't be like that. He'd already vowed never to allow anyone to control him again. That included his so-called family. The carriage rocked to the left as it turned a corner into another tree-lined street with three sides and a garden in the center of it. The houses here were on a massive scale and reached five or six stories high.

“Ah, here we are.”

Mr. Harrison didn't sound quite so confident as the carriage pulled up outside one of the white stucco mansions. A footman in the now familiar blue livery leapt to open the door and let down the step. Val waited until Mr. Harrison and Captain Ford got out before deciding to descend. Peter followed him, his anxious gaze scanning the huge front of the house and the steps up to the front door.

“Good Lord, this place is enormous. Do you remember it, Val?”

“No.”

Val took his time sauntering up to the front door as though he didn't give a damn about who or what awaited him within. The footman bowed as Val went by and then shut the doors behind them, closing off all escape. He found himself in a white marble hallway with a double staircase leading upward to a huge well-lit chandelier. He allowed his gaze to drop to the group waiting at the bottom of the stairs and stiffened.

“Valentin?” A gray-haired man stepped forward. “My God. Is it really you?”

Val allowed himself to be wrapped in the older man's arms and ruthlessly embraced, but he didn't reciprocate. When he was released, he studied the man's face with all the detachment he could muster, which wasn't much as his heart was thumping violently in his chest.

“Do I know you, sir?”

“I'm your father.”

“Surely not. My
father
died on the ship.”

Pain washed over the other man's face. “I tried to save you, Valentin, but there were so many of them. I was badly beaten and only survived because I happened to get caught in the wreckage and stayed afloat.”

“How nice for you.” Val stepped back and brushed at his borrowed coat. “Where's my mother?”

“She died a year after you—after you disappeared. She never got over your loss. It destroyed her.”

Val struggled to breathe as tears pricked at his throat and drew himself up. “May I leave now?”

His father frowned. “Leave? But you've only just arrived. I'd assumed—”

“Val . . .”

Peter came over to him and touched his arm. “Perhaps you might at least stay the night so that your family can get to know you a little?”

“Are you that desperate for a soft bed, Peter?”

“Probably as much as you are.” Peter hesitated and lowered his voice. “Please, Val. Give him a chance. This isn't easy for either of you.”

“We would love for you to stay with us, Valentin.”

Val turned to the pretty young woman by his father's side who had just spoken.

“And who are you?”

The marquess placed the woman's hand on his sleeve. “This is your stepmother.”

Val nodded. He had to get away from them. The space was stifling.

Mr. Harrison cleared his throat. “With all due respect, my lord, the boys are rather tired. Perhaps your son might need a nap?”

For the first time in their acquaintance, Val wanted to kiss his benefactor. The marquess considered them all and then held out his hand to Mr. Harrison.

“Mr. Harrison, I presume? I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.”

“It was nothing, my lord. I could hardly leave the boys there once I'd seen them, could I?”

“I am still very grateful.” The marquess turned to Captain Ford. “And to you for bringing my son safely home to me.”

“An honor, sir.” Captain Ford bowed.

“I do hope you'll both have dinner with us this evening and stay the night?”

Both men nodded and the marquess smiled. “Good, then perhaps we should show you all to your rooms so that you can rest?”

Val reached out and took Peter's hand. “What about Peter? Why haven't you welcomed him too? He's the one who really saved my life by sharing every damn minute of it.”

His father half-turned, his gaze dropping to their clasped hands. “I am aware of that, Valentin.” He nodded stiffly at Peter. “You are most welcome in my house, Peter.”

“Thank you, sir.”

His father's wife stepped forward again. “If you would all like to follow me, I'll show you to your rooms.”

They walked up the sweeping staircase in silence, leaving the marquess standing staring up at them. Val concentrated on putting one foot in front of another and ignoring everyone around him.

“This is your old room, Valentin. We thought you might be comfortable in there.”

He stopped at the door she opened and went inside. It was as if he'd never left. He recognized his old toys, his globe, and the desk where he'd sat to read any book he could get his hands on. He could barely read in English now, and had only kept the skill because he'd had to teach Peter. Didn't his father realize that the innocent who inhabited this space had died a long time ago and wasn't coming back?

“Why hasn't the room been redecorated?”

“Your father wouldn't allow it.” The new marchioness spoke from behind him but he didn't dare turn around to confront her. “He was always sure that one day you would return.”

“As a ten-year-old boy?” Val stared hard at the worn blue curtains, forcing down his emotions, forcing his voice to sound light, amused, and most importantly, disinterested.

He thought she sighed. “Peter will be next door.”

“No.” He swung around. “He'll be here with me. We always share a bed.” He smiled at her, his tone mocking. “I'm sure you don't want me wandering around naked looking for him.”

She swallowed, her color high. “As you wish.”

“Thank you.” He looked over her head at Peter. “Come in here with me.”

Peter gave an apologetic glance to Captain Ford and Mr. Harrison and came to stand alongside Val, who advanced on his father's wife until she backed up to the door.

“What time is dinner?”

“Seven o'clock. I'll send a footman to remind you.” She held his gaze. “I do hope you'll be comfortable, Valentin, and I sincerely hope you'll change your mind and stay with us. Your father will be devastated if you don't.”

He nodded and shut the door in their faces. God, he didn't even want Peter to see him. Walking away, he stared out of the window and imagined smashing it with his bare fists and leaping down to the street below.

“Val.” Peter studied Val's rigid back and cautiously approached him. He put one arm around his shoulders. For once, Val didn't pull away. He was trembling so hard he couldn't seem to stop. Had he ever seen Val like this before? Only after Aliabad had abused him, and even then he'd had to force Val to tell him what was wrong.

“Peter. Get your bloody hands off me. I can't—”

He stepped back as Val turned around and stared at him. His violet eyes were full of pain, his mouth a thin, resolute line.

“I can't stay here.”

“I think you have to—at least for one night. If you want to leave, you need a plan.”

“You're not coming with me?”

“Of course I am. I'd hardly be welcome here on my own, would I?” Peter concentrated on speaking calmly. “But will you at least sleep on it?”

Wordlessly, Val pulled off his coat and the rest of his garments, and Peter did the same. When they were both naked, he pulled back the covers of the immense bed and climbed in.

“Come on, Val.”

Peter waited patiently until Val got into bed and lay down next to him. With the utmost care, he slid his arm around Val's shoulders, his fingers entwined in his lover's long dark hair.

“Sleep. I'll watch over you.”

Val turned toward him and buried his face in the curve of Peter's neck. He was still shaking. “My mother is dead.”

“I know. I'm so sorry.”

“The thought of her—the thought of her
waiting
for me—was the only thing that kept me alive sometimes. And she was dead all along, has been dead for years. Why didn't I sense that? Why didn't she try to stay alive for me?”

“I doubt she wanted to die, Val.” Peter kissed the top of his lover's head.

“He said she died because of what had happened to me. That my loss killed her.”

“I don't think that's quite what he meant.”

“Yes, it was. Her grief killed her.
I
killed her.”

“No.”
Peter tugged on Val's hair until he looked up at him. “Don't
ever
think that. That addresses
your father's
guilt, and his sense of failure at leaving you behind, not yours.” He kissed away the evidence of Val's tears and then kissed his mouth. “Go to sleep.”

To his relief, Val subsided back onto the pillows and closed his eyes. When he awoke, he'd probably make Peter pay for seeing those tears, but it didn't matter. If it meant Val stayed and at least listened to his father it would be worth it. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the dark blue embroidered canopy above his head.

It was hard to believe Val had grown up in such luxury. It also helped explain why submitting to life in a brothel had been so hard for him. Peter could only assume that whatever his own family had been like, they hadn't lived like this. He definitely came from hardier stock. He closed his eyes, missing the gentle sway of the ship, and relaxed against Val's naked body.

Much later he was aware of someone coming into the room and then retreating with an audible gasp. There were more voices, and then Val was pushing the covers down and straddling him, one hand wrapped around both their cocks. Before Peter could speak, Val lowered his head and kissed him hard on the mouth as he worked their cocks together in his fist.

Peter groaned and lifted his hips into each pull, forgetting everything except what Val was doing to him. Just as abruptly, Val stopped and turned his head toward the motionless figure in the doorway.

“Yes? Do you want something?”

Peter looked, too, and saw the marquess's ashen face and the horror in his eyes.

“I wanted to—”

“Watch?” Val slicked a lazy hand over his hard cock. “Madame used to charge for that, but considering you are family, you can stay for free.”

The marquess stepped into the room and shut the door firmly behind him. “I think you've made your point, don't you?”

“My point about what?” Val asked. “Peter and I always sleep together, we fuck, and we get paid to fuck other people.”

“I know you wish to punish me, to
shock
me, but this”—the marquess waved at the bed—“is hardly the way to do it.”

“Am I allowed no privacy? You were the one who walked into our bedroom unannounced.”

“Because my servants were reluctant to disturb you!”

“Then they obviously have better manners than you do. If you'll just go away, we'll be finished in a moment.” He turned to Peter and smiled before kissing his way down his chest. There was a strangled sound from the marquess as Val sucked Peter's cock into his mouth and then the door slammed and all was silent again.

Val sat up. “He's gone.”

“That was cruel.”

“Why? Isn't it better that he sees what I'm really like so that he can get rid of me with a clear conscience?”

“He doesn't
want
to get rid of you, Val.” Peter wrapped a hand around his aching cock. “Now, get off me.”

“Stay there.” Peter watched as Val got out of bed and returned with the bar of soap from the washstand. “I want you to fuck me.”

Peter's cock jerked in his fingers. “What?
Now?
”