A Rational Arrangement, page 60
It was too warm for a jacket in such an informal environment; Nik took his off and draped it over a mossy spot along one of the higher sections of the bank for them to sit on. They sat side by side, legs dangling over the bank above the pool, while Nik showed him the assortment of baits and lures. “What works best for this area?” Comfrey asked
“Try one of these.” Nik pointed to a selection of lures supplemented by bright feathers. “They’ve not failed me yet. By which I mean ‘I’ve not tried them yet’. I have never caught anything except the occasional small branch. Byron has a theory that the greatcats have already caught all the stupid fish and the ones that remain are too clever to fall for some merely human ruse.”
“A likely scenario. Have you not yet learnt to stock your streams and hunting grounds if you expect to catch anything in them, Striker?”
“Having someone else catch or cultivate animals for me and then release them into my grounds so that I can try to catch them again has always seemed a bit…roundabout? For my tastes. Though I admit that hunting is more fun at the Markavian or on your grounds than here.”
“Exactly. The point is to be entertained, my boy, not to be productive. Having a Blessing has given you entirely the wrong idea about what a lord ought to do.”
“It has?”
“Indeed! You have the misbegotten notion that a lord ought to be the benefactor of his people, healing their illnesses of body and mind and requiring no special reward for the service. Why, I suppose you even believe it is a lord’s purpose to be a good steward over his lands and to exercise wisely what powers Assembly has not yet legislated away from us.”
“It is possible I have been so informed. Yet this is not the true function?”
“Of course not. A lord’s proper role is to amuse himself and his peers with no regard to the ridiculousness of his pastimes. Indeed, the more ridiculous the better, for his goal is to prove himself the most useless of all. His purpose is to be fat, indolent and live off the fruits of other’s labors. Sitting about recapturing someone else’s captured fish is perfectly in keeping with the lordly way.”
“I observe, my lord—” Nik poked at Comfrey’s steely abdomen “—that you yourself have been less than exemplary in regards to gluttony and languor.”
“I have never claimed to be an exemplar of my class, Striker. We all have our vices,” Comfrey said, sanguine. He finished baiting his hook – “Aren’t we supposed to have servants for this sort of thing?” – and had Nikola show him how to cast off.
Fishing was a man’s pastime. Wisteria thought gendering activities as male or female was absurd and she was willing to defy convention and learn unwomanly things if they piqued her interest, as bowracing did.
But fishing did not sound exhilarating; it sounded rather dull, and she thought Nikola used it as an excuse to connect with his male friends instead of for its own sake. So when she found his note, she did not intend to intrude on his time with Lord Comfrey.
Usually she had no trouble entertaining herself alone; she loved the stillness and the freedom to concentrate on one thing uninterrupted. But today she was restless; her thoughts kept going to her husband and Lord Comfrey. She longed to be with them, to hear their laughter and banter. As the morning grew later and Wisteria foraged in the kitchen for a snack, she noticed the food set aside for dinner was still packed in its basket in the cupboard. I’ll carry it out to them, she decided. It’s a nice day and we can all enjoy a meal outside, and then I can leave them alone to their fishing or whatever afterwards.
Nikola and Justin spent more effort on conversation than fishing; for his part, Justin found conversation more rewarding. Still, they lapsed into companionable silence at times. Even spread out, Nikola’s jacket wasn’t wide enough for them to sit upon without touching occasionally, and Justin was keenly aware of his friend’s nearness. Whenever Justin shifted and stretched to keep himself from stiffening, he inched a little farther away, until he was sitting half-off the jacket in an effort to get a buffer of distance between them. Which was the opposite of what he wanted: his mind was full of fantasies of pushing Nikola down on the moss and making love to him as they had of old. Why did I choose this spot, so full of memories? It was almost intolerable to brush against Nikola when he could not claim him. Distance was safer. A little safer. Has anyone ever petitioned you to mend a broken heart, Nikola? If the Savior cannot heal it, do you know how long it takes to recover on its own? Will I never stop wanting you? He could say none of it.
The day grew warmer, the sun chasing back their shade as it climbed. During a conversational lull, Nikola yawned and shook his head. “Ah, forgive me, Comfrey. This heat is making me drowsy.” He set his fishing rod down to stand and stretch, then bent to slip out of shoes and stockings and roll up his trouser legs. The fair-skinned man picked his way down a sloped section of bank to stand in the shallow water along the edge.
“Testing to see if human toes make more appetizing bait than shiny baubles?” Justin watched the waterfall upstream to avoid staring, but from the corner of his eye he could see his friend’s lithe form as Nikola shook the kinks from his shoulders.
“They can’t do worse.” Nikola wiggled his toes in the muck and bent to splash water on his face and hands.
Justin was more overheated than ever, and the water looked cool and inviting. What harm could there be in bare feet? There is nothing whatsoever for a normal man to find erotic in this. (Yes, and there has never been anything normal about my desires.) He pulled up one foot at a time to unbuckle his own shoes despite his misgivings.
“Did you want to keep on fishing?” Nikola asked. “I think I’ll swim for a bit instead. I don’t suppose it’ll scare the fish any more than the lures do.”
Justin froze in the act of placing stockings atop shoes. He finished the movement with exaggerated care and looked up to see Nikola turned in profile to him, eyes on the depths of the pool. His handsome friend unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, tossing it carelessly atop the jacket. Justin clenched his fingers against the urge to run them over exposed Haventure-pale skin, to feel the lines of lean supple muscle. Nikola drew the ribbon from his ponytail and ran his fingers through long loose waves of golden hair as he waded deeper into the pool.
Justin splashed into the pool after him. Nikola was up to his thighs before he felt a hand on his upper arm. “Am I stone, Nikola?” Justin asked, softly. Skin flushed pink beneath his fingers. Need overcame restraint and he circled his other arm about the fair man’s waist, caressing his stomach, pulling Nikola to him to press the younger man’s back against his chest. He nuzzled aside golden hair to bare Nikola’s shoulder to his lips. His former lover’s body tensed against his touch, but Justin could not make himself draw back. “Am I unfeeling rock? You are not sixteen, Nikola. Nor innocent.” He kissed the exposed shoulder, skin reddened and heated against his lips. “You know full well what effect you have on me.” In emphasis, Justin ground his hips against Nikola’s rear, ensuring he felt the erection through their clothes.
“I…Justin, I’m…” Whatever he was going to say trailed off unfinished.
“Curse it, boy. Fidelity was your choice.” Justin nipped at the side of Nikola’s throat, provoking a stifled moan. One hand drifted up Nikola’s chest, feeling firm muscle beneath the skin. “Why are you tormenting me like this?”
Nikola shuddered under the attentions of hands and mouth, then twisted to face him. Justin released Nikola and forced himself back a step, eyes down. “I’m not sorry,” Nikola whispered, hoarse and fierce, following Justin’s retreat and wrapping him in his arms to prevent further withdrawal as Nikola dipped his head to lock his mouth over Justin’s. They kissed with the pent-up passion of months of frustrated desire. Nikola tore open Justin’s shirt to stroke the skin beneath. “I can’t stop wanting you, Justin,” Nikola whispered, lips moving from Justin’s to press against his cheek, to lick his ear. “I’ve tried, I’ve been trying for months, but it’s all pretense. I am so very tired of pretending, my lord.” Teeth raked over the curve of Justin’s ear, Nikola’s hips grinding urgently against his.
With a groan of pure need, Justin lifted Nikola and carried him to the bank. He laid him down on the moss and covered him with his body, his dominant thought take him now before he changes his mind. Nikola arched into his mouth as Justin bit down on a stiffened nipple, a hand clamping on the back of Justin’s head to hold him in place. Justin stroked his fingers over the trousers covering Nikola’s cock, fumbled at the stiff wet cloth as he tried to unbutton them, fingers clumsy and shaking with need.
Nikola’s note had said he expected to find Justin near the waterfall, which didn’t surprise Wisteria. It was one of the most picturesque spots in Fireholt; she and Nikola had been there many times on pleasant days like this one. It was also private, screened off by forest and part of the few dozen acres that remained reserved to the lord of the manor. As she walked up the final rise, she hadn’t heard or seen them yet. But she didn’t expect to; the waterfall often masked other sounds.
The first indication that the men were about was a towel hanging from a tree not far from the pool. She continued along the path, peering between the trees to look for them. Wisteria was about to call out when she saw two figures standing hip-deep in the water. Standing oddly close together in the water. With their arms about one another. How strange. Are they all right? By build and hair color, the two had to be her husband and Lord Comfrey, but why would their heads be so…Oh.
Oh.
Stunned, Wisteria stepped off the path and into the trees, using them for cover as she drew nearer. She watched as Lord Comfrey lifted her half-naked husband from the pool, as Nikola stripped the dark-haired man of his shirt, pale pink hands moving with eager, practiced assurance over golden-brown skin. They lay together on the mossy bank, Comfrey half on his side and half on top of Nikola, kissing, licking, nibbling at her husband.
Am I dreaming? Wisteria touched the bark of the tree she was half-hiding behind. It felt very real. My husband is making love with Lord Comfrey.
It was the most moving, erotic thing she’d ever witnessed. They looked beautiful and right together, as if they were made for this intimacy. She set her half-forgotten basket on the bare earth and crept nearer, wanting to see more, sensible of the impropriety of her actions but unwilling to stop herself.
Justin gloried in the closeness to his love, bodies pressed together, ardent kisses fending off the underlying terror that at any moment it might end. But the small part of his mind that was always on guard against discovery was thinking What will onlookers make of the condition of our clothes? Justin brushed it aside as irrelevant. A little whimper escaped him as Nikola’s hand wormed under his trousers to close around his erection. The servants are all gone off for the day, there’s no one around to notice. Except Wisteria.
Wisteria.
Justin’s fingers trembled against Nikola’s trousers, then clenched on air. Shuddering, he pushed himself away, rolling to one side to sit with his elbows on his knees and his palms pressed against his eyes.
“Justin?” Nikola touched his arm. Justin shook him off and scrambled to his feet to stalk a few paces away. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Justin gave a bark of bitter laughter, half-turning to look back at his former lover. “What’s wrong? Demons take us both! What’s right? You have a wife, Striker! A devoted, beautiful, intelligent woman who curst well deserves better from you – from us – than this.” For the first time, after a lifetime with any number of adulterous encounters, Justin was ashamed.
Flushing, Nikola approached, reaching for him again. “I know…I…I’ll talk to her, Justin, it—”
“No!” Justin knocked the pale hand away with a snarl of pain. “I’ll not be the wedge driven between the two of you! Curse it, Striker, this is madness of the worst kind! Why have you never cured us?”
Striker turned away as if slapped. Before he could respond, a new voice interrupted. “Good morning, my lords,” Mrs. Striker said. Both men gave a guilty start as she emerged from the trees surrounding the meadow. “Before you decide what I want, I recommend consulting me on the subject first. I may have some insights for you.”
Justin’s glib tongue failed him; he’d been caught in potentially compromising situations before but never one so revealing as this. Beside him, Nikola stammered: “Wisteria – I – we – we were just—”
“Making love,” Mrs. Striker provided in her usual calm way. Justin felt all the mortification of the words. Had she been anyone else, he would have demanded the statement be retracted or that he be given satisfaction, and never mind the truth of the accusation. But she was Nikola’s wife, and it was her trust they had betrayed, and that…mattered. “I apologize, my lords; I have been watching for several minutes.”
Is she actually apologizing to us for catching us in the act of adultery? If the situation had not been so painful it would have been funny. There was nothing he could do, no words or deeds by which he could make this right. Decency demanded he try anyway. “The fault is entirely mine, Mrs. Striker,” Justin said, voice heavy and without conviction. But better that she blame me. She doesn’t have to live with me. “I regret extremely my actions and my abuse of your hospitality. I will remove myself at once. Please excuse me.” He bowed low, not looking at her, then headed at once to the path. He did not even pause to retrieve his shoes. I deserve worse than sore feet for this debacle. Blood and death, what was I thinking?
“Why are you leaving?” Mrs. Striker asked. Justin froze, with no idea how to begin to answer that question. How could I stay, after what she has witnessed? The slender woman strode to his side and took his hand with a gentleness that made no sense at all. “When I said that you ought to consult me before you reach any conclusions, that was actually what I meant. I should like to talk with you. With both of you. Will you not do this for me, please, Lord Comfrey?”
Justin would have sooner accepted demonic possession, would have preferred to be left behind in the Abandoned World. But under the circumstances, he had no moral force with which to refuse. He closed his eyes, swallowed, and nodded. “As you wish, Mrs. Striker.”
“Oh good.” She led him back to her husband. Nikola silently handed Justin his shirt and shoes, then started buttoning his own shirt. Mrs. Striker produced a picnic basket, of all things, from behind a tree. She spread the blanket from it and sat with her legs folded to one side.
“Wisteria.” Nikola found his voice at last. “I am so very sorry. I don’t know what came over me – it wasn’t Comfrey’s fault at all, I—”
“You know, perhaps it would save some time if I went first.” Mrs. Striker patted the blanket in invitation. “You both seem to be under the misapprehension that I am dreadfully upset. I am not, in fact, upset at all. Well, I suppose if I thought about it I could be a trifle upset with you, Nikola, because you gave me to understand you were uninvolved with anyone other than me and I am confused as to why you’d mislead me on this point. But you could make me forget all about that in five seconds by kissing each other again, because the two of you making love has been one of my favorite fantasies for the last eight months and it’s even better in reality than it was in my imagination.”
With some hesitation, Justin had approached the blanket as she spoke. By the time she was done, he did not so much sit as collapse onto one corner, staring slack-jawed at her.
Nikola sat as well, blushing furiously. “Wisteria – I – you…truly?”
“Yes. And I apologize if I am not supposed to admit that, but not talking about things does not seem to be working for any of us so I thought perhaps we could try the converse for a bit and see how that goes?”
Justin was still trying to wrap his mind around this. “So…you were watching us – and not interrupting – because you were enjoying it?”
“Yes. That is, at first I didn’t interrupt because I was so surprised. I had not expected to see anything of the kind, well, ever. But mostly because I thought if I said anything, you’d stop and I didn’t want you to,” she answered, matter-of-fact. “I was rather frustrated that you stopped anyway. That the cessation was intended for my benefit seems particularly unfair.”
With one hand against the blanket, Justin leaned on his arm for support and blinked at her in a wordless stupor.
“…why would you fantasize about us?” Nikola asked plaintively.
“Have you looked at yourselves? Why wouldn’t I fantasize about you?” Mrs. Striker said, as if that were an explanation. “Why did you never tell me you had a tendre for Lord Comfrey when we were discussing extramarital affairs?”
This penetrated Justin’s stupor. “You discussed extramarital affairs?”
“Wisteria talks about everything,” Nikola said. “It’s one of her best features. Wisteria, I didn’t tell you about him because we weren’t involved. That is, er, we broke it off prior to the engagement.”
“Just prior to the engagement,” Justin muttered with a trace of bitterness. His usual self-censors must have been shocked into dysfunctionality; under normal circumstances he could not imagine saying a word about any of this.
“Did you break because of the engagement?” the dark-haired woman asked.
“…sort of. Comfrey feared you’d expose us if you found out, and I didn’t want to keep it secret from you if the affair were still ongoing.”
“How very awful.” Mrs. Striker turned to Justin and covered his hand with hers. “I would never expose you, my lord, I swear it. I would never let anything unpleasant happen to you, ever, if it were in my power to prevent it.”
Justin stared at her hand over his. How can she say that? She should hate me for what I’ve done, what I am. How can she wish to protect me instead? “Am I dreaming?”
“You know, that was my first thought too?” She squeezed his hand. Her grip felt warm and solid. “I am confident we are not.”
