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palace_martonDirectly after this.
As unintentional as it was, this morning, and Will’s part in it, had been a roaring success. Marton sipped his whisky, put his feet up and waited for his lover to come back up from below deck, thinking it over.
Will had a way with people, a simple sweetness that showed through the wiseass, flippant veneer, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, the quality Marton and his family had reacted so strongly to right from their first meeting.
Now the people at the University today had recognized it and responded to it as well and as a result, Marton was seriously considering putting Will to work.
The ‘Why?’ was obvious. Once he’d settled down to the task, Will had applied himself to it with as much energy as he did everything else and the crowd had been thoroughly charmed.
Also, Marton had been giving serious consideration to the idea of taking on a more public role once more and not only because it would alleviate some of the pressure on Christian as Crown Prince. Neither he nor the Council had fully expected such a show of interest, which had turned out to be a severe miscalculation on their part. But as Catherine had recently put it, Marton was more ‘at home in his own skin’, more comfortable with himself and with his role than he ever had. Appearing in public no longer seemed like an onerous task, a burden to be endured.
He looked out over the marina, narrowing his eyes against the glare from the water, which sparkled in various shades of blue and green as it slapped gently against the jetty, the sides of the sleek boats moored there, sipping slowly.
Catherine often took Roger on public appearances, why couldn’t Marton take Will? He’d never thought to do it with Sean, as Sean was busy dealing with the consequences of his own growing fame at the time and later had been too involved with other aspects of Palace for the thought to even cross Marton’s mind. But Will was different.
He was young, handsome, personable . . . And he’s my ‘significant other’, Marton thought, chuckling to himself over the rim of his glass. No way would he use the term ‘favourite’ or even ‘concubine’ in relation to Will. Neither term fitted, not to mention the reaction such a nametag would get him if he used it on him, but he couldn’t think of any other word to describe their relationship that didn’t sound either awkward or just damned twee!
Really, the question was ‘Why not?’ rather than ‘Why?’ and really, the only things against it were entirely personal, involving Will himself. He might say no and it that case, Marton would respect his wishes. He also had to be careful that Will wasn’t saying ‘yes’ for the wrong reasons. But Marton knew all about Will’s desire to please and he was certain he would recognize an attempt by his lover to do ‘what Marton wanted’ rather than follow his own wishes on the matter.
Will would be good at this, he just needed convincing of the fact. Snobbery aside, Will’s background was excellent. He knew the intricacies of how a noble family worked inside out and God knows he understood about duty, almost to the point of it being a failing. His Achilles’ heel, so to speak.
And right there was the one thing that might stop Will in his tracks. Family. Ellen. Marton grimaced at the mere thought of that objectionable harpy. Flying under Ellen’s radar was Will’s life ambition, anything that might garner her attention, no matter how meager that attention might be, was, to Will’s way of thinking, to be avoided at all cost.
On the other hand, one of Marton’s ambitions was to slit the bitch’s metaphorical throat and taking her on was something he’d long wanted to do. If she reared her ugly head . . .
A clattering of feet on the hardwood steps distracted Marton, ending the thought, as his lover appeared in the hatchway. Will still had the slightly bewildered air of the shell-shocked but his smile was bright, which was a good sign.
All the way down here in the car, he’d berated Marton in light tones about his ‘duplicitous behavior’, ignoring Marton’s equally frothy protests that he’d only taken advantage of the situation. Underneath though, Marton sensed the concern was genuine, as was the bafflement.
Will, dressed only in one of those sarong-towel things and still damp from his shower, glided across the deck and straddled Marton’s lap, coming to rest on his knees either side of Marton’s thighs and his hands on Marton’s shoulders for balance.
“Calmed down yet?” Marton asked straight-faced, sipping the last of the whisky.
Will shook his head. “I still don’t get it.” he complained. “How the hell did that bloke know who I was?”
Marton put his empty glass down on the side-table and rested his hands on Will’s hips. “Maybe he put two and two together.” he suggested. “Or maybe May’s his favorite month?”
Will blinked twice then groaned. “Oh fuck! I’d forgotten about that.”
“I figured.” He cocked his head to one side. “Apart from all that, what’d you think of it?”
“It? What ‘it’? The ‘walkabout’ thing?” Marton nodded and Will shrugged his shoulders. “Wasn’t so bad,” he said, adding darkly, “once I got over the shock. I like people, it’s what I do, yeah? I have great people skills.” he said cheekily.
Marton grinned. “You certainly do. Would you consider doing it again?”
Will looked at him askance. “I’m not likely to be that stupid twice, Marton.” he told him. “Next time, I stay in the car!”
Sliding his hands up Will’s ribcage and over his shoulders to his throat, Marton cupped the sides of Will’s face and pulled him close, their noses touching. “And if I asked you to?”
Will blinked. “Like, on purpose?”
“Yes, like on purpose.” Marton kissed him, smile fading as he asked more seriously, “Would you? I told you I was thinking about doing more and I am. We’d make a great team, you and I, today proved it.”
Will pulled away and sat up. “You’re serious!” he gaped. “Me?” He pointed at his chest. “Why the fuck would anyone want to talk to me?”
Marton growled and tugged him down again, kissing him thoroughly and deeply. “Because you’re you!” he said with fierce affection, his renewed grip tight.
Will closed his eyes and rested his head on Marton’s chest. He stroked his lover’s hair and Will muttered something Marton couldn’t make out but decided to ignore as probable cussing. The bright head came back up.
“I said, ‘If you want.’ I’ll do it.” Will told him.
Shaking his head, Marton smiled. “No. If you want.” He said with soft emphasis. “Don’t you say ‘yes’ against your own better judgment, Will Kemp. That’s not what I want.”
He slid down further in the deckchair, the gentle breeze cooling his back where his skin had moistened, stuck to the fabric. “We complement one another, you and I.” he told him, fingers playing with the damp strands of hair at Will’s temples. “I’m not so ‘serious and stuffy’, as you’ve reminded me a thousand times, and you . . .” He tipped his head to one side and regarded his lover with a light of warm affection in his eyes, his expression serious but not somber. “You, I see inside.” he said in a near-whisper. “Past the jokes, the pranks, the ‘I-don’t-give-a-shit’ attitude, you know I do, Will. I see the serious, quiet, entirely sane young man you pretend you’re not. I like him.” he finished simply. “I want to spend time with him.”
Will swallowed and sniffed, eyes bright with moisture. “I know.” he whispered back. “I do, too.”
He’d slid down the chair as well and now he shifted to lie prone between Marton’s thighs, arms folded on top of Marton’s chest and his head resting on his hands. Marton let the small silence play itself out, allowing Will time to compose himself. Uncomfortable with displays or avowals of real affection, Marton knew.
“What if I said . . .” Will lifted his head slightly, tracing idle patterns on Marton’s bare chest with a forefinger. “What if I said I’d do it for you, for Christian, but not like that. It wouldn’t make me unhappy.”
He was struggling for words, but Marton understood. He wouldn’t mind, might even enjoy it, that’s what he was saying. The right reasons. He nodded.
“Then it’s a deal.” Will tipped his head to one side and blinked, smiling slightly. “I’m your, what? Libertine? Attendant? Companion?”
Marton stroked the back of his fingers down Will’s cheek, the ‘right’ word just suddenly coming to him. “My partner.” He smiled. “Yeah. You’re my partner.”
As unintentional as it was, this morning, and Will’s part in it, had been a roaring success. Marton sipped his whisky, put his feet up and waited for his lover to come back up from below deck, thinking it over.
Will had a way with people, a simple sweetness that showed through the wiseass, flippant veneer, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, the quality Marton and his family had reacted so strongly to right from their first meeting.
Now the people at the University today had recognized it and responded to it as well and as a result, Marton was seriously considering putting Will to work.
The ‘Why?’ was obvious. Once he’d settled down to the task, Will had applied himself to it with as much energy as he did everything else and the crowd had been thoroughly charmed.
Also, Marton had been giving serious consideration to the idea of taking on a more public role once more and not only because it would alleviate some of the pressure on Christian as Crown Prince. Neither he nor the Council had fully expected such a show of interest, which had turned out to be a severe miscalculation on their part. But as Catherine had recently put it, Marton was more ‘at home in his own skin’, more comfortable with himself and with his role than he ever had. Appearing in public no longer seemed like an onerous task, a burden to be endured.
He looked out over the marina, narrowing his eyes against the glare from the water, which sparkled in various shades of blue and green as it slapped gently against the jetty, the sides of the sleek boats moored there, sipping slowly.
Catherine often took Roger on public appearances, why couldn’t Marton take Will? He’d never thought to do it with Sean, as Sean was busy dealing with the consequences of his own growing fame at the time and later had been too involved with other aspects of Palace for the thought to even cross Marton’s mind. But Will was different.
He was young, handsome, personable . . . And he’s my ‘significant other’, Marton thought, chuckling to himself over the rim of his glass. No way would he use the term ‘favourite’ or even ‘concubine’ in relation to Will. Neither term fitted, not to mention the reaction such a nametag would get him if he used it on him, but he couldn’t think of any other word to describe their relationship that didn’t sound either awkward or just damned twee!
Really, the question was ‘Why not?’ rather than ‘Why?’ and really, the only things against it were entirely personal, involving Will himself. He might say no and it that case, Marton would respect his wishes. He also had to be careful that Will wasn’t saying ‘yes’ for the wrong reasons. But Marton knew all about Will’s desire to please and he was certain he would recognize an attempt by his lover to do ‘what Marton wanted’ rather than follow his own wishes on the matter.
Will would be good at this, he just needed convincing of the fact. Snobbery aside, Will’s background was excellent. He knew the intricacies of how a noble family worked inside out and God knows he understood about duty, almost to the point of it being a failing. His Achilles’ heel, so to speak.
And right there was the one thing that might stop Will in his tracks. Family. Ellen. Marton grimaced at the mere thought of that objectionable harpy. Flying under Ellen’s radar was Will’s life ambition, anything that might garner her attention, no matter how meager that attention might be, was, to Will’s way of thinking, to be avoided at all cost.
On the other hand, one of Marton’s ambitions was to slit the bitch’s metaphorical throat and taking her on was something he’d long wanted to do. If she reared her ugly head . . .
A clattering of feet on the hardwood steps distracted Marton, ending the thought, as his lover appeared in the hatchway. Will still had the slightly bewildered air of the shell-shocked but his smile was bright, which was a good sign.
All the way down here in the car, he’d berated Marton in light tones about his ‘duplicitous behavior’, ignoring Marton’s equally frothy protests that he’d only taken advantage of the situation. Underneath though, Marton sensed the concern was genuine, as was the bafflement.
Will, dressed only in one of those sarong-towel things and still damp from his shower, glided across the deck and straddled Marton’s lap, coming to rest on his knees either side of Marton’s thighs and his hands on Marton’s shoulders for balance.
“Calmed down yet?” Marton asked straight-faced, sipping the last of the whisky.
Will shook his head. “I still don’t get it.” he complained. “How the hell did that bloke know who I was?”
Marton put his empty glass down on the side-table and rested his hands on Will’s hips. “Maybe he put two and two together.” he suggested. “Or maybe May’s his favorite month?”
Will blinked twice then groaned. “Oh fuck! I’d forgotten about that.”
“I figured.” He cocked his head to one side. “Apart from all that, what’d you think of it?”
“It? What ‘it’? The ‘walkabout’ thing?” Marton nodded and Will shrugged his shoulders. “Wasn’t so bad,” he said, adding darkly, “once I got over the shock. I like people, it’s what I do, yeah? I have great people skills.” he said cheekily.
Marton grinned. “You certainly do. Would you consider doing it again?”
Will looked at him askance. “I’m not likely to be that stupid twice, Marton.” he told him. “Next time, I stay in the car!”
Sliding his hands up Will’s ribcage and over his shoulders to his throat, Marton cupped the sides of Will’s face and pulled him close, their noses touching. “And if I asked you to?”
Will blinked. “Like, on purpose?”
“Yes, like on purpose.” Marton kissed him, smile fading as he asked more seriously, “Would you? I told you I was thinking about doing more and I am. We’d make a great team, you and I, today proved it.”
Will pulled away and sat up. “You’re serious!” he gaped. “Me?” He pointed at his chest. “Why the fuck would anyone want to talk to me?”
Marton growled and tugged him down again, kissing him thoroughly and deeply. “Because you’re you!” he said with fierce affection, his renewed grip tight.
Will closed his eyes and rested his head on Marton’s chest. He stroked his lover’s hair and Will muttered something Marton couldn’t make out but decided to ignore as probable cussing. The bright head came back up.
“I said, ‘If you want.’ I’ll do it.” Will told him.
Shaking his head, Marton smiled. “No. If you want.” He said with soft emphasis. “Don’t you say ‘yes’ against your own better judgment, Will Kemp. That’s not what I want.”
He slid down further in the deckchair, the gentle breeze cooling his back where his skin had moistened, stuck to the fabric. “We complement one another, you and I.” he told him, fingers playing with the damp strands of hair at Will’s temples. “I’m not so ‘serious and stuffy’, as you’ve reminded me a thousand times, and you . . .” He tipped his head to one side and regarded his lover with a light of warm affection in his eyes, his expression serious but not somber. “You, I see inside.” he said in a near-whisper. “Past the jokes, the pranks, the ‘I-don’t-give-a-shit’ attitude, you know I do, Will. I see the serious, quiet, entirely sane young man you pretend you’re not. I like him.” he finished simply. “I want to spend time with him.”
Will swallowed and sniffed, eyes bright with moisture. “I know.” he whispered back. “I do, too.”
He’d slid down the chair as well and now he shifted to lie prone between Marton’s thighs, arms folded on top of Marton’s chest and his head resting on his hands. Marton let the small silence play itself out, allowing Will time to compose himself. Uncomfortable with displays or avowals of real affection, Marton knew.
“What if I said . . .” Will lifted his head slightly, tracing idle patterns on Marton’s bare chest with a forefinger. “What if I said I’d do it for you, for Christian, but not like that. It wouldn’t make me unhappy.”
He was struggling for words, but Marton understood. He wouldn’t mind, might even enjoy it, that’s what he was saying. The right reasons. He nodded.
“Then it’s a deal.” Will tipped his head to one side and blinked, smiling slightly. “I’m your, what? Libertine? Attendant? Companion?”
Marton stroked the back of his fingers down Will’s cheek, the ‘right’ word just suddenly coming to him. “My partner.” He smiled. “Yeah. You’re my partner.”
