First Meetings
"Of course you must stay with us, Jack," said Sir Francis, smiling encouragingly at the young man who stood, gloves in hand, ready to depart. "It has grown late and there are villains even here. I try to keep the peace, but I cannot hold back the tide…" Sir Francis tailed off and sighed.
Jack, knowing what was expected of him, clucked disapprovingly at the thought of the villains no doubt prowling the woods, waiting for a prize such as Jack to wander into their evil clutches. He very carefully avoided looking at Nicholas, standing behind his father’s chair with a grin so wide his face was in danger of splitting into two quite separate halves.
"I accept your kind invitation with thanks, my Lord," Jack answered, bowing slightly. "It is most gracious of you."
"And tomorrow, you can look around the estate," Sir Francis said, completely unaware of the tension building in the room as this dark stranger, finally unable to stop himself, let his gaze roam freely over Nicholas’ body. "Nicholas can show you, it will give the boy something to do."
"Oh yes," agreed Jack. "I feel sure that anything Nicholas shows me could only meet with my approval."
"Let me show you to your room, Jack," Nicholas said, his voice high and breathless. The odd tone finally penetrated Sir Francis’ brain, and he looked at his son, half concerned, half annoyed.
"What is the matter with you, boy?" he snapped. "You sound as though you have been in a race."
Nicholas managed to make his expression blank, and shrugged, not answering. Sir Francis sighed and watched as the two young men left the room. Nicholas wasn’t an evil boy, not at all; he was in fact overly kind hearted, some would think, Sir Francis included. He had all of his mother’s sensitivity and none of his father’s business acumen. He was good with a sword and he had been able to ride almost before he could walk, but Sir Francis believed that his son was missing the vital ingredient which would make him a good soldier; he didn’t have any hard edges. Sir Francis knew that he had no common ground with Nicholas, and probably never would, and that maybe he should accept it and not try and fight it. But then Nicholas would look at him with that insufferably blank look, and all good intentions flew out of the window.
Sighing again, Sir Francis reached for his goblet of wine and drained half of it in one swallow. If only his wife had lived and given him more sons … but no, Nicholas would still have been the oldest, and his heir. Nothing would ever change that.
He listened to the growing stillness of the house. Just one servant left awake, a young boy trying desperately to keep his eyes open. He had a look of Jack Beecham, and Sir Francis stared at the boy, his mind elsewhere.
Maybe this Beecham could take Nicholas under his wing, show him how to be a man, accept his responsibilities, groom him. Nicholas seemed taken with him, and that was something; his normal reaction to any guest was to drink himself senseless as soon as possible, and then proceed to embarrass both himself and his father by falling profoundly asleep with his face in the food.
*******
"So where am I to sleep, my lord?" Jack asked, stopping to let Nicholas precede him up the stairs. Lost for a moment in admiration of the view thus presented, he missed Nicholas’ reply.
"I beg your pardon?" He looked up into Nicholas’ eyes and smiled at what he saw there.
"I said you could sleep in the guest chamber, which is over there…" Nicholas waved his hand vaguely at what appeared to be a solid wall… "or you could sleep in my chamber, which is this way." Without waiting for an answer, Nicholas led the way down the corridor, past what Jack could now see as a small doorway and not a solid wall. Obviously the mysterious and not to be used guest chamber. He followed Nicholas up another, narrower flight of steps towards what seemed to be some kind of tower.
At the top of the steps, Nicholas turned and gestured to a closed door.
"My chamber," he said. "Welcome." He was breathing quickly, and it wasn’t from the climb up the steps. He looked down at Jack, and he could feel his whole body respond in a way it never had to anybody else.
Jack paused. To enter the chamber he would have to push past Nicholas, or else he could do the polite thing and wait until Nicholas moved. He took the final step and moved until they were crushed together in the narrow stairwell. He gazed into Nicholas’ eyes, watching as the pupils dilated, feeling a fine tremor running through the slender body pressed so tightly against his.
"My lord," he whispered, leaning forward so that his lips just brushed Nicholas’. "My sweet Nicholas. I thank you for your welcome."
Nicholas half-groaned, half-sighed, putting his arms around Jack’s waist and pulling him closer still, his lips opening under Jack’s and the teasing caress becoming something deeper.
When he felt the first hesitant touch of Nicholas’ tongue, Jack opened his mouth, sighing in pleasure as the kiss deepened even further. He could feel Nicholas’ body responding, his skin beginning to grow warm and clammy with sweat as he let Jack push him back against the wall, parting his legs so that Jack could slide his thigh between them.
"You taste sweet, my lord," Jack gasped as he pulled out of the kiss. He put his fingers up to Nicholas’ lips, tracing their delicate lines. "Nectar," he said. "I could live on these kisses." At the same time, he rocked his hips gently, and Nicholas gasped as Jack’s hard cock rubbed against his hip.
"See what you do to me, sweet Nicholas," Jack whispered, his lips trailing across Nicholas’ cheekbone and then down to his jawline. Turning his head, Nicholas intercepted Jack’s lips and they shared another deep, slow kiss, tongues weaving lazily together.
"Come to bed," Nicholas said as they broke apart. He reached down and linked his fingers through Jack’s, sliding out from under him and leading him towards the chamber door.
*******
Sir Francis reached for the pitcher on the table, annoyed when it found it was empty. He hurled it at the half asleep serving boy who, with a survival instinct honed by years of working in the house, ducked at the last second, letting it shatter into pieces just above his head.
"Clean that up and get to bed, boy," Sir Francis snapped. "And don't let me catch you sleeping again." He pulled himself to his feet and staggered out of the room, knowing that his orders would be carried out immediately.
Dragging himself up the stairs, he paused by the door to the guest chamber, a hand half raised to knock. If Beecham was awake it would be a good chance to talk further, without Nicholas being present. But it was bad etiquette, tomorrow would be soon enough. He just hoped his son had been helpful when showing Jack where to sleep. Depending on how his mood took him, Nicholas was just as likely to point him in the direction of the kitchens as toward the guest chamber.
Unable to shake his sudden melancholy, Sir Francis paused again, this time at the stairs leading to the tower where Nicholas had slept since he was a child. His only child, the only proof that Sir Francis had, for a brief time, known what it was like to love, and be loved. Nicholas' mother had been a good, kind person, and even after so many years without her, Sir Francis still missed her so badly it was a constant ache in his heart.
Slowly he began to climb the stone steps to Nicholas' chamber. He wanted to talk to his child, make things right between them.
"Nicholas?" He hammered on the door, then rattled the handle in annoyance. "Nicholas, open this door. I wish to speak to you."
"What?" Nicholas' voice was muffled and full of sleep. "Is the house on fire? Are we under threat of invasion? If neither of these are happening, father, we can speak tomorrow."
"Nicholas..." Sir Francis sighed and rested his forehead against the door. "Why do you fight me at every turn? Just open the door."
After what seemed a long pause, Sir Francis heard the bolt being shot back, and the door was opened a scant two inches, revealing a tousled and very obviously annoyed Nicholas, wrapped in what appeared to be one of the bed hangings. Sir Francis could just see a glimpse of white cotton underneath the plush velvet.
"What?" snapped Nicholas. "What do you want that can possibly be so important?"
"I want to talk to you, boy," said Sir Francis. "About Beecham."
"Jack?" For a second, Nicholas looked startled, then he seemed to recover. "Why? What's happened?"
"Nothing. Nicholas, I would like you to befriend this man. I like him, and I think he would be good for you. There are no young people of your position around us, and I think you feel the loss. He will fill a gap, I think."
Nicholas looked down, then glanced up at his father, half smiling, in a look that reminded Sir Francis forcibly of his long dead wife. He felt the breath catch in his lungs. She was close to him tonight and he realised again just how different his life would have been had she lived.
"I like him too, Father," Nicholas said softly. He opened the door a little further, and reached out, putting his hand on Sir Francis' arm in a rare gesture of affection. "I will make him my friend, and I will listen to him." He paused. "I am truly sorry that I can never be what you want me to be, but I do try."
"I know you do, boy," said Sir Francis gruffly. "My apologies for waking you. Sleep well."
"And you," Nicholas said, backing into the room again and softly closing the door.
*
He listened carefully as his father made his slow, careful way down the steep steps, then slowly walked over to the bed, pulling aside the remaining drapes. Jack, his eyes bright with suppressed laughter, looked up at him from under the heavy covers.
"He never, ever comes to my chamber," said Nicholas. "The last time he came up here I still had a wet nurse." He dropped the velvet hanging carelessly on the floor and threw himself back under the covers, pressing his cold feet against Jack's warm ones, making Jack laugh and pull away. Nicholas followed, rolling himself on top of Jack and pressing him down into the mattress.
"So where were we?" Jack asked, somewhat breathlessly, capturing Nicholas' face between his hands and pulling him down for a kiss.
"Here, I think," replied Nicholas, pulling away and lowering his head to Jack's neck, kissing softly, then moving further down, burying his face against Jack's chest, feeling the coarse hair tickle his nose.
"Or maybe here," he continued, using the flat of his tongue to lick his way down the the line of hair on Jack's belly, feeling Jack tense under him, then relax completely.
"Or here..." Nicholas pulled himself up Jack's body and attached himself to a nipple as if he was dreaming of his recently mentioned wet nurse. He sucked and licked until the tiny nub of flesh was standing erect, then turned his attention to the other one, doing the same. He could feel Jack's breathing beginning to speed up, and he smiled, his lips still against Jack's skin. They had so much to learn, and just maybe they could learn together.
"Tell me what you like," he whispered. "What you would like me to do." He trailed his tongue across Jack's chest. "Where should I kiss you?"
Jack moaned and pushed his head back into the bolster, exposing his neck. At the same time, he turned his face away, and Nicholas, understanding, kissed the delicate flesh behind Jack's ear, delighting in the shudder that ran through the other's body.
"Oh Nicholas.. Nick.." Jack whispered, wrapping his hands in the soft cotton of Nicholas' shirt. "I never... never knew." He moaned again as Nicholas began to move his hips, setting up a truly delightful friction.
"Never knew?" Nicholas kissed Jack lightly. "Never knew what?"
"How it felt..." Jack could hardly speak as his senses began to overload. This fantastic man hadn't even touched his cock and yet it felt ready to explode at any second! Nothing had ever felt so right to Jack, certainly not the hurried, shameful fumblings with whores or the brief release he could bring himself. With this blond, beautiful stranger, Jack had found perfect, unfettered peace.
"From the second I saw you," Nicholas whispered, sliding his hand down Jack's body and wrapping it gently around his cock, "I wanted this. I wanted you in my bed. I used to dream of you, do you know that? Of how you would look helpless, writhing under me, begging me for release." He paused to kiss Jack again. "You have surpassed my wildest fantasies," he said softly, moving to nuzzle behind Jack's ear again.
He felt Jack's body shudder and he pulled back, moving his hand faster, watching the expressions chase across Jack's face; excitement, amazement, near-panic, and, as he came over Nicholas' hand, euphoria and finally a stupid, utterly relaxed smile.
Nicholas rested his head on Jack's chest, listening as his heartbeat began to slow down, smiling as, with a groan, Jack raised his hand and rested it on Nicholas' head. He stopped smiling and pulled away as Jack's other hand began to slide under the hem of his shirt.
"What?" Jack asked. He pulled Nicholas closer. "What did I do wrong?"
"Oh, nothing!" Nicholas exclaimed, kissing Jack soundly. "You did everything right. In fact would it be asking too much if you never leave my bed again?"
"I'm happy to stay," Jack said solemnly. "But why did you pull away from me? I want to touch you, Nicholas, and love you." He began to slide his hands under Nicholas' shirt again, watching as Nicholas' eyes filled with pain.
Jack slid out from under Nicholas, pushing the blond onto his stomach. Kneeling next to him, Jack began to push Nicholas' shirt out of the way. He was unable to resist cupping the firm buttocks, running his hand over the smooth flesh. Nicholas, his face pressed into the mattress, groaned, half laughing, then tensed again as Jack's hand moved on.
Pushing the shirt further out of the way, Jack's breath caught in his throat.
"I have a bad habit of annoying my father when he has a blunt object to hand," Nicholas said, his words muffled by the mattress. "I am trying to remedy it."
"When did this happen?" Jack asked softly, his hand hovering over the bruised skin, wanting to offer comfort without pain.
"That would be about three hours before you arrived," Nicholas admitted. "I'm not sure what I did, but I rarely am. Please Jack. I just ... I would rather that you never saw it." He wriggled free of Jack and pulled his shirt down again, covering his bruises. "He has a temper," he continued softly. "And I am the release for that temper." He saw the expression on Jack's face and hugged him close. "Please, forget what you saw." He straddled Jack and kissed him hard. "Now, let's continue with what we were doing."
Jack tried to concentrate on the feeling of the warm body against his. He rested his hands on Nicholas' thighs, before sliding them underneath the shirt again, this time resting them on Nicholas' belly, his fingers teasing at individual strands of hair. Nicholas' erection, which had wilted somewhat, sprang to attention under Jack's careful ministratons, and when Jack pushed him onto his back, sprawled across the mattress, Nicholas winced and then laughed.
Jack pushed Nicholas' legs apart, kneeling between them and licking the inside of his thighs at the same time holding his hips in a bruising grip. Running his tongue up the length of Nicholas' cock, Jack then took as much as he could into his mouth.
Nicholas bit his lip to stop himself crying out loud, and then relaxed and let Jack do what he wanted, pushing his hips forward and forcing his cock down Jack's throat. He had never been able to relax when this had happened to him before; it had always been rushed and secretive, but this time Nicholas knew, without even thinking, that he was safe with this man.
Jack used the flat of his tongue to work the underside of Nicholas' cock, then gently stroked his teeth over the sensitive tip, making Nicholas' whole body shake. He could feel he was getting close, and he reached down and pulled Jack's hair to attract his attention. Jack ignored the warning; he knew what was happening, he could feel it in the way Nicholas' body was trembling and the way his cock grew even longer, the taste beginning to change.
With a groan, Nicholas thrust himself into Jack's mouth for the last time and came hard, feeling Jack's throat muscles contract as he swallowed.
Jack pulled away and rested his head on Nicholas' thigh, still swallowing. He could feel that Nicholas was still trembling, and with a huge effort, he dragged himself up until he was lying to one side of the blond.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly, "I never meant to hurt you."
Nicholas rolled over so that he was pressed against Jack. He shook his head, but didn't speak.
After a long minute, Jack pulled away and Nicholas opened his eyes, his hand reaching out.
"Don't," he said. "Don't leave."
"I don't plan to leave you," Jack whispered. He glanced quickly out of the window. "We have hours before daylight."
*********
"Have you ever ... been with another man?" Nicholas asked, snuggling further into Jack's arms.
"Once," answered Jack. "I was in France, collecting the rents. I was 15. I know what I am, Nicholas, what I want, and it has always been men. Women are useful if there is an itch to be scratched. He taught me things,showed me what to do ... but it was never any more than that." He paused. "What about you?"`
"Yes," Nicholas whispered. "But it has always been in secret, soon over. Nothing more than a grope and a quick fuck. It has never felt right with a woman, but my father expected it of me ..." He shrugged.
"And did this feel right?" asked Jack, kissing Nicholas' forehead.
"Oh yes!" Jack laughed at the feeling in Nicholas' voice, and kissed him again, less gentle this time. Nicholas opened his mouth under Jack's, pressing as close as he could, turning the kiss hard.
"Stop it!" Jack laughed again, pulling back. "Your father must never know about this. Nobody must know."
"Agreed," said Nicholas. Then he half closed his eyes, silent for moment. Jack, lost in studying the minutae of Nicholas' appearance, found himself studying the long, thick eyelashes. He was half startled when Nicholas opened his eyes again.
"There will be more, won't there?" he asked softly. "I want there to be more."
"So much more," promised Jack. He kissed Nicholas and pulled him close.
********
Nicholas woke suddenly at the sound of a dull thud followed by an imaginative curse
"Jack?" he whispered. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to put my boots on," Jack whispered back. "Why are we whispering?"
"I have no idea," Nicholas answered. "Why are you putting your boots on?"
"Because it's almost dawn, sweet Nicholas, and I need to get to the guest chamber." There was another dull thud and Nicholas laughed loudly as Jack landed on the bed next to him.
"Do you have trouble with boots?" Nicholas asked, as Jack continued to try and pull them on.
"I suspect they may be yours," Jack admitted, finally letting his leg flop onto the bed.
"No," Nicholas said, pretending to study them. "Jack, don't put them on. Don't go. Stay with me."
"I have to," answered Jack, studying Nicholas from his position flat on the bed. "But I could come back this evening ... if you would like."
"I can show you a way," Nicholas said, winding Jack's hair around his fingers. "When I was a child and I needed to escape ... there's a doorway over there ..." he pointed towards one of the wall hangings. "And that doorway leads to a flight of stairs, and a door. It's locked and barred now, but I can open it. You can tether Flight in the woods, I'll show you where when it's light."
"And you can come to me," Jack said, pulling Nicholas' hand down and kissing the palm. "Your father wants us to be friends, so you can come to me." He paused. "I must go. Just for a few hours."
Giving up on the boots, Jack picked them up and made his way to the chamber door. Glancing back, he smiled and very nearly changed his mind. Nicholas, curled in the huge bed, looked small and infinitely desirable. He smiled at Jack and pushed the covers down to his waist, his hands still out of sight. As Jack watched it became only too obvious what Nicholas was doing and Jack felt his own body begin to react. Nicholas' eyes closed and Jack could see the sheen of fine sweat developing on his face. Jack watched as the tip of Nicholas' tongue appeared, licking at the sweat on his upper lip, and Jack heard himself groan.
Nicholas half opened his eyes at the sound and locked his gaze with Jack, his hand moving faster.
As Jack watched, Nicholas froze and then he turned, burying his face in the bolster. He watched the tremors in Nicholas' body slow down, then the blond head lifted, and he grinned at Jack, breathless and bright eyed. Jack grinned back, but still refused to move. But when Nicholas raised his hand and began to lick it, Jack pushed himself away from the door and covered the ground to the bed in record time. He picked Nicholas' hand up and slowly sucked his fingers clean then leaned down to kiss him.
"Stay," Nicholas whispered.
"No," Jack answered. "But I will come back."
*******
When Sir Francis made his way down to breakfast, he was amazed to discover Nicholas already there, laughing uproariously at something Jack had said. More incredibly, Nicholas was actually eating, something he never did in the morning. He would usually crawl down with the morning half over, grunt at his father, drink some of the watered down breakfast ale, and vanish for most of the day
"Well, sir, it seems that you are good for my son," he said, sitting at the head of the table. "May I hope that you will make Abingdon your home for a while?"
"I hope so too," replied Jack, his eyes smiling at Nicholas. "Your son is going to show me the grounds after breakfast, and after that I must make my way home. But I would like it very much if both you and Nicholas would visit me regularly."
"Unfortunately I have little free time," said Sir Francis, apparently with regret. "But I feel sure that Nicholas would be happy to visit."
"And I will be happy to see him," replied Jack, his face absolutely straight as he looked at Sir Francis. Nicholas nodded, shifting in his seat. Jack's foot - now booted - had landed firmly in his lap and was moving slowly. Nicholas put one hand under the table and pushed, trying to escape the tormenting pressure, but without making it obvious, it was impossible.
Finally realising that the only thing he could do was distract everybody, Nicholas stood up. Jack's foot hit the floor with a dull thud and Jack very nearly slid out of his seat, saving himself at the last second by holding onto the arms of his chair. He pushed himself upright and smiled vaguely at Sir Francis.
"Nicholas appears eager to show me the grounds," he said. "If you would excuse us? Thank you for your hospitality, and I hope to see one or both of you again very soon."
"It has been my pleasure," replied Sir Francis. "To see Nicholas so cheerful in the morning is worth any amount of hospitality."
"This way, Jack," said Nicholas, smirking as he led the way out of the room, and out of the house.
"You need to hide that smile," Jack muttered, walking close enough so that his shoulder was pressed against Nicholas. "Your father already considers me a miracle worker; how long do you think before he becomes suspicious of your sudden change in temper?"
"You're right, I know," agreed Nicholas. "But Jack, this is wonderful! I feel ... different." He dropped his head, almost shyly, and studied the ground at his feet. "I don't understand it, don't have a name..."
"It doesn't need a name," said Jack softly. "It just is." He nudged Nicholas and smiled. "Now, show me this mysterious doorway."
*******
"I am NOT crawling through there!" protested Jack, laughing. "It's impenetrable. I'll get stuck halfway and then have to crawl out backwards."
"Please, Jack," begged Nicholas. "There is a way through. You just have to know where it is." With that, he dropped to his knees and crawled into what appeared to be solid blackthorn.
After a certain amount of crashing and cursing, Nicholas' voice came clearly from the other side of the hedge. "Come on, Jack."
Sighing, Jack knelt down and peered into the hedge. He was surprised to see that there was a path of sorts, and he pushed his way through. There was a brief moment when he could see nothing but blackthorn, and then he emerged from the other side of the hedge into a perfect, quiet bower, the grass long and lush, meadow flowers mixed in. Jack could smell meadowsweet and wild garlic, rosemary and lavender. He pulled himself to his feet and grinned at Nicholas.
"Perfect," he said softly. "So perfect." He didn't know if he meant the bower or Nicholas.
"Nobody knows about this," Nicholas said, stepping close to Jack, hooking his fingers into the ties of his shirt. "I come here a lot, nearly every day, even in the winter. I come here when I fight with my father, to avoid him until he calms down."
"Why do you fight so much?" Jack asked, raising his hand and curling Nicholas' hair around his fingers.
"Because we're very alike." Nicholas shrugged. "He can't see it, but we are. He looks at me and sees my mother, he won't look past the resemblance to what's underneath. He resents me because I'm alive and my mother isn't."
"How did she die?" Jack asked.
"In childbirth. Not me," Nicholas hastened to add. "My brother. The midwife asked my father to choose between my mother and my brother. He chose my mother, but they both died anyway."
Jack leaned forward and kissed Nicholas' neck, then pulled back and kissed his cheek.
"Do you remember her?" he asked.
"No." Nicholas shook his head. "Well, not really. Vague memories, nothing more. My father used to laugh more and hit less." He shrugged. "Not important." He kissed Jack softly. "This is important."
They shared a slow kiss, feeling the tension begin to build again. Jack moved his hand, cupping the back of Nicholas' head, at the same time sliding his other hand under Nicholas' doublet and shirt, resting his hand on the smooth, warm flesh.
Nicholas pulled back and rested his head on Jack's shoulder, and they stood together quietly.
"We can come here, sometimes," he whispered. "If there's no other way we can meet, we can come here."
"But now I must go, Nicholas," Jack said regretfully. "I have business to attend to. I could come back tonight ... I would like to come back tonight."
Nicholas smiled and kissed Jack, but didn't answer. He didn't need to.
*******
It was gone midnight when Nicholas heard the door open. Seconds later, Jack was in his arms, lips seeking his, name whispered against his skin.
Clothes were pushed aside, pulled off and dropped to the floor, and Jack slid below the covers, capturing Nicholas' sigh of contement as their bodies met and began to move together.
Nicholas had discarded his shirt this time, since Jack knew the bruises were there, he didn't see the point in hiding them. It gave Jack his first chance to explore Nicholas' body properly, running his fingers over the smooth, sparsely haired flesh, following the path his fingers had taken with his tongue, making Nicholas arch his back in pleasure.
"I missed you," Nicholas whispered. "I've been waiting for you."
Jack pulled himself back up Nicholas' body and kissed him.
"We have the whole night," he answered. "And as many nights after that as you want."
"Is Flight tethered in the woods?" Nicholas asked, his arms around Jack's waist, hips moving.
"He's safe," Jack replied, his lips against Nicholas. "Why are we talking about my horse?"
Reaching between their bodies, Nicholas wrapped his fingers around Jack's cock and laughed.
"Something reminded me of a stallion," he said, and the laugh became louder. Jack, unsure whether to be offended or amused, decided to be amused, and joined in with the laughter, sliding off Nicholas and lying next to him.
Eventually, their laughter faded, and they lay quietly, sharing soft kisses, legs tangled together, no space between them.
"Tell me about yourself," Nicholas said softly. "You know about me, but I don't know anything about you. Who are you? Where do you come from?"
"I was born in France," Jack said. "I'm a Ward of the Crown and until I reach 21 I have to regularly report to the King or one of his representatives every quarter day, so that they realise I'm not a spy."
"Well of course you could always be a spy every day except the quarter days," said Nicholas thoughtfully. "And what happens after you turn 21?"
"Well apparently I become infinitely more trustworthy, and only have to report once a year," answered Jack.
"What happened to your parents?" Nicholas asked, running his fingers through the hair on Jack's chest. "Are they dead?"
"Yes. My father died fighting the English when I was 2. My mother died last year, but I hadn't seen her since I was brought to England, so she was effectively dead to me." Jack shrugged. "That sounds harsh, but it's truth. I didn't know her." He paused and kisesd Nicholas. "I'm rich," he added.
"So am I," answered Nicholas. "I don't lo... want you for your money."
Jack ignored the slip. The feeling growing in him for this man had a name, but he wasn't ready to acknowledge it yet. But his stomach had clenched when Nicholas had almost used that word.
"I probably have more money than you," he said instead. "But of course the Crown has most of it, and I just get an allowance."
"No, I have more than you," argued Nicholas good-naturedly. "But I don't get mine until my father dies. So although I am much, much more wealthy than you, you at least can get to your money."
"C'est la vie," muttered Jack, and Nicholas laughed.
"Just because you were born in France, don't feel you have to prove it." He pressed himself closer. "Can we just sleep tonight?" he asked softly. "I would like to wake up with you. Wake up to the feel of your mouth on me, the feel of you in me."
"Sweet Nicholas," whispered Jack. "Sleep. I promise to be here when you wake up."
********
And the pattern was set. For two months, Jack and Nicholas lived an idyllic existence believing that they were immune from all harm and fear of discovery. Nicholas spent a great deal of his time during the day with Jack, and every night Jack would climb the steps to the tower room and they would talk and love late into the night. And every morning, as Jack had promised, he was there when Nicholas woke.
********
"Get my horse, boy!" shouted Sir Francis. "That idiot child of mine has gone to Beecham's again, knowing full well he should be here."
He watched as the stable boy hurried to do his bidding, and scowled after him. Much as he approved of Jack Beecham and the way that he seemed to be improving Nicholas at every turn, nothing seemed to help his memory.
"It isn't often I ask anything of him," he said aloud. "You really would think he could make the effort to be here when I need him."
He kept up a running commentary to himself as he made his way to Jack's house, a small manor, slightly run down. Jack had explained that he was going to renovate the building when the hot weather arrived.
"You!" Sir Francis waved a stable boy over. "Where is your master?"
The stable lad pointed towards the gardens, but didn't speak, obviously terrified. Sir Francis nodded. He slid off the horse and handed the reins to the lad, then made his way towards the gardens. He saw Nicholas straight away. He was sitting astride a wall, his head tilted slightly away from Sir Francis. He was smiling down at Jack, who was bending down, picking something up from the grass, and as Sir Francis watched, Jack straightened up, laughing. Sir Francis couldn't see what he had in his hands, but Nicholas laughed as well, then bent down towards Jack.
Sir Francis could feel the blood begin to pound behind his eyes as he watched his child ... his only child ... kiss Jack, long and deep, it was the kiss of two people who knew each other very well and were comfortable with each other.
Without fully realising what he was doing, Sir Francis found himself walking over to Jack and Nicholas. Jack noticed him first and pulled back, his eyes showing nothing but shock. Nicholas, lost in the kiss and slower to react, turned his head just as his father reached him.
"Father..." Nicholas never got any further, as Sir Francis pulled him to his feet by his hair, and slapped him hard across the face, sending him staggering, off balance.
"No!" Jack took a step forward, but was halted by the look on Sir Francis' face.
"Stay away from him, Beecham. You have corrupted my son, and you will go to hell for it!" He grabbed Jack's collar and began to drag him away. "You will not see him again, you will not speak to him again."
"Get off me!" Nicholas tried to pull away from Sir Francis, but got another stinging slap for his efforts. His father then proceeded to drag him away from Jack and towards the stables.
"Sir Francis, let him go!" Jack ran until he was in front of Sir Francis, putting one hand on the older man's chest in an effort to stop him.
"Take your hand off me," Sir Francis said coldly, looking at Jack as if he had crawled from underneath a rock. "You disgust me. You will not come near me or my son, do you understand?"
"You can't stop me!" said Nicholas. "I can do whatever I want."
"No you can't!" shouted Sir Francis, shaking Nicholas so hard his head snapped back and for a second all Nicholas saw was darkness. "You cannot do what you want. You are my son, and you will do as I tell you. And you..." He pointed at Jack. "I know about you. I know where you come from and if you come near my son again, then I know how you will finish. Now, move."
"Jack," Nicholas said softly, and Jack reacted to the tone immediately. He backed off and let Sir Francis drag Nicholas away. They were both helpless and they couldn't pretend otherwise. But Jack wasn't about to give up. Not yet.
******
The ride back to the house was completed in total silence. Sir Francis led Nicholas' horse, and when Nicholas had laughed and asked his father just what he thought he was doing, he had earned himself another slap, this one opening a cut above his eyebrow.
By the time Sir Francis pushed him into the house, Nicholas was beginning to feel nervous. It wasn't like his father to stay so quiet when he was angry. He would shout, bluster, lash out, and then it would be over, but this time he seemed coldly angry and because of that, more frightening.
He was shoved through the door into the study and finally regaining his balance, he turned to face his father, schooling his expression into one of complete indifference.
"When did it start, boy?" Sir Francis demanded, and Nicholas shrugged, not answering. He knew he was going to get a beating for this, so he didn't see the point in saying anything. This time he saw his father step forward and he had time to duck out of the way of the next blow aimed at him.
"I said, when did it start?" Sir Francis grabbed the collar of Nicholas' shirt and shook him again.
"Why?" Nicholas shouted, his temper snapping. "Why does it matter? Would you be less disgusted if I said yesterday, or if I said the first day he came to the house?" He shook his head. "No, I don't think you care when it started, do you?" He pulled away from his father and made to walk out of the door, but was pulled back again. This time his father didn't let go of him and punched him so hard in the stomach that Nicholas doubled over as all the breath was knocked out of him. As he doubled over, Sir Francis almost threw him against the wall, and Nicholas sagged down, still trying to breathe.
"You will not see Beecham again, I tell you that now!" Sir Francis hauled Nicholas to his feet, punching him again. "And I will beat this devil out of you."
Nicholas couldn't get his breath. He knew that if he could just breathe, he would be able to get away, but he had never seen his father so angry, so determined to punish him, and in the end it became more of a damage limitation exercise as he curled himself into as small a ball as he could while his father kicked him half senseless.
When it finally seemed to have stopped, Nicholas strruggled to his feet, barely able to stand, trying to get to the door. He cried out in surprise when his father grabbed him and pushed him against the wall.
Sir Francis couldn't think clearly. All he could see was Nicholas kissing Jack, his stomach churning with the perversion of it, and the only way he could make Nicholas see that it was a sin was to beat the devil out and sense in.
"You won't see him again!" Sir Francis shouted. "Do you understand"
Nicholas shook his head, pressing his face against the wall, trying to fight down the nausea in his throat.
"Why are you so stubborn?" Sir Francis stood back and Nicholas slid down the wall, unable to stand. "This is a sin!"
"I love him," croaked Nicholas and for a brief second his brain cleared and he realised that he did. He did love Jack, and it didn't matter what his father did or thought, or what anybody thought. He loved Jack.
"You do not!" Sir Francis almost screamed in his anger and frustration. He kicked Nicholas again and again, then stood back, breathing hard. Nicholas lay still, his face pressed against the floor. He didn't think it was possible to hurt any more than this, but when he felt the first stroke of the belt, he realised he had been wrong.
Sir Francis didn't stop until his arm was taken in a firm grip and he turned to see the concerned face of his Steward, William.
"My Lord, leave him now," William said. "Enough."
Sir Francis looked down at Nicholas, and realised that William was right. Nicholas wasn't moving, his shirt in bloody tatters with the badly damaged flesh showing through.
"Take care of him," he said, dropping the belt on the floor. "I don't want to see him."
When Sir Francis left, William dropped to his knees by the still form.
"Sir? Nicholas? Can you hear me?" He put his hand on Nicholas' head. "Sir?"
Nicholas heard William's voice, and he tried to speak, but he couldn't get past the pain. His whole body felt as if it was on fire and he didn't think he could move. With a huge effort, he managed to grunt a response, but that was all. He felt William move away and heard him call something, but he couldn't hear properly. He felt gentle hands turn him over, and he wanted to tell them to stop because any pressure on his back hurt him, but he couldn't speak. Those same hands ran over his stomach and chest, pressing on bruises and making him want to cry out, but it all seemed like too much of an effort. Better just to give into the dark and escape the pain.
*
William supervised two servants as they carried Nicholas upstairs to his chamber and laid him on the bed. He was floating in and out of consciousness, and William found himself hoping that, for his own sake, he would opt for unconsciousness, at least while his injuries were tended to. Because they were extensive and painful. His chest and stomach were bruised and swollen where Sir Francis had kicked him repeatedly, and when William gently removed the remnants of Nicholas' shirt, he winced at the damage revealed. There wasn't an inch of the young man's back that wasn't bloodied and torn. Whatever demon had possessed Sir Francis, it had been evil.
"Nicholas, I'm going to have to bathe your back and it will hurt you. Lie as still as you can."
"Jack," Nicholas muttered. "Tell Jack."
William looked up as one of the servants entered the chamber, a bowl of warm water held carefully in front of him, then he leaned down and brushed the blond hair away from Nicholas' bruised face.
"Tell Jack," Nicholas said again. "He has to stay away."
"I'll get a message to him," promised William. "Now lie still."
*
Nicholas may have well as saved what little breath he had to spare. The stable lad William sent to pass on a message was nearly caught under Flight's hooves as Jack raced towards the house. Jack paused just long enough to hear what had happened, then kicked Flight into a gallop.
Tethering the horse in the woods, Jack made his way to the doorway in the tower which Nicholas had shown him, and made his quiet way up the stone steps, pushing the door open and stepping into the room.
"Nicholas? Nick?" A movement from the bed caught his eyes and he walked over, his eyes growing cold and hard when he looked at the broken figure lying on the mattress.
"Nicholas?" His voice was soft and he dropped to his knees, taking Nicholas' hand in his and raising it to his lips.
"You shouldn't have come," Nicholas whispered, cracking his eyes open. "You shouldn't be here."
"Where else would I be?" Jack asked. "Oh, Nick, I'm so sorry. This is my fault."
"No," said Nicholas immediately. "Never that." He tried to smile, but his bruised mouth wouldn't obey him. "You shouldn't be here," he said again.
"What can I do?" asked Jack. "I want you to come back to my house, let me look after you."
"He can't be moved." Jack jumped violently and stared up at William, who had entered the room.
"He's been badly hurt, Sir," said William, standing on the other side of the bed and looking down at the two young men. "For a few days, at least, he should lie still."
"I can see he's been hurt," snapped Jack. He looked back at Nicholas and tried to smile. "He may be your father, my love, but I would like to kill him for doing this to you."
Nicholas closed his eyes, exhausted. He wanted Jack to stay, but the logical part of his mind knew that it was foolish to put him at risk.
"Will Sir Francis come up here?" Jack asked, squeezing Nicholas' hand and watching as he began to fall asleep.
"No, Sir," replied William. "Not for a few days."
"Well, in a few days, he'll be with me," replied Jack. He stopped, taking a deep breath. He could feel his stomach beginning to knot, and knew that he was going to either explode with anger, or start crying. He didn't want to do either. He looked at William. "Are you with him ... with us?"
"Sir, I have known Nicholas since the day he was born," said William calmly. "And I love him. I was the one who first put him on a horse, and I was the one who watched him pick himself up when he fell. I have watched him grow up and I have been waiting for the final piece of the puzzle. I hoped to see him fall in love. And he has, Sir. He has fallen deeply in love, and whilst I cannot pretend to understand, I have never seen him so happy. So, to answer your question; yes, I am with you."
Jack nodded his thanks, but didn't speak. He watched as William walked quietly around the room, picking up a torn and bloodied shirt and a bowl of water. When the Steward left, Jack kicked his boots off and climbed onto the bed next to Nicholas. He put one hand out, but didn't know where to touch him, so he pulled back and lay quietly, watching as Nicholas slept.
********
Nicholas drifted in and out of consciousness for the next two days. Each time he woke, every nerve ending was screaming in pain, and no matter how gentle William was, he couldn't stop the tears. The one constant was Jack. He was there when Nicholas woke, and when he slept again.
Late into the second night, Nicholas woke suddenly, a spasm of pain running through his body.
"Nicholas?" Jack's voice was soft and calm. "I'm here. What's wrong?"
"Hurts," Nicholas said. "It's never been like this before." He paused. "He's never been so angry before." He sighed as he felt Jack's hand on his face.
"You'll come to me as soon as you can move," Jack said. "I want to take care of you."
"He'll kill you if he finds you here," Nicholas said.
"Then I'll come back in my next life and find you again," Jack replied. "Nicholas ... Nick ... I would die for you. I live for you." He laughed softly. "A little dramatic, I know. But while I've been waiting for you to wake up again, it's given me time to think. You went through this for me, because of me."
"I love you," Nicholas said simply. Painfully, he raised his hand and linked his fingers with Jack's. "I can't be without you, not now."
"And you never will be," promised Jack. "I'll always be with you."
"I want to hold you." Nicholas smiled in the dark. "But if I do I think I may die in agony." He held Jack's hand more tightly. "I would like you to take care of me until I'm well again."
"Then I will." Jack leaned forward and kissed Nicholas. "Now, try and sleep. You need to rest."
He lay staring into the dark as he listened to Nicholas' breathing grow deep and steady. He could feel a silly smile beginning to spread over his face, and he made no attempt to hide it. Who was there to see it? He'd found it. At nineteen, he had found what it took some people years to find. Perfect love, perfect happiness.
And he had his whole life to enjoy it.
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