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Henry wiped his palms on his trousers as he stood in the miller’s house, waiting to speak to him. Peshek had always quickly made time for him, especially when he had an errand for Henry, so Henry supposed his making him wait now was intentional. He hoped it did not bode ill.
Finally, Peshek ducked through the doorway. His expression was closed, unreadable. “What, lad? I haven’t got all day.”
Henry did not remark that Peshek had been the one keeping Henry waiting, not the other way around. “Sir, I would like…that is, I wanted to see whether…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve come to ask for Theresa’s hand.” Well, there. He’d said it, for better or worse.
To his great surprise, Peshek grinned and clapped him on the back. “Finally! Boy, I’ve been waiting a long time to hear those words.”
Henry smiled with relief. “I thought perhaps you wouldn’t agree.”
Peshek laughed aloud. “Well, if you’d asked a year ago I likely would not have. But, well, you’ve got quite a nice position up there in the upper castle, and quite a nice salary to go along with it, eh? And old Peshek is, indeed, glad to supply the noble house of Rattay with all its needs. Indeed glad.”
Henry, as chamberlain for Lord Capon, had deftly arranged for the nearby mill to provide all flour not only to the upper castle but Pirkstein as well. His calculation, it seemed, had not been in error. “We are happy to have made such a great partnership with you. And, well, if I may be so bold, I will be even happier to make a great partnership of our families. Erm. Such as they are.”
Peshek nodded. “Yes, yes, indeed. Better than Theresa could have ever hoped for, I’ll wager. Yes, a great partnership in all respects. You’ll be married soon?”
“I hadn’t thought.” Henry had not gotten further in planning than this moment, in fact.
“Before the summer’s out, certainly.” Peshek seemed to be doing sums in his head, no doubt calculating how much money he could make from supplying—and, indeed pilfering—a wedding on noble grounds. “My boy, you have my blessing, absolutely.”
Henry shook his hand. “Will you tell Theresa?”
“As soon as I see her lad, you have my word.”
Henry fairly bounced back to the castle, giddy with the flush of his new engagement. But as its walls came into view, his steps faltered. He would have to tell Hans. Better the news come from Henry’s own lips and not through the gossip mill, which was no doubt speeding the information toward the long hall even faster than a race horse could run.
Henry thus strode quickly to Hans’s chambers and rapped on the door. “Hans? It’s me.”
“Come in.” Hans’s voice was muffled through the door. Henry pushed it open and eased it closed behind him. His pulse thudded in his temples, and he found his mouth suddenly dry. He swallowed thickly.
Hans looked up from his desk. “Is something wrong?”
“No, my lord.” Henry wiped his hands on his trousers again. His palms hadn’t sweat this much in years, surely.
“My lord?” Hans wrinkled his brow. “What’s with the sudden pretense?” His eyes went wide. “You’re not leaving me, Henry?”
“What? No, never.” Henry shook his head.
“Then what is it?” Hans crossed the room to him, his eyes searching Henry’s face.
Henry took a deep breath. “I’ve asked Peshek for Theresa’s hand.”
Hans’s eyes went wide. “Is that all? Bloody hell, man, here I thought we were under attack or something.” He blew out a breath, then smiled. “Well, congratulations! Good work. Took you long enough.”
“Then…you’re not upset?”
“What? Why would I be upset?” Hans sucked his teeth. “Ah. Because you’ll bed her? Please, Henry, what kind of man do you take me for, to think I’d be jealous of a woman?” He laughed out loud. “No, you should have a wife, and Theresa is an excellent match.” He went to his desk. “I’ll have to find you new quarters, though. You’ll need more rooms.”
Henry felt warm to his toes. Hans wasn’t angry, and even seemed happy. “Thank you, Hans.”
“When’s the wedding?”
Henry shrugged. “I haven’t even talked to Theresa yet. But Peshek seems convinced it should be before the end of summer.”
“Likely some fat profit in it for him then, isn’t there?” Hans winked. “Well, before summer’s end sounds grand. I’ll even pitch in with the funds. We wouldn’t want the wedding of my chamberlain to seem a poor peasant affair, would we?”
“I…” This was getting a bit beyond Henry’s control. “Well, if you like, I suppose that’s fine. Thank you.”
“Listen, Henry,” Hans said, waving a quill vaguely, “come back later, will you? We’ll…discuss the matter further.” He winked again.
Henry grinned. “Of course, sir.” He left the room, and the whole castle noticed the spring in his step the rest of the day.
—————————————
That night, as Hans lay against him, their legs twined together in the sheets, Henry lazily stroking his lover’s hair, Hans traced a pattern on Henry’s chest. “We’ll have fewer nights like this, once you’re married,” Hans murmured.
“Well, perhaps.” Henry kissed his temple.
“After all, you’ll have your duties to your wife.”
Henry leaned back, but Hans kept his head down. Henry said, “You are jealous. All that talk this afternoon was just talk after all.”
“Not jealous.” Hans pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Just stating the truth.”
“Mm hm.” Henry shook his head. “Pouting a bit while you’re doing it, though, aren’t you?”
Hans scowled. “Don’t patronize me, boy.”
“Don’t sulk, then. And don’t call me boy.” Henry pulled Hans back to him, kissing him gently, tasting his mouth. “We’ll still have plenty of time together. I’m still your chamberlain.” He lay back, pulling Hans’s head back onto his chest. “And I still love you, no matter what else happens.”
Hans settled back against him, once again tracing patterns on his chest. “Oh, all right. But you’ll have to let me teach you to dance before the wedding. I’ve seen you; you’re terrible.”
“Fine, fine.”
—————————————
The wedding did, indeed, happen before the end of summer. Its planning was quickly taken entirely away from Henry, with Theresa and Hans both choosing colors, ordering food and flowers, making guest lists, and hiring musicians and waiters. Henry didn’t like to think what the event was costing him, but anytime he brought it up Hans waved him away, telling him he needn’t worry about such things.
The afternoon of the wedding he stood in Hans’s chamber, dressed in finer clothes than he had ever worn, even finer than Hans’s own clothes he had lent him back before he was lord of Rattay. Hans himself was fussing over Henry, straightening his collar, brushing invisible specks of dust from his tunic.
Finally, he held him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “You look incredible, my love,” he said. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Henry smiled. “All your doing. You chose these clothes, after all.”
“My finest work.” Hans took a step closer, so their noses were nearly touching. “In an hour you will belong to someone else. Everything will change.”
“Nothing will change,” Henry insisted. “I will love you just as much as ever. As I always have.” He pulled Hans to him, kissing him deeply, his fingers twining in his hair. Hans kissed him back with fervor, and then pulled away. He smoothed Henry’s hair.
“Now, now, don’t go messing yourself up. You have a wedding to get to.”
Outside, the bright sun gleamed off the sparkling jewels of dozens of people from all over the fiefdom. Lord Divish and Lady Stephanie were there, and of course Sir Radzig, smiling broadly. Even Hanush had turned up, decked out in summer finery. Henry entered the chapel and walked to the altar, his steps echoing off the flagstones, and turned, waiting.
As Theresa entered, his breath caught in his throat. Her gown was snow white. It glittered with jewels and pearls worked into the bodice, and trailed behind her several feet. Her hair was piled on top of her head in an elaborate style, complemented by the veil drawn over her face.
She approached him, and Henry felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes. He longed to tell her how beautiful she was, how much she took his breath away, but the priest was already into his sermon. Henry could do naught but stare at his beautiful bride.
The ceremony passed in a fuzzy haze of joy, and before he knew it Henry was told to kiss his bride. He pulled her to him and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, longing instead to part them with his tongue, to taste the depths of her mouth and, oh, perhaps more.
But they were in a church, and his father was watching, as well as her uncle. And Hans. So he pulled back instead. The chapel erupted into applause, and Henry and Theresa, now husband and wife, led the procession outside, where tables groaned under platters of food, tankards of ale, and casks of mead, and servants in Rattay livery waited to bring it to the many guests.
The party soon got into full swing. Henry kissed Theresa’s cheek, which was flush from the excitement. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. He grinned as he saw gooseflesh rise on her neck.
“So do you,” she whispered back.
Henry felt a strong hand squeeze his shoulder and turned, looking up into the face of Sir Radzig. “Well done, son,” his father said, smiling. “Your bride, and of course this ceremony, are beautiful.”
“Thank you, father.” Henry stood and shook his hand. “And thank you for being here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it!” Radzig pulled Henry in for a hug.
Henry thought of his mother and the man who raised him. His throat got tight, wishing they could have seen this day. But as he turned and looked at Theresa, he realized this day might never have come if that horrible day in Skalitz hadn’t happened. He would have wed Bianca and lived a small life in the shadow of Sir Radzig’s castle, never knowing the truth of his parentage, never leaving the borders of the town.
He missed his parents dearly, but he was so tremendously glad for the woman at his side. “My lovely wife,” he said, extending his hand, “may I have this dance?”
She grinned widely. “Of course, husband.” She slipped her hand into his and he led her to the open space amid the tables. The musicians Hans had hired were top notch, and were belting out a lively tune. Henry twirled his bride, recalling the steps Hans had spent hours teaching him, recalling too the ways some of those lessons had ended, with both him and Hans sweaty and panting and satiated, tangled together in bed. He grinned, thinking those lessons were, indeed, good preparation for his wedding day, and the night that would follow.
He pulled Theresa close, pressing her body against his, moving to the rhythm, and, despite the hot summer sun overhead and the thick layers of fine clothes he wore, a shiver went down his spine. He kissed her, deeply, slipping his tongue between her lips.
She pulled away, flushed bright red. “Henry!” she reprimanded. “Everyone is watching!”
“Can’t a man kiss his wife?”
“Behave yourself.” She pressed her forehead against his, smiling from ear to ear. “Later, I promise, you can do whatever you like.”
The music ended, and they made their way back to the table, hand in hand. Peshek came by thumped Henry in the back, and kissed Theresa’s cheek. “Eager for the marriage bed, this one, isn’t he?” Peshek winked at Theresa, and looked at Henry. “Anyway, Henry, I want you to meet someone.” He pulled a skinny lad not much younger than Henry by the arm. “This is Andrew, son of Simon. You know Simon, don’t you? Over at the Katzek mill.”
“How do you do?” Henry nodded at the boy.
“I’m, ah, taking him on to, you know, teach him some things,” Peshek said. “I’ll be shorthanded without Theresa, after all.”
Henry caught his meaning. “Well, don’t teach him anything here, would you, please? It’s my wedding day.”
“Of course not, of course not.” Peshek waved a hand. “And congratulations, boy! And my dear niece Theresa. On this feast as well!” He raised a tankard of mead. “Quite a feast, indeed!”
Henry raised his own tankard, and Theresa did too. She caught Henry’s eye, and they both smiled. Peshek must have made a fortune selling Hans the flour for all this food, for certain. What else could explain his jovial mood?
The dancing, drinking, and feasting continued, with person after person coming by to wish the new couple well. Hans, when he approached, was clearly already staggering drunk. Theresa grimaced as he loomed over them, spilling beer and hiccuping. Well, let him have his fun, thought Henry. He wondered again if, perhaps, Hans was more jealous of Theresa than he let on. Thankfully, he staggered on.
“Honestly, it’s not even dark yet,” Theresa said, wrinkling her nose.
“When has that ever stopped him?” Henry replied. “Ah, but don’t be too hard on him. He paid for most of this, you know.”
“Yes, well, that is a pleasant surprise.” She glanced at him. “He shows you great favor.”
Henry hoped his cheeks weren’t as bright as they felt. “He does treat me well. But, well, you know, I did save his life. At least twice. And I encouraged him to take hold of his birthright.”
“Mm hm.” Theresa swigged some more of her mead, then took Henry’s hand. “Dance with me again.”
With Theresa in his arms, whirling to the music, Henry spied Hans leaning drunkenly over Andrew, the boy Peshek had introduced him to. Henry wondered what Hans could have to say to the lad. But Theresa was warm against him, and he soon put it out of his mind.
As the sun began to set, some of the guests began to drift away. Peshek came by, scowling. “Have you seen that boy, Andrew?”
“Not for a while,” replied Henry, a sinking feeling growing in his stomach.
“It’s getting dark. What could he be up to?”
Henry had a thought, but he didn’t voice it. “If I see him, I’ll send him your way.”
“You won’t see him,” said Theresa. “It’s time for us to move into our new home.”
Henry forgot all about Hans and the boy. “Oh. Oh, yes, it is!” He rose and took her hand, leading her to the door of their new quarters. Her eyes danced as he bent and scooped her into his arms. A cheer rose from the guests who were still around as he stepped over the threshold with her. He kicked the door closed on their voices.
“Welcome home, wife,” he whispered, walking to the bed and laying her on it.
“Welcome home, husband,” she replied, pulling him down on top of her. It was now she who kissed him deeply, her tongue probing the depths of his mouth. Her hands moved over his body, tugged his fine shirt up, and they had to break their kiss for a moment to get it over his head. He sat and pulled her up, snatching at the laces at the back of her dress. She shrugged quickly out of it, and it pooled around her waist. His hands went to her breasts, massaging them, and she moaned even as she pulled open the laces of his breeches. They both wriggled out of their garments, and Theresa kicked them all to the floor.
“Do you want to hang that up?” Henry asked as her dress slipped over the side of the bed.
“Henry,” Theresa replied, “shut up and fuck me.”
He kissed her deeply, vigorously, his cock pressed between them. Her hips moved under him, and his cock slipped between her legs, finding her already soaking wet. He moaned as her juices coated the tip of his cock, warm and slick.
She pushed against him, and he was inside her, her warmth along the length of him. She sighed heavily, her breath against his neck. “God,” she murmured, arching her back, “I love you.”
He wanted to reply in kind, but his body had its own agenda, and he was thrusting, pounding against her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in deeply, crying out with each thrust. “Deeper,” she said, and he gripped the bed to push as deep into her as he could go. He felt the tip of his cock bump against some firm, inside part of her, and she fairly screamed. He paused, anxious.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, fuck,” she whimpered, writhing beneath him. “Do it again. Harder!”
So he did, pounding her with all his might, slamming into her again and again until he was panting with the effort and slick with sweat. Her eyes were closed tight, her head craned back, and then he felt a pulsing tightness around his cock as she gripped his arms, her fingernails biting into his skin, and cried out.
She let go, panting, and opened her eyes. She smiled at him. “Jesus, Henry, that was amazing.”
He grinned back, breathing deeply to catch his breath. She pulled him to her for a kiss, then let go, stretching her arms over her head. Her breasts rose as she did so, their nipples taut, gleaming sweaty in the candlelight, her skin flushed pink.
“Now, what would you like?” she purred.
“Stay just like that,” Henry breathed, entranced. He moved more slowly now, more gently, watching her body as it reverberated with his movements. She caught his rhythm and angled her hips a bit, and suddenly, somehow, she felt much tighter, squeezing the length of him. His breath came shorter, his thrusts faster, as his eyes closed. Finally, he spent himself inside her, eventually collapsing against her chest.
He lay against her, panting, as she stroked his damp hair off his forehead. Finally, he looked up. Her face was angelic, rimmed golden in the lamplight.
“I love you, Theresa,” he said softly.
She kissed his mouth, and they pulled the blanket over themselves and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
—————————————
For days, Henry felt like he drifted through life as if in a dream. He didn’t even mind that he had barely seen Hans, and when he had, the lord wore a sour expression. In fact, when he did think of Hans, his mind went back to the lord leaning over the miller’s boy. This thought threatened to banish Henry’s good spirits, so whenever it did occur to him, he thought instead of Theresa’s body, of her smile, of the feel of her skin. Finally, one evening, he found himself in Hans’s chambers, going over some bookkeeping.
Hans closed the book and looked around. “And Henry,” he said, “have you seen my brooch? With the ruby embellishments?” He patted himself, as if hoping to find it in his shirt. “I had it on at your wedding, but I haven’t seen it since.”
Henry scowled, his mood suddenly sour. “Well, have you asked that boy?”
Hans’s head snapped up. “What? What boy?”
“The one you bedded the day of my wedding.”
Hans’s expression darkened. “You think he took it?”
Henry shook his head ruefully. “Hans, you idiot. He’s the son of a miller. He’s probably been pilfering things since he could walk.”
“God damn it!” Hans ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, you’ve got to get it back for me.”
“I’ve got to do no such thing.” Henry hated how his heart beat faster and his breath came shorter with the knowledge that Hans hadn’t even tried to deny sleeping with the boy. “It was your dumb idea to let a thief into your bed in the first place. You get it back.”
Hans looked as though Henry had struck him. “Henry, you can’t be jealous?” He drew out the last word with relish.
“What, like you were, you mean? When you bedded a…a stranger?”
“You are jealous, you twit. I knew it!” Hans acted as if he’d proved something important.
“Well, isn’t that what you wanted?” Henry fumed. “Slobbering all over him right in front of me. That’s why you’ve called me here tonight, isn’t it? To rub my nose in it?”
“God, you really are full of yourself.” Hans waved his hands dismissively. “I’m not beholden to you, you know. I can fuck who I like. You do, after all.”
“Is that what this is about? That I got married? You bloody told me to!” Henry’s voice had risen, but he didn’t care. “You gave your blessing!”
Hans strode until he was nose to nose with Henry. Henry couldn’t sure whether he’d kiss or hit him. He did neither. “I meant it. Go home to your wife, boy, and leave me be.”
Henry blew out a breath. “Gladly.” He turned on his heel and stormed out.
That night, after a perfunctory performance with Theresa, he lay, still fuming, staring at the wall. Curled against him, she asked, “What troubles you, Henry?”
“What?” He frowned. “Nothing.”
“Come, dear, let’s not start our marriage with lies.” She placed two fingers against his chin and turned his face to her. “Did you have a fight with Hans?”
Henry rolled his eyes. “I suppose someone heard us shouting.”
“Rather a lot of someones, as I understand it. Is this because of that boy Hans bedded at our wedding?”
Henry stared at her. “About…you know about the boy?”
“Oh, come now, love. Everyone knows.”
“Everyone?” Henry felt sick.
Theresa sighed. “You’re more like them than you realize, you know.” She cocked an eyebrow at his quizzical look. “Nobles, I mean. They treat everyone in their house like furniture unless their name is preceded by ‘Lord’ or ‘Lady.’ Well, anyway, guards have eyes and ears, and they gossip worse than washer women.” She shook her head. “Everyone knows about Hans, Hal. And…” She bit her lip. “And about you. I got quite an earful from Peshek before the wedding, believe me. If you weren’t rich, I don’t think he’d have let me marry you.”
Henry felt like his veins ran with ice. “Everyone…”
“Oh, don’t look like that. You couldn’t have thought you were being discreet.”
“I…” Henry felt numb. All those months of sneaking around, meeting in secret, and everyone knew everything anyway? They could have just done away with all the pretense? All the times Henry had longed to reach for Hans’s hand when they were at the tavern, all the moments his lips ached for his lord’s, he could have given in?
But of course he couldn’t. What silly young lords did behind their chamber doors was one thing, but what they did where all the world could see was quite another. Henry breathed out, deflating. He looked at Theresa. “You knew, and you still married me?”
She took his hand. “Of course I married you. I love you.” Pulling him close, she whispered, “Don’t you love me?”
He wrapped his arms around her. “I do. I love you so much it hurts.”
She laced her fingers through his and pillowed her head against his chest. “You should work it out with him, you know,” she said.
“Why?”
She sighed. “You’re happier when things with him are good.”
He leaned back, causing her to look up at him. “You really don’t mind?” he asked.
“As long as you afford me the same courtesy.”
“The same—” He frowned, realizing what she meant. “Oh, no. You’re not going to go rutting with whomever you please.”
“And why not?” She pushed herself off him. “You do, and you always have. In fact, I think if…if things in Skalitz had…” She paused, composing herself. “You almost kissed me, once, you remember? And I expect you would have got around to it sooner or later, no matter what.”
“It’s not the same.”
“It bloody well is the same.” Theresa sat fully upright. “Listen, Henry. You might think you’re important, son of a noble and all that, but I am your wife, and I am entitled to some respect.” Her tone became authoritative. “You will afford me the same opportunities you take yourself, without complaint. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Henry’s response was automatic. She’d sounded so like a sergeant at arms giving orders to his troops. “Er, I mean…”
She shook her head. “Sir won’t do, of course, but I appreciate your…acquiescence.” She pursed her lips. “Perhaps ‘Mistress’ instead? Try that.”
Henry’s brows rose. “Listen, it just slipped out, I didn’t mean—”
“‘Yes, Mistress.’ Say it.”
Something deep in his belly turned over happily. “Yes, Mistress. As you say.”
She put a finger to her lips, thinking. “Stand up.”
He stood. Her tone was firm, commanding. The feeling inside him responded warmly, hotly, even.
“Step back into the light so I can see you.”
He did so, grinning.
“Wipe that smile off your face. I didn’t say smile.”
That was harder to do, but he managed it. His cock was now fully erect. She noticed too. “Oh, you like this, hm? Well then. Stand over there.” She pointed to the columns that ran from floor to ceiling in their home, shelving suspended between them. Curious but intrigued, Henry did as she commanded.
“Turn,” she said, and he did. “Raise your arms above your head.”
“What do you—”
“Don’t speak. Raise your arms above your head.”
His cock throbbed, this new version of her making his head spin. He obeyed, the act itself giving him a tremor of pleasure he’d never felt when jumping to heed the command of a captain in the forces.
She rose, reached into one of the baskets behind him, and withdrew a length of rope. She had to stand on tiptoes to do so, brushing maddeningly against him as she did, but she succeeded in tying his hands together to the column above his head. Then she stood back, surveying him. She eyed his cock, now glistening with a drop at its tip, and grinned. “You don’t mind this at all, do you?”
“No, Mistress.” Fuck, uttering the honorific made his cock twitch. It rolled off his tongue like honey.
She smiled devilishly. Instinctively, he reached for her, but his hands were bound to the column. She’d done a good job on those knots.
“Henry!” Hans’s voice called suddenly from beyond the door to their rooms. “Henry, are you there?”
“Fuck.” Theresa swore and dashed to the bed, struggling to get her dress on.
The door to the room burst open. Hans stood there, jaw hanging. Henry couldn’t do a thing, his hands still bound, and Theresa was still desperately struggling to get her dress back on. Hans stared, dumbly, and Henry, literally caught with his pants down, was mortified to discover that, if anything, he got even harder.
Finally, Hans stammered, “I’ll, uh, just come back later then.” He backed out and closed the door.
“Saints above,” Theresa muttered as Hans left. She spied Henry’s erection. “Well, seems you didn’t mind that.”
“I’m…not entirely sure, Mistress.” His cock throbbed.
Theresa looked at it a moment, then glanced at the door that Hans had just backed out of. With a nod, she wedged a chair under it, and turned back to him, slipping off her dress. “Well, if you’re not bothered,” she said, and dropped to her knees in front of him.
Henry moaned as she took him into her mouth. He had not thought this was a thing wives did. But then, he had also not imagined they tied their husbands to posts and made them call them “Mistress.” She was inexpert, but he supposed that was to be expected. He might have been a bit unhappy if she knew exactly what she was doing, after all. But she did it well enough. Her tongue stroked him, and she presently added fingers, gripping him, sliding wetly along his length as she sucked. Henry groaned and leaned his head back against the column. But before his ache burst in her mouth, she pulled back and stood, then untied his knots.
“Take me to bed,” she said, still using her commanding voice.
“As you wish, Mistress,” he said, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread from ear to ear.
—————————————
Over the next few days, whenever Henry saw Hans, the lord wore an expression Henry couldn’t quite read. Theresa had, after their exertions (which lasted until the sun was peeking over the horizon and had left Henry sore for days) instructed Henry that he was to inform Lord Capon that he was not to come barging into their home unannounced. Henry doubted he would have any trouble convincing Hans, after what had happened, only he could never seem to catch him alone to discuss things.
That all changed late one evening, when a young servant knocked on the door and bade Henry attend Lord Capon in his chamber. Theresa waved him out; as Henry reckoned, she knew he still hadn’t made up with Hans after their fight.
Henry pushed open the door to Hans’s chambers and was surprised to see that Hans wasn’t alone. Andrew, miller Simon’s boy, stood awkwardly near the bed, looking anywhere but at Henry. Hans, meanwhile, stood in the middle of the room, a smirk on his face.
“Henry, glad you could join us.” He reached past Henry to close the door, brushing against him. “You remember Andrew?”
“I do.” Henry tried but failed to keep the note of malice out of his voice. Andrew shifted uncomfortably.
“Now, Henry, be polite. Andrew is my guest.” Hans steered Henry into the room, though Henry’s feet felt like lead. “I know you were…well, perturbed to learn of my previous, ah, meeting with Andrew. I thought I might show you that you have nothing to fret over.” Hans went to the boy and placed his hands on his shoulders.
“What are you playing at, Hans?” Henry said darkly.
“Come now, that’s not the Henry I know.” Hans turned to Andrew. “Shall we show our boy Henry here your, um, special talents?”
Andrew looked as if he wished the floor would open and swallow him, but Hans undid the laces of his own breeches. Henry’s vision flooded red as Hans dropped his trousers to the floor, his cock already hard, and pushed Andrew to his knees before him. Henry found he could make no sound. He merely turned and barged from the room, slamming the door behind him.
—————————————
Henry spent the next few days fuming and avoiding Hans. If he so much as caught a glimpse of hair the color of honey or a flash of bright clothing, he ducked into the nearest dark corner or out the nearest gate. Under the pretense of running the household he visited Peshek, the tailor, the butcher, even the tavern, much to the innkeeper’s surprise. Anything to keep him out of Hans’s path.
“The nerve,” Henry said to Theresa one evening, sitting at the scrubbed table in the front room of their quarters. “He actually thought he’d, I dunno, give me a gift of watching the lad, what, suck him off?” He shook his head. “Disgusting.”
“Mm, indeed.” Theresa punched a needle through her mending. “Well, Sir Hans has never been much for subtlety, has he? But at least…” She didn’t finish her thought.
“What?” Henry glowered.
“Well, at least he did try to make it up to you.” She laid her work aside. “Don’t you think you’re carrying this grudge a bit too vehemently? You could at least speak to him.”
Henry shook his head. “And say what?”
At this, his wife merely shrugged. Before she could make any further comment, there was a knock at the door. “Henry?” It was Hans’s voice. “Henry, please let me in. I want to talk to you.”
“Bloody hell.” Henry was on his feet, beating a hasty retreat out their back door. “Tell him I’m…well, just tell him I’m not here.”
“No!” Theresa slammed a fist on the table. “Stop sulking and talk to the man. I’m tired of you pouting.”
Before Henry could react, she went to the door and threw it open. “Lord Capon, so lovely to see you.” She looked pointedly at Henry, cornered before he could escape. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” She sidled out of the door, easing it closed behind her once Hans had stepped into the room.
For all his noble manners, all his careful upbringing, Hans looked like a scolded child in that moment. “Henry, please, talk to me. I know you’ve been avoiding me.”
Henry only scowled in response.
“It’s about the miller’s boy, isn’t it?” Hans pressed on. “Look, I’m sorry. I see now it was a mistake to have him come here, to do that with you.”
“Oh, well spotted.” Henry still smoldered, but even he was surprised his tongue was working. But now that it had begun, he found he couldn’t stop it. “Hans, how could you? How could you think I’d want that? That I’d want to see you…see him….with your…” He trailed off.
“Look, I said I’m sorry.” Hans crossed the room to stand before Henry, but stopped when Henry backed away a step. “Please, I wasn’t thinking. I saw you with Theresa on your wedding day, and I realized…well…”
“Well what?” Despite himself, Henry’s curiosity was piqued.
Hans sighed. “I realized that you love her.”
Henry laughed, incredulous. “You only realized that on my wedding day?”
Hans rolled his eyes. “Men marry for all kinds of reasons. Especially men who like fucking other men. Duty, honor, whatever. I thought it was that. But then I saw the way you looked at her and…” Hans’s eyes shone unusually bright. “I knew. I just knew. You’re in love with her. And then when I saw you…well…” He clearly couldn’t even bring himself to mention the awkward moment he had barged in on.
Henry found that his anger was dissipating. “Hans.” He shook his head. “You are a colossal idiot, you know that?”
“I’m what?” Hans looked affronted.
“I’ve always been in love with Theresa. Your suddenly realization doesn’t change that it’s been true almost as long as you’ve known me.”
Hans looked like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. “Always been?”
“Well, perhaps not always. But for a long time.” Henry stepped closer. “About as long as I’ve been in love with you, actually.”
Hans’s head snapped up, his gaze met Henry’s. “You still love me then?”
Now Henry rolled his eyes. “Of course, you dolt. You think I’d be avoiding you if I didn’t? If I didn’t love you then…” He swallowed. “Then it wouldn’t have hurt so much to see you with that boy.”
Hans stepped even closer. Henry could feel his breath, could sense the tingling heat of his body. “How can you talk of being hurt by that, when you love someone else? Jesus, she had you tied to a post.”
Tentatively, Henry reached up to stroke Hans’s cheek. Hans closed his eyes and leaned into Henry’s palm. “But with you, with Theresa, nothing has changed. I love you just as much as I ever did.” He sighed. “More than ever, in fact. Seeing you with someone else, well. I suppose I realized just how much you mean to me.”
Hans took Henry’s palm and pressed it to his lips. He closed the gap between them, so their bodies were touching. “You still want me, then?”
Henry breathed a sigh. “Always.” He pressed his lips against Hans’s, and they parted quickly, opening wide to invite in his tongue. Hans’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close with need. Henry felt the hardness of him as it sprang to life, mirrored by his own desire, which had been denied this satisfaction for weeks now.
They pulled apart briefly to shrug out of shirts and tug off breeches, then tumbled to the bed, their mouths trailing kisses over each other’s skin.
“Oh Henry,” Hans breathed against him, “how I have missed you.”
Henry pushed Hans onto his back and bent his head, taking Hans’s cock into his mouth. Hans sucked air through his teeth and tangled his fingers in Henry’s hair as Henry began to stroke him, mouth and fingers working together.
God, but he had missed this. The taste of Hans, salty and rich, the feel of his velvet skin against Henry’s tongue, the delicious knowledge that his strokes brought gasping pleasure to his lover’s lips. Quickly, too quickly, Hans erupted into Henry’s mouth, filling him with the thick, bitter taste of his seed.
Henry wiped his lips briefly, but Hans was already turning onto his belly, pulling his knees under him. Henry dipped his fingers into a pot of oil beside the bed and stroked himself twice, coating his cock in the liquid, then ran his fingers across Hans’s hole. Hans leaned back into him, and Henry knew no more preparation was necessary. He pushed himself hard against Hans, sinking into him with one stroke, the pressure on his cock deliriously firm. But the space between them still made him ache, and he pressed Hans into the bed with one hand, lowering his body so they touched all along their lengths. His thrusts were small and gentle rather than frantic, and still he came quickly, almost as easily as Hans had done.
Sated, at least for the moment, he rolled off Hans to lie beside him. Hans pushed himself up and kissed Henry deeply, but without need. When Henry opened his eyes he saw that tears hung on Hans’s lashes.
“Let’s never fight again,” Hans whispered. “It’s been unbearable, being away from you.”
Henry pulled him close, relishing the warmth of his body. “That would be a silly promise to make. No. Instead, let’s agree always to talk. I won’t avoid you anymore.” He pulled back to look Hans in the eyes. “If you promise not to bring strangers into our bed without asking me.”
Hans laughed, even through the tears. “No, never again. Although….” Henry cocked an eyebrow, and Hans shrugged. “Well, if I did ask you…?”
“Oh, shut up.” Henry pulled him to himself again. They lay, quiet, arms around each other. “Please do understand though, Hans, I really do love Theresa.” He felt Hans tense beside him, and stroked his skin. “It doesn’t change what I feel for you. Or, rather…” He bit his lip. “Perhaps it makes it stronger. She knows, you know.” Hans glanced at him, and Henry nodded. “Apparently she’s not the only one. We must be more careful what we say and do in front of the guards.”
“Well, bugger.” Hans sighed, but nestled comfortably against Henry again. “What does she think, then?”
Henry shrugged. “She approves, near as I can tell.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “She says I’m happier when things are good with you.”
He felt Hans smile against him. “Well, good. You can tell her I intend to make you blissfully happy.” His finger circled around Henry’s nipple. “I am curious, though, how she got you to agree to be tied to a post.”
“No.” Henry’s voice was so firm Hans looked up in surprise. “You don’t get to know the details of our private affairs. That’s between me and her.”
Hans shrugged. “I just thought, if that’s something you wanted…”
“Not from you.” His tone was too firm. Hans looked wounded. Henry tried again. “What I mean is…well, you already have power over me, as my lord and employer. To bring that into bed would…it would make things ugly.”
“But not with her?”
“With her,” Henry fought to find the words, “it’s not the same. She has no innate power over me, so to give it freely, to relinquish that power…”
Hans sighed, his breath warm against Henry’s skin. “I don’t pretend to understand, but I can at least abide by your wishes. I won’t tie you up.” He glanced up, eyes gleaming. “Unless you ask me to, anyway.”
Henry nudged him with his nose. “For now, I’m just happy you’re here. Theresa is right. This is better.”