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Hi, my name is Nicky
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 | [00-05] Forbidden Fruit |
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 4.69 with 13 vote(s)
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| Created: 2009-01-17 17:29:49 |
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A/N: Contains the usual (:
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[00]
HE has always been beautiful, always has been so elegant and so stunning. You can’t keep your eyes off him, you never could. You know you should be clearing away the empty platters left by the guests in the manor, but you can’t resist. You pause in your duty, eyes skimming the swirl of dresses and fabric until you spot him seated by the fire, watching.
He looks like an angel with his long, almost white, hair, soft pale skin and baby blue eyes. Probably, you muse, even more beautiful then any angel the Lord has by his side. You hate to have to drag your eyes away, but there is work to be done. And anyway, there is no use fantasizing about the Masters son because, well, you’re nothing but a lowly servant and he is a wealthy son of a Lord. Just as you turn to go about your duty, his eyes flick up and gaze at you from across the room.
You’re frozen, enraptured. You can’t look away, can’t bring yourself to break the gaze.
“Nicolas…Nicolas, what the hell are you doing? Get to work,” hisses a harsh voice. Your eyes slowly, reluctantly, swivel to meet his. It’s Harry, manservant to the Lord. He oversees all the servants and their work, and he is the one to bring the lashings should you disobey. “The Lord won’t like the likes of you hanging around up here more then you have to. He don’t want his guests to see a filthy servant, now jump to it.”
“Oh right, of course. Sorry,” you mumble, and begin to gather the empty platters to make room for the newer ones. Harry disappears through a side door and you can’t resist just one more look. You glance over your shoulder, but Master Edward is now conversing with a guest, but the smile on his face is unmistakable. It’s stunning, makes your heart leap embarrassingly.
You hurriedly collect the silver platters and trays and dart through the side door, down the steps into the bustling kitchen. It’s noisy down here, horribly so. There are bubbles and clanks and loud chatter and orders. Trays and spoons and saucepans are battered together, clinking and crashing something chronic. A headache begins to pound in your head.
You decide to leave the noise; you won’t be needed for a while again anyway. You will be summoned only when the guests have left or retreated to their rooms, and then you will start the clearing up. The sweeping, the dusting, the cleaning, that will be your job and you will be doing it until morning.
The outside is wonderfully cool and quiet. Birds sing their praises in the trees, as the evening stars glitter and twinkle against the inky black sky. You wander down the side of the manor, pushing through a small wooden gate into the rose garden. This is by far the most beautiful garden of the lot. Roses of all colors bloom in all corners, flowering vines creep along the fences and up the majestic trees. You have always found this the most peaceful of all the gardens.
You sit on the wooden bench at the far end and close your eyes. The wind tickles your neck, lightly kissing your face. You’re so content in your thoughts, you don’t hear the gate swing open again or feel the eyes gazing at you from afar. Only when a smooth voice cuts across the silence do you open your eyes and fully realize you are being watched.
“Nicolas, isn’t it?” You look up in surprise, ready to answer when you see just who is talking to you.
“Master Edward…?” you breathe. You’re amazed. Why would he be talking to you? “Oh, yes, yes my name is Nicolas,” you add hastily afterward, noticing that you hadn’t answered his question. He regards you with a gaze that makes your heart melt.
“Enough of the formalities,” he breezes, waving a hand as he steps closer, “I abhor being addressed as Master. Please, call me Edward.” He is standing in front of you, studying you it seems. You swallow, blushing under his scrutiny. You have to speak, concentrate on something other then the person in front of you.
“Was there something you wanted, Master- oh, erm…Edward?” He smiles as he takes your hand and drags you up.
“As a matter of fact,” he whispers tantalizingly in your ear, “there is…” He moves away suddenly, his hand still wrapped around yours as he leads to another corner of the rose garden. It’s the part where the wall dips curiously, meaning that if anyone was to glance inside, they wouldn't see the pair of you.
You open your mouth to ask just what exactly he wants, when he kisses you. He presses you up against the wall, a hand wrapped around the back of your neck. You’re surprised, unresponsive. What the hell is going on? You must be dreaming? But the sensation of his kiss is far too real, the feel of his lips against yours far too delicious.
You grasp reality and kiss him back heatedly. Tongue strokes tongue, lips massage lips, hands explore bodies. You feel the warmth of his fingers dancing across your abdomen, digging his nails into your flesh in such a way you can’t hold back a moan. His lips are at your neck, trailing kisses and sharp nips across the sensitive skin. Your head falls back against brick wall, allowing him more access to your neck. His fingers grip at your hips as he returns his lips to yours.
The kiss is filled with reverence, long ignored need and want. You’re breathless in the kiss, the strange sensation of breathing for the first time and being denied air completely overwhelms you. His breathing is harsh and ragged against your lips when he pulls away again, leaning his forehead against yours. You glance up at him, cursing your small stature. He gazes back at you. Neither of you do anything for a while; you just stand there, pressed together, breathing in each others air. You swallow.
Edward dips his head once more, kissing you again. This kiss is gentler, used more to arouse then as a release of built up tension. His fingers resume their lazy journey about your stomach, knuckles grazing teasingly across your flushed skin. Your eyes flutter closed, your breathing hitching as each touch sends a ripple of pleasure coursing through your body.
A blissful warmth seeps through your stomach as his fingers glace over the sensitive belt of skin just above your waist band, teasingly.
Edward’s finger on his other hand trails softly down the side of your face, along the edge of your jaw before tracing your full lips. You smile sultrily, parting your lips and allowing his finger inside. Your fingers curl around his wrist as you slowly and teasingly lavish inappropriate attention on his finger, giving Edward just an inkling of how skilled you really are with your tongue.
He moans softly, eyes flashing with desire as your tongue rolls over his finger and you suck gently. In retaliation to your blatant teasing, Edward grinds your hips together, eliciting yet another enticing groan.
Your breathing has alleviated, near a pant, a harsh, needy exhale of breath. You release his finger, eyeing him with a smile, before you move to kiss him again, not quite yet content to grant him what he wants.
He pulls back. He looks even more beautiful now, with plush crimson lips and flushed cheeks, and hazy, yet twinkling eyes. He smiles, rewarding you with another kiss, passionate and wanting, Your hand runs through his curls, pressing him closer, and you feel him go to mumble something needy against your lips, when someone calls out.
“Master Edward? Master Edward, your father wishes to see you…” It’s Harry. Edward sighs, breaking away.
“Don’t leave here until I have gone back into the house,” he whispers, teeth grazing your ear. It sends a bolt of wanton pleasure down your spine. You nod, biting your lip. His fingers brush against your cheekbone.
“T’is a shame we couldn’t continue, don’t you think?” he says, smiling mischievously with a wink. Before you can even think of an appropriate reply, he has turned away and left, leaving you a little confused but nonetheless strangely content against the wall, even without any real satisfaction.
[01]
Nicholas ‘Nicky’ Rodager was tense. And there were many reason’s for his tenseness. One reason was the frightful cold he was forcing himself to work in that was tightening and numbing his joints, another was the short hours in which the servants of the manor got to sleep and the useless slop they were fed because apparently servants were little more then mules. It could also be attributed to the long hours in which he worked in various parts of the manor, the long months away from his family and little entertainment to pass the time when he was granted some leisure time.
But the most pressing matter tensing his shoulders and eating away at him was the Masters’ Son. Edward was, in Nicky’s mind, the root of all his current aches. It had been little over a week since Edward had cornered him in the rose garden during his fathers’ Christmas party, pushed him up against a wall and kissed him rather abruptly– not that Nicky was a totally unwilling partner in those particular events. Now, it wasn’t the fact that Edward had kissed him, Nicky would have been more then happy to let it continue that night, instead it was lots of little factors that all stacked up against him. And, most of all, he felt embarrassed, even though it was Edward how had initiated the spontaneous and horribly pleasurable attack.
Nicky found he couldn’t look his Master in the eye and took all sorts of lengths to avoid him. And to avoid him, Nicky opted to volunteer for as many outside jobs as possible. It being the winter months, none of the servants wanted to help feed and sort out the animals, no one wanted to help tend to the horses with the stable boy – who was coughing and wheezing so badly that Nicky had come to believe the young boy won’t last the winter – so Nicky got the jobs easily.
And that was a rare relief to be away from the confines of the house. For Nicky had found that whilst trying to avoid the man who had unquestionable rights to be anywhere and everywhere, including the servant quarters, the house that had once seemed so large now seemed suffocatingly small.
So that was why Nicky was shivering and aching and yet strangely content out in the drafty stables with snuffling horses. He was currently raking up the dirtied hay, the stable boy – Jonathon – seated on an upturned barrel with a thin, frayed blanket wrapped around his tiny, quaking shoulders.
“Y-Ya sure y-ya don’ wan’ no h-help?” The young boy stuttered, tripping over his words in his chill. Nicky shook his head, barely looking up from his work.
“It’s alright lad. You just sit there and try to warm up a bit. You falling ill wont do. Your family needs you, no doubt.”
The boy nods jerkily. “Aye, sir, they do. Than’s, sir. Ya too kin’.” Nicky just shrugged his shoulders with a small smile, before returning to his work. Silence fell between the two, and the only noises where of the horses chewing and snorting, the wind roaring outside and the low, tortured groan of the lopsided building they were standing in. The silence stretched on comfortably, both males content with their own thoughts.
“Nicky?” Nicky glanced up, leaning heavily on the rake as he took in the appearance of their visitor.
“Elsa,” he returned with a nod of his head. Elsa was a scullery maid. She was pretty in a plain sort of way, and she was young, perhaps fifteen or sixteen. Her brown eyes were soft and naïve and her lips thin and quick to smile despite her lowly position.
“The Lord is looking for you. Joanna told me to come look for you.”
Nicky frowned. “Me? Why would Lord Buckley want to talk to me?” The young girl shrugged, before her attention was ripped away from Nicky and to the small boy cowering on the upturned barrel.
“Oh my!” she gasped. “You poor thing.” Nicky didn’t bother to remind her that she needed work, and besides, the young boy looked as though he needed a good hug and a motherly figure to care for him during his stay. Nicky knew he craved for one when he first turned up here after his father died and passed on his debt to his family.
Abandoning the rake, Nicky slipped from the barn that was waving in the wind dangerously and half ran across the grasses towards the large building. He eased open the kitchen door, nodding his apologies to the kitchen staff.
“Oh, the wretched girl found you then, did she?” the cook sniffed, and Nicky nodded.
“Aye, mam,” he answered respectfully with a duck of his head, for the cook was not to be toyed with. Her revenge was swift and cruel. Before he could engage in further conversation, Nicky continued through the kitchen and up the stairs that lead to the main hall.
He raked his fingers through his hair and carried on through the hall, bypassing footmen and maids on his way.
“George,” he called out to one particular footman, known to be the favorite of his Lordship. George paused in his duty. “Where may I find the Lord?”
“In his study,” George answered. “Be sure to knock before entering.” Nicky nodded and continued up the stairs, trying to make himself a little more presentable. His fingers however, were not obeying him and were refusing to move little more then an inch due to the frost that had settled deep in his joints.
When he reached the study door, he knocked lightly on it with his knuckles.
“You may enter,” the Lord called with his booming, loud voice. Nervously, Nicky gripped the door handle and stepped into the room. It was lavishly decorated, with a fine oak desk behind which the rotund Lord sat, and a matching bookcase. Gilt gold, tapestries of great expense and beautiful, rare paintings adorned the walls and surfaces with their luxury. Nicky looked at the Lord, who motioned with his fingers for Nicky to come closer.
“You are Nicholas Rodager are you not, son of Francis and Elizabeth Rodager?”
Nicky nodded. “Aye, my Lord that is me.” Watery blue eyes fixed on him, evaluating, studying. Nicky shifted uncomfortably, dropping his gaze to the floor. The thing that agitated him the most was the fact he didn’t know why he was here. Was he here to be punished or commended? Taking into the account of the tone in which the Lord spoke, Nicky was more inclined to believe the former. It was a though that was accompanied by a concealed shudder. He had only been on the receiving end of Harry’s whip once, but once was enough. His back still bore the scars of that horrible day that had been forever etched in his memory. In hindsight, however, it had done its job and deterred Nicky from ever wanting to do something against the rules again.
“Hmm, you’re father left a great debt to me when he died, did he not?” The Lord said as he stood and moved so he could circle the young man in front of him.
“Aye, my Lord,” Nicky answered, frowning a little in confusion. This fact was well known throughout most of the serfs at the manor. It was the same with the stable boy.
“Well, I have been rechecking my accounts and found that your father had much dearer debts then were first discussed.” Nicky looked up sharply, sure what the Lord said was a lie. He knew the debt; his father had told him the amount. Being the oldest boy in the family, his father saw it fit to share such things with him.
“My Lord if I may intervene –,” Nicky started.
“Silence!” Nicky jumped and bit his tongue, his eyes downcast. “Do not think I am lying to you boy. I would never do such an ungodly thing. When I say your fathers’ debts are larger then we first presumed, your fathers’ debts are larger then we first presumed. I should get you whipped for your incompetence.” Nicky flinched once again. Harry was brutal when doling out punishments and Nicky had seen him break even the toughest serf with the right cracks of his wrist.
“Sorry, my Lord,” Nicky mumbled repentantly. “Please forgive my interruption.”
The Lord just sniffed, and ignored Nicky’s plea for forgiveness before continuing. “Because of such new found facts, consider three years added to your repayment time of seven years, three of which have already been completed.” Nicky stared up at the Lord, unbelievingly. Three more years? How was he supposed to provide for his family? Thomas, who was only sixteen, was struggling terribly to support their mother, Rosalyn, the twins and the baby. They needed him.
“But, my Lord –!”
“There will be no arguments, Rodager,” the Lord hissed spitefully. “Or I will send you to Harry and he can deal with you.” Once again Nicky was forced to bit his tongue. He forced his eyes to the hard wood floor, rage pulsing through his body at the sheer and complete audacity of the Lord and the unfairness. But then, he was only a servant. He was the Lords’ property and the Lord was well within his rights to treat and order his property how he wished.
How Nicky hated him.
“You are dismissed. Continue with your business.” Nicky nodded stiffly, bowing shortly and retreating from the room. He resisted the urge to slam the doors behind him.
“Dxmnable fool,” Nicky muttered heatedly. Darker insults circulated his head but he would never voice them. To voice them would be to shame his mother, for he had been brought up as a good gentleman despite their poverty.
“Such an apt description, though I do bet you are thinking a lot worse then that.” Nicky tensed. The tone was teasing and light, friendly, which was uncommon among Masters. Nicky closed his before he turned and done what he had been taught to do upon arrival. He bowed, and, whilst strictly avoiding eye contact, he addressed the man in front of him.
“May there be something I can do for you Master Edward?” his words were quiet, and he could feel his cheeks blushing horribly.
“You can look at me for starters,” Edward ordered softly, his smile apparent in his voice. Reluctantly, Nicky’s eyes rose to meet Edward’s. He chewed nervously on his lip. The silence dragged on for a bit, but when Edward did go to speak, another voice sounded and a presence made itself known.
“Dear brother,” the Lady of the house called. Nicky barely glanced over his shoulder before glancing back at Edward to gauge his reaction. The other man just rolled his eyes.
“Dear sister,” he returned, still smiling his boyish, cheeky smile. The Lady, Isobel, brushed past Nicky without much thought, immediately going to her brothers’ side. Only then did she glance at the servant boy and shake her head.
“Brother, come with me. I have much to discuss with you,” she urged, laying a hand on her brothers’ arm. Nicky felt Edward gazed at him for a moment, but he didn’t see it for his gaze had dropped once more.
“Go ahead to your room, Isobel; I shall join you in a moment.” The beautiful female nodded, and left her brothers’ side. Edward seemed to be waiting until the rustle of too many layers and the tap of heels had disappeared entirely before he spoke once more.
“Well, it seems the saints are against us,” he smiled, “for we keep getting interrupted.” Nicky’s blush just worsened, and he kept his gaze locked on the floor. “Well, maybe next time we shall be luckier. They do say third time’s a charm.” Edward winked, before he then turned and left. Only then did Nicky finally look up and hate himself for having attracted the Masters attention. If he hadn’t perhaps then the Lord Almighty might have looked more favorably upon him.
[02]
Nicky hurriedly disappeared into the kitchen after his short and stilted conversation with Edward. He, quite frankly, was rather glad that Lady Isobel had interrupted them. Nicky knew the last thing he wanted to do was get involved with the Masters’ son in any way, let alone the way that had been plaguing him for a long, long time. That was sinful and highly unorthodox. And so very wrong. He shook his head. Nothing good would come of increased interaction with Master Edward. Nothing at all.
“What you doing down here?” The cook questioned with a sniff. Nicky ducked his head.
“Sorry, ma’am, I was simply looking for Elsa, if you have seen her?”
“Aye, I’ve seen her,” the cook said, a rare, small smile of approval creeping over her face. “She be out in her quarters with that stable buck. She be warming the poor kid up and letting him rest, that where she be.”
“Thank cook.” He bowed his head once more and weaved through the kitchen and pushing open the side door into the servant quarters.
“Elsa?” His eyes skimmed the plain room, and fell on her perched on the corner of the bed, smiling down at the sleeping boy. She didn’t look up at her name but she spoke quietly, soothingly.
“He reminds me of my young brother, Samuel, back home.” Her tone was wistful, full of longing. She missed her family. Nicky could relate to that feeling so very well.
“He is lucky to have you for a sister,” Nicky answered, moving closer so he was standing behind the younger girl.
“Nicky, how big is your family?”
Nicky smiled. “Very. There’s mother, Tommy, Rosalyn, Benjamin and Jacob and young Bethany. My father died three years ago.”
“Do you miss them all terribly?”
“Of course,” Nicky replied with little hesitation. He laid a hand on her shoulder comfortingly and she fell back into him with a sigh. “I know how you are feeling. You’re homesick, yes? It lessens in time. Just asked the Lord to use Sunday’s rest to see your family.” But even as Nicky said it he knew the Lord would never grant such a thing. The Lord wasn’t necessarily cruel to his workers – he left that to Harry – but he was greedy and loathsome. He would never grant a worker a day off, would never allow a servant to relax, not when they’re lack of work looses him money. The Lord was money driven.
Elsa nodded and leaned forward once more. “We’d best be getting to around to our duties.” Nicky made a noise of agreement and followed the young girl form the room. Once in the large, bustling kitchen, readying itself for lunch, Nicky caught sight of the Gardener sitting at the table.
“Ah, Nicky, I wuz jus’ comin’ ta look fa ya. Wanna ‘ome ‘elp me ou’?” The gardener wheezed. He was one of a few with an alien accent, the stable buck included.
“Of course. I’d be happy to.” The gardener nodded, rubbing his white bristles with his skeletal hand. “‘Ome on then lad.” Nicky followed the elderly gentleman back out into the cold of the winters’ morning. He shivered but didn’t complain. He would rather be there, then indoors trying to avoid eye contact with Edward whenever the Master passed him. Nicky followed absently, not paying full attention to which garden they were to be tending too until he reached the gate. He held back a groan when he released it would be the rose garden.
As if he needed anymore reminders.
But he still stepped inside, battling desperately against himself to stop the memories of a few nights before from filtering through into his minds’ eye. He didn’t need to be tortured right now in the lingering memory of blissful torment. He had enough of that in his dreams, thank you every much.
“Take prune tha dead plants ova there fa me,” the gardener ordered, thrusting a weathered and rusted blade into Nicky’s already numbed hands. The seventeen year old nodded, and turned away to the bed on the opposite side of the garden, where dead, shriveled roses waved miserably in the wind. A few days ago, when the wind hadn’t been so cruel, the roses were still fighting for life, still battling to keep from withering, but the wind had overwhelmed them and frozen them to the core. The wind had ripped way their beauty and turned them into mere deadened corpses of their former glory. And Nicky cut away at them, trimming the bushes down of unneeded dead blooms, to make way for the fresh buds when spring rolled around.
Nicky fingers’ only permitted him to work at a certain speed, his joint seizing up and refusing to obey his demands with the stubbornness of a child. He sighed, dropping the knife after a while to flex his fingers painfully and try to cease the chattering of his teeth that had become his rhythm.
“Ya orite there lad? Not ta col’?”
“No,” Nicky called back, returning to pruning the skeletons of the roses. “Don’t worry about me.” The wind was howling, picked up speed and velocity. It ripped ad shredded and tore and screamed. It wailed and bellowed and roared. It demanded attention, and, even when it quiet for a moment, it still caressed the pair working with cruel, icy kisses before shrieking up a storm. Now Nicky really was feeling the thinness of his clothes. He was beyond shaking and goosebumps now. It was painful, his hands pale and yet red as they worked with aching slowness.
“Jesus, you two are perfectly insane.” The words were almost swallowed up by the wind and Nicky looked up. Edward was trying to keep his hair from his face and was walking towards Nicky. The seventeen year old closed his eyes and sighed. Was it that Edward was surprising blind when it came to hints? Or was he purposefully ignoring them? Nicky was inclined to believe the latter.
When Edward reached him his obscenely warm hand closed gently but firmly around his upper arm and pulled his assuredly to his feet.
“Bring back memories?” Edward muttered, the words low enough for Nicky to hear, but loud enough to be heard over the wind. His smile was blatantly teasing. He knew dxmn full well that Nicky was haunted in a horribly good way about the events of that night. Nicky pulled a face and momentarily forgot his face.
“Is there a reason you insist on striking up conversation all the time?” he bit out, more due to his frustration at himself and the intense cold, then Edward. Then his eyes widened, and his clamped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry! Forgive me Master Edward, I don’t know what –!” He was waved silent by Edward amused waving of his hand.
Contrary to a normal nobles reaction to the outburst, Edward seemed…delighted, as if he truly enjoyed the frustration Nicky showed and scored through his words. But instead of continuing the conversation, Edward simply dropped his hand to the younger mans wrist and pulled him towards the gate, pointedly ignoring the gardeners amazed expression as he stare dafter the pair of them.
After successfully dragging a frozen Nicky inside the house, Edward dropped his hand and looked disapprovingly at the servant. “You’ll catch your death if you out there without at least a coat,” he chided, almost like a mother chivvying a wayward child. But then his expression cleared once more and he was smiling mischievously, boyishly. Nicky had to admit the smile was beautiful.
“I have a proposition for you, Nicky,” Edward breezed. Nicky wondered how the Master knew of his nickname, but decided against asking. He simply followed the master through the house towards the stairs. The footmen and maids around paused in their duty as he passed to duck their head respectfully. Edward seemed not to notice the fleeting gestures of esteem. “I know what my father wanted of you when you saw him earlier. I’m sure you suffered through the same thing with your father, of him telling you everything to do with the business and the family.” Edward spoke, Nicky thought, in a way that was very forward thinking and advanced for such an age. In this age, children done as they were told and boys aspired to follow in their fathers’ footsteps. But, apparently, not Edward. “Well, I have an idea that benefits me, you although you wont admit it and the so called large debt your father left.” They stopped outside the Lords study and Edward rapped his knuckles on the door before looking over his shoulder. He smiled, before stepping a bit closer to the smaller boy.
“No need to look so scared, Nicky,” he teased, tapping his nose in a slightly condescending manner that Nicky couldn’t help but bristle at. “It won’t hurt a bit.” The door opened and Edward stepped smartly away.
“You sure it’s Rodager you wanted?” Edward nodded and his father disappeared into the study once more.
Edward grinned muttering, “Step once more into the dragons den to be enlightened.” Nicky had little choice but to follow into the study he had just left, wondering what was to await him.
[03]
Nicky wondered what he had done to be called to the same room twice in one day with the same of an hour. Edward was smiling softly behind his fathers’ desk. The lord was quietly looking over some paperwork. Nicky took this time to fully take in the Lords appearance. He was a large, the buttons straining against his barrel of his stomach. His was practically bald, his head shiny and red. His nose was bulbous and also so very red. It was curious. Nicky had to wonder where Lady Isobel and Master Edward had gotten their good looks from. But then, he had seen the portraits of their mother and she was stunning. She was a glorious beauty with honey hair and pale skin so maybe his confusion was misplaced.
He eyed the pair of nobles nervously. They were conversing quietly, and Edward was smiling. Nicky had a sneaking suspicion that for some reason this so-called proposition might not be in his best interests.
His mind flicked involuntarily to a few nights before at the party. He shivered and that wasn’t necessarily due to the slight chill from the crack in the window. He couldn’t deny the fact that, yes, he was interested in Edward in a way that was morally and socially completely unacceptable. He was and he couldn’t deny it, no matter how much he wanted too. Nor could he deny how the memory haunted him during both waking and sleeping moments, or how he actually enjoyed the attention he had attracted from the beautiful boy. But he also couldn’t admit it. He wouldn’t. This was for a number of reasons.
In that day and age, men don’t love other men romantically. It was ungodly, blasphemous and your one way ticket to hell. Nicky wasn’t a particularly religious man, but he still attended services and muttered his prayers and had a certain amount of believe in the entity named God and his supposed son Jesus. That was the main reason for Nicky’s silence. Besides, he would hate to shame his mother in such a way. The woman had given him everything she could, and Nicky could not repay her by falling to temptation, no matter how persistent Edward was.
Although, admittedly, Nicky didn’t quite believe that last statement.
But then it struck him, didn’t Edward have the same feelings as well? Nicky wasn’t naïve enough to think that the events a few nights ago were due to too much wine. Edward clearly had the same…impulses as Nicky, so didn’t he suffer the same moral conflictions that Nicky battled through whenever the thought came to mind?
He glanced up once more annoyed to find father and son still conversing. Why in hell did they ask him here if all they were going to do was talk? Nicky had things to do, chores to complete. This was wasting time horribly.
What was the meaning of this? They might have had nothing to do, but Nicky did. He sighed, dropping his gaze back to the floor. He was a fairly patient man, but even he had his limits and he was quickly nearing them.
“Right, well, Edward if you are sure,” Lord Buckley said, finally looking up to meet the gaze of his son. “Though, you fired the last one. Why do you want a new one?”
Edward shrugged. “I didn’t get along with the last one. I think he and I may be a little more… compatible.” His eyes flicked up and met with Nicky’s curious ones. The serf bit his lip nervously and glanced back down, missing Edward’s small, almost affectionate smile.
The fat Lord sniffed. “Well, alright then. But you do not have the power to fire this one if you get annoyed with him. He has a debt to pay.” Edward was nodding uncaringly.
“I know father.” Then both sets of noble eyes turn to Nicky, who was still staring resolutely at the floor, wondering why he was still standing here.
“Here, serf,” the Lord said and Nicky allowed his eyes to rise once more. Edward was staring disapprovingly at his father.
“Father, please take no offence, but if I called George or Harry ‘serf’, you’d be highly annoyed….” The young noble said, his tone pitched perfectly enough to offer contriteness at his words, but with an underlying note of uncaring. Lord Buckley didn’t answer and Edward rolled his eyes, smiling at Nicky.
But the mention of George and Harry had stuck up much curiosity. It was known throughout the manor that those were the favorites to the Lord. Why was Edward mentioning them…?
Then it hit him. He looked up and stared at Edward, and he knew his gaze was hard. Edward just smiled innocently.
Edward was intent to make every once of Nicky’s stubbornness towards him vanish. And what Edward wanted, Edward got. And he wanted Nicky, so, he thought, he would get Nicky. He knew this ideology was highly childish, but he countered that with the thought that he was hardly mature in most situations anyway and shrugged it off. Besides, Nicky was hardly subtle about his attraction towards the young noble himself. After all, who had been sneaking glances at him since he first came here?
“Rodager.” Nicky dragged his eyes away from a softly smiling and lost in thought Edward to gaze at the Lord. “Next week you are to abandon all duties and instead work as my sons’ valet. Any bad word from Edward and you will be straight to Harry.”
Nicky resisted the urge to glare at Edward, who was currently staring out the window in rare silence. “Yes, Lord Buckley. Thank you, Lord Buckley.”
“You are both dismissed.” Edward came to lie at those words, sweeping elegantly past his fathers desk, with a small, mandatory respectful bow, and out of the room, Nicky following.
As soon as the door closed, Nicky turned to the young noble, once again forgetting his place. It was too easy to be himself around Edward.
“You are doing this deliberately,” Nicky stated accusingly. Edward just smiled, glancing in the smaller mans’ direction with a shrug.
“And you are so opposed to this why? You weren’t this stubborn last week.” Nicky glared at the young noble in irritation. He was right and Nicky hated that. Edward stifled a laugh behind his hand at Nicky’s irritation.
“That is not the point,” Nicky returned, biting it out. Then he shook his head in surprise. It was way too easy to be himself around the young Master. He opened his mouth to apologize; hastily bowing but Edward waved him silent.
“Don’t worry,” Edward said genially, leading Nicky towards his room. “I prefer it when you don’t act like a servant and more like an actual person.” His tone was quieter then usual, had lost its kindly teasing note and was simply truthful. “All the over-the-top politeness annoys me. Try to be yourself around me.”
“I fear that it is a little too easy to follow that command,” Nicky muttered and Edward grinned.
“Good.” There was silence.
“Edward.” A head poked out from a door and Edward paused.
“What is it now, Isobel? I am busy.”
“I was just wondering if you had seen Elizabeth, my maid. I need her,” Isobel said, glancing in Nicky’s direction with a frown.
“No, dear sister, I haven’t. The last time I laid eyes on her was when we spoke earlier,” Edward answered. “And before you ask, this is Nicholas, my new acquired valet, so play nice.” She regarded Nicky with an evaluative glare, before she sniffed. She thanked Edward and disappeared once again into her room without another look in Nicky’s direction.
“Why must she ‘play nice’?” Nicky asked, frowning as he looked at Edward.
He shrugged. “She has a particular dislike for male servants. Do not ask me why, women are unfathomable creatures to me and their dislikes usually irrational. She’ll probably ignore you.” Nicky nodded silently, and stepped inside Edwards’ room when he held the door open for him.
He leaned against the wall. “Do you care to explain yourself at all?”
“‘Do I care’,” Edward mimicked with a small smile. “I think you already know, and if you don’t, you are incredibly dim and I have gravely misread you.”
“I’m confused, that’s all…” Nicky admitted, frowning as though that fact annoyed him somehow.
“And why’s that?”
“You’re a noble…” His tone was disbelieving, but what he found so unbelievable, Edward couldn’t figure out.
“Yes, I am,” Edward nodded. “But why classify me so? That is only my birthright; it doesn’t make me who I am. You’re confusion is unfounded, Nicky. Just accept this for what it is.”
Nicky nodded thoughtfully. “And what is this?”
Edward paused, looking contemplative, before he stepped forward and pressed his lips to Nicky’s. Once again it didn’t take long for Nicky to react, and a small part of him was thoroughly annoyed when his reaction was only to kiss Edward back and prove the young noble right. But most of him couldn’t care less if he proving anything, just as long as Edward kept kissing him.
“Stop doing that,” Nicky snapped when Edward broke away, totally belying his thoughts. Edward just laughed knowingly.
“You know you don’t mean that, otherwise why would you keep kissing back?” Nicky glared at the taller man, unable to reply because, well, what could he say to such a statement. Edward smiled smugly. “That’s what I thought.”
[04]
“Now, I know you are just doing this on purpose,” Nicky said, rolling his eyes. It had been a few days since be began his duties as Edwards’ personal servant. On his first day he had been dreading being in such close proximity with the young noble, but he had coped much better than he had thought. The ridiculous, unpractical outfit was worse then his duties, he found.
“Valets are partly there for looks,” Edward had insisted, Nicky looking less than impressed and more murderous. “You have to look the part as well as play it. Now, don’t give me that look and just wear it.” Nicky had then grumbled many ungentlemanly comments under his breath – all of which had caused Edward to laugh delightfully – before disappearing to get changed in the livery that had obviously been designed to look as nice as possible and abandon all practicality and comfort in the process.
“I forget things,” Edward said innocently, with a small shrug. His smile was that same light hearted teasing grin, and Nicky knows that Edward is purposely trying to annoy him.
“You are insufferable,” Nicky stated, throwing the young noble a pointed look as he took the letter from the side. He found it a little odd how they had easy fallen into easy conversation, almost like equals. But this phenomenon only occurred in private, when they were both safe from chastising from various people.
“Now I’m not that bad,” Edward countered from the corner of his bed where he sat, occupying himself by flicking open the clasps on his violin case. “Try being poor George waiting on my father. That must be horrid, don’t you think?”
Nicky rolled his eyes, bowing his head slightly. “I see your point, but it does little to extract from the fact that you are insufferable. How can you forget to give me a letter? I only went to the post office yesterday.”
Edward shrugged, tucking the instrument under his chin and allowing a few whispers of soft music to resound gracefully. “I just did, stop being difficult. And please get me some bourbon; father doesn’t get the kind I like. There’s money on the side.”
Nicky ducked his head in acknowledgement. “Of course, Master Edward.” Edward glanced up at him and looked ready to throw his violin bow at Nicky’s head.
“Don’t call me that,” Edward said, “you know I loathe it. Especially from you.” Nicky just chuckled, and left the room with another small bow. Edward shook his head with a small smile at the door where Nicky had once been standing, before he stood up, violin in hand, and went to the window instead. He gazed out to the small village below, once again positioned the violin and began to play a soft lullaby he had learned from his mother with careful, caring fingers.
Nicky stepped out from posting the letter, and walked across the street. Horses sniffled and neighed, their hooves clacking as they trotted down the crowded cobbled streets. Sellers yelled, advertising their wares, children played and screamed in laughter, women gossiped and chatted over baskets of bread, men chortled and worked, chickens squawked and batted their wings from inside their cages. It was a racket, but Nicky rather liked the chaos of the market, it reminded him of many a good day messing around the same streets as a young lad, causing trouble and mischief with fellow village boys as he went. The memories of it made him smile.
“Careful there, Miss,” Nicky called out, running forward to catch a young maid as she nearly toppled over. “I…Rose? What are you doing here?” The young maiden, who turned out rather coincidentally to be Nicky’s younger sibling, straightened herself out with a flustered look.
“Nicky, I could ask the same thing of you,” she replied a moment later, tone haughty. She eyed her brother with slight annoyance.
“I am doing my job.”
“You do odds and ends,” Rosalyn said, a frown of confusion marring her pretty face.
Nicky shrugged. “Not anymore, dear sister, I am now valeting to Master Edward, much to my chagrin.”
Her frown deepened. “But I heard Master Edward is kind. Is that incorrect?” Nicky glanced away, back up the street with a small sigh and shook his head.
“Nay, that is quite right, sister,” Nicky said quietly, “it’s just…” he trailed off before shaking his head once more and smiling at his sister. “It’s nothing you need to be worrying about. And my, don’t you look beautiful and grown up. Where are you off to?”
Rosalyn blushed, looking insecure for the first time. “Well…” she said hesitantly. “If you must know, the Bakers’ boy has…well…” She looked a little embarrassed.
“I see, the Bakers boy is Thomas, is it not? And he is trying to court you, is he not?” Nicky smiled teasingly. Rosalyn pulled a face.
“Don’t you do anything, Nicholas,” she said, eyeing him. “He is a good man, and I am not adverse to his attention.”
“I wasn’t planning on doing anything. As long as you are happy, Rose, I care not of what you do.” Rose smiled softly.
“And I you, brother,” she said graciously with a slight incline of her head and a look of strange, almost sad acceptance of something. “You shall make someone most happy soon.” Nicky looked up sharply at her use of ‘someone’ and not ‘lady’ or ‘woman,’ but before he could pick her up, Rosalyn was continuing. “You are a better man than I believe even father to be. I care not for your decisions on life either as long as they make you happy. Now, I must be off. It doesn’t do to keep someone waiting.”
“No…” Nicky said slowly, frowning slightly at his sisters’ words. “Bad manners, that.” Rosalyn nodded and with a small wave of farewell, she turned. “Give my love to the family.” She looked over her shoulder and nodded with a bright smile before disappearing inside the bakers, where Nicky was sure Thomas was eagerly awaiting her arrival.
He stared at the shop a moment later as if it would reveal the secrets of his sister’s cryptic speech, before he too turned and carried up on the cobbled street to buy Edward his preferred bottle of aged bourbon.
[05]
Nicky quietly lit the fireplace in Edwards’ room. His mind was buzzing, brimming with worry. He had long since figured out the meaning behind his sisters’ elusive comments a few days before and the fact that she had puzzled him out concerned him, even if she did express some sort of half formed acceptance. He just hoped she didn’t also figure out just who he had a certain liking for. Rosalyn always was scarily perceptive. You couldn’t hide a secret from her and you couldn’t lie to her. She saw through it all, always.
He hoped she would keep her silence.
He sighed, standing up and crossed the room and stepped out into the hall. Below, in the small sitting room made especially for the children, Nicky could hear the soft tendrils of beautiful music curl and swirl throughout the house. He recognized the sound instantly as Edwards’ violin, an instrument the other man had been playing since a young age due to his mothers’ love of music. To Nicky’s understanding, young Lady Isobel was also well versed in the workings of a piano.
He carried on down the stairs, passing the room and pausing for a moment, just to listen. Edward might have been a little presumptuous and conceited, but he did create such beautiful, yet disturbingly mournful, music. Nicky hesitated for only moment before he carried on up the corridor, pushing open the door towards the kitchen below and descending the stair. The kitchen was quiet, movement lacking. A few scullery maids and kitchen maids hovered, cleaning floors and dishes from the evening meal, but other then that it was silent. His eyes skimmed the area, glad to find the cook had disappeared into her quarters. A few of the maids nodded respectfully, now that Nicky’s position was much higher than theirs and he was their superior.
Nicky went to oppose the extra respect thrown in his way, so used to being one of the ignored servants himself, when there was a voice calling from across the kitchen, distilling the silence.
“Nicky, I haven’t seen you in a while.” Nicky looked up and smiled softly at the young scullery maid.
“Sorry, I have been rather busy.” Elsa smiled and nodded, returning to the wooden bucket she had set on the floor, where she was humbly scrubbing. “Need a little help?”
“Good sir,” Elsa said with a smile, her tone playfully scolding, “Valets are not to help simple scullery maids. They have their own duties towards their master.” Nicky laughed softly.
“Said master is driving me insane.” Elsa paused in her work, straightening up from where she was scrubbing.
“How so?” she frowned, then blushed. “Forgive my prying. It is not ladylike to gossip, especially about ones’ master.” Nicky nodded.
“Aye, that is probably so,” he agreed, glad to have an excuse not to explain himself further. “How is the stable boy?”
“Jonathon is fine now; Cook helped me nurse him back to health. We got –.” She cut off and blushed once more. Nicky frowned, forgetting his momentary surprise that the cook would help out a lowly scullery maid.
“Got who to do what?” Elsa chewed her lip nervously, eyes dropped to the floor as she toyed with her scrubbing brush.
She sighed. “Promise you won’t tell, Nicky?”
“I promise.”
“We had the farrier look after the horses for free whilst the boy was out of duty.” Nicky leaned against the side, looking bemused.
“Why should I have to promise my silence over that?” The flustered look on her face mirrored his sisters’ one exactly. “Oh, is he a follower, young Elsa?” Her only answer was a short embarrassed incline of the head.
Nicky laughed. “My, my all the women I know are being courted, my sister, you…next I shall probably receive word that my mother has remarried.” He spoke with good-humor and Elsa cracked a smile. “Your secret is safe with me, Miss Elsa. They shall hear no word of any gentleman callers.”
Elsa thanked him bashfully, before her eyes slid to glance behind him and his dropped her gaze and immediately went back to her scrubbing. Before Nicky could glance around to see what had alarmed Elsa so he felt someone grasp his ear and drag him from the kitchen, just like his mother used to do when he trailed in particularly messy or when he ate one biscuit too many.
He made a noise of pain and stumbled out into the hallway, rubbing his ear. The cook looked disapproving and sniffed. She crossed her arms and stared at him. He blinked for a moment, shaking himself out of many childish memories of punishment for things that had been so very fun and ducked his head.
“Sorry,” he muttered. He might have been a valet, and technically above her in position, but that did not mean she wasn’t a foreboding woman. She demanded respect and often got it due to her aura of menacing power. No one in their right mind messed with the cook, not even Harry. And Nicky was sure it was that that made Harry so crazy for the cook, even though she constantly snubbed him.
“So you should be,” she sniffed before her expression turned a little softer, but by no means kinder. “You are still the little odds and ends boy to me and you will not distract my scullery maids while they are working.”
“Sorry,” Nicky repeated, hating the way he sounded almost like a contrite child in the face of this great women’s quiet anger. She stared at him a little longer, before she nodded in satisfaction and disappeared back down the steps to her kitchen. Nicky pulled a childish face, unable to help himself, and tried to soothe his burning ear. He sighed, allowing his hand to drop and went back up the stairs.
The absence of Edwards’ music had alerted him to the fact that the noble had either disappeared upstairs or outside. And judging by the weather, Nicky was sure he would be upstairs by the fire.
He knocked on the door politely, and, upon receiving a muffled and tired sounding beckoning, entered the large, warmed space. He glanced around, spotting Edward lying on his stomach on his bed, his folded arms pillowing his head and his feet – his shoes had been kicked to the side of the room – resting on his pillow. His violin sat on the side, apart from its protective case – that was something Edward rarely allowed for.
Without speaking, Nicky crossed the room and gently took the precious instrument in hand and gently slid it into its place and snapped the clasps close.
“Thank you.” The words were once again muffled, coming out more as a tired sigh, although Nicky could still detect a hint of Edwards’ habitual teasing tone. Nicky observed Edward for a moment as he crossed his arms silently, waiting for the other man to start speaking. It was rare for Nicky to instigate conversation.
“Stop staring at me, Nicky,” Edward said, the smile definitely carrying in his words and that told Nicky that Edward didn’t at all mind the attention. Nicky laughed, shaking his head and looking away to the window, where the brutal wind battled and screamed in protest of being locked outside. He moved instead to sit in front of the foot of Edwards’ bed.
“Are you okay?”
Edward looked up and nodded, moving to lean on his elbows. “I’m just tired,” he said with his usual smile, which was, admittedly, a little sleepy.
Nicky snorted. “You don’t do anything,” he teased genially. Edward just rolled his eyes, leaning his chin on his palm as he gazed at Nicky lazily.
“I’ll have you know, I do a lot. I have to listen to my father ramble on about nonsense. You try and stay awake during that.”
“That’s taxing,” Nicky said sarcastically with a small smile. There was a small silence, torn only by the incessant bellowing of the wind outside. And that was when Nicky done something he had never done before. He leaned forward, a little hesitant, and he pressed his lips to Edwards. Edward made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat, but less than a fraction of a moment later, Nicky felt him grin against his lips. Nicky sat up a little bit, curling a hand around the back of the taller mans’ neck and kissing him a little deeper. If the angle was at all uncomfortable for Edward, he didn’t show it, he simply kissed back, meeting each soft stroke of tongue with one of his own.
Nicky pulled back a moment later, looking a little embarrassed. But all Edward said was, “Why is your ear red?”
“Hmm… oh, Cook caught me in the kitchen and threw me out,” Nicky replied with a chuckle. Edward tutted playfully, and Nicky noted he looked decidedly more awake. “You look more awake.”
Edward nodded in agreement. “Well yes, kissing does serve to make one more attentive.” He smiled his teasing smile and Nicky just rolled his eyes at the other mans’ response. Nicky moved to stand when Edward grabbed his wrist.
“Now, that’s not fair,” Edward said, sitting up and attempting to pull Nicky down with him. Nicky just laughed and pulled his hand free. He laughed a little more at Edwards near pout of disappointment.
“You’re like a child. You can’t always get what you want,” Nicky commented and Edward grinned.
“You shouldn’t tease then,” Edward countered, sitting back down onto the mattress. “Oh, and I have been called to visit Lord Tucson on business tomorrow,” – Nicky noticed how Edward frowned a little, but dismissed it – “and you are to join me.”
Nicky nodded. “As you wish,” he said. Edward nodded slightly, moving back across his bed to lean against the pillows, looking out of the window thoughtfully.
Nicky studied him for a moment. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve never been so quiet.”
Edward just smiled. “I’m fine, Nicky.” He looked up at Nicky, head cocked to the side slightly before he chuckled and returned his gaze back to the window.
“What?”
Edward smiled cheekily. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said without looking at Nicky. And Nicky, despite having the vague sense he was being dragged into one of Edward’s little games, answered in the affirmative.
Edward looked at him once more, and beckoned with his finger, still smiling. And when Nicky did approach, all Edward did was to sit up on his knees and kiss him again. Nicky didn’t have the heart to refuse, nor did he actually want to. So he let himself be kissed, trying to refrain from the urge to roll his eyes.
“I always get what I want,” Edward said when he pulled back, still smiling, his blue eyes glittering. And Nicky rolled his eyes, despite earlier attempts to resist.
“That just makes you horribly spoiled.”
Edward just laughed, sitting back down. “And yet you never refuse me.” |
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© 2008 The Doll Palace. All rights reserved.
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