The Earl Falls in Love - Chapter 8
Spicy BL/MM/GAY Omegaverse Historical Romance
Ian
The savory aroma of roast chicken wafted through the dining room, making my stomach rumble in anticipation. Tonight’s meal was a veritable feast compared to our usual fare of boiled greens, roast potatoes, and bread. The presence of guests—particularly one of noble birth—had transformed our typically modest dinner into something approaching extravagance.
“Ian, could you pass the salt, please?” Dorothy asked, her voice soft as always.
I slid the saltcellar across the polished surface of our ancient dining table. “Here. Don’t use it all—I suspect we’re rationing until next market day.”
Dorothy smiled as she took a delicate pinch. “Thank you. And we have plenty of salt, you impossible boy.”
My attention drifted back to my plate, but as had become my infuriating habit over the past five days, my gaze soon wandered to Lord Edward. He was engaged in animated conversation with Grandma Eliza, his deep laugh rumbling through the room like distant thunder. There was something mesmerizing about that laugh—rich and genuine, emanating from deep within his chest.
His voice itself was equally captivating—a deep, resonant timbre that seemed to vibrate through the air between us. I found myself wondering if my own voice would deepen similarly as I matured, or if it would remain in its current state: soft and higher than I’d prefer. A boy’s voice, rather than a man’s.
It was remarkable how quickly my family had adapted to the presence of our unexpected guests. Grandma Eliza and Dorothy, who had initially viewed Lord Edward with justified suspicion, now conversed with him as though he were a long-lost relation rather than the man claiming our ancestral home. The twins had adjusted even more rapidly—Reuben had taken to climbing onto Lord Edward’s lap at every opportunity, proudly reading aloud from his new picture books. The little opportunist clearly enjoyed being the center of attention, particularly when he could showcase his reading skills to an appreciative audience.
“I must say, autumn is particularly beautiful here at Cheswick,” Lord Edward remarked, drawing my attention back to the conversation.
“Indeed, my lord,” Dr. Webb agreed with an enthusiastic nod.
Tonight’s dinner party had expanded to include what I privately termed “the three wise men of Greenhill”: Dr. Webb, Headmaster Anderson, and Mr. Marshall, the village magistrate. News of an earl’s presence at Cheswick had spread through the countryside like wildfire, transforming our remote manor into an unexpected center of local interest.
The attack on Lord Edward had similarly captivated the village’s imagination, spurring the formation of an impromptu militia. Local men now patrolled the roads in shifts, armed with pitchforks and ancient hunting rifles. The investigation into the bandits’ identities, however, had yielded nothing. It was as though they had materialized from the mist solely to attack Lord Edward before dissolving back into legend.
“Summer is quite spectacular in these parts as well,” Mr. Marshall contributed, his mustache quivering importantly. “Though it can become rather oppressive due to our elevation and the surrounding mountains.”
Headmaster Anderson nodded sagely. “Indeed. The heat can be quite intense. We take great precautions to prevent heatstroke among the schoolchildren.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Marshall echoed, apparently having exhausted his meteorological insights.
The mention of summer transported me back to those golden months just past—lying in fields of emerald grass with Reuben after cooling ourselves in the waterfall, staring up at an endless azure sky. Those peaceful moments had been a balm for our grief-raw hearts, coming as they did just months after Father’s passing.
“Ian?”
Lord Edward’s voice jolted me from my reverie. I looked up to find his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that sent heat rushing to my face. “Yes?”
He set down his cutlery with deliberate precision. “I was wondering if you might show me around Cheswick Estate tomorrow?”
This wasn’t his first attempt to survey his new property. He’d been asking me to guide him since his second day at Cheswick, but I’d refused on medical grounds. Now, with most of his bandages removed—save for the one at his temple—I could no longer reasonably deny him.
I cleared my throat, trying to sound clinical rather than reluctant. “I suppose you’re sufficiently recovered to ride a horse without reopening your wounds.”
Mr. Ford chuckled. “Ian, you sound remarkably like my mother.”
I widened my eyes in indignation. “I beg your pardon?”
“There’s no need to fret over Edward,” he continued, ignoring my outrage. “He’s built like an oak tree. I’ve seen him in far worse condition, yet he invariably recovers within days and proceeds as though nothing happened.”
“Worse than being left for dead in a field?” I asked skeptically.
“Edward gets beaten regularly,” Mr. Ford explained with a dismissive wave. “Though to be fair, he typically inflicts more damage than he receives. When one engages in boxing, one expects a certain amount of physical punishment.”
“Boxing?” I echoed, suddenly intrigued.
“That’s right,” Mr. Ford confirmed. “It’s his sport of choice—and a rather brutal one at that.”
Dorothy turned to Mr. Ford, her eyes brightening with interest. “And what about you, Mr. Ford? Do you participate in any sporting activities?”
“Tennis is more my preference,” he replied, his entire demeanor softening as it always did when addressing my sister. “Perhaps you might enjoy it as well, Lady Dorothy?”
“Perhaps,” she murmured, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Though I confess I’ve never been particularly athletically inclined.”
“Would you like to learn boxing, Ian?” Lord Edward asked unexpectedly.
I flicked my gaze to him, startled. “Me?”
He nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If you’re interested, I’d be happy to teach you.” Then he winked.
The idea of learning to fight properly—not just the scrappy, desperate techniques I’d developed to fend off village boys—was undeniably appealing. And if it might help me develop even a fraction of Lord Edward’s impressive physique... well, that was an added incentive.
“I’d love to try boxing, my lord,” I replied eagerly as he raised his wineglass to his lips. “If you could teach me, that would be tremendous.” I smiled at him, genuinely excited by the prospect.
Lord Edward suddenly choked on his wine, sputtering and coughing as though he’d swallowed wrong.
“My lord, are you all right?” I asked, half-rising from my chair in concern.
He waved me back, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin.
“Something caught you off guard, Edward?” Mr. Ford asked with a knowing smirk.
Lord Edward shot him a quelling look before briefly meeting my gaze, his expression unreadable.
When Grandma Eliza rose from her seat some time later, signaling the end of dinner, we all followed suit. The adults would retire to the drawing room for after-dinner tea and conversation, but I had other plans. The mystery novels the Tyndalls had sent were calling my name, promising an evening of delicious escape.
I slipped away toward the stairs, only to feel a warm hand wrap around my arm before I could ascend. I turned to find Lord Edward looming behind me, his alpha scent enveloping me like an invisible cloud.
“My lord?” I questioned, acutely aware of the heat rising to my face.
“I need a bath,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I haven’t had a proper one since my arrival.”
A proper bath at Cheswick was no small undertaking. We hadn’t offered him one yet because of the labor involved—hauling water, heating it, filling the tub. Instead, he’d been making do with stand-up washes, which I’d assisted with while he was injured. Clearly, these abbreviated ablutions no longer satisfied him.
“Don’t you have baths here?” he asked, his tone suggesting he found the concept dubious.
“We do,” I confirmed. “The twins are particularly fond of them, though they’re typically a weekly rather than daily occurrence.”
“I’d like one before bed tonight,” he said, his tone making it clear this was a request in form only. “If you could prepare it for me, I’d be most grateful, Ian.”
I nodded, resigning myself to a night of heavy lifting rather than literary adventure. “Of course, my lord. I’ll see to it immediately.”
He rewarded me with a smile that could have melted the snow off the distant mountains before releasing my arm and joining the others in the drawing room.
So much for my evening with a good book.
Half an hour later, Paul and I had wrestled the enormous wooden bathtub up the stairs and into my bedroom. We positioned it near the hearth, where a fire crackled merrily, filling the room with welcome warmth. Then began the real labor: trudging up and down the stairs with buckets of hot and cold water until the tub was filled.
By the time the “three wise men” departed and Lord Edward entered the room, I was flushed from exertion, my shirt damp with sweat and splashed water.
“My lord,” I said over my shoulder, still swirling the water to mix the hot and cold to a perfect temperature. “Your bath is ready.”
Lord Edward closed the door behind him, and immediately the atmosphere in the room shifted. His alpha scent—stronger than I’d noticed before—seemed to fill every corner of my small bedroom, wrapping around me like an invisible embrace. Something about the warmth of the room and the steam rising from the bath seemed to intensify it, making the notes of sandalwood and leather more potent, more... demanding.
“It’s rather old-fashioned, isn’t it?” he remarked, his eyes traveling from me to the wooden tub.
I froze, my hand still in the water. After all that effort—the hauling, the lifting, the endless trips up and down the stairs—that was his response? No word of thanks, no acknowledgment of the work involved? Just a casual observation about the tub’s antiquated design?
I straightened, indignation bubbling up like a geyser. “Well, I do apologize that our bath is so terribly old-fashioned,” I snapped, not bothering to hide my irritation. “We poor Harrisons lack the means to install fancy modern plumbing in our crumbling manor. If this primitive arrangement offends your refined sensibilities, I’d be happy to offer it to Mr. Ford instead. I’m certain he’d appreciate a hot bath regardless of the vessel.” I stood, hands on hips, glaring at him. “In fact, I’d gladly claim it for myself after all the work I’ve just done.”
Lord Edward simply stood there, watching me with an infuriating smirk playing about his lips. His dark eyes glinted with something that might have been amusement, which only stoked my ire further. Yet beneath my annoyance fluttered something else—a strange, unsettling sensation in my stomach, as though a swarm of butterflies had taken up residence there.
Suddenly, he burst out laughing, the rich sound filling my small bedroom. “Oh, Ian,” he gasped between chuckles, “you are absolutely delightful when provoked.”
“I fail to see what’s so amusing,” I muttered, though my anger was already beginning to dissipate in the face of his genuine mirth.
He stepped closer until we stood mere inches apart. This near, his alpha scent enveloped me completely, stronger and more intoxicating than I’d ever experienced it. The proximity sent a wave of unexpected heat through my body, centering low in my abdomen with an intensity that made me momentarily dizzy.
He lifted his hand to my chin, tilting my face upward until our eyes met. “I was merely teasing you,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent an inexplicable shiver down my spine. “But this is a new side of you—this quick temper. I find it rather... fascinating.”
I frowned, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers against my skin and the strange way my body was responding to his touch. My own scent—usually so carefully masked by herbs—seemed to be rising unbidden, sweetening in response to his alpha presence.
“I do not have a short temper, my lord. I simply expect proper appreciation for my efforts.”
“Ah, but I do appreciate your hard work, Ian,” he replied, his eyes never leaving mine. His nostrils flared slightly, and something in his expression shifted—darkened. “Very much so. In fact, I shudder to think what might have become of me without your care.”
“Yes, well,” I said, moving his hand away from my chin with what I hoped appeared to be casual indifference, “I am your savior, as you’ve noted. So proper gratitude is the least you can offer.” I turned back to the bath, desperate to put some distance between us before he noticed the strange reaction his proximity was causing. “Now, please enjoy your soak before the water cools. When you’ve finished, come find me in the twins’ room.”
I marched toward the door, eager to escape the confusing mixture of irritation and something far more alarming his presence inspired. My hand had just touched the doorknob when a large palm slammed against the wood beside my head, effectively trapping me.
I gasped, feeling Lord Edward’s body mere inches from my back, his warmth radiating through my clothes. The air between us seemed to thicken, becoming heavy with our mingled scents. His alpha musk intensified, taking on a darker, spicier note that made my knees threaten to buckle.
I glanced over my shoulder and found his face alarmingly close to mine, his breath warm against my cheek. His eyes had darkened considerably, the pupils dilated until only a thin ring of brown remained.
“My... my lord?” I stammered, my voice embarrassingly unsteady. “Is there something else you require?”
“It’s rather irresponsible to leave a task half-completed, wouldn’t you agree, Ian?” he murmured, his lips so close to my ear that I could almost feel them brush against my skin.
The low timbre of his voice sent another wave of that strange heat through my body, more intense than before. Something was happening to me—something I didn’t understand. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, and there was a peculiar emptiness low in my belly that I’d never experienced before.
“What... what do you mean?” I managed, my throat suddenly desert-dry.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through me like a physical touch. “Playing innocent doesn’t suit you,” he whispered, leaning even closer until his chest nearly touched my back. “What about washing me? Or now that my bandages are removed, am I to fend for myself?”
I hadn’t considered that he might expect me to continue assisting with his bathing now that his injuries were healing. A stand-up wash required careful navigation around bandages and wounds, but a bath was different—more intimate, more... comprehensive.
I somehow squeezed between his imposing frame and the door, turning to face him. This position proved even more precarious, bringing us chest to chest, his alpha scent overwhelming at this proximity. The combination of his body heat and that intoxicating scent made my head swim, and to my horror, I felt a telltale dampness between my thighs that I’d never experienced outside my occasional pre-heat symptoms.
“I... I...” I began, my mind completely blank. My gaze, treacherous thing that it was, dropped to his lips.
His lips... Full and expressive, currently curved in a knowing smile. I felt an inexplicable urge to touch them, to trace their outline with my fingertips, to discover if they were as soft as they appeared...
Lord Edward cupped my chin firmly, his eyes darkening further as they bore into mine. I saw his nostrils flare again, and something primal flashed across his features—something that made my omega instincts simultaneously want to flee and draw closer.
“Rather naughty of you to abandon your duties midway,” he murmured. He tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Perhaps I should turn you over my knee to teach you proper dedication to your tasks.”
Lord Edward... spanking me? The image flashed unbidden through my mind, sending a jolt of something that was definitely not outrage through my body. The dampness between my thighs increased, and I felt my scent change again—sweetening further in a way that made Lord Edward’s eyes narrow dangerously.
The butterflies in my stomach multiplied tenfold, their wings beating a frantic rhythm against my insides. My discomfort intensified when his gaze deliberately dropped to my lower half before returning to my face, a knowing look in those dark depths.
I licked my lips nervously, my face burning. “If you dare lay a hand on me in such a manner, my lord, I’ll return the favor with interest,” I warned, summoning what little dignity remained to me. “I won’t be bullied simply because you’re an earl and my guardian.”
He stared at me for a moment before throwing his head back in genuine laughter. His hand moved from my chin to ruffle my hair affectionately, though the gesture seemed to linger, his fingers trailing through my locks in a way that sent shivers down my spine. “You have quite the sharp tongue, Ian Harrison. I find I rather enjoy it.”
Unable to help myself, I stuck my tongue out at him in childish defiance.
“Adorable,” he declared, turning away. He began unbuttoning his shirt as he walked toward the bath. “I was entirely serious about you assisting me, however.”
Before I could formulate a response, he was stripping with efficient movements, discarding garments as he went. Within moments, he stood completely naked beside the tub, his magnificent form illuminated by the firelight.
I tried not to stare—truly, I did—but it was like asking someone not to look at the sun during an eclipse. He was glorious, his body sculpted like the classical statues in my schoolbooks, all hard planes and defined muscle. When he turned slightly and I caught a glimpse of his more... private attributes, I hastily averted my gaze, mortified by the heat flooding my face and the answering pulse of warmth between my legs.
Lord Edward lowered himself into the tub with a satisfied sigh, submerging his body in the steaming water. He leaned back, eyes closed in blissful contentment. “Ahh... this is absolute heaven.”
I chuckled despite myself, approaching the tub with sleeves already rolled to my elbows. I took up the soap and cloth, working them together until fragrant bubbles formed, the scents of lavender and rose filling the room, momentarily masking the heady mixture of alpha and omega pheromones that had permeated the space.
“May I wash you now, my lord?” I asked, attempting to sound clinical rather than breathless.
Lord Edward opened one eye, regarding me with unmistakable heat. “By all means. Do be thorough, Ian. I expect your usual meticulous attention to detail.”
I snorted, determined to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “Oh, I’ll be thorough all right,” I promised, slapping the soapy cloth against his chest with more force than strictly necessary.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed, though his laugh belied any real discomfort. “Gentle, if you please. I’m still recovering from my injuries, as you’re so fond of reminding me.”
“My apologies,” I said, not sounding remotely apologetic. “I was merely being... thorough.”
“So I noticed,” he replied dryly.
His injuries were healing well, I observed as I worked. The cuts had closed completely, though the angry redness surrounding them indicated they weren’t fully healed. Another week, at least, before the skin would return to normal.
As I moved the cloth across his chest, I became increasingly aware of the intimacy of the situation. My fingers occasionally brushed against his skin directly, sending little jolts of awareness through me each time. The steam rising from the bath seemed to intensify both our scents, creating an intoxicating blend that made it increasingly difficult to focus on the task at hand.
Lord Edward suddenly caught my wrist, halting my movements. He leaned forward, water sluicing down his torso, his eyes dark and intent. “To properly express my gratitude,” he murmured, “perhaps you might take a bath after me, and I could return the favor?”
The suggestion sent a shock through me like a lightning strike. The image of Lord Edward washing me as I was washing him—his hands on my bare skin, his body close to mine—was simultaneously terrifying and enthralling. It felt forbidden, improper... and utterly irresistible. The emptiness in my lower abdomen intensified, accompanied by another rush of dampness that made me shift uncomfortably.
“Ian?” he prompted, his voice low and coaxing. His thumb traced small circles on the inside of my wrist, directly over my pulse point, which was racing like a frightened rabbit’s.
I licked my lips nervously, unable to meet his gaze. “Perhaps... next time,” I managed, my voice barely audible.
He ruffled my hair again, water droplets cascading from his fingers onto my face. “Next time, then,” he agreed, relaxing back into the tub. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”
I resumed my task, trying desperately to focus on the mechanical aspects of washing rather than the feel of his skin beneath my hands. The hard planes of his chest, the defined ridges of his abdomen... I marveled at how someone could be so solid, so powerfully built.
As I moved lower, the cloth suddenly slipped from my grasp. I lunged forward instinctively to catch it, losing my balance in the process. My hand plunged into the water, coming into contact with something firm that was definitely not his leg.
I froze, mortified beyond words. Lord Edward was... aroused? The realization sent a confusing mixture of embarrassment and something else—something primal and instinctive—coursing through me. My omega scent spiked sharply in response, filling the room with notes of honey and rain.
“I’m so sorry, my lord,” I stammered, withdrawing my hand as though burned.
He regarded me through half-lidded eyes, his alpha scent deepening to something darker, more possessive. “No apology necessary,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my very bones.
“Perhaps we should wash your back now?” I suggested desperately, eager to move past this awkward moment.
Lord Edward obligingly sat forward, allowing me access to his broad back. I worked the cloth across his shoulders and down his spine, trying to ignore the inappropriate thoughts swirling through my mind and the increasingly insistent ache low in my belly. There was something undeniably appealing about the feel of his skin beneath my hands, the play of muscle as he shifted position...
Good heavens, what was wrong with me? These were not the sort of thoughts a young man should have about another man, guardian or otherwise. And this physical reaction—this dampness, this emptiness, this ache—was entirely new and frankly alarming.
I stood abruptly, determined to escape before I embarrassed myself further. “There, all finished, my lord. Would you like to soak a while longer?”
He nodded, settling back into the water. “I think I shall. You may retire for the night, Ian. I’ll ask Mr. Gibson to remove the bath when I’m done.”
“Are you certain?” I asked, already backing toward the door, desperate for fresh air and distance from the confusing mixture of scents and sensations.
He smiled, the expression transforming his face in a way that made my heart perform another of those ridiculous somersaults. “Quite certain. Now off with you, before I change my mind and invent more tasks to torment you with.”
I laughed, grateful for the break in tension. “Good night, then, my lord.”
“Good night, Ian,” he replied softly, his eyes following me with an intensity that I felt like a physical touch.
I escaped into the hallway, leaning against the wall for a moment to collect myself. My body felt strange—overheated and sensitive, my skin prickling with awareness. I pressed my thighs together, trying to ignore the unfamiliar dampness there. What was happening to me? I’d experienced occasional symptoms before my expected heats, but nothing this intense, nothing this... targeted.
I made my way to the twins’ room on unsteady legs. Inside, Reuben was already fast asleep, surrounded by his growing collection of soft toys like a small, snoring dragon atop its hoard.
I changed into my nightclothes and performed my evening ablutions at the washstand before climbing into the narrow bed opposite Reuben’s. Despite the long day and physical exertion, sleep eluded me completely. I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing with images I couldn’t seem to banish.
Lord Edward in the bath, water droplets glistening on his skin. The way his muscles flexed beneath my hands. The warmth of his body so close to mine when he’d trapped me against the door... His scent, so potent and compelling, making something deep inside me respond in ways I didn’t understand.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but that only made the images more vivid. When I opened them again, I became acutely aware of a physical reaction to these thoughts—one that was both familiar and unwelcome. But tonight, it was accompanied by that strange emptiness, that ache that seemed to demand something I couldn’t name.
I stared down at the telltale tenting of the bedsheet in horror. Not now, of all times! This troublesome condition hadn’t afflicted me in weeks, yet here it was, making an untimely appearance when I shared a room with my six-year-old brother. And worse, the dampness between my thighs had increased, making me shift uncomfortably against the sheets.
I sighed in exasperation. The timing was dreadful, and the discomfort significant. I’d never found a reliable way to control these episodes, though cool night air sometimes helped diminish them.
As I lay there, my traitorous mind wondered how Lord Edward managed such situations. He’d seemed entirely untroubled by his own arousal in the bath, as though it were a natural occurrence hardly worth noting. Perhaps that was the key—to treat it as unremarkable rather than mortifying.
I wondered, briefly and inappropriately, what Lord Edward had looked like beneath the water when...
No. Absolutely not. I would not allow my thoughts to wander in that direction.
The discomfort intensified, and I knew sleep would be impossible in this state. I slipped from the bed and padded silently from the room, making my way through the kitchen and out into the garden.
The night air was crisp, autumn’s chill settling over the landscape like a blanket. I paced restlessly, waiting for the cool temperature to have its usual calming effect on my overheated body. When that proved insufficient, I settled onto a stone bench, tilting my head back to gaze at the star-strewn sky.
I deliberately turned my thoughts to scientific questions—How many stars existed in the vastness above? Were there other worlds like ours among them? Would humans ever manage to reach the moon?—anything to distract from the confusing reactions Lord Edward inspired in me and the unsettling changes happening within my own body.
After nearly an hour, the cool air had finally soothed the worst of my symptoms. Yet as I slipped back into bed, I knew sleep would remain elusive. My mind was too full of questions I couldn’t answer and feelings I didn’t understand—all of them centered around the enigmatic alpha who had upended my carefully ordered existence in ways I was only beginning to comprehend.