A Royal Indiscretion, chapter four (Patreon)

Doug found himself in an overly manicured garden. Damn. These people even trimmed plants within an inch of their lives. He’d never seen shrubs grow in perfect rectangles. Sometimes Doug wondered if he was making a fool out of himself with this quest. If he found a wife in this bunch, the rest of the stuck up society still might turn their backs on him. 

But if he had a wife with some minor title, American businessmen would fall over themselves. Pushing that thought aside, he picked a direction and started walking through the high hedges. The sun was out, but the air was still cold enough to make the tip of Doug’s nose turn red. In the distance, he could hear the same orchestra music being played inside. But despite that, the place felt empty, especially compared to the crowded reception.

He turned a corner and discovered a round lawn surrounded by hedges with a fountain in the center. It bubbled away, water flowing through two levels before falling into a stone pool. Doug shook his head. He’d hung out with a lot of rich folks, and more than a few had fountains, but they were gaudy things put right out front where everyone could see them, not hidden in a back garden. These old money people really were a different breed. 

But at least they were better than those people who shoved their wealth in everyone’s face. Still searching for Lady Anne, Doug chose one of the three unexplored openings at random and started through the curving paths. He took a left and followed a straight path through to an open field. In the distance, he could see a line of wind-twisted trees that seemed to mark the edge of the tended grounds.

He couldn’t see Lady Ann or Rudy, but the ocean wind ripped across the land and stole Doug’s breath. Doug was about to head back into the hedge where he had some cover from the weather when he spotted a man leaning against the stone side of what looked like a country cottage, but probably passed as a tool shed around this place. Since he hadn’t seen anyone else, Doug headed over to him.

The man stared off toward the ocean, the wind blowing his sandy hair every which way. It made him look wild and lost and somehow dangerous and broken all at once. When he turned his blue-gray gaze toward Doug, Doug lost his breath for a moment. This was a beautiful man. Tiny lines at the corners of his eyes gave him some character and age, but time would never erase the beautiful lines of his jaw or his straight nose. His eyes shone with intelligence and pain, and his body had a lanky, effortless grace.

For one second, Doug was madly in lust.

And then he schooled his features and his thoughts. He gave the stranger a bland smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Did you see anyone else come out here?”

The man looked around as though searching for the lady. “I’m sure any number of people have come through. The gardens are open during the reception.” He had a sharp edge to his voice, but Doug liked a challenge. He just had to remind himself that he was definitely not interested in a man—not when he was trying to set himself up with the seed money for a business. He needed more respectability, not another reason for people to look down on him. He knew what people said about homosexuals. Fag. Queen. Pansy. Faggot. Doug had heard them all. He never intended to let someone shove one of those labels on him and push him in the corner. 

“Yeah, but it’s a little cold for people to be wandering around, so I think a woman in a dress would stand out.”

The man snorted and turned to really stare Doug down. “If your accent didn’t give you away, your lack of tolerance for the cold would. This doesn’t even count as chilly.” He gestured toward the gray sky where flat bottomed clouds drifted through a haze. 

Doug gritted his teeth and took a step toward the ass. “Hey, I’m speaking American, so having an American accent is normal. You’re the one who has a strange accent.” Everyone in this country spoke English, but they did it in a way that made it hard for Doug to understand his native language. The vowels were too soft, too quick to fall into the “oo” sounds. This man was worse than most.

“Strange?” The man pushed off from the wall. The way he moved reminded Doug of a running back. Athletic. Quick. This one didn’t sit in a castle and drink tea all day. “Did you follow me into the gardens to call me strange?”

“I didn’t follow you at all. I was looking for Lady Anne.”

Immediately the man’s expression turned wary. “Lady Anne?”

“Yeah. Early thirties, about five three or five four, blue eyes.” Doug was painfully aware that his description would have matched any number of women, and he couldn’t remember what sort of dress she had been wearing.

The guy chuckled. “She would thank you for that description.”

“Excuse me?”

He leaned back against the stone wall again. “She’s forty one.”

Damn. The woman had some good genes. “I stand corrected. Now, since you clearly know who she is, have you seen her?”

He looked Doug up and down, his gaze rich with contempt, the little shit. “Do you really think I’m going to help you find the Lady Anne? When a woman ducks into a garden to avoid you, the polite response is to allow her to escape.”

While that was a reasonable assumption, it was so wrong that Doug had to suppress a laugh. He closed the distance between them and used his height and bulk to push into the other man’s personal space. “You really are an ass.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t go chasing women into gardens.” He followed that up with a word that was, no doubt, a brutal insult. Doug found insults worked better when the person being insulted could actually understand them. 

Doug had a firm rule against outing people, but this guy was on his last nerve, and he set Doug’s gaydar off like a squadron of drag queens. Maybe it was the way he held his body or the way his gaze kept darting to Doug’s body. Sometimes men did that—focused on Doug’s shoulders or his huge hands. But it was usually with an undercurrent of fear.

This guy wasn’t showing much interest, but he studied Doug, and it wasn’t because he was intimidated.  Doug leaned forward. “To hell with chasing women into gardens; I don’t think you prefer to chase women at all.” He made sure to emphasize the word “women” so his message would get across.

The man went utterly still. Bingo. Doug felt a little thrill at scoring a point. Yeah, this guy could insult Doug in more languages than Doug could understand, and he wore a suit like he was born in it, but Doug could defend himself just fine. The rich always assumed that people who were physically strong would be easy to verbally eviscerate. Doug wasn’t.

The man finally asked darkly, “Excuse me?”

Suddenly Doug was tired. He didn’t want to spar with this guy, especially when it could only lead to hard feelings instead of a quick revenge fuck with Doug’s chest pushed against some cold wall as he got pounded. “I don’t give a shit about which team you bat for. Hell, take up with horses for all I care,” he said, “but the lady came out here after Rudy Sava, and I don’t want something to happen.”

“Rudy?” Confused. Alarmed. The reaction set Doug’s nerves on edge.

“Yeah, Rudy Sava,” Doug repeated.

“I know who Rudy is. Everyone knows Rudy.” From the tone, that wasn’t a compliment.

Doug sighed. He’d picked badly when he’d taken Rudy up on his offer to show him around the hangouts of the rich and titled. “So I’ve heard. I came to this shindig with him, but I saw him duck out the door and the lady followed him.”

The man gave Doug a confused look. “You came with Rudy? Anyone with half a brain hates Rudy,” he said slowly, like he was speaking to someone with mental issues. 

“I’m starting to suspect that too.”

“Why was Lady Anne following him?”

Doug shrugged. “Damned if I know. I just didn’t want to leave her out here with him.”

“That might actually be a good thought.” The man held a hand out toward Doug. “I’m Yves.”

“I’m Doug Wasso. Your name is Eve, like Adam and Eve?” Doug asked as he shook. 

“Yves, with an S at the end. Y. V. E. S.,” the man corrected him, but his attention was clearly on the hedge. “Where did you see them last?”

“When I saw her leave the main room after Rudy, I followed her into a hallway that ran behind the ballroom. That’s when I saw the lady head out a door to the outside.”

“Which exit? Which corridor?”

“I’m not sure which door, but it was only twenty yards to the entrance to the hedge. I assumed they’d gone in there. I came out from the hallway that had all the old portraits,” Doug said.

Yves gave him a strange look. “You haven’t gone on the castle tour, have you?”

“No. Why?”

“Nevermind. If Rudy came out this way, he might have headed for the porte-cochere.”

“The what?” Doug asked. He didn’t get an answer because Yves was headed for the hedge at a fair clip. Any faster and he’d be running. Doug wasn’t about to let a lanky man like Yves get in a fight with Rudy. The man might have a title and be Sir Rudolf, but he still fought as dirty as any street thug Doug had met. So he chased after Yves. Yves took a quick right into one of the curving sections of the hedge. A few quick turns and they ended up at another straight section.

“Short cut,” Yves said before he darted in a door. Doug followed before the door could close, literally shutting him out in the cold. Whoever Yves was, he knew the grounds, and he was dressed a little too nicely for staff. 

They came out in the kitchens, which caused a small flurry of panic, but Yves powerwalked right through it, and Doug followed, apologizing the whole way. When Yves led them outside, they were near the covered drive where all the cars were parked.

“Do you see him?” Doug asked.

“No,” Yves said after a brief pause. “What car did he drive here?”

“A white sports car.”

Yves turned to look at him. “Could you be more specific?” he asked in a condescending tone as he gestured to the field of cars parked on the cobblestone pavement.

“Sure. The white sports car that’s not parked near the fence where Rudy left it.”

Yves frowned. 

“Do you think Lady Anne is alright?”

“Lady Anne is tougher than you think. Rudy wouldn’t dare touch her.” Yves’s voice was distant as he scanned the area. “I would be more worried about her getting in trouble for putting her foot up his rear posterior.” 

Whoever had taught the guy to swear in English had done a piss poor job. “Then where is she?”

“Good question.” He turned and headed back toward the house, but then he froze. A half second later, Doug heard voices. Yves muttered something that sounded like ‘hest cook’ and started backing up.

“Problem?” Doug asked.

When Yves turned to look at him, his face had lost all color and his pupils were dilated. Either some strong drugs had just kicked in, or something had Yves spooked. No, not spooked. Terrified. Doug’s chest tightened as something that felt like pre-game jitters skittered across his own nerves.