Dances Long Forgotten Page 4

  He savoured the kiss, but pulled away gently, and immediately, Lyndon let him go.

  Hugo turned away and adjusted himself as he did so. He ran shaking hands through his hair and stared at the books for a moment. When he turned, he was almost together.

  “Where have you been all these years? What happened to you?”

  Lyndon hesitated, but acquiesced to Hugo’s abrupt change of subject. “I’ve been mainly in China.”

  “China?”

  Lyndon nodded with a smile. “My father was posted overseas, not long after I left school.”

  “No wonder I could never find you.”

  “You looked?”

  Hugo nodded. “I still can’t believe you’ll even speak to me.”

  “I’d like to do more than speak to you if you’d let me.”

  Hugo opened his mouth and shut it. How had Lyndon become so confident and sure of himself? So seductive and confident. He wore it well. Like a man of the world.

  “I— But it’s wrong.”

  Lyndon appeared to think for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think it is. There are far too many men of our persuasion, good men; kind men, for it to be wrong.”

  Hugo couldn’t even begin to answer that. His only hope was another change of topic. “We should probably return.”

  Lyndon looked at him, and then looked at the floor and smiled; nodded. “Are you here until Christmas, or will you return to London?”

  “London. I don’t think I can bear being here for long.”

  “You don’t get along with your family?”

  Hugo rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not that we don’t get along, we do, it’s more…well, I’ve some things to…attend to.”

  “You never married?”

  “How could I?”

  “Many do.” Lyndon looked sad.

  “Are you married?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “No.”

  Hugo was relieved to hear it. He looked towards the door when the music struck up and the familiar strains of the waltz drifted into the room, the sound muffled yet distinct. His sister was nothing if not daring in allowing it. No doubt the young bloods and beauties would be delighted, and the older generation would be outraged. It was why the Winsford parties were so popular. Jossy often pushed at the edges of propriety, in the most genteel way, of course.

  Lyndon heard it too and smiled. “Do you remember when we practised dancing together at school?”

  Hugo couldn’t help but smile as the memories flooded back. Afternoons hidden in the little traversed corridors trying to master the dances they’d need when they entered society. They had dancing masters, of course, but the memory of the times he and Lyndon had danced and laughed as they fell over their feet were precious.

  “I remember.”

  “Have you ever danced the waltz with another man?”

  Hugo’s heart seized. He swallowed and shook his head and wondered if Cross could read minds.

  “Would you like to?” Lyndon held out a hand.

  Hugo stared at it, then took it. “Do you lead or follow?” His voice was hoarse.

  Lyndon’s eyes darkened and the rasp in his voice became more apparent. “I’m happy with either role, but tonight, perhaps I should lead?”

  Hugo moved into Lyndon’s arms, he’d never danced to follow, but after a few false starts, and shared laughter which completely broke the tension between them, Lyndon led. He was an excellent dancer, and they moved in smooth, effortless loops about the room, smiles widening, avoiding the furniture, until Hugo was grinning with the sheer, heady delight of waltzing with another man. Not just any man, though, Lyndon Cross.

  When the music stopped, they collapsed into each other laughing and holding tight.

  “How long are you here for?” Hugo asked, leaning back to look up at Lyndon.

  “I’m staying tonight, but I might be persuaded to extend my visit.”

  Hugo faltered.

  “Or, perhaps you would visit me in London on your return?”

  He nodded. “Perhaps that would be better.”

  As they pulled apart, guilt nudged its way into his thoughts. He hadn’t promised not to do it again, but he could hardly ask Winsford to bail him out of a precarious position whilst all the time he was breaking the law with another man. Again.

  “What is it?” Lyndon’s voice was gentle.

  “I feel guilty.”

  Lyndon nodded. “I know. I can see that you do.”

  “Things are difficult with the family at the moment. It’s not that I don’t want to see you, I do. I want to cast all caution to the wind and run to London with you and get to know you again. My life was always infinitely better for having you in it. But… but I …” Words almost failed him. “I have just asked my brother for the biggest favour of my life. I’m in a terrible pickle, and he will help me, of that I’m certain, but I can’t…can’t throw myself in with you whilst he’s pulling me out of the mud.”

  Lyndon touched his arm briefly. “What kind of pickle?”

  “I can’t tell you, but believe me, it’s dreadful.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I feel sick every time I think of it. You wouldn’t believe how unutterable stupid I still am.”

  Lyndon frowned and reached out to squeeze his arm again. “Hugo, you were never stupid.”

  “Yes, I was. I rush in without thinking. Still do. Well, this time, I’ve outdone myself.” He started pacing the room. The full import of his stupidity rushing back in. “I’ve risked not only my reputation, but that of my family. My nieces are getting ready for their come outs, and I’ve jeopardised everything.”

  “Hugo, stop.”

  Hugo stopped. And stared.

  Lyndon took hold of his hand and pulled him gently back towards him. “You are a good man. Whatever you have done, whatever you think you’ve done, I can’t imagine you intended to hurt anyone.”

  “I never do, yet here I am.” Christ, I need to shut up.

  “Can your brother help you to set things to rights?”

  Hugo shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope so. I’m sorry. I don’t see you for ten years and then I drop all my problems at your feet. You must think me a complete mutton head.”

  “Of course not. Try not to refine on it too much. I’m sure whatever it is, your brother will be able to help, and all will be well.”

  “He might.”

  They were quiet for a moment. Lyndon looked to be deep in thought. His next question took Hugo unawares.

  “Do you think I’m a dreadful person?”

  “What? No, of course not.”

  “I kiss men. I bed men. Am I dreadful?”

  “No, no not at all you’re…”

  “I’m?”

  Hugo floundered.

  “Well, if you think that you are some kind of dreadful person because you prefer men then I must be too.”

  Hugo loved him for what he was trying to do. He shook his head.

  “But you’ve never been stupid enough to lose more money than you have, and to be so unutterably stupid as to get caught with another man, thus giving the man you owe money to the perfect opportunity for blackmail.”

  He moved towards the door and hesitated by it. He really couldn’t stay any longer. “Too stupid to see what was coming. I thought of ending it all to preserve them but didn’t even have the courage for that.”

  He headed back to the ballroom and closed the library door quietly behind him. Putting temptation behind him.

  Chapter 5

  Hugo toured around the ballroom again, chatting with people as he went, with determination in his heart. He would not be drawn back into the very pit that had plunged him into such a mess. Even if it was with Lyndon Cross.

  After he’d done the pretty, he settled himself by a potted plant and sipped yet another a glass of champagne. The ball was magnificent, as always, and Winsford did his duty with the beautiful young women of the Ton. He was scrupulously careful not to pay any
one singular attention, never to dance with anyone more than once, never to court attention or gossip. He was the very epitome of circumspection.

  He found his attention continually drifting back to Cross, and to the kiss. It was so good to see him. To know he didn’t bear him some dreadful animosity. It was oddly reassuring to know that he was of the same nature. That he liked men too. He thought about what he had said. Why he was so hard on himself yet could see no shame in Lyndon Cross.

  It was almost the end of the evening when Winsford made his way towards him.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked as he stood alongside him and looked out over the crowd.

  “Immensely. Jossy has outdone herself.”

  Winsford nodded with a small smile.

  “We will talk more tomorrow.”

  Hugo immediately looked away. “Thank you.”

  “I do need one thing from you, though.”

  “Anything.”

  “A name.”

  It felt bizarre. They stood side by side on the edge of the ballroom, as the great and glorious of the Ton whirled about in splendour oblivious to the nature of their conversation. So bizarre that Hugo caved and gave Winsford what he wanted.

  “You aren’t going to do anything foolish, are you?”

  Winsford turned to him. “Define foolish.”

  “Well, nothing that would harm you. He’s a ruthless man.” Hugo couldn’t countenance Winsford being involved but was beginning to see that if he truly were to help, he’d need to know it all.

  “Hugo…”

  Hugo closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. “Hessledon. Edgar Hessledon.”

  It took him a moment to register Winsford’s frozen rigidity beside him. He turned and looked at his brother. Winsford was spectacularly good at hiding his feelings, and Hugo was notoriously bad at reading people’s emotions, but even he could see the shock on Winsford’s face.

  He frowned and looked more carefully. “Do you know him?”

  Winsford appeared to pull in a steadying breath. “I do. Leave it with me.”

  “I say, you can’t go approaching him. This is exactly what I was talking about.”

  “Of course not. But now I know what I’m dealing with.”

  Hugo searched his face again, but it was closed and cold. “As I say, we will talk more in the morning.”

  Hugo nodded and dipped his head in a brief bow as Winsford made his way around the edge of the ballroom.

  Hugo also set off and did another circuit of the room, being as charming as he could. By the time he’d regained his place by the potted plant, he was exhausted. After a careful look around to make sure no-one would spot him leaving, he headed back to the library.

  He grasped the door gratefully and closed it behind him with a sigh of relief. The fire was still burning brightly, so he headed for the one of the comfortable, high backed leather chairs facing it.

  He let out a loud yelp of surprise when he realised that Lyndon Cross sat in one of them.

  He stood clutching his chest as Lyndon looked up at him.

  “You’re still here?”

  “I am.”

  Shaking his head, Hugo flopped down in the other chair.

  “Better?”

  “Infinitely.” Hugo let his head sag, and he closed his eyes for a moment. He waited for Lyndon to break the silence, and when he didn’t, he found himself relaxing. Eventually, he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him.

  “I’m sorry I dashed off.”

  Lyndon smiled and shook his head. “I quite understand.”

  The fire crackled and popped as they looked at each other. The scent of pine wood filled the room from the decorative bough that Jocelyn had set up on the hearth. Hugo’s heart ached quietly as he longed to go to Lyndon, but he stayed in his own chair.

  “I’m sorry if I pressed you too much before. I wasn’t fair of me,” Lyndon said.

  Hugo shook his head. “You didn’t. I’m just feeling unusually awkward about things. I would’ve liked to,” he added, gesturing vaguely. “Just once.”

  Lyndon’s eyes gleamed in the firelight and the tension between them crackled along with the fire.

  “Just once?” His words were a whisper of longing.

  Hugo nodded, his heart thumping uncomfortably as his gaze slid to Lyndon’s.

  “More than once, but we… I can’t.”

  “I understand.”

  Hugo wanted Lyndon to argue, to persuade, to press, to convince him. But he didn’t.

  They sat until the fire dimmed, so Hugo moved to add more wood. He crouched by the flames and made sure that it took.

  Lyndon offered him a handkerchief to brush the dust from his fingers.

  “Thank you.”

  “Pleasure.”

  “We should go back.” Hugo risked a look at Lyndon. He was sitting forward on the chair, as though waiting to move.

  “We should.” Lyndon licked his lips, took a shaky breath, and stood up.

  Hugo struggled to his feet and stood beside him, brushing his hands down his breeches. He was so close to Lyndon he could feel the warmth from his body. It made him want to weep.

  “No hard feelings?”

  Hugo screwed his eyes shut for a moment, then looked up. “None at all.”

  Lyndon nodded, but still didn’t move. His gaze was unwavering, his lips parted. “Hugo?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Could… Could I kiss you one last time?”

  Hugo knew this wasn’t a good idea. Knew it with every fibre of his soul.

  But he said yes.

  Lyndon’s head moved slowly, almost awkwardly, until their lips met with exquisite gentleness. Lyndon brought his hand up to cup Hugo’s cheek, and it trembled.

  They pulled apart, and Lyndon rested his nose by Hugo’s, breathing hard, eyes closed.

  He was warm, and he smelled exactly the same as he had when they were boys. Hugo moved his hand, so it slid beneath Lyndon’s coat and rested on his hip. He twitched and pushed closer so that Hugo could feel the hardness of his erection against him. He pushed back against him. Couldn’t help it.

  Lyndon whimpered and trembled more.

  Hugo swallowed. “Just once?”

  Lyndon clutched him tighter. “Does the door lock?”

  Hugo nodded. “We can’t undress. We’d never get our coats back on.” He moved and pressed his face into Lyndon’s neck as he smiled at his own idiocy.

  “There’s plenty we can do clothed. Safer that way too?”

  Hugo pulled back and looked up at him. He was so damned gorgeous. So lovely, inside and out. He reached up and kissed him, then went and locked the door. The curtains were already drawn. He hesitated, key in hand, and sent up a silent prayer for forgiveness.

  Lyndon stood by the fire, eyes wide, and without moving his gaze from Hugo, unbuttoned his falls. Hugo did the same and then stood before him, took hold of his face, and kissed him like he needed to.

  Lyndon moaned into his mouth and speared his fingers through Hugo’s hair. Hugo clutched his beloved face and plundered his mouth, taking control, taking everything Lyndon had to give.

  They pulled apart, panting and shaking. Lyndon dragged his shirt tails free, tucked them up, and pulled himself out, giving his cock a hard squeeze with one hand, and fondling his jewels with the other. Hugo’s mouth watered as he followed suit.

  “How do you want it?” Lyndon whispered.

  “I want to touch you.”

  Lyndon let go of himself and waited. Hugo sank to his knees and took him in his mouth in one long movement, savouring the high-pitched moan from Lyndon, and the clutch of his hands. He sucked him, breathing in the heady musk, but before long Lyndon was pushing him off. He knew he couldn’t last. Knew that as soon as Lyndon went anywhere near his cock, he’d be off like geyser. He pushed close, grabbed his own shaft alongside Lyndon’s and, putting one arm around his waist, moved them together until he could take hold of both in one hand.

 
“Yes,” Lyndon whispered, mouth parted, cheeks flushed. “Oh, God, yes…like that.”

  He joined his hand with Hugo’s and they both looked down. They shuffled together until they were holding each other close, and both hands wrapped around their joined cocks. There was something terribly beautiful about it. They started pumping together, and Hugo’s knees faltered. He rested his head on Lyndon’s shoulder, panting and shaking, and together they stroked and stroked until Hugo’s world splintered into shards of light and pure, bone-deep sensation. He’d never spent so hard or so completely. His vision blackened, and his entire body convulsed. He felt Lyndon do the same, heard his soft cries, and then felt him pull back and clap a handkerchief over their hands to catch the spillage.

  Hugo stood helplessly watching Lyndon clean him up. He wiped them down, folded the kerchief to find a clean spot and then dabbed at his hands. Hugo, startled into action, pulled out his own and they used it to finish the job.

  He felt a tear drop from his chin, and angrily scrubbed at his eyes as he turned away. He awkwardly re-assembled his clothing whilst Lyndon tidied himself with the air of a man who has done it numerous times before. Underscoring the fact, in Hugo’s mind, that he’d spent the last ten years dreaming of this, and Lyndon had spent the intervening time actually doing it. It made him feel foolish and young.

  “Thank you.”

  Hugo closed his eyes to steady himself and turned back. Lyndon was still standing in front of the fire. He looked young and uncertain.

  “No, thank you.”

  Lyndon swallowed. “Tomorrow, could we talk?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “So would I.” Lyndon’s beautiful eyes were filled with emotion. “There are things I need to tell you.”

  Hugo nodded and looked away. “I’ll show you to your bedchamber.”

  Lyndon appeared to freeze.

  “It’s very near to mine.”

  “Oh.”

  Hugo hesitated, then flung his arms around Lyndon, much as they’d done all those years ago and held him tight for a moment.

  They pulled apart, shakily, and headed for the door, smoothing hair and shaking out cuffs as they went.

  After the calm of the library, walking back into the noise and heat of the crowded ballroom made Hugo wince. It was unpleasant in the extreme even though things had quieted considerably. He immediately bumped into Bamforth and Cripps, the other men from his schooldays. They were cronies who had been particularly unpleasant to both him and Lyndon, but he greeted them cordially. They looked at him, then spotted Lyndon following him, and grinned.