The Spanish Boy by E. G. Lyton

Author:E. G. Lyton [Lyton, E. G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gay & Lesbian, Literature & Fiction, Fiction, Gay, Romance, Gay Romance, Historical, Regency, Genre Fiction, Historical Romance
Amazon: B00AOZMKYU
Publisher: Heart On Heart Press
Published: 2012-12-15T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

A very small smile twisted Jake’s lips, as he turned to face Harmon fully. Harmon thought it wasn’t so much a smile as the ghost of a smile. It occurred to him after the one word, said in that way, that Jake might take it wrongly, that he might imagine that Harmon too was only interested in Jake’s body.

But Jake’s gaze came to meet Harmon’s eyes and there was something in it, like a secret smile, the echo of the same smile that shaped his lips just slightly. He inclined his head slightly, and unfastened his jacket without looking at what his fingers were doing. He took the jacket off, set it on the seat of the armchair by the fire. Then he undid his waistcoat and pulled it off, and then his cravat.

Harmon, standing by the door, in front of the chair that held the door fastened, watched with wide eyes, unable to move, unable to say anything. He’d never, in their two weeks of traveling, seen Jake naked, or even half disrobed. Jake had taken great care to sleep elsewhere, to sleep fully dressed, or to go to bed after Harmon was asleep and wake, wash and dress before him. Harmon hadn’t thought about it, but it must have taken exhaustive care. He, himself, had undressed in front of Jake, even if he’d turned his back. He didn’t know if Jake had looked.

Jake undid his shirt and pulled it off, throwing it on the seat of the chair, and revealing, as Harmon had suspected that his slender build didn’t mean a lack of muscles. Proportionally speaking, Jake had powerful shoulders, muscular arms, a chest that would have made an ancient sculptor weep at the inability to show the muscular definition of it, tapering down to a narrow waist and a flat belly.

Looking up again, Harmon noted just a fine sprinkling of hair, either an auburn darker than Jake’s curls, or seeming so because of the relative darkness and the even light golden tone of Jake’s skin. The aureoles around Jake’s nipples seemed very dark. Strangely – or perhaps not – this didn’t detract from his beauty. It suggested he would tan a deep golden, if he were to run around unclothed. Harmon had a vivid image of Jake, naked, swimming in the lake at Ladyarre, where Harmon and his brother had swum as children – of Jake emerging from the water, sparkling wet under the sun. His mouth watered. He swallowed.

He continued looking at Jake, as Jake sat on the edge of the chair, and removed first one boot, then the other. Then he pulled off his breeches, and set them on the chair, standing once more. He emerged in snowy white drawers and knee-length stockings, both of which he pulled off without looking.

Then he stood, completely naked, and looked up at Harmon, as though for approval.

Harmon said the only thing he could say, the only word he could pronounce, “Beautiful.” He swallowed hard and shifted, before he realized it was stupid – and perhaps insulting – to try to hide his arousal from Jake.

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