Read Online Sharing Adam by Madelynne Ellis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Madelynne Ellis
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eight months ago, had changed everything.
Alastair had staggered from that place like a drunkard, despite no more than a single glass of wine having passed his lips. He’d been undone by Jude’s charm, the laconic warmth of his smile, and he’d allowed the possibility of affection to take root in his belly, in his heart. From that moment onward, he’d repeatedly sinned, rubbing himself into a frenzy of desire and shame over thoughts of the other man.
They’d become friends, sharing both a love of dancing and steeple chasing.
A shame then that all Jude’s conviviality had been focused upon Charlotte. He’d openly courted her from that point forth, and all Alastair could do was to stand by and watch while his heart ached.
“It must be some powerful ghost to keep you from here. It’s beautiful.” Jude remarked, turning amid the slanting light. “What is it, a headless monk, a white lady?” He joined Alastair by the railing, and cast his coat over the balustrade.
Alastair shuffled to the right so they weren’t standing so close. “I’ve heard about fifty different stories.” None of which aligned with his experiences.
Jude plucked a blue silk kerchief from his waistcoat pocket, which he unfolded to reveal an eternity ring. “I had intended to propose to Charlotte tonight. This jape’s a darned nuisance. I hope none of her other suitors get wind of it and race over to claim her first.”
“I think that’s unlikely.” Was it wrong of him to wish for every man who’d ever shown the faintest spark of interest in Charlotte to show up at the de Vere estate tonight? Tremulously, Alastair took the ring and slipped it onto the tip of his finger. It would make a curiously perfect fit around the slender digit. “I don’t believe she has any other remaining suitors.” Maybe she had once, but not anymore. Jude was all any woman would desire. His cousin’s hold was firmly set.
Nausea swelled in Alastair’s belly at the thought of the pair together. He’d have to take himself off somewhere, perhaps as far as India. He knew he couldn’t stand to be around them, knowing they were sharing a bed. Unconsciously, he rotated the golden band with his thumb, counting the embedded sapphires. Eight, one for each month of their friendship. Their blue a perfect match for his cousin’s eyes.
“Do you love her, Jude?” He had to know the truth.
Jude curled his hand over the top of Alastair’s fingers and reclaimed the ring. “Is that a prerequisite to your approval? You’re a hopeless romantic, de Vere. It’s all that gothic nonsense you read. I’ll wager you believe in love at first sight and happily ever after too.”
“Maybe.”
His companion laughed. “Love grows, what you experience first is lust. Sticky, sensual, all-consuming lust. No wonder your mama despairs over you ever finding a bride.” He clapped Alastair upon the shoulder and squeezed.
“It’s hardly imperative that I marry. The burden of inheritance lies with Alexander.” Alastair turned away, feeling distinctly peaky and unable to mask the emotion. He did believe in love in first sight, had done so from the very first moment he’d stared into Jude’s hazel-green eyes and felt his world shift. Perhaps that’s why the dismissal hurt so much, nothing to do with Charlotte.
“You don’t require my approval, Jude. Just my uncle’s.” Which was probably just as well, as he’d never be able to give his. He couldn’t pretend he wanted to see his friend wed.
Charlotte was as delightful as she was fair. And with her broad hips would likely produce scores of hearty babes to delight the de Vere and Leveson mamas. But he wanted Jude for himself. All to himself.
“It’d be nice to think you at least wished us well.” Jude’s hand pressed against the front of Alastair’s coat.
The touch ignited sparks. Nerve bundles fired together and stoked a fire in his groin. Each and every contact with Jude was both unbearable agony and unparalleled
Alastair had staggered from that place like a drunkard, despite no more than a single glass of wine having passed his lips. He’d been undone by Jude’s charm, the laconic warmth of his smile, and he’d allowed the possibility of affection to take root in his belly, in his heart. From that moment onward, he’d repeatedly sinned, rubbing himself into a frenzy of desire and shame over thoughts of the other man.
They’d become friends, sharing both a love of dancing and steeple chasing.
A shame then that all Jude’s conviviality had been focused upon Charlotte. He’d openly courted her from that point forth, and all Alastair could do was to stand by and watch while his heart ached.
“It must be some powerful ghost to keep you from here. It’s beautiful.” Jude remarked, turning amid the slanting light. “What is it, a headless monk, a white lady?” He joined Alastair by the railing, and cast his coat over the balustrade.
Alastair shuffled to the right so they weren’t standing so close. “I’ve heard about fifty different stories.” None of which aligned with his experiences.
Jude plucked a blue silk kerchief from his waistcoat pocket, which he unfolded to reveal an eternity ring. “I had intended to propose to Charlotte tonight. This jape’s a darned nuisance. I hope none of her other suitors get wind of it and race over to claim her first.”
“I think that’s unlikely.” Was it wrong of him to wish for every man who’d ever shown the faintest spark of interest in Charlotte to show up at the de Vere estate tonight? Tremulously, Alastair took the ring and slipped it onto the tip of his finger. It would make a curiously perfect fit around the slender digit. “I don’t believe she has any other remaining suitors.” Maybe she had once, but not anymore. Jude was all any woman would desire. His cousin’s hold was firmly set.
Nausea swelled in Alastair’s belly at the thought of the pair together. He’d have to take himself off somewhere, perhaps as far as India. He knew he couldn’t stand to be around them, knowing they were sharing a bed. Unconsciously, he rotated the golden band with his thumb, counting the embedded sapphires. Eight, one for each month of their friendship. Their blue a perfect match for his cousin’s eyes.
“Do you love her, Jude?” He had to know the truth.
Jude curled his hand over the top of Alastair’s fingers and reclaimed the ring. “Is that a prerequisite to your approval? You’re a hopeless romantic, de Vere. It’s all that gothic nonsense you read. I’ll wager you believe in love at first sight and happily ever after too.”
“Maybe.”
His companion laughed. “Love grows, what you experience first is lust. Sticky, sensual, all-consuming lust. No wonder your mama despairs over you ever finding a bride.” He clapped Alastair upon the shoulder and squeezed.
“It’s hardly imperative that I marry. The burden of inheritance lies with Alexander.” Alastair turned away, feeling distinctly peaky and unable to mask the emotion. He did believe in love in first sight, had done so from the very first moment he’d stared into Jude’s hazel-green eyes and felt his world shift. Perhaps that’s why the dismissal hurt so much, nothing to do with Charlotte.
“You don’t require my approval, Jude. Just my uncle’s.” Which was probably just as well, as he’d never be able to give his. He couldn’t pretend he wanted to see his friend wed.
Charlotte was as delightful as she was fair. And with her broad hips would likely produce scores of hearty babes to delight the de Vere and Leveson mamas. But he wanted Jude for himself. All to himself.
“It’d be nice to think you at least wished us well.” Jude’s hand pressed against the front of Alastair’s coat.
The touch ignited sparks. Nerve bundles fired together and stoked a fire in his groin. Each and every contact with Jude was both unbearable agony and unparalleled
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