The Accidental Bride (Black Lace) Read online

  ‘Look, I can’t deny that I’ve been with women in the past, and not only when I was an escort. I love Lizzie.’ He reached out, and grabbed his lover’s hand. ‘She is beautiful. I still think she’s gorgeous. But I love her as a friend now. Sex was good when we were together, but we both knew we weren’t really suited that way, not deep down.’

  Tom laughed. His face lit up. Oh hell, that smile. John Smith had it too. It was a knockout. Beneath the sheet Brent’s cock started to stir again, even though they were fresh from pleasure. He could get a hard-on just from Tom’s smile, never mind the rest of his magnificently fanciable face and body.

  ‘I’m being a twerp, aren’t I?’ said Tom. ‘A nervous nelly, spooking over every desirable person of either sex that I think you might be lusting after.’

  Brent swallowed. For a moment, emotion blocked his throat. It awed him that Tom could feel just the same way he did, and think of him as just the kind of ultimate lover that he considered Tom to be.

  ‘Yes, you’re an idiot. You’re the one I want. But if it’s any comfort, the twerpishness is pretty mutual.’

  His heart thudded. He smiled back at Tom. He felt giddy. This is it, his heart beat out in a tattoo. He’s the one. Really the one.

  Not having to say anything, they fell into an embrace, Tom subsiding onto the pillows, on his back, strong, but, for the moment, yielding.

  ‘She’s good for John, you know, your Lizzie is,’ said the older man, when Brent lifted his face for a moment, gasping for air. ‘I don’t think he’s ever been this happy in his entire life. I mean … I’ve only spoken to him on the phone, but it’s in everything he says, in his tone of voice. He’s different, but in the best possible way.’ He gave a quizzical lift of his brows. ‘Probably sounds weird, given my brother’s success and wealth, but I think Lizzie is the making of him, I really do.’

  Brent considered his lover’s words. ‘Well, I don’t know your brother all that well, so I’ve no frame of reference, but when I’ve seen them together they seem well matched. As if they’re meant to be together.’

  Tom’s hands slid over Brent’s back. The touch was intimate, and yet a little distracted. He had more to say about his brother. Brent didn’t push for more kisses; he prepared to listen.

  ‘John hasn’t had a “steady” woman for a long time, and when he did have one, well, you wouldn’t believe the complications. Considering that he’s the looker of the family, Goldilocks has had the most tortuous luck with women!’

  ‘Goldilocks?’ Brent smiled. John Smith was a looker, and he did have the most remarkable blond hair. Not as gorgeous as his younger brother’s thick, wild brown locks, but lush, just the same.

  ‘Childhood nickname. Both George and I have dark hair. Well, George is getting a bit grey now, but it was dark once. We take after our mother’s side of the family, and John takes after Pa, who’s always had a bit of a lion’s mane, even if it’s shock-white now.’

  Brent would have liked to find out more about the rest of the Wyngarde Smiths, these blue-blooded men with titles, lineage and the whole shebang. He hadn’t met them as yet. Tom’s cottage was on the edge of the park, a fair distance from the main house and formal gardens. But there might – would – come a time when it was unavoidable. If he took the job, at least, he’d very probably encounter members of the family when he was working. But it could be much more than that. Hell, he might be facing exactly the same quasi ‘in laws’ issues that Lizzie had ahead of her.

  ‘So, John’s women, what about them?’ John Smith’s romantic history was something he needed to know more about; because it impacted on Lizzie’s present and future, and her happiness.

  Tom grasped his hand, and the two men lay on their sides, facing each other.

  ‘Well, for long enough now, he’s only really had short-term relationships. “Affairs”, I suppose you’d call them, although they’d barely merit the term. He just wasn’t interested in anything serious, after Clara … even after all these years. And being married to Caroline …’

  Brent had heard these names mentioned in passing before, but he and Tom hadn’t really touched on Tom’s brother’s love life all that much. They’d been too busy enjoying their own.

  ‘Caroline was his wife, right? And Clara … a girlfriend? Fiancée? What?’

  Tom heaved a sigh. ‘Well, I would have said she was the love of his life, until recently, but now Lizzie’s obviously taken that crown.’ He frowned. ‘The trouble is … Now that she’s lost his love for good and all, Clara might decide she wants it again, especially if she knows he’s with someone else. She’s like that.’

  Brent kept silent, waiting for more. He felt that Tom was right about Lizzie’s status with her man, and the idea that this woman from John’s past might hurt her was chilling.

  ‘Clara was … is … poison. Beautiful poison. She fucked my brother over big style.’ Tom made a sound of exasperation, his words confirming Brent’s fears. ‘Jonny is the strongest, toughest, smartest man I’ve ever known, but love can make even otherwise intelligent men into total idiots.’

  Against his will, Brent tensed, and Tom laughed. ‘Fret not. That is not the case with us!’

  The sense of carousel, of elated giddiness, surged again, but Brent made a conscious effort to settle, stay quiet, to pay attention.

  ‘Clara chucked John over, just when he needed her. And then she fucking well did it again, years later, when he thought they were both older and wiser and had a real chance.’

  Brent found it hard to imagine any woman chucking over John Smith. He had everything, looks, money, innate charm. Just like his brother.

  ‘Seems hard to believe, someone dumping your bro.’

  ‘Exactly,’ responded Tom. ‘But Clara was … is … Clara. Always looking for the bigger, better prize, or whatever. And the first time, well, he was the second son … and a jailbird. Not the greatest catch. So she broke up with him by default. Just never visited him, never replied to letters and was gone by the time he got out.’

  ‘What a mare.’

  ‘You said it!’ Brent sensed there was clearly no love lost between Tom and John’s ex-lover. ‘Not sure why she dumped him the second time. She was technically between husbands then, and John was fairly loaded by that time.’ Tom paused, as if for effect. ‘Knowing Clara, she was probably paying him back for marrying her mother.’

  Brent felt his jaw drop, and knew he was gaping like an idiot. ‘What the fuck? What are you on about?’

  ‘Oh, I guess you didn’t know. Which tends to suggest that Lizzie doesn’t know either.’ Tom’s eyes widened.

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘That Caroline, John’s ex-wife, is Clara’s mother.’

  ‘Jesus fuck! How the hell did that come about?’

  Brent listened, rapt, sex with his gorgeous boyfriend almost forgotten, as Tom told the tale. The story of how Caroline had always fancied her daughter’s beautiful, golden boyfriend, and when Clara had treated John so badly, the older woman had done a crazy and also bizarrely compassionate thing. She’d asked him to marry her, in exchange for making him a rich, rich man in his own right.

  ‘No, I’m almost certain Lizzie doesn’t know that,’ Brent said when Tom fell silent. ‘She knows about him having an ex called Clara, who was shitty to him, but if she’d known about a tangled web like this, she’d definitely have told me.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said Tom, reaching out to touch Brent’s face. His fingertips were strong, yet the touch was feather-light, suggesting, prompting.

  Brent’s libido stirred, yet still this mad revelation gripped him. ‘I wonder why he wouldn’t tell her? I mean, it’s quite a big thing, really.’

  Tom’s fine-featured face grew thoughtful. ‘I … I think maybe it’s some kind of Achilles’ heel. I think John sees his entanglement with Clara as a kind of weakness now. And he’s a proud man. He’s strong and confident and very clever. It’s human nature, and masculine ego, to want to be seen as all-powerful to the
woman he loves, and his history with Clara undermines that. It doesn’t make him a bad person to want to hide the screw-ups of his life, and be the great hero, the invulnerable warrior, for his woman.’

  Brent laughed softly, then turned his face to kiss Tom’s palm. ‘You’re a very smart man, lover. You should be a psychologist, or a counsellor or something. I hope you’re not trying to analyse me all the time. I think you’ll find that I’m perfectly aware of my own shortcomings. And … well … after cocking up my life a fair bit thus far, I’m actually quite comfortable with them.’

  Before Brent could catch his breath, Tom lunged forward, grabbed him by the back of his head, and kissed him hard, very hard. It was a wild kiss, but affectionate too.

  ‘I like you just the way you are, man.’ he said as they broke apart. ‘Shortcomings and all … In fact …’ The older man drew in a deep breath. ‘I love you, Brent. You know that, don’t you? All this talk about a job at Montcalm … and the cottage and all. I just want to be around you as much as I can possibly be. I want us to be together. Properly. A couple.’ His mouth twisted in a wry grin. ‘We’ll just have to build up to it very carefully, very cannily. The old man knows I’m gay, even though he chooses to ignore the fact. This will be putting it right in his face, though, and I don’t want him to have another of his turns. But I think we’ll be OK with a bit of finesse.’

  Brent shook. His body wouldn’t stop trembling. They’d been circling around this, since almost the moment they’d come together again. But this was Tom’s most overt declaration so far.

  You’re everything I want too.

  ‘I know it’s quick. And if it’s too soon for you, I understand.’ Tom’s voice sounded almost breathy, and Brent could see, wonder of wonders, that his lover was trembling too.

  He laughed. He couldn’t stop himself. It was an expression of pure joy.

  ‘Not too soon for me!’ he cried, wrapping his arms around Tom, and answering the wild kiss he’d received with one of his own. ‘I fucking knew it the moment I saw you again. I just knew it, man. That first time, we weren’t ready. We had to go through stuff … At least, I had. But now I’m ready. Completely ready.’ He gave Tom a steady look. ‘Of course, I’ll play it low key in public. Don’t want to cause you family grief. But between just the two of us, I’m yours, Thomas Wyngarde Smith, for good and all, as long as you want me.’ He kissed his lover again, a soft, sweet kiss. ‘I love you, Tom. I love you.’

  They kissed again, rolling around, devouring each other, the kisses all-embracing. It was all emotion, yet sex too. Their bodies surged together beneath the sheets, cocks rubbing against each other, more haphazardly than with intent, but deliciously pleasurable and exciting all the same. Tom slipped onto his back, his hands sliding possessively around Brent’s buttocks, increasing the pressure, increasing the friction, his legs coming up, presenting his erection to Brent’s in the cradle of his pelvis.

  Oh, this was so good. So sweet. They’d already come off a while ago, rocking and rubbing their cocks together, stroking each other to climax. But now Brent wanted and needed more, the closer communion, and he knew without having to be told that Tom wanted that too.

  ‘Please … have me, love. Fuck me,’ Brent whispered, offering himself. They’d never felt the need to discuss who did who, but Tom had naturally assumed the role of the dominant partner.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ answered Tom, his voice unsteady. ‘I love the way you feel when I’m inside you … It’s perfect … but … I …’

  Oh dear God.

  Brent almost threw himself at Tom, kissing harder, almost on fire with love. Blown away that this beautiful prince of a man would offer himself. His cock was a rod of steel, forged hard by desire and emotion, ready to enter, to possess.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes, completely,’ said Tom, smiling as they drew apart.

  Brent was all of a dither. He laughed at himself.

  Shape up, man! Be a stud! That’s what he wants.

  ‘OK, then, gorgeous … Let’s get to it.’ He kissed Tom again, then pushed at him, urging him to roll over. ‘I’d like you this way. I want to see that hot, tight arse of yours as I’m pushing in. I want you to be touching yourself as I fuck you. Stroking your rod.’

  ‘You say the sweetest things, lover.’ Tom laughed, complying.

  As his lover moved into position, Brent cast around and snatched the towel flung across the end of the bed. Things might get messy, with lube and spunk, and nobody wanted to get either of those on the twee chintz bedding of the Waverley. Although God knows how much spunk got spilt on a regular basis in this den of iniquity.

  He nudged at Tom, nodding at the towel. This wasn’t going to be the most elegant procedure. In fact, as they shuffled around, getting tangled in their limbs and the towel, rearranging themselves, it all got a bit haphazard. But they laughed, and got sorted, and pretty soon, Brent was pressing the head of his latex-clad cock to Tom’s anus.

  It was a tipping point, the first time for him, with Tom. Strong as he felt, his eyes filled with tears. He blinked them away, but one dropped on his lover’s back as he inclined over him.

  ‘Go for it, big boy,’ encouraged Tom. Brent knew that somehow, he’d felt the tear, the hesitation. ‘Go for it.’

  Brent pushed. Tom was tight, the ring so very snug, so resisting. Brent could almost taste Tom’s tension. It was a familiar, beautiful fear, even as desired as the act was. So he spoke softly to Tom, plying him with nonsense love words, anything to help him relax. To amuse him too, to make it fun, because fun always gentled the way. And it worked, because Tom grinned over his shoulder, looking back at him.

  ‘You really are the most loveable dickhead, you know.’

  ‘I should think I am!’ said Brent with a laugh, pushing with that head of his dick, passionate and ironic. His reward was Tom’s body yielding to him and letting him in.

  He slid home. Deep and home. Home, more than physically. He bent over Tom’s back, putting skin to skin, while he was lodged inside his lover. He kissed Tom’s skin, beyond words, loving the tight heat surrounding his cock.

  ‘Oh man,’ sighed Tom, adjusting his position, going onto one elbow as he reached beneath him.

  ‘Yes!’ encouraged Brent, eager for his lover-man to pleasure himself.

  They rocked and swayed. Brent began to thrust, keeping it smooth, even though the temptation to go maniacally wild was huge. Tom, around him, was delicious. Heaven on earth. He groaned, keeping it sleek and steady, swinging his hips in a light arc, in and out, in and out.

  ‘Oh yes, man, yes, do me! Do me! Do me! Do me!’

  Right over Tom now, like a second skin, Brent let go, thrusting, thrusting hard, losing his control. His body escaped him and on his last scrap of control, he kissed and kissed again, pressing his mouth to Tom’s mad, brown curls, tears dropping onto the lush silkiness of them.

  Hips on auto, he thrust and shagged and fucked. Tom was with him, loving the furore, gasping, grunting, burbling love words of his own, barely supporting himself while with his strong right hand he pumped his cock in time to the beat of Brent’s possession.

  It could not last long. It was too fabulous. Brent shouted, his cock pumping semen into the latex that contained him, while he reached beneath, folding his fingers around his lover’s fingers to feel the pump of his seed, free and unfettered, spurting over their clasped hands onto the towel beneath.

  With a great sigh, a sigh that Tom echoed back to him, Brent collapsed over his lover. For a few moments, they lay joined, sticky and happy, then they each rolled to one side and settled as spoons, smiling, lost for words, but not needing them.

  A while later, fresh from a shared shower and more fun – mutual masturbation beneath the teeming water – Brent stepped into fresh boxer briefs from the overnight bag he’d brought with him. ‘Do you think I should tell Lizzie about Caroline and Clara when I see her?’ he asked Tom, who was buttoning his shirt. The two of them had agreed on a meal in
the hotel’s restaurant, then an evening walk, then back to bed. Shagging was great, wonderful, the best, but somehow doing other things too had acquired a precious new aura of togetherness.

  Tom paused, pursed his lips. ‘I dunno … perhaps not. I think we ought to let John tell her the full story. In his own time.’ His slender fingers went back to work on his buttons. ‘I understand his hesitation, but he’ll tell her sooner rather than later. He’s a decent man. He doesn’t like keeping secrets. Not really.’

  ‘I wonder how she’ll take it?’ mused Brent. ‘It’s a bit of a shocker.’

  She’ll probably take it quite well, though, on second thoughts. Lizzie was strong and pragmatic, not a wimpy, weepy woman who behaved like an emo.

  ‘She sounds quite a grounded character,’ said Tom.

  ‘She is,’ Brent agreed. ‘She’s got a lot of sense.’

  Tom came over to him, and embraced him. ‘Don’t worry. They’re both intelligent. Both grown up. I think my brother and your friend have some ups and downs ahead, but they’ll get there. I’m sure of it. I know my brother. He’s made mistakes, but he does learn. That’s his great strength. And your Lizzie sounds like his perfect match.’

  She is. She is.

  Brent smiled as they completed their dressing and set forth from their room, together. Always together. From now on.

  As he was sure Lizzie would be with her John, before long.

  Tom smiled back at him, and took his hand, as they walked.

  11

  The Perfect Hostess

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be the perfect hostess, Lizzie. You look divine, and you don’t have to do a thing. Mrs T has got every food angle covered, and Thursgood will sort everything else. All you have to do is enjoy yourself.’

  Gah, easy for him! Swanning back home after being away most of the week, and completely used to sophisticated parties to start with. John was so suave and self-assured, he could fit in and probably be an honoured guest at every gathering he’d ever been invited to. When had he last experienced a single nerve at all, the blasé git?