Chapter Fourteen
November 14th, 1808
Whiteoaks, Wiltshire
While it was enjoyable to go riding with Tish and Major Reid in the afternoon, it meant that Tom had to forgo his tryst with Lucas in the folly for the second day running. Tom wondered if Lucas missed it as much as he did—the physical closeness, breathing each other’s breaths, their c***s sliding together in his hand, the sense that they were so close they were almost inside each other’s skin.
Lucas didn’t appear to miss it. He sat in the green and gold salon, eating plum cake and discussing his nephew’s upcoming birthday, as if he weren’t aching with need.
“He’s mad about the knights of the Round Table,” Lucas said. “Imagines himself as Sir Gawain.”
Sir Gawain had been one of the chaste knights, as Tom recalled it—which broug
