The Heart of Summerlin (5/5)
Masterpost and Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue | Bonus material
“Lord Smith, I have called you here today due to a matter with your recent marriage,” the king said. “A petition has been submitted contesting its legality, so first, I would like to ask both of you: did you, at the time of your wedding, know of any reason that would prevent you from entering into this union?”
“Your Majesty,” Spencer said. “I did not at the time, but after receiving your summons, I realised it was not properly witnessed. My husband and I hope that we can show Your Majesty that there were extenuating circumstances for why it needed to take place in the way it did, however.”
King Peter frowned, looking first at Spencer, then at Brendon and lastly to one of his advisers seated along the side of the room. “Not properly witnessed?” he asked. “From what I could see of your license, it was signed by the requisite two witnesses as well as an ordained vicar.”
“Yes, but not by Your Majesty,” Spencer replied. “I thought-isn’t that why you have called us here today?”
King Peter sent him a sceptical look and made a sign to one of the servants. “I’m afraid that it’s a lot more serious than that,” he said. “Rosings, please state your case.”
A jolt ran straight through Spencer’s spine, and the attending courtiers mumbled their confusion as George Ross, the Duke of Rosings stepped apart from their company.
Brendon pressed a nervous hand to Spencer’s forearm, leaning toward him to whisper, “Spencer, what’s going on?” Spencer shook his head in reply, a sense of apprehension starting up at the back of his head.
“This,” Ryan’s father declared, holding up an official-looking parchment to the crowd, “is a contract signed by my son, George Ryan Ross III, and the Marquess of Summerlin on the marquess’s eighteenth birthday. A contract confirming the betrothal that was set up for them at an early age and declaring the two of them engaged to be married.”
King Peter turned to Spencer. “Did you sign such a contract?”
“I did,” Spencer said. “But it was dissolved later. Lord Ryan and I reached the decision that we no longer wished to enter into the match and had it declared null and void.”
“Do you have the contract dissolving the engagement?”
“No,” Spencer said. “I don’t. Lord Ryan kept it.”
“I assure you, Your Majesty,” the duke said firmly, “my son would never do such a thing. Apart from the obvious reason that it would directly disobey my wishes, giving up the match to the Marquess of Summerlin would prevent him from gaining the funds he needs to import rare items from both Asia and the colonies-a project I know for a fact is still underway.”
“And you don’t think I’d be willing to lend him the money, regardless?” Spencer asked heatedly. “You’ve known the particulars of my family’s happy situation for a long time, Your Grace. Rosings has always been able to rely on Summerlin in the past. Not having a marriage between our families wouldn’t change that.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” the duke said, giving Brendon a dirty look. “Regardless, unless proven otherwise, you are engaged to my son. Which means this... new marriage of yours is null and void on the grounds of an existing pre-contract.”
“The contract was dissolved,” Spencer insisted. “I swear it on my honour.”
“And why would my son make such a rash decision?” Lord Ross asked. “What reason could he possibly have?”
“It is not my place to tell.”
“Which is the same as to say there wasn’t one,” the duke declared triumphantly. “Your Majesty, I think I’ve presented all the evidence I need.”
“Lord Smith,” the king said seriously. “Do you have witnesses to this dissolution you’re talking about? Witnesses you can bring before the court to testify in your favour?”
Spencer stayed silent for a long time, and when he finally looked up at the king, the expression on his face was one of quiet defeat. “I have witnesses, yes. But I can’t bring them in front of the court at present.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a sensitive matter,” Spencer said simply. “If you would allow me, Your Majesty, I would like to write to Lord Ryan. He will, no doubt, be able to collaborate my story.”
“Very well,” King Peter said. “You have three days. At the end of that time, I will review all evidence presented by both sides and make a ruling. Lord Urie may keep his title and place in your quarters in the meantime.”
Brendon’s hand pressed once more into Spencer’s arm. It was an intimate gesture, too intimate in front of the present court, but Brendon was obviously distressed. And it was Spencer’s duty as his husband to comfort him.
Spencer’s hand came up to cover Brendon’s and squeezed reassuringly. He bowed. “Thank you. I’ll send out a messenger immediately, Your Majesty.”
Brendon was exhausted. As Spencer led him back to the Summerlin quarters, he felt himself longing for the bed that they’d shared the night before and to never have to wake up again. There were too many questions and conflicts swirling in his head, however, and he bit his lip to keep from just blurting everything he was thinking out, right in the middle of the halls where anyone could hear them.
If Spencer’s situation was what he’d told Brendon it was, there couldn’t be any money to lend to a project of Ryan’s. And while Brendon could picture Spencer keeping his misfortune a secret from the court in general, he couldn’t quite believe that the Duke of Rosings would go as far as to contest Spencer’s marriage in front of the king if he wasn’t sure there was something to gain from it.
Had Spencer lied to him all this time?
No matter how he twisted it, Brendon couldn’t come up with a reason for Spencer to do such a thing. Poverty was humiliating for a lord to admit to and not something someone like Spencer would do on a whim. It just made no sense.
Finally, they made it to their rooms, Spencer unlocking the door and holding it open for Brendon before shutting it behind them.
Spencer breathed a deep sigh, falling into an armchair limply. “Well, that was interesting.”
“It was,” Brendon agreed, biting his lip. “The duke was worryingly convincing.”
Spencer shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll send an express to Ryan, and we’ll have all the evidence we need to prove the contract was mutually voided.”
Brendon nodded, pulling off his jacket and folding it onto the bed, smoothing it. “What about the rest of it?”
Spencer shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”
“You’re poor,” Brendon stated bluntly. “Or so you told me. Except that doesn’t make sense, because how could you still be funding expensive projects of Ryan’s if you were? And doing so without even telling me about it.”
Spencer took a step forward. “Brendon, I-”
“Exactly how much are you really worth?”
Spencer bit his lip, looking away. Silence spread out between them. Brendon held his breath.
“Eighty thousand a year. Give or take.”
Brendon felt his jaw drop. “Eighty thousand pounds?. A year. God, that’s-” He broke off, putting numbers together in his head and feeling himself grow suddenly furious. “My entire fortune isn’t even half of that.”
“Yes, but Brendon, I-”
“No,” Brendon snapped, pulling away. “No, I don’t want to hear it. You’ve lied to me. For months.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Spencer insisted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, it was just-”
“Did you think I was stupid?” Brendon threw back. “That I wouldn’t figure it out?”
“Of course not! I wanted to tell you. I-”
“What? You didn’t find the right time? When we met that night, Spencer, that would have been the right fucking time!”
“I know that. I know I never should have pretended to be something I wasn’t. But please be reasonable! You were leaving the country. There was no time, and I was desperate to-”
“To what?” Brendon almost shouted. “To find someone who’d marry you?” He stopped short, a terrible possibility entering his mind. “When exactly did you and Ryan dissolve your engagement?”
Spencer visibly paled in front of him, and the sick feeling starting to build in Brendon’s stomach grew stronger. “That has-Brendon, that is not relevant. What’s important is that-”
“What date?” Brendon shouted, moving into Spencer’s space on instinct, pushing him back. “Tell me the date!”
“April 29,” Spencer said quietly.
Brendon turned away, blinking angrily at the hot wetness suddenly prickling at the corner of his eyes.
Spencer’s hand came up to stroke his arm. “Brendon...”
“No,” Brendon said, pulling away from the touch. “No. Just. Don’t touch me.”
“Brendon, please.”
“You married me the same day as you broke off your engagement,” Brendon said, swallowing hard against the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. “You lied to me to make me feel better about my station so that I would agree to the match. And you’ve lied to me ever since! While apparently giving your fiance-who still spends a lot of time at your estate-vast amounts of money behind my back. All while I’ve been worrying about the crops being good enough to let us make it through winter! So tell me, Spencer, how exactly would you like me to act to be reasonable about that?”
He left the room before Spencer had the chance to answer, slamming the door to the second bedroom so hard the nearby window shook with it. Spencer came after him-of course he did-banging on the door and pleading with Brendon to let him in.
Brendon slumped against the wall, letting Spencer’s excuses wash over him without hearing them. They were just words. Meaningless in comparison and not doing anything to make Brendon feel better. He choked on a sob.
He couldn’t believe he’d woken up that morning thinking the world was beautiful.
A long time later, he turned around and unlocked the door, opening it slowly and blocking the gap with his body. Spencer immediately started to speak. Brendon shook his head, pressing two fingers against Spencer’s lips softly before letting his hand fall.
“Just tell me one thing,” he said, steeling himself and raising his chin, meeting Spencer’s eyes. “Last night, was that your first time?”
“Yes,” Spencer said urgently. “Brendon, no, don’t even think that. I could never-”
He cut himself off, looking back at Brendon with something broken in his eyes. “I could never be untrue to you.”
Brendon closed his eyes, feeling tears burn hot behind his eyelids. Something eased a little in his chest, but it didn’t take away the underlying sickness. Unfaithful or not, Spencer’s lies were still there, and right now, Brendon just couldn’t make himself forgive them.
With one last look at Spencer, he took a step back and closed the door.
Brendon didn’t speak to Spencer for two days. Mostly, he locked himself in the second bedroom, pretending not to hear when Spencer knocked. He took a lot of walks too, leaving their chambers without comment on where he was going or when he would be back, as though Spencer had somehow turned invisible.
Spencer spent most of his time in their chambers as well. He’d sent off an express to Ryan as quickly as he could and was now waiting for a response or, even better, for Ryan to turn up at court himself and help Spencer fix the mess that Ryan, originally, had got them both into.
Also, he wanted to be where Brendon could easily find him, should Brendon change his mind and decide to talk to him again. It might not have been the most dignified thing to do, but after spending two days and nights missing Brendon like crazy and trying to apologise in a million different ways, Spencer figured dignity was vastly overrated.
A messenger finally arrived late on the evening before the king’s deadline, and Spencer read Ryan’s note with relief, noting it had been sent from an inn only half a day’s travel away from court. Especially as Ryan assured him in it that he hadn’t forgotten to bring their paperwork.
Spencer closed the note and rose from his chair with newly-found determination. Angry or not, Brendon was still married to him, and the ruling King Peter made the next day-whatever it might be-would greatly impact their lives. He walked over to Brendon’s door and knocked. No answer. When the second knock got the same result, Spencer put his ear to the door. Nothing.
Spencer frowned and checked his pocket watch. It was late; even if Brendon had gone down to dinner in the main hall, he should have been back hours ago. He put a hand on the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. The door opened easily, leaving Spencer looking into an empty bedroom. There were no lights lit anywhere, suggesting that Brendon must have been gone from it since some time in the afternoon.
Something cold grabbed hold of Spencer’s spine as he quickly checked Brendon’s coat rack and wardrobe. His regular clothes were still in place, but both his jacket and boots were gone. Spencer looked to the window. A heavy storm was coming in, already sending a light rain to tap against the glass as large black clouds rolled across the sky. If Brendon was out in the gardens and got caught in it...
Not wasting any time, Spencer hurried back into his own room. He pulled on his plainest boots and found a wool overcoat at the back of his closet to put over his clothes before heading out. He’d find a lantern on the way.
Brendon was sitting by a pond, idly throwing pebbles at the water when the rain started. At first, he didn’t mind it; his jacket was thick enough to keep him decently dry, and the rain against his face was light. When the wind started up, however, things became a lot more unpleasant, and soon, the rain was pelting down on him, getting under his clothes and chilling him to the bone.
He tried to keep his jacket up to protect his face, cursing himself for heading so far out into the grounds and not bringing any kind of light with him. A streak of lightning crossed the sky, followed by almost immediate thunder. Brendon thought of the metal details decorating his jacket and picked up his pace. This was not good.
The rain thickened until Brendon could barely see five yards in front of him, and the lightning and thunder sounded worryingly close. Brendon looked around frantically, searching for somewhere he could go to hide from the storm and wait it out. His eyes fell on something white to his left, and he hurried over. It was a small gazebo, beautifully embellished and covered in white flowers that climbed all over the walls and roof. Brendon gratefully ducked inside, removing his jacket and trying to wring some of the water out of it.
Now he really wished he’d brought some sort of heat source. A fire-dwelling pet salamander would have been nice. Or his dog. Fuck, Brendon really missed his dog.
He was just about to sit down on the floor and really feel sorry for himself when he spotted a light bobbing around somewhere in the distance. Considering the heaviness of the rain, it couldn’t be too far off. Brendon decided it was at least worth a shot.
“Hey!”
The light flickered and changed direction, moving closer. Brendon called out again, more urgently this time and the light picked up speed.
“Brendon!”
Brendon froze. That was Spencer’s voice, Spencer coming towards him with the light, out in the rain looking for him in a freaking storm. With whatever light-device he was carrying that was probably practically inviting lightning to come down and strike him. A moment later, Spencer stepped into the small space, soaked from head to toe and carrying a fucking carriage lantern. Brendon saw red.
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
“Looking for you!” Spencer threw back, clearly angry as well. “If you hadn’t noticed, there’s a storm happening out there. You could catch a chill and die.”
“So could you,” Brendon pointed out. “And I was doing fine. I don’t know why you even bothered.”
“Obviously, it’s because I’m such a lying, black-hearted rake,” Spencer said sarcastically. “I’ve been trying to apologise to you for two days. If you’d just listen, I could-”
“You could what?” Brendon asked. “Explain things? Tell me it was all a misunderstanding?”
“It is a misunderstanding!” Spencer threw back, sounding exasperated. “It wasn’t-”
“Really?” Brendon spat. “I misunderstood you telling me a dragon had ravaged your lands and left you impoverished? Or you telling me that my family’s funds would get us through the harvest? Or, wait, how about seeing Greta help sneak Ryan in through the back door and then finding the two of you alone in your study? Maybe that’s the part that-”
“For heaven’s sake, yes,” Spencer shouted. “I lied to you about the money. I’m sorry. And I’m even sorrier I didn’t tell you about having been engaged to Ryan, but anyone who knows us could tell you that Ryan and I have never had a more intimate relationship than what is normal between friends. We were betrothed as children and went along with the engagement because it gave us freedom to do what we wanted without having to worry about the pressure of everyone we met considering one of us a potential match. We never intended to go through with the marriage. That I ran into you on the night when we finally signed the dissolution papers was completely coincidental!”
Spencer closed his mouth, looking suddenly tired. Brendon took a step back, resisting the urge to reach out and comfort him.
His head was spinning, too many feelings and thoughts in it at once. He tried to find the anger in it, needing something clear and bright to focus on to keep himself from crumbling.
“Well, I don’t like being manipulated,” he tried. “You had no right to lie to me when it affected the biggest choice of my life.”
“Your parents were already taking away that choice,” Spencer said tightly. “I was just trying to help us both.”
“Yeah, well, they’re my family,” Brendon retorted, putting as much venom as he could into his voice. “And at least they loved me enough not to lie about what they were doing and why.”
“I didn’t mean to lie!”
“Well, you still did. And you know what? You can take your fucking pity and-”
“I was desperate!” Spencer shouted. “You were leaving. I didn’t know what else to do!”
“Why would you even have cared?”
“Of course I cared, you-”
“How can you possibly say that? You barely even knew me then!”
“But I was still in love with you!”
A flash of lightning darted through the sky, lighting up the gazebo and allowing Brendon a clear view of Spencer’s stricken face.
“You... what?”
“I-,” Spencer stammered, quickly turning his head to the side. “Forgive me, I-”
He started turning away, like he needed to get out and couldn’t move fast enough. Brendon grabbed his arm.
“Wait!”
Spencer fisted his hands, his jaw set tightly. “I fell stupidly in love with you the moment I saw you and couldn’t bear for you to disappear to another continent or marry someone else. And I thought that if I could just get you to agree to a marriage, maybe eventually, I could make you happy. There. That’s my whole sinister plot. I’m sorry. Happy now?”
Thunder coursed through the sky, humming over Brendon’s skin. He raised a hand to Spencer’s face. “Spencer.”
“Don’t,” Spencer said, flinching away like Brendon had been about to strike him. “Just don’t, all right? I don’t need-”
“Stop talking.”
“You were the one who had to bring it up!” Spencer shot back. “If you hadn’t-”
Brendon didn’t let him finish, fisting his hands instead in Spencer’s hair to yank him down to Brendon’s level and crush their lips together. Heat soared through him, propelling his body forward until he had Spencer’s body pushed up flat against the gazebo wall.
Spencer’s hands came up to grip Brendon’s waist, pressing so hard that Brendon knew there would be finger shaped bruises there in the morning. The thought sent more heat pooling low in his belly, and he pressed himself closer, hands moving from Spencer’s hair to push desperately at his overcoat.
“Shit,” Spencer muttered, the word a warm puff of air against Brendon’s lips before his mouth was back, kissing Brendon harder. He started pulling Brendon’s jacket off, and Brendon made a grateful sound in the back of his throat, shrugging it off quickly and going for Spencer’s jacket and vest. His fingers slipped on the buttons, wet material clinging stubbornly to where it was, refusing to cooperate. Brendon groaned in frustration.
“Why are there so many pieces of clothing, Christ,” he muttered as he kept fumbling with the jacket, vest and shirt in turn, desperately trying to push the fabric out of the way in search for skin.
Spencer laughed low, hot and infuriating all at once, and Brendon bit down at the skin Spencer’s loosened cravat had exposed in retaliation.
Another flash of lightning crossed the sky, fuelling the urgency between them. Spencer was yanking gracelessly at his shirt now, pulling it over Brendon’s head and bringing it down before Brendon could get his arms free, trapping both Brendon’s hands effectively behind his back and pulling him even closer. His knee came up to push between Brendon’s own, and Brendon let out a startled moan when Spencer’s thigh pressed up against him, feeling his own knees go suddenly weak.
He dropped shakily to the floor, yanking his hands free and pulling at Spencer’s pants, feeling a surge of relief run through him when he got them open and could finally get close enough, filling his senses with all things Spencer as he opened his mouth and got a first taste.
“Brendon,” Spencer gasped, his head tilting back against the wall. “God.”
Brendon pressed his tongue against the head of Spencer’s cock. Something hot and bright was surging up inside him, making him desperate for Spencer to know what this meant to him, how the sudden fear of almost losing this was strong enough to choke him. He grabbed Spencer’s hands and placed them on the back of his head, wanting to feel Spencer fill him and claim him and make sure Brendon would feel it for days. Wanting to make him remember.
Spencer obliged him, curling his fingers into Brendon’s hair and tugging, and Brendon made a happy little sound in the back of his throat, overwhelmed by the feeling of Spencer’s cock in his mouth, its unfamiliar, heavy drag along the length of his tongue. He went deeper on instinct, sucking harder and wanting more, and Spencer’s hips jerked in response, a little too hard.
Tears stung at the corners of Brendon’s eyes as he pulled off, coughing. Above him, Spencer stuttered an apology. Brendon barely registered it, waving Spencer off between coughs and swiping his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve before grabbing Spencer’s hips again, thumbs settling in the dips of his hipbones, and took in as much as he could, then, slower, a little more and a little more until finally he’d taken in all of him.
Spencer shuddered, trying desperately to keep his hips still.
Brendon stayed like that a moment, then pulled off slowly, his heart speeding up at how absolutely gone Spencer already looked, mouth red and open, gasping, cheeks flushed. He was still only half undressed, clothes in an utter state of disarray. He looked absolutely criminal.
Brendon palmed himself through still-damp trousers. God, he needed this so much.
His hands tightened on Spencer’s hips, drawing another moan from him. Spencer spread his legs wider moving helplessly into Brendon’s touch as Brendon started to stroke his thighs, very nearly gagging him again as one of Brendon’s hands ran up the inside of one and brushed against his ass.
Brendon pulled off a second time and reached for his own belt, groaning in frustration when he couldn’t get it open fast enough. Spencer dropped to his knees beside him, kicking at his own trousers and trying to get Brendon’s off at the same time. One of Brendon’s legs finally came free, letting him spread his legs and pull Spencer down on top of him.
They both moaned as their hips lined up, moving against each other desperately. More apologies were breaking from Spencer’s lips, and Brendon muffled them with kisses, trying to push a few of his own back into Spencer’s mouth.
He reached for Spencer’s fingers, taking them into his mouth and getting them wet. Spencer shuddered above him, and Brendon bit back a whine as Spencer pulled his fingers out and reached down between them. He raised his hips, straining for contact, letting out another impatient sound when none came.
Above him, Spencer moaned.
“Are you..?” Brendon strained his neck, pulling away from Spencer’s mouth to try to get a better view. “Spence. God. What-”
“Want you,” Spencer murmured against his neck. “Want to feel what you felt. Brendon, please.”
Brendon reached back and found Spencer’s hand, tracing a finger around the one Spencer was pushing into himself and feeling his mind black out for a minute. He rolled Spencer over on his back, taking two fingers on his right hand into his mouth, experimentally, wetting them with his tongue before moving one between Spencer’s legs, pressing tentatively against his entrance.
Spencer gasped, gripping Brendon’s hair with his free hand. Brendon bit his lip hard to keep himself in control and pushed one finger in next to Spencer’s.
The fit was incredibly tight, and Brendon found himself desperate to know if Spencer had ever done this before, images of Spencer lying back on his bed, pleasuring himself, immediately flooding his mind and making him that much harder. When he felt Spencer start to finally relax around them, he hid a grin against the smooth skin of Spencer’s hip and crooked his own finger. Spencer jerked, panting.
Brendon smiled up at him. “Good?”
Spencer swallowed hard, nodding.
“Good.” Brendon withdrew both their hands and crawled on top of him, waging war on Spencer’s remaining clothes, then his own, until they were both finally naked, hot skin to skin. Spencer leaned up to kiss him, desperate and needy, and Brendon responded in kind, licking his way into Spencer’s mouth.
He never wanted to not be kissing Spencer again.
Brendon hooked one of Spencer’s legs over the crook of his elbow and moved his hand back down, working a finger back into Spencer, then two and three before pulling out and trying to get himself as wet as he could before aligning himself with Spencer’s entrance, pushing just the head of his cock into him.
Spencer cried out into Brendon’s mouth, hands moving up to dig into Brendon’s shoulders painfully as Brendon eased into him, inch by inch.
It took every bit of Brendon’s willpower not to just start thrusting as hard and fast as he wanted, but he managed, if only barely. He waited a moment for Spencer to adjust to him before pulling out a bit, then slowly pushing back in. “Okay?”
Spencer opened his eyes, his normally blue irises so dark they looked almost black. “Move.”
Brendon managed a shaky nod and leaned down to kiss him.
They managed to set up a pace, slow, if a little jerky-Spencer was so fucking tight, Jesus-and Spencer squirmed beneath him, nails digging into Brendon’s skin when he hit just the right angle. “There. Fuck, right there.”
Brendon kept his position, rolling his hips to his that same spot, and Spencer pushed down to meet him.
“Shit,” Brendon muttered, pressing his face into Spencer’s neck to keep himself together. The pace quickened, though Brendon was unsure of which of them initiated the change, and he wedged his hand between them desperately to grip Spencer’s dick, twisting his wrist in a way that Spencer seemed particularly fond of, from the utterly sinful noises he was making.
Spencer came first, hot and sticky between them, and Brendon was only a few moments behind him, hips stuttering as his vision blurred out, bright white filling his vision. When he came to, he found himself collapsed on top of Spencer, breathing heavily. He never wanted to move again.
“I love you,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin of Spencer’s shoulder.
Spencer looked up at him, utter shock filling his face. Brendon leaned in and kissed him, pressing the words into Spencer’s mouth until the lips beneath his curled into a smile and Spencer’s hand came up to tangle in his hair, angling their faces for a deeper kiss.
Lightning flashed in the distance, lighting up the gazebo for a moment. A flicker of something metallic caught Brendon’s eye, and he lifted up, reaching over Spencer and picking it up.
“What?” Spencer asked, his eyes barely still open, mouth trying to reach the sensitive spot beneath Brendon’s right ear.
“Your pocket watch. It must have fallen out of your vest pocket.” Brendon flipped it open. “It looks like it’s stopped.”
Spencer twisted his head around quickly, focusing on the object in Brendon’s hand. “Brendon-”
Brendon ducked down and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, absently twisting one of the knobs on the side of the watch with his fingers, attempting to reset it.
A slow, tinkling melody filled the room.
Brendon’s brow furrowed, as though he was looking for something in his memory that had been pushed back a long time ago. He rolled off Spencer and over on his back, holding up the watch in front of his face to get a better look. “Did you make this? Like the music boxes?”
Spencer nodded, looking suddenly nervous.
Something about the melody was calling up a feeling of excitement, of people all around him and a warm hand clasped in his. Brendon blinked, the memory clicking into place, face breaking into a wide grin. “Is that the song we danced to at the night of the coronation?” At Spencer’s confirming nod, the grin grew even wider. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
Spencer blushed, his entire face a little red. “Well, you obviously remember it too.”
Brendon laughed, bright and happy, then carefully set the watch down before kissing Spencer, pushing him back down against the wooden floor.
Spencer woke up to soft kisses against the back of his neck. For a few moments, he simply kept his eyes closed, revelling in the sensation and pretending to still be asleep. Something in his breathing must have given him away, though, because the kisses grew hotter and strong hands stroked their way up his chest, turning him onto his back and pushing him into the pillows.
Brendon’s mouth came down on his, foregoing sweet and lazy for hot and hungry. Brendon’s hand travelled down his body until it could circle under his left thigh, pushing the leg up. Spencer arched into the touch, muscles still deliciously sore from their earlier lovemaking, but somehow, that just made everything feel even better, a hint of discomfort anchoring him firmly to the reality of what had happened between them.
Brendon’s hand stopped touching him for a moment and then came back slick and warm, touching Spencer carefully as he spread the oil around, adding to the wetness that still lingered between his legs. Their kisses grew wetter and deeper as Brendon shifted his weight, brushing against Spencer’s entrance with the tip of his cock.
Spencer pulled his legs up higher.
“How much time?” Brendon found himself asking for what must have been the fifteenth time.
Spencer stopped fiddling with his cravat for a moment and pulled out his pocket watch. “Ten minutes.”
Brendon nodded, moving to stand next to Spencer in front of the mirror, pulling at strands of his hair self-consciously. Fear was pooling in his stomach, making him feel increasingly sick.
“Spencer?”
Spencer stilled beside him. Their eyes met in the mirror, and Brendon could tell that Spencer was nervous too. “Yes?”
“What happens if the king decides Ryan’s father is right?” Brendon managed to ask. “Will it-can he actually make you marry Ryan instead?”
Spencer looked away, breaking eye contact for a second while his hands went back to pull at his already perfect clothes. “Well, he is the king, and I’m his subject, so technically, he has the power to make me do anything he wants.” At Brendon’s stricken look, he quickly amended, “It would be a blatant exercise in misuse of power, though, so he wouldn’t. The king might dissolve our union as unlawful, but he can’t make me marry Ryan. Not against my consent.”
“But I thought you already signed the papers?”
“Only the engagement,” Spencer replied. “Ryan and I never got formally married, and we’ve never consummated our relationship. No matter how much Ryan’s father might will it, an engagement contract is not a marriage. It’s a bit scandalous to have one dissolved, of course, but it’s both doable and legal.”
Brendon ran a frustrated hand through his hair, breathing a sigh. “Our entire marriage has been one big scandal, from start to-” He stopped short, a sort of pained realisation at what he’d almost said passing quickly over his face.
“Brendon,” Spencer said, taking Brendon’s hand in his and stepping close enough to lean their foreheads together. “If the king dissolves our marriage today, the first thing I’ll do is ask you to marry me again. I’ll jump through whatever hoops he dictates in order to smooth Ryan father’s ruffled feathers, but I’ll keep asking, and I won’t give up unless you tell me to.”
Brendon closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. Spencer’s hands squeezed his tighter.
“I love you,” Spencer whispered. “I’ve loved you since I first met you. And I know how to wait. As long as you want me, I’ll wait forever to have you back. You’re the only one I want to be married to.”
Brendon bit his lip, nodding. Something hot was starting to burn behind his eyelids, threatening to spill over from the overwhelming wave of feelings at Spencer’s words.
“Brendon.”
Brendon looked up. Spencer’s eyes were dark. There was fear in them, and determination, and the clear message that he’d meant every word of what he’d just said.
Brendon kissed him, hard and desperate, wrapping both arms around Spencer’s neck and pulling him close enough that neither of them could breathe properly. Spencer didn’t seem to mind, kissing back with equal fervor and fisting his hands in the material of Brendon’s jacket.
They kissed until there was a sharp knock on the door, and a royal messenger stepped in, bowing politely.
“My lords,” he said, giving first Spencer, then Brendon a polite nod. “The king is ready to make a ruling.”
“In the light of the presented evidence,” King Pete declared, “I rule the engagement contracted between Viscount Ryan Ross and Marquess Spencer Smith dissolved by mutual agreement. Both parties shall be considered to have been legally available to enter into new unions, and the unions that were contracted on the same day as the initial contract was dissolved,” at this point, the king paused, looking at Spencer and Ryan with an amused smile on his face, “are to be considered legal and binding.”
The court erupted with excited chatter, but Brendon didn’t hear them. He was out of his seat before he could stop himself, throwing his arms around Spencer’s neck. Spencer hugged him back, whispering how happy he was in Brendon’s ear. Brendon noticed that both of them were shaking a little as they let go, unable to stop smiling at each other.
“That is outrageous!” Ryan’s father exclaimed, breaking through Brendon’s happy daze and standing up from his seat, his expression livid. “My son’s betrothal to the Marquess of Summerlin was arranged when they were in their cradles! Is this to be thrown away because of some baron’s upstart son and a flight of fancy? I think not. Now, I wish that-”
“My dear duke,” the king interrupted him firmly. “What is done is done. The engagement was dissolved, and both your son and Lord Smith are married elsewhere. I see no reason to annul these marriages.”
“What?” Lord Ross spluttered. “My son is not married. What a preposterous idea! Ryan would never-”
“I have his marriage contract among the documents in evidence,” King Pete said patiently. “Lord Ryan, if you would be so kind to perhaps keep your father a bit more informed of your affairs in the future?”
Brendon looked at Spencer, feeling his eyes go wide. Ryan was married as well? And secretly so, apparently, since neither Brendon nor, clearly, Ryan’s own father knew anything about it. He gave Spencer a pointed look, trying to convey that he’d better explain this as soon as they had a moment to themselves. Spencer had the decency to look sincerely apologetic, leaning in to put a quick kiss on Brendon’s lips before nudging his attention back towards Ryan and his father.
There was a movement at the edge of the crowd, and Brendon felt his jaw drop as the twins’ governess stepped onto the floor and walked up to Ryan, taking his offered arm and falling into a low curtsy in front of his father.
Brendon stared. Lord Ross looked from Ryan to Greta and then back in confusion, before something seemed to click in his head and his face turned a worrying shade of scarlet.
“Father,” Ryan said pleasantly, “please allow me to introduce Lady Greta Salpeter, the future Duchess of Rosings.”
“That’s why I was in town so late that night,” Spencer whispered to Brendon. “Helping Ryan Ross elope is not a simple affair. I spent ages looking for those mechanical flowers.”
In front of them, Ryan’s father glared at his son, then turned to the king. King Peter simply smiled in return to his harsh gaze. The duke clenched his jaw tightly together and exited the hall without another word. Brendon saw Greta look up at Ryan worriedly. Ryan shrugged and then smiled, leaning in to kiss her.
“If there are no more announcements or clarifications that need to be made in this case,” King Peter said, “I’d like to congratulate Viscount Ross, Lord Smith and their respective spouses. May your marriages be long and fruitful. And, Lord Smith, don’t fret so much about tradition. If I had to approve every courtship and attend every wedding that traditionally demanded it, I wouldn’t have time for my own marriage, and my husband would be most displeased. Congratulations, all four of you.”
Brendon followed Spencer’s lead as they all bowed to the king. Ryan and Greta waved to them as they left the hall, and Brendon took Spencer’s hand, leading them toward the palace gardens.
They walked hand in hand along one of the paths that were still wet with rain after the storm, letting everything sink in and solidify. Brendon felt Spencer’s hand tighten around his. When he looked up, Spencer was trying to hide a smile.
“So,” Spencer said, “we’re still married.”
“Seems like it,” Brendon replied with a shrug, persistently pushing back the answering smile he could feel wanting to spread on his own face.
“Perhaps we should celebrate,” Spencer suggested, trying to look innocent and failing completely. “Considering we never did have a wedding feast, I mean. Anything specific you’d want to do?”
Brendon stopped walking, turning Spencer toward him and pulling his head down, kissing him slow and sweet and undeniably dirty. “Well,” he said with a slow smile, smugly noting the beginnings of a flush in Spencer’s cheeks, “I guess I could think of a couple of things.”
Spencer laughed and pulled him back in.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue | Bonus material
“Lord Smith, I have called you here today due to a matter with your recent marriage,” the king said. “A petition has been submitted contesting its legality, so first, I would like to ask both of you: did you, at the time of your wedding, know of any reason that would prevent you from entering into this union?”
“Your Majesty,” Spencer said. “I did not at the time, but after receiving your summons, I realised it was not properly witnessed. My husband and I hope that we can show Your Majesty that there were extenuating circumstances for why it needed to take place in the way it did, however.”
King Peter frowned, looking first at Spencer, then at Brendon and lastly to one of his advisers seated along the side of the room. “Not properly witnessed?” he asked. “From what I could see of your license, it was signed by the requisite two witnesses as well as an ordained vicar.”
“Yes, but not by Your Majesty,” Spencer replied. “I thought-isn’t that why you have called us here today?”
King Peter sent him a sceptical look and made a sign to one of the servants. “I’m afraid that it’s a lot more serious than that,” he said. “Rosings, please state your case.”
A jolt ran straight through Spencer’s spine, and the attending courtiers mumbled their confusion as George Ross, the Duke of Rosings stepped apart from their company.
Brendon pressed a nervous hand to Spencer’s forearm, leaning toward him to whisper, “Spencer, what’s going on?” Spencer shook his head in reply, a sense of apprehension starting up at the back of his head.
“This,” Ryan’s father declared, holding up an official-looking parchment to the crowd, “is a contract signed by my son, George Ryan Ross III, and the Marquess of Summerlin on the marquess’s eighteenth birthday. A contract confirming the betrothal that was set up for them at an early age and declaring the two of them engaged to be married.”
King Peter turned to Spencer. “Did you sign such a contract?”
“I did,” Spencer said. “But it was dissolved later. Lord Ryan and I reached the decision that we no longer wished to enter into the match and had it declared null and void.”
“Do you have the contract dissolving the engagement?”
“No,” Spencer said. “I don’t. Lord Ryan kept it.”
“I assure you, Your Majesty,” the duke said firmly, “my son would never do such a thing. Apart from the obvious reason that it would directly disobey my wishes, giving up the match to the Marquess of Summerlin would prevent him from gaining the funds he needs to import rare items from both Asia and the colonies-a project I know for a fact is still underway.”
“And you don’t think I’d be willing to lend him the money, regardless?” Spencer asked heatedly. “You’ve known the particulars of my family’s happy situation for a long time, Your Grace. Rosings has always been able to rely on Summerlin in the past. Not having a marriage between our families wouldn’t change that.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” the duke said, giving Brendon a dirty look. “Regardless, unless proven otherwise, you are engaged to my son. Which means this... new marriage of yours is null and void on the grounds of an existing pre-contract.”
“The contract was dissolved,” Spencer insisted. “I swear it on my honour.”
“And why would my son make such a rash decision?” Lord Ross asked. “What reason could he possibly have?”
“It is not my place to tell.”
“Which is the same as to say there wasn’t one,” the duke declared triumphantly. “Your Majesty, I think I’ve presented all the evidence I need.”
“Lord Smith,” the king said seriously. “Do you have witnesses to this dissolution you’re talking about? Witnesses you can bring before the court to testify in your favour?”
Spencer stayed silent for a long time, and when he finally looked up at the king, the expression on his face was one of quiet defeat. “I have witnesses, yes. But I can’t bring them in front of the court at present.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a sensitive matter,” Spencer said simply. “If you would allow me, Your Majesty, I would like to write to Lord Ryan. He will, no doubt, be able to collaborate my story.”
“Very well,” King Peter said. “You have three days. At the end of that time, I will review all evidence presented by both sides and make a ruling. Lord Urie may keep his title and place in your quarters in the meantime.”
Brendon’s hand pressed once more into Spencer’s arm. It was an intimate gesture, too intimate in front of the present court, but Brendon was obviously distressed. And it was Spencer’s duty as his husband to comfort him.
Spencer’s hand came up to cover Brendon’s and squeezed reassuringly. He bowed. “Thank you. I’ll send out a messenger immediately, Your Majesty.”
Brendon was exhausted. As Spencer led him back to the Summerlin quarters, he felt himself longing for the bed that they’d shared the night before and to never have to wake up again. There were too many questions and conflicts swirling in his head, however, and he bit his lip to keep from just blurting everything he was thinking out, right in the middle of the halls where anyone could hear them.
If Spencer’s situation was what he’d told Brendon it was, there couldn’t be any money to lend to a project of Ryan’s. And while Brendon could picture Spencer keeping his misfortune a secret from the court in general, he couldn’t quite believe that the Duke of Rosings would go as far as to contest Spencer’s marriage in front of the king if he wasn’t sure there was something to gain from it.
Had Spencer lied to him all this time?
No matter how he twisted it, Brendon couldn’t come up with a reason for Spencer to do such a thing. Poverty was humiliating for a lord to admit to and not something someone like Spencer would do on a whim. It just made no sense.
Finally, they made it to their rooms, Spencer unlocking the door and holding it open for Brendon before shutting it behind them.
Spencer breathed a deep sigh, falling into an armchair limply. “Well, that was interesting.”
“It was,” Brendon agreed, biting his lip. “The duke was worryingly convincing.”
Spencer shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll send an express to Ryan, and we’ll have all the evidence we need to prove the contract was mutually voided.”
Brendon nodded, pulling off his jacket and folding it onto the bed, smoothing it. “What about the rest of it?”
Spencer shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”
“You’re poor,” Brendon stated bluntly. “Or so you told me. Except that doesn’t make sense, because how could you still be funding expensive projects of Ryan’s if you were? And doing so without even telling me about it.”
Spencer took a step forward. “Brendon, I-”
“Exactly how much are you really worth?”
Spencer bit his lip, looking away. Silence spread out between them. Brendon held his breath.
“Eighty thousand a year. Give or take.”
Brendon felt his jaw drop. “Eighty thousand pounds?. A year. God, that’s-” He broke off, putting numbers together in his head and feeling himself grow suddenly furious. “My entire fortune isn’t even half of that.”
“Yes, but Brendon, I-”
“No,” Brendon snapped, pulling away. “No, I don’t want to hear it. You’ve lied to me. For months.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Spencer insisted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, it was just-”
“Did you think I was stupid?” Brendon threw back. “That I wouldn’t figure it out?”
“Of course not! I wanted to tell you. I-”
“What? You didn’t find the right time? When we met that night, Spencer, that would have been the right fucking time!”
“I know that. I know I never should have pretended to be something I wasn’t. But please be reasonable! You were leaving the country. There was no time, and I was desperate to-”
“To what?” Brendon almost shouted. “To find someone who’d marry you?” He stopped short, a terrible possibility entering his mind. “When exactly did you and Ryan dissolve your engagement?”
Spencer visibly paled in front of him, and the sick feeling starting to build in Brendon’s stomach grew stronger. “That has-Brendon, that is not relevant. What’s important is that-”
“What date?” Brendon shouted, moving into Spencer’s space on instinct, pushing him back. “Tell me the date!”
“April 29,” Spencer said quietly.
Brendon turned away, blinking angrily at the hot wetness suddenly prickling at the corner of his eyes.
Spencer’s hand came up to stroke his arm. “Brendon...”
“No,” Brendon said, pulling away from the touch. “No. Just. Don’t touch me.”
“Brendon, please.”
“You married me the same day as you broke off your engagement,” Brendon said, swallowing hard against the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. “You lied to me to make me feel better about my station so that I would agree to the match. And you’ve lied to me ever since! While apparently giving your fiance-who still spends a lot of time at your estate-vast amounts of money behind my back. All while I’ve been worrying about the crops being good enough to let us make it through winter! So tell me, Spencer, how exactly would you like me to act to be reasonable about that?”
He left the room before Spencer had the chance to answer, slamming the door to the second bedroom so hard the nearby window shook with it. Spencer came after him-of course he did-banging on the door and pleading with Brendon to let him in.
Brendon slumped against the wall, letting Spencer’s excuses wash over him without hearing them. They were just words. Meaningless in comparison and not doing anything to make Brendon feel better. He choked on a sob.
He couldn’t believe he’d woken up that morning thinking the world was beautiful.
A long time later, he turned around and unlocked the door, opening it slowly and blocking the gap with his body. Spencer immediately started to speak. Brendon shook his head, pressing two fingers against Spencer’s lips softly before letting his hand fall.
“Just tell me one thing,” he said, steeling himself and raising his chin, meeting Spencer’s eyes. “Last night, was that your first time?”
“Yes,” Spencer said urgently. “Brendon, no, don’t even think that. I could never-”
He cut himself off, looking back at Brendon with something broken in his eyes. “I could never be untrue to you.”
Brendon closed his eyes, feeling tears burn hot behind his eyelids. Something eased a little in his chest, but it didn’t take away the underlying sickness. Unfaithful or not, Spencer’s lies were still there, and right now, Brendon just couldn’t make himself forgive them.
With one last look at Spencer, he took a step back and closed the door.
Brendon didn’t speak to Spencer for two days. Mostly, he locked himself in the second bedroom, pretending not to hear when Spencer knocked. He took a lot of walks too, leaving their chambers without comment on where he was going or when he would be back, as though Spencer had somehow turned invisible.
Spencer spent most of his time in their chambers as well. He’d sent off an express to Ryan as quickly as he could and was now waiting for a response or, even better, for Ryan to turn up at court himself and help Spencer fix the mess that Ryan, originally, had got them both into.
Also, he wanted to be where Brendon could easily find him, should Brendon change his mind and decide to talk to him again. It might not have been the most dignified thing to do, but after spending two days and nights missing Brendon like crazy and trying to apologise in a million different ways, Spencer figured dignity was vastly overrated.
A messenger finally arrived late on the evening before the king’s deadline, and Spencer read Ryan’s note with relief, noting it had been sent from an inn only half a day’s travel away from court. Especially as Ryan assured him in it that he hadn’t forgotten to bring their paperwork.
Spencer closed the note and rose from his chair with newly-found determination. Angry or not, Brendon was still married to him, and the ruling King Peter made the next day-whatever it might be-would greatly impact their lives. He walked over to Brendon’s door and knocked. No answer. When the second knock got the same result, Spencer put his ear to the door. Nothing.
Spencer frowned and checked his pocket watch. It was late; even if Brendon had gone down to dinner in the main hall, he should have been back hours ago. He put a hand on the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. The door opened easily, leaving Spencer looking into an empty bedroom. There were no lights lit anywhere, suggesting that Brendon must have been gone from it since some time in the afternoon.
Something cold grabbed hold of Spencer’s spine as he quickly checked Brendon’s coat rack and wardrobe. His regular clothes were still in place, but both his jacket and boots were gone. Spencer looked to the window. A heavy storm was coming in, already sending a light rain to tap against the glass as large black clouds rolled across the sky. If Brendon was out in the gardens and got caught in it...
Not wasting any time, Spencer hurried back into his own room. He pulled on his plainest boots and found a wool overcoat at the back of his closet to put over his clothes before heading out. He’d find a lantern on the way.
Brendon was sitting by a pond, idly throwing pebbles at the water when the rain started. At first, he didn’t mind it; his jacket was thick enough to keep him decently dry, and the rain against his face was light. When the wind started up, however, things became a lot more unpleasant, and soon, the rain was pelting down on him, getting under his clothes and chilling him to the bone.
He tried to keep his jacket up to protect his face, cursing himself for heading so far out into the grounds and not bringing any kind of light with him. A streak of lightning crossed the sky, followed by almost immediate thunder. Brendon thought of the metal details decorating his jacket and picked up his pace. This was not good.
The rain thickened until Brendon could barely see five yards in front of him, and the lightning and thunder sounded worryingly close. Brendon looked around frantically, searching for somewhere he could go to hide from the storm and wait it out. His eyes fell on something white to his left, and he hurried over. It was a small gazebo, beautifully embellished and covered in white flowers that climbed all over the walls and roof. Brendon gratefully ducked inside, removing his jacket and trying to wring some of the water out of it.
Now he really wished he’d brought some sort of heat source. A fire-dwelling pet salamander would have been nice. Or his dog. Fuck, Brendon really missed his dog.
He was just about to sit down on the floor and really feel sorry for himself when he spotted a light bobbing around somewhere in the distance. Considering the heaviness of the rain, it couldn’t be too far off. Brendon decided it was at least worth a shot.
“Hey!”
The light flickered and changed direction, moving closer. Brendon called out again, more urgently this time and the light picked up speed.
“Brendon!”
Brendon froze. That was Spencer’s voice, Spencer coming towards him with the light, out in the rain looking for him in a freaking storm. With whatever light-device he was carrying that was probably practically inviting lightning to come down and strike him. A moment later, Spencer stepped into the small space, soaked from head to toe and carrying a fucking carriage lantern. Brendon saw red.
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
“Looking for you!” Spencer threw back, clearly angry as well. “If you hadn’t noticed, there’s a storm happening out there. You could catch a chill and die.”
“So could you,” Brendon pointed out. “And I was doing fine. I don’t know why you even bothered.”
“Obviously, it’s because I’m such a lying, black-hearted rake,” Spencer said sarcastically. “I’ve been trying to apologise to you for two days. If you’d just listen, I could-”
“You could what?” Brendon asked. “Explain things? Tell me it was all a misunderstanding?”
“It is a misunderstanding!” Spencer threw back, sounding exasperated. “It wasn’t-”
“Really?” Brendon spat. “I misunderstood you telling me a dragon had ravaged your lands and left you impoverished? Or you telling me that my family’s funds would get us through the harvest? Or, wait, how about seeing Greta help sneak Ryan in through the back door and then finding the two of you alone in your study? Maybe that’s the part that-”
“For heaven’s sake, yes,” Spencer shouted. “I lied to you about the money. I’m sorry. And I’m even sorrier I didn’t tell you about having been engaged to Ryan, but anyone who knows us could tell you that Ryan and I have never had a more intimate relationship than what is normal between friends. We were betrothed as children and went along with the engagement because it gave us freedom to do what we wanted without having to worry about the pressure of everyone we met considering one of us a potential match. We never intended to go through with the marriage. That I ran into you on the night when we finally signed the dissolution papers was completely coincidental!”
Spencer closed his mouth, looking suddenly tired. Brendon took a step back, resisting the urge to reach out and comfort him.
His head was spinning, too many feelings and thoughts in it at once. He tried to find the anger in it, needing something clear and bright to focus on to keep himself from crumbling.
“Well, I don’t like being manipulated,” he tried. “You had no right to lie to me when it affected the biggest choice of my life.”
“Your parents were already taking away that choice,” Spencer said tightly. “I was just trying to help us both.”
“Yeah, well, they’re my family,” Brendon retorted, putting as much venom as he could into his voice. “And at least they loved me enough not to lie about what they were doing and why.”
“I didn’t mean to lie!”
“Well, you still did. And you know what? You can take your fucking pity and-”
“I was desperate!” Spencer shouted. “You were leaving. I didn’t know what else to do!”
“Why would you even have cared?”
“Of course I cared, you-”
“How can you possibly say that? You barely even knew me then!”
“But I was still in love with you!”
A flash of lightning darted through the sky, lighting up the gazebo and allowing Brendon a clear view of Spencer’s stricken face.
“You... what?”
“I-,” Spencer stammered, quickly turning his head to the side. “Forgive me, I-”
He started turning away, like he needed to get out and couldn’t move fast enough. Brendon grabbed his arm.
“Wait!”
Spencer fisted his hands, his jaw set tightly. “I fell stupidly in love with you the moment I saw you and couldn’t bear for you to disappear to another continent or marry someone else. And I thought that if I could just get you to agree to a marriage, maybe eventually, I could make you happy. There. That’s my whole sinister plot. I’m sorry. Happy now?”
Thunder coursed through the sky, humming over Brendon’s skin. He raised a hand to Spencer’s face. “Spencer.”
“Don’t,” Spencer said, flinching away like Brendon had been about to strike him. “Just don’t, all right? I don’t need-”
“Stop talking.”
“You were the one who had to bring it up!” Spencer shot back. “If you hadn’t-”
Brendon didn’t let him finish, fisting his hands instead in Spencer’s hair to yank him down to Brendon’s level and crush their lips together. Heat soared through him, propelling his body forward until he had Spencer’s body pushed up flat against the gazebo wall.
Spencer’s hands came up to grip Brendon’s waist, pressing so hard that Brendon knew there would be finger shaped bruises there in the morning. The thought sent more heat pooling low in his belly, and he pressed himself closer, hands moving from Spencer’s hair to push desperately at his overcoat.
“Shit,” Spencer muttered, the word a warm puff of air against Brendon’s lips before his mouth was back, kissing Brendon harder. He started pulling Brendon’s jacket off, and Brendon made a grateful sound in the back of his throat, shrugging it off quickly and going for Spencer’s jacket and vest. His fingers slipped on the buttons, wet material clinging stubbornly to where it was, refusing to cooperate. Brendon groaned in frustration.
“Why are there so many pieces of clothing, Christ,” he muttered as he kept fumbling with the jacket, vest and shirt in turn, desperately trying to push the fabric out of the way in search for skin.
Spencer laughed low, hot and infuriating all at once, and Brendon bit down at the skin Spencer’s loosened cravat had exposed in retaliation.
Another flash of lightning crossed the sky, fuelling the urgency between them. Spencer was yanking gracelessly at his shirt now, pulling it over Brendon’s head and bringing it down before Brendon could get his arms free, trapping both Brendon’s hands effectively behind his back and pulling him even closer. His knee came up to push between Brendon’s own, and Brendon let out a startled moan when Spencer’s thigh pressed up against him, feeling his own knees go suddenly weak.
He dropped shakily to the floor, yanking his hands free and pulling at Spencer’s pants, feeling a surge of relief run through him when he got them open and could finally get close enough, filling his senses with all things Spencer as he opened his mouth and got a first taste.
“Brendon,” Spencer gasped, his head tilting back against the wall. “God.”
Brendon pressed his tongue against the head of Spencer’s cock. Something hot and bright was surging up inside him, making him desperate for Spencer to know what this meant to him, how the sudden fear of almost losing this was strong enough to choke him. He grabbed Spencer’s hands and placed them on the back of his head, wanting to feel Spencer fill him and claim him and make sure Brendon would feel it for days. Wanting to make him remember.
Spencer obliged him, curling his fingers into Brendon’s hair and tugging, and Brendon made a happy little sound in the back of his throat, overwhelmed by the feeling of Spencer’s cock in his mouth, its unfamiliar, heavy drag along the length of his tongue. He went deeper on instinct, sucking harder and wanting more, and Spencer’s hips jerked in response, a little too hard.
Tears stung at the corners of Brendon’s eyes as he pulled off, coughing. Above him, Spencer stuttered an apology. Brendon barely registered it, waving Spencer off between coughs and swiping his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve before grabbing Spencer’s hips again, thumbs settling in the dips of his hipbones, and took in as much as he could, then, slower, a little more and a little more until finally he’d taken in all of him.
Spencer shuddered, trying desperately to keep his hips still.
Brendon stayed like that a moment, then pulled off slowly, his heart speeding up at how absolutely gone Spencer already looked, mouth red and open, gasping, cheeks flushed. He was still only half undressed, clothes in an utter state of disarray. He looked absolutely criminal.
Brendon palmed himself through still-damp trousers. God, he needed this so much.
His hands tightened on Spencer’s hips, drawing another moan from him. Spencer spread his legs wider moving helplessly into Brendon’s touch as Brendon started to stroke his thighs, very nearly gagging him again as one of Brendon’s hands ran up the inside of one and brushed against his ass.
Brendon pulled off a second time and reached for his own belt, groaning in frustration when he couldn’t get it open fast enough. Spencer dropped to his knees beside him, kicking at his own trousers and trying to get Brendon’s off at the same time. One of Brendon’s legs finally came free, letting him spread his legs and pull Spencer down on top of him.
They both moaned as their hips lined up, moving against each other desperately. More apologies were breaking from Spencer’s lips, and Brendon muffled them with kisses, trying to push a few of his own back into Spencer’s mouth.
He reached for Spencer’s fingers, taking them into his mouth and getting them wet. Spencer shuddered above him, and Brendon bit back a whine as Spencer pulled his fingers out and reached down between them. He raised his hips, straining for contact, letting out another impatient sound when none came.
Above him, Spencer moaned.
“Are you..?” Brendon strained his neck, pulling away from Spencer’s mouth to try to get a better view. “Spence. God. What-”
“Want you,” Spencer murmured against his neck. “Want to feel what you felt. Brendon, please.”
Brendon reached back and found Spencer’s hand, tracing a finger around the one Spencer was pushing into himself and feeling his mind black out for a minute. He rolled Spencer over on his back, taking two fingers on his right hand into his mouth, experimentally, wetting them with his tongue before moving one between Spencer’s legs, pressing tentatively against his entrance.
Spencer gasped, gripping Brendon’s hair with his free hand. Brendon bit his lip hard to keep himself in control and pushed one finger in next to Spencer’s.
The fit was incredibly tight, and Brendon found himself desperate to know if Spencer had ever done this before, images of Spencer lying back on his bed, pleasuring himself, immediately flooding his mind and making him that much harder. When he felt Spencer start to finally relax around them, he hid a grin against the smooth skin of Spencer’s hip and crooked his own finger. Spencer jerked, panting.
Brendon smiled up at him. “Good?”
Spencer swallowed hard, nodding.
“Good.” Brendon withdrew both their hands and crawled on top of him, waging war on Spencer’s remaining clothes, then his own, until they were both finally naked, hot skin to skin. Spencer leaned up to kiss him, desperate and needy, and Brendon responded in kind, licking his way into Spencer’s mouth.
He never wanted to not be kissing Spencer again.
Brendon hooked one of Spencer’s legs over the crook of his elbow and moved his hand back down, working a finger back into Spencer, then two and three before pulling out and trying to get himself as wet as he could before aligning himself with Spencer’s entrance, pushing just the head of his cock into him.
Spencer cried out into Brendon’s mouth, hands moving up to dig into Brendon’s shoulders painfully as Brendon eased into him, inch by inch.
It took every bit of Brendon’s willpower not to just start thrusting as hard and fast as he wanted, but he managed, if only barely. He waited a moment for Spencer to adjust to him before pulling out a bit, then slowly pushing back in. “Okay?”
Spencer opened his eyes, his normally blue irises so dark they looked almost black. “Move.”
Brendon managed a shaky nod and leaned down to kiss him.
They managed to set up a pace, slow, if a little jerky-Spencer was so fucking tight, Jesus-and Spencer squirmed beneath him, nails digging into Brendon’s skin when he hit just the right angle. “There. Fuck, right there.”
Brendon kept his position, rolling his hips to his that same spot, and Spencer pushed down to meet him.
“Shit,” Brendon muttered, pressing his face into Spencer’s neck to keep himself together. The pace quickened, though Brendon was unsure of which of them initiated the change, and he wedged his hand between them desperately to grip Spencer’s dick, twisting his wrist in a way that Spencer seemed particularly fond of, from the utterly sinful noises he was making.
Spencer came first, hot and sticky between them, and Brendon was only a few moments behind him, hips stuttering as his vision blurred out, bright white filling his vision. When he came to, he found himself collapsed on top of Spencer, breathing heavily. He never wanted to move again.
“I love you,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin of Spencer’s shoulder.
Spencer looked up at him, utter shock filling his face. Brendon leaned in and kissed him, pressing the words into Spencer’s mouth until the lips beneath his curled into a smile and Spencer’s hand came up to tangle in his hair, angling their faces for a deeper kiss.
Lightning flashed in the distance, lighting up the gazebo for a moment. A flicker of something metallic caught Brendon’s eye, and he lifted up, reaching over Spencer and picking it up.
“What?” Spencer asked, his eyes barely still open, mouth trying to reach the sensitive spot beneath Brendon’s right ear.
“Your pocket watch. It must have fallen out of your vest pocket.” Brendon flipped it open. “It looks like it’s stopped.”
Spencer twisted his head around quickly, focusing on the object in Brendon’s hand. “Brendon-”
Brendon ducked down and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, absently twisting one of the knobs on the side of the watch with his fingers, attempting to reset it.
A slow, tinkling melody filled the room.
Brendon’s brow furrowed, as though he was looking for something in his memory that had been pushed back a long time ago. He rolled off Spencer and over on his back, holding up the watch in front of his face to get a better look. “Did you make this? Like the music boxes?”
Spencer nodded, looking suddenly nervous.
Something about the melody was calling up a feeling of excitement, of people all around him and a warm hand clasped in his. Brendon blinked, the memory clicking into place, face breaking into a wide grin. “Is that the song we danced to at the night of the coronation?” At Spencer’s confirming nod, the grin grew even wider. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
Spencer blushed, his entire face a little red. “Well, you obviously remember it too.”
Brendon laughed, bright and happy, then carefully set the watch down before kissing Spencer, pushing him back down against the wooden floor.
Spencer woke up to soft kisses against the back of his neck. For a few moments, he simply kept his eyes closed, revelling in the sensation and pretending to still be asleep. Something in his breathing must have given him away, though, because the kisses grew hotter and strong hands stroked their way up his chest, turning him onto his back and pushing him into the pillows.
Brendon’s mouth came down on his, foregoing sweet and lazy for hot and hungry. Brendon’s hand travelled down his body until it could circle under his left thigh, pushing the leg up. Spencer arched into the touch, muscles still deliciously sore from their earlier lovemaking, but somehow, that just made everything feel even better, a hint of discomfort anchoring him firmly to the reality of what had happened between them.
Brendon’s hand stopped touching him for a moment and then came back slick and warm, touching Spencer carefully as he spread the oil around, adding to the wetness that still lingered between his legs. Their kisses grew wetter and deeper as Brendon shifted his weight, brushing against Spencer’s entrance with the tip of his cock.
Spencer pulled his legs up higher.
“How much time?” Brendon found himself asking for what must have been the fifteenth time.
Spencer stopped fiddling with his cravat for a moment and pulled out his pocket watch. “Ten minutes.”
Brendon nodded, moving to stand next to Spencer in front of the mirror, pulling at strands of his hair self-consciously. Fear was pooling in his stomach, making him feel increasingly sick.
“Spencer?”
Spencer stilled beside him. Their eyes met in the mirror, and Brendon could tell that Spencer was nervous too. “Yes?”
“What happens if the king decides Ryan’s father is right?” Brendon managed to ask. “Will it-can he actually make you marry Ryan instead?”
Spencer looked away, breaking eye contact for a second while his hands went back to pull at his already perfect clothes. “Well, he is the king, and I’m his subject, so technically, he has the power to make me do anything he wants.” At Brendon’s stricken look, he quickly amended, “It would be a blatant exercise in misuse of power, though, so he wouldn’t. The king might dissolve our union as unlawful, but he can’t make me marry Ryan. Not against my consent.”
“But I thought you already signed the papers?”
“Only the engagement,” Spencer replied. “Ryan and I never got formally married, and we’ve never consummated our relationship. No matter how much Ryan’s father might will it, an engagement contract is not a marriage. It’s a bit scandalous to have one dissolved, of course, but it’s both doable and legal.”
Brendon ran a frustrated hand through his hair, breathing a sigh. “Our entire marriage has been one big scandal, from start to-” He stopped short, a sort of pained realisation at what he’d almost said passing quickly over his face.
“Brendon,” Spencer said, taking Brendon’s hand in his and stepping close enough to lean their foreheads together. “If the king dissolves our marriage today, the first thing I’ll do is ask you to marry me again. I’ll jump through whatever hoops he dictates in order to smooth Ryan father’s ruffled feathers, but I’ll keep asking, and I won’t give up unless you tell me to.”
Brendon closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. Spencer’s hands squeezed his tighter.
“I love you,” Spencer whispered. “I’ve loved you since I first met you. And I know how to wait. As long as you want me, I’ll wait forever to have you back. You’re the only one I want to be married to.”
Brendon bit his lip, nodding. Something hot was starting to burn behind his eyelids, threatening to spill over from the overwhelming wave of feelings at Spencer’s words.
“Brendon.”
Brendon looked up. Spencer’s eyes were dark. There was fear in them, and determination, and the clear message that he’d meant every word of what he’d just said.
Brendon kissed him, hard and desperate, wrapping both arms around Spencer’s neck and pulling him close enough that neither of them could breathe properly. Spencer didn’t seem to mind, kissing back with equal fervor and fisting his hands in the material of Brendon’s jacket.
They kissed until there was a sharp knock on the door, and a royal messenger stepped in, bowing politely.
“My lords,” he said, giving first Spencer, then Brendon a polite nod. “The king is ready to make a ruling.”
“In the light of the presented evidence,” King Pete declared, “I rule the engagement contracted between Viscount Ryan Ross and Marquess Spencer Smith dissolved by mutual agreement. Both parties shall be considered to have been legally available to enter into new unions, and the unions that were contracted on the same day as the initial contract was dissolved,” at this point, the king paused, looking at Spencer and Ryan with an amused smile on his face, “are to be considered legal and binding.”
The court erupted with excited chatter, but Brendon didn’t hear them. He was out of his seat before he could stop himself, throwing his arms around Spencer’s neck. Spencer hugged him back, whispering how happy he was in Brendon’s ear. Brendon noticed that both of them were shaking a little as they let go, unable to stop smiling at each other.
“That is outrageous!” Ryan’s father exclaimed, breaking through Brendon’s happy daze and standing up from his seat, his expression livid. “My son’s betrothal to the Marquess of Summerlin was arranged when they were in their cradles! Is this to be thrown away because of some baron’s upstart son and a flight of fancy? I think not. Now, I wish that-”
“My dear duke,” the king interrupted him firmly. “What is done is done. The engagement was dissolved, and both your son and Lord Smith are married elsewhere. I see no reason to annul these marriages.”
“What?” Lord Ross spluttered. “My son is not married. What a preposterous idea! Ryan would never-”
“I have his marriage contract among the documents in evidence,” King Pete said patiently. “Lord Ryan, if you would be so kind to perhaps keep your father a bit more informed of your affairs in the future?”
Brendon looked at Spencer, feeling his eyes go wide. Ryan was married as well? And secretly so, apparently, since neither Brendon nor, clearly, Ryan’s own father knew anything about it. He gave Spencer a pointed look, trying to convey that he’d better explain this as soon as they had a moment to themselves. Spencer had the decency to look sincerely apologetic, leaning in to put a quick kiss on Brendon’s lips before nudging his attention back towards Ryan and his father.
There was a movement at the edge of the crowd, and Brendon felt his jaw drop as the twins’ governess stepped onto the floor and walked up to Ryan, taking his offered arm and falling into a low curtsy in front of his father.
Brendon stared. Lord Ross looked from Ryan to Greta and then back in confusion, before something seemed to click in his head and his face turned a worrying shade of scarlet.
“Father,” Ryan said pleasantly, “please allow me to introduce Lady Greta Salpeter, the future Duchess of Rosings.”
“That’s why I was in town so late that night,” Spencer whispered to Brendon. “Helping Ryan Ross elope is not a simple affair. I spent ages looking for those mechanical flowers.”
In front of them, Ryan’s father glared at his son, then turned to the king. King Peter simply smiled in return to his harsh gaze. The duke clenched his jaw tightly together and exited the hall without another word. Brendon saw Greta look up at Ryan worriedly. Ryan shrugged and then smiled, leaning in to kiss her.
“If there are no more announcements or clarifications that need to be made in this case,” King Peter said, “I’d like to congratulate Viscount Ross, Lord Smith and their respective spouses. May your marriages be long and fruitful. And, Lord Smith, don’t fret so much about tradition. If I had to approve every courtship and attend every wedding that traditionally demanded it, I wouldn’t have time for my own marriage, and my husband would be most displeased. Congratulations, all four of you.”
Brendon followed Spencer’s lead as they all bowed to the king. Ryan and Greta waved to them as they left the hall, and Brendon took Spencer’s hand, leading them toward the palace gardens.
They walked hand in hand along one of the paths that were still wet with rain after the storm, letting everything sink in and solidify. Brendon felt Spencer’s hand tighten around his. When he looked up, Spencer was trying to hide a smile.
“So,” Spencer said, “we’re still married.”
“Seems like it,” Brendon replied with a shrug, persistently pushing back the answering smile he could feel wanting to spread on his own face.
“Perhaps we should celebrate,” Spencer suggested, trying to look innocent and failing completely. “Considering we never did have a wedding feast, I mean. Anything specific you’d want to do?”
Brendon stopped walking, turning Spencer toward him and pulling his head down, kissing him slow and sweet and undeniably dirty. “Well,” he said with a slow smile, smugly noting the beginnings of a flush in Spencer’s cheeks, “I guess I could think of a couple of things.”
Spencer laughed and pulled him back in.