Free Lord Loxley's Lover by Katherine Marlowe Page B

skin as he spent himself. “ Fitz. ”
    Grinning as Miles slumped forward, crushing him against the shelves, Fitz arched his head back to rest against Miles’ shoulder. “I feel slightly more inclined to recognize your assertion of your claim now,” Fitz mumbled.
    Miles laughed in startled mirth at that. “You cheeky bastard.”
    Pulling out, Miles slid down to sit against the floor, drawing Fitz into his arms while they recovered. Fitz leaned his head back comfortably against Miles’ shoulder, blushing at the feeling of Miles’ seed dripping slowly out of him and onto the polished wood floor.
    “Mr. Rochester,” Fitz said, trying to come to some sort of compromise within his heart between the disparate natures of his lover, Miles, and his emotionally damaged valet, Mr. Rochester.
    “Mm,” Mr. Rochester replied, disinclined to move.
    “Tell me where your parents are,” Fitz said, using the opportunity to press one of the issues that Mr. Rochester kept dodging.
    Mr. Rochester grumbled irritably. “Why?”
    “Because I need to know. If you’re to stay and we continue to introduce you as the son of Baron Rochester, sooner or later someone will ask me whatever became of Baron Rochester and I will be embarrassed to admit that I haven’t the faintest idea.”
    “I’d rather you did, at that.” Mr. Rochester sighed with bitter frustration. “They put him in the Fleet.”
    Fitz felt chilled. Fleet debtor’s prison. No wonder Mr. Rochester had been so loathe to speak of the subject. “Your mother?” he asked, because he had to know whether she had been condemned to the same.
    “With her family. Disgraced, but safe and hale.”
    “My sympathies,” Fitz said, sincerely, reaching to lay his hand on Mr. Rochester’s shoulder.
    Mr. Rochester pushed him off and got to his feet.
    Catching himself quickly before he fell, Fitz felt his cheeks color with surprised indignation. Not so surprising, really, and Lord Loxley was glad that he’d chosen not to press the questions of ‘Miles’ or ‘love’ while they were in the heat of things. Mr. Rochester’s emotional defenses had far too sensitive a trigger.
    Leaning back against the shelves, Fitz looked away as Mr. Rochester dressed himself and left as swiftly as he could manage.
    “I do love you,” Fitz murmured once he’d gone. Taking his time to recover himself, Lord Loxley got to his feet, tidied himself with a handkerchief, and dressed himself back to an acceptable level of dishevelment.

Chapter 6
    T wo days later , Miss Sarah Meriwether and her family came for a visit.
    Mr. Rochester hadn’t kissed him again, but things between them had at least returned to the level of tension that allowed Mr. Rochester to hover and to occasionally drift his hand over Lord Loxley’s back, which was far more reassuring than being avoided entirely, and allowed for the possibility of further heated unions between them.
    Now that Mr. Rochester was functioning as his official representative in many of the affairs of the estate, Lord Loxley had seen to it that he was provided with an additional two suits in the latest fashion. They made Mr. Rochester look much more naturally like the nobly-born gentleman that he was: tall and handsome, with such a regal profile that Lord Loxley quite thought they should have it hewn in marble as soon as possible, but he suspected that Mr. Rochester might object to such a consideration.
    When Lord Loxley tumbled—late—through the door into the parlor, he found that an attractively-dressed Mr. Rochester had command of the room and their guests, and that Mrs. Meriwether and the three Misses Meriwether were gazing at Mr. Rochester with a sort of fascinated awe. Lord Loxley stopped short as he stepped into the room, stunned and just as awed as his guests, and it took him a few moments before he realized what precisely was so odd about Mr. Rochester’s current demeanor. The valet was perfectly composed and elegant, his manner more like the