Chương 6

Chapter 6

At their second meeting, after spending some time tormenting Aeroc with his gaze, Bendyke announced he'd like to borrow the library for a moment and left the room. He returned almost immediately — at a speed suggesting he already knew exactly where the library was. Had he asked one of the staff?

Bendyke held out a single book. The binding was familiar. Indeed, it was Types of Sin, which Aeroc had read and reread several times.

"Read this for me."

"You want me to read aloud?"

The book was written in the common tongue. A man who had graduated at the top of his class from the National Capital University surely wasn't claiming he couldn't read it.

"Your eyesight can't be failing at your age."

"I prefer reading silently, but if you'd like it read aloud, that's fine too."

He wanted Aeroc to read this book? Like some tutor treating a young pupil. If there was one subject on which Aeroc would brook no provocation, it was his intellect. His displeasure at the insult was unconcealed.

"I've read this already. Don't try to test my intellectual assets with your paltry standards!"

"I know. Isn't that one of the Count's favorites?"

"Then why?"

"I want to watch you read. Is that too much to ask?"

The demands grew more bewildering by the visit. Voyeurism did fall under the umbrella of deviant sexual urges, Aeroc supposed — but that typically involved secretly observing someone's daily routines or intensely private acts like masturbation. Announcing outright that one wished to watch a person read — he couldn't classify the species of perversion. Ignorance bred fear.

"If reading is too difficult, I could ask for something else."

An additional reason to comply had been furnished. He chose silent reading over reading aloud. As he turned the stiff cover of a book he'd opened many times, a question surfaced.

How did Bendyke know Types of Sin was a favorite? Moreover, Aeroc kept his cherished books on a special shelf, separate from the rest. No one following conventional library cataloguing would ever find them. How had the man located it?

No — he didn't want to know. Just another coincidence. The man had stumbled upon the special shelf, noticed a book with a softened spine — a sign of frequent reading — and made an educated guess. It had happened to be right. That was all.

Shaking off a nameless dread, Aeroc turned the pages one by one. Pointedly ignoring the fascinated stare.

It was a book he loved, so he could usually focus on any passage at any time — but today the words refused to register. He turned a few pages, then turned back to the beginning. The relentless, clinging gaze was entirely to blame.

Bendyke had spoken smoothly enough, but Aeroc half-expected the man to lunge at him like a beast at any moment. True to a form that had never once moved as Aeroc predicted — as though perversity were a point of pride — Bendyke did absolutely nothing.

He simply watched from his arrogant pose. No — watched was too mild. The stare, delivered with one index finger crooked against his cheek, his head tilted slightly, licked rather than looked. Amusement overflowed from the curve of his eyes.

"What's so funny?"

"Do I look amused?"

"You've been smiling the whole time."

Only then realizing he was smiling, Bendyke rubbed the corner of his mouth. But the overall posture didn't change. If anything, he now smiled openly as he admired Aeroc. It was supremely uncomfortable. Aeroc uncrossed and recrossed his legs the other way. Pages flipped with irritable speed.

"Don't mind me."

The man offered this as though it constituted consideration. Irritation surged.

"As long as we're in the same room, you're free to do whatever you like. If reading bores you, how about meditation? Or a nap?"

Pretend I'm not here — that was the extent of his "consideration." Staggering. Even a cat stalking a mouse would employ a more sophisticated stratagem. A cat and a mouse. Aeroc was freshly horrified by his own analogy.

Sleep was out of the question, and peaceful meditation equally unappealing. When forced to share space with someone whose eyes he didn't even want to meet, a book was the most effective self-defense. Aeroc fixed his gaze on the page he'd now read for the fifth time.

"The sun's going down."

While Aeroc had been discreetly wriggling his toes inside his shoes to relieve the fidgeting, Bendyke spoke abruptly. A declaration heralding a shift. Aeroc snapped the book shut, feeling less dread than relief — a kind of liberation. He wanted it over before his rationality ran out entirely. This time, apparently reading the situation correctly at last, Bendyke finally moved his heavy body.

"What now?"

"What do you think."

His resolve had been set long ago. Aeroc steadied his quickening breath and watched Bendyke. The man crossed the small table, took Aeroc's hand, and kissed it.

A rite of devotion. For a despicable swindler and lecher, it was a remarkably courteous opening. The mere act of lifting Aeroc's wrist and bending his towering frame to reach it deployed the full breadth of the man's allure. A dread laced with anticipation excited Aeroc. He could never call it welcome — but he wasn't so self-deceiving as to deny the arousal. If this was how things stood, a perverse resolve took hold: he would see this lauded specimen stripped bare. If it hurt, he'd scream. Until the man's almighty pride crumbled. He could teach Bendyke, in no uncertain terms, that the man was nothing more than a stud horse in heat.

A wisp of breath escaped between the man's lips. It was scalding — enough to fear being burned. How far would it reach? A single encounter might leave marks that could never be undone. Would it blaze through his nights like the brand of a cursed devil, setting him afire with desire? He couldn't know. The continent of sexuality was shrouded in darkness. Where Bendyke — the very incarnation of a devil — would lead him through that darkness terrified him.

His life, visited by stars of misfortune and chaos, had recently veered from every imaginable trajectory. This was no exception. In a prim and proper manner, Bendyke announced he was leaving.

"What? That's really all?"

Surprise dissolved his expression. The darkness that had been tormenting his mind began to lift — only to roar back with ferocious force. The center of his chest stung. A sharp pang of disappointment arose, mingling with relief at having escaped once more, before both faded into a murky haze. His feelings were a tangled mess.

"Not a chance."

Two simple words plunged his already complicated state into dizzying confusion.

"I mean to say…… wasn't today supposed to be the day?"

"Sorry to disappoint. Rolling around without proper emotional exchange isn't my style. I could make an exception if you're desperate, though."

With that, Bendyke lifted the corner of his mouth. Aeroc, unable to hide his burning face, bolted upright from the chair.

"Who's desperate? I'm telling you to honor the contract."

"I've never broken the contract."

"After demanding two private meetings? My time is far too expensive to give you indefinitely."

At the sharp protest, Bendyke fell silent for a beat. Then he closed the distance. Menacing — but the petty pride of an alpha kept Aeroc from backing away. Even if he'd wanted to, the chair blocked him. Glaring up at the con artist forced his head to tilt back.

Bendyke curled his index finger and traced the knuckle slowly along Aeroc's chin. From him emanated a dangerous pleasure. Aeroc didn't know whether what made him tremble was fear or anticipation.

"That old habit of not reading contracts carefully. Keep living like that and one day you'll end up a pauper on the streets."

"……"

"There is no mention of the number of meetings. The only clause states that you provide the time and space I request."

A blow to the back of the head. Aeroc stared at him blankly, then erupted one beat too late.

"You despicable con artist!"

"Sounds like a compliment when you say it with those eyes."

"What?"

So furious that the room spun, Aeroc swayed — and Bendyke stepped back. Walking toward the door, he smiled faintly.

"I look forward to next time, Aeroc."

* * *

An invitation arrived from the Duchess of Clayton. A casual summons — nothing more than tea and conversation. Having committed a discourtesy last time, Aeroc made sure to arrive punctually and without incident. The Duchess's attendant led him to the indoor conservatory.

Amid rare birds and tropical flowers and broad-leaved plants imported especially, the tea table set in the conservatory was reasonably large. Three seats had been prepared.

"Aeroc, you're on time today."

"Good afternoon, Your Grace."

He inclined his head toward the voice and did not forget to kiss the back of the fingerless mesh glove. When he lifted his head, wearing the dashing smile the Duchess expected — his face contorted involuntarily. He had belatedly registered the face of the man escorting her.

"Count."

Bendyke offered a brief nod alongside the light address.

"What is he doing here?"

"I have the right to invite anyone I please into my own home, dear."

"But his station and his character are too base for Your Grace's company."

"Are you the arbiter of my company now? How very rude."

The Duchess furrowed her brow and scolded him.

"My apologies."

"I know perfectly well you find Mr. Bendyke disagreeable. Do try not to show it and embarrass me. You're representing the aristocracy here, after all."

As the Duchess said, Aeroc was the only aristocrat present. The Duchess was royalty; Bendyke was gentry.

"Walking alone has become difficult. My joints have gone terribly weak. Be a dear and help me, would you?"

Though she had been leaning on Bendyke's arm moments ago — a fact she blithely ignored — the Duchess extended her hand to Aeroc. He offered his arm, and she settled comfortably against him. They were heading toward the tea table when the Duchess waved her hand.

"Not that way — to my chambers."

"Your Grace?"

"I'll retire first today. A short walk has quite done me in."

"And what about him?"

"He says he'd like a tour of the castle. You can show him around."

A bolt from the blue, courtesy of the Duchess's whims. After escorting her to her chambers and emerging, Bendyke approached as though he'd been waiting.

"What did you do to exhaust the Duchess like that?"

"We walked in the conservatory and the garden. That's all."

"A mere walk did that?"

"It was a rather long walk."

Aeroc scowled. Bendyke raised both hands.

"I'm not foolish enough to cross a duchess with that kind of influence. We had lunch together and walked until just now — being tired makes perfect sense."

"Lunch? You've been here since this morning?"

"Since last night, to be precise."

"The Duchess is a generous woman, I'll grant her that — but I didn't know she'd taken to putting up just anyone overnight."

They were outside the Duchess's chambers. Hardly the place to raise voices. Aeroc started walking, and Bendyke followed. They passed down a long corridor, descended a staircase, and exited through a small door into the neatly tended rear garden. Despite Aeroc's brisk pace, the man behind him maintained a constant distance.

"You seem to know Clayton Castle well."

"I've been here often."

He answered without looking back.

"Viscount Derbyshire, Viscount Westport, the Duchess of Clayton. I hadn't realized the capital's greatest nobles all doted on you."

"It's just their concern for a young inheritor. I'm not the only one."

"Even accounting for that, you're singled out. I was interrogated all through last night until just now."

"Interrogated?"

The unexpected word stopped him, and he turned. Bendyke was far closer than expected.

"She grilled me relentlessly. My origins, my career, my connections. She even wanted to know how my housekeeper Martha's husband died. Her loyal attendants are probably verifying every word as we speak."

"The Duchess of Clayton is famously eccentric. As she told you, you've caught her interest, so she wants to know every last detail."

"Is that all? Then I wonder why she didn't investigate before entrusting me with her trust management."

"What are you getting at?"

"You're loved by far more people than you realize."

Aeroc couldn't help a bitter laugh.

"So? Jealous?"

"No."

Bendyke denied it flatly, then paused before continuing.

"I was just struck by how great the shock and the hurt must have been — when they all coldly turned their backs on you."

"You son of a bitch!"

Aeroc exploded and seized the man by the collar.

"Is that a threat?"

"Ah — I misspoke. No, that's not what I meant."

"Don't lie! You're going to use that damned contract to ruin my reputation. Aren't you?"

His agitation turned the fist gripping the collar white. Bendyke placed one hand over Aeroc's. With the other arm, he pulled the rigid waist close. Two bodies pressed flush. But Aeroc still held the collar, glaring with murderous intent.

"I would never do that."

"And I'm supposed to believe you? Who do you take me for?"

"I chose my words badly. My mistake."

Bendyke slowly lowered his head. Certain a kiss was coming, Aeroc flinched and turned away. He released the collar and shoved. Predictably, brute force was futile. Bendyke's lips slid along the edge of Aeroc's ear. They were in an open garden — someone else's garden at that. Watching eyes could appear from anywhere. The tension peaked as those firm lips grazed his cheek.

"I don't want to shatter your world. I wish you could stay just as you are — built of innocent selfishness and clever pride."

"You're already ruining my world."

"Me?"

"Don't play dumb."

When Aeroc's edge sharpened against the clumsy theatrics, Bendyke looked pained. The arms that had held him firmly went slack. Aeroc seized the opening, shoved him off, and put distance between them.

"Do you even realize where we are? Before you pull that juvenile stunt about protecting my world, take a look at your own behavior. My daily life is already a wreck because of you."

"Am I that much trouble?"

"Obviously."

At that, Bendyke wore an ambiguous smile.

"I can't tell if I should be glad or worried."

"Go with glad. That's what you wanted."

Bendyke seemed about to add something — some drivel about how this wasn't his intention, or how Aeroc was being dramatic about the attention. If he did, Aeroc was ready to slap him. But the man held his tongue to the very end. Instead, he appended only: "I'll be more careful going forward" — a reply whose intent was impossible to read.