A Royal Indiscretion, chapters 11 and 12 (Patreon)

Chapter Eleven

They’d only been on the estate for an hour when Yves heard the rumble of Nick’s truck. “Wait here,” Yves told Doug before he left the small guest cottage. Doug stood as if about to follow, but Yves stepped out of the cottage and closed the door firmly behind him. Maybe Doug did know how to take a hint because he didn’t follow. The sun was setting, and that brought afternoon winds and the salt-smell of the ocean. These were the scents of home. In the past, this strange mixture of grassland and ocean and the faintest trace of sheep dung had provided comfort, but now Yves was nervous. 

His need to have someone hold his hand had cost Nick an entire day on the road, and Nick was a difficult man under the best circumstances. As much as he was the rock Yves relied on when the ground grew unsteady, Yves sometimes feared his reactions. His therapist assured him that what he had with Nick approximated a parental relationship. Yves wondered if fear featured in normal father-son relationships.

Hopefully this time Nick would be more upset at Yves’s family than Yves. The old brown truck pulled up the winding road and parked in front of the main house. Nick got out and stretched.

Yves stepped off the guest cottage porch. “Nick.”

Nick’s expression appeared weary rather than angry. He got out and walked around the truck, and when he was closest to the guest house and Yves, he said, “This has been a dramatic day.” Opening the passenger side door, Nick pulled out a small duffle bag. “On the good side, I didn’t manage to insult a single person with my provincial manners.”

Yves flinched. “I am so sorry.” Yves wasn’t sure if the apology was for a family that would look down on someone like Nick or for the fact that Nick had down in the dark of the morning only to turn around and drive home. Either way, the words were poor compensation for dragging Nick off his beloved estate.

“No need. I understand that you had very little control.” 

That was the perfect description of Yves’s life. Even now, as he followed Nick to the house, he was doing as his father asked. Nick opened the cottage door and dropped his bag on a low bench. Without turning on the lights, he headed for the kitchen. The home was old with thick walls that provided insulation against the brutal winters and small windows. The inside was always a sort of twilight.

“Still, I can’t say how grateful I am that you came down for me or how sorry I am that all that driving was pointless.”

“No matter.”

“It’s worse than you think. They sent an American up with me.”

Now Nick’s eyebrows went up. Perhaps the staff had not explained the situation in its entirety. “Would this be the young man who was photographed with Lady Anne?” His words carried a sharp edge of disapproval.

“The very one,” Yves agreed. It felt oddly liberating to realize he was no longer the one least welcome in the company of others. He also felt discomfort at the idea of Nick judging Doug so quickly. “He is exceptionally American,” Yves admitted. The man was brash and shockingly direct, but he also appeared to have a desire to help. “That is not entirely a negative.”

First, Nick raised an eyebrow in an incredulous look, but then he said, “I heard he hid you from reporters.” His tone was utterly devoid of emotion, much as it was when he would ask Yves about his drug use. Maybe he meant to convey a lack of judgment, but Yves had started to associate it with the shame that was inexorably linked to his drug use.

“Don’t remind me. I can’t believe I was such an idiot.” Yves followed Nick into the kitchen.

“Want some water?” Nick pulled a glass out of the cabinet.

“No thank you.” Nate turned to the faucet, and Yves sat at the kitchen table. He traced the edge of a bright red flower on the plastic table cloth.

“What did you do that was so idiotic?”

“Doug told me that Lady Anne was chasing after Rudy, and I went chasing after her.” Yves grimaced. “I got trapped in the porte cochere, and he picked the attendant’s room to hide me in it.” Yves still didn’t understand what had motivated him. After Doug’s audience with the duke, it was hardly surprising that he rushed to cooperate. Duke Gerard was very skilled at both bribery and intimidation. But Yves didn’t understand his motivations.

“That was kind of him,” Nick said in that same bland tone.

Maybe Yves projected his own feelings, but he got the feeling Nick distrusted the altruism. “He told me he was at Mary’s wedding to try and score points with the press.” Just once Yves wished he would meet someone without alternative motives, but even Nick had taken him in to gain the duke’s financial support—or perhaps it had been the king’s support. Yves was never sure which man had directed Hagan to write the checks.

“And did he score any points with the press by hiding you?” Nick asked.

Yves shot to his feet and then found he had nowhere to go. Nick doubtless had has some distant neighbor to tend the dogs, and insisting that he had to check on Nick’s animals was far too transparent. So Yves ended up standing next to the rattling refrigerator. “Enough with the Socratic teaching method.” Yves sounded haughty, even to himself.

Nick shook his head, put his glass in the cast iron sink and headed toward the kitchen door. “I find it works better than simply telling you that you’re being irrational.” With that stark condemnation still hovering in the air, Nick walked out. After a lifetime of polite facades and proper lies, Yves usually admired Nick’s honesty. His counselor believed the honesty would help Yves forge a better understanding of others. Yves was almost sure her suggestions implied that Duke Gerard had never taught empathy, an implication that made him like her more than almost anyone else in existence. At the very least she occupied a space in his heart next to Juan Pujol Garcia, Willem Arondeus, and Lord Altrincham. Yves followed Nick out into the main yard.

In the guest cottage, Doug stood at the window watching, but Nick didn’t spare him a single glance. He passed the cottage and feed barn. The summer sun was still high off the horizon even though it was past supper time, and it cast long shadows that danced in the waving grass. 

Nick opened the gate that led to the east pastures where the sheep were pastured. “Sne! Yaa! Come here my lovelies,” he called. Sne appeared first, loping with easy strides. Scale made him look slow although his long legs carried him quickly. Yaa appeared a few seconds later. She sprinted past her mate and ended up head butting Nick so hard that he fell back into the fence. Nick laughed. “I’m sure you felt abandoned, but I have returned to my babies.” He ruffled her fur. Then Sne came, pushing his big nose between them to get some attention. “You are a jealous beast, my boy. You know I love you too.” Nick wrapped a long arm around Sne’s neck and hugged him.

Yves leaned on the gate. “I thought you told me to avoid getting emotionally attached.”

Nick straightened up. “I told you not to fall in love with the puppies, but how can you resist these fluffy snowballs?”

Yves smiled as Sne came up and sniffed Yves’s knee and leaned closer for a pet. When Yves had first come to the estate, neither of the Akbash dogs would come near him. Nick had told him that it was the nature of the breed to suspect strangers, but Yves had seen it as some sort of sign that even dogs knew there was something wrong with him. Had not Schoonheid and Grace taken an instant liking to him, Yves may have attempted to walk to the closest town in search of transportation or drugs.

But now Sne rested his giant white head against Yves hip and looked up at him. Nick said, “Sne knows you are upset. Sit down and tell him everything.”

“Like what? You know what happened.”

Nick left the pasture gate open and headed for the kennel. Sne followed him while Yaa wandered back out toward the sheep. That left Yves with a choice of following Nick or heading back to the guest cottage and dealing with Doug. Worse, Doug was in a friendly, chatty mood and Yves was at a loss about how to handle that. When he had been chasing after Lady Anne, Yves had found his chivalry amusing in a hopeless sort of way. Now he had no frame of reference for handling an ebullient American. So he followed Yves.

“How did it feel when this American hid you?” Nick asked.

“How am I supposed to feel?”

“However you like.”

“Yeah, you say that, but then you tell me I’m irrational,” Yves responded. That happened entirely too much.

Nick pulled open the kennel door and turned to look at him. “We’re all animals, Lord Yves. We cannot escape being irrational. Dod is a large and impressive animal. He could and would take on almost any predator, and yet he hides from thunder. He will never be a military dog, not that I would sell him either way. But when storms roll in, I do make sure he’s not near the puppies because his fear is irrational and would infect them. However, I love him no less.”

“You’re comparing me to a dog.” Yves would have been more offended if someone else had said the same. From Nick, it might even be a compliment because he never hid his disdain for humans or his preference for his animals.

“I compare you to a large and impressive dog whose puppies fetch thousands of dollars.” Nick frowned. “Ignore that last comment. That came out more offensive than I intended.”

Laughter slipped out. “I don’t plan to have any puppies for you to sell, if it makes you feel any better,” Yves said.

“I would hope you had no puppies at all, but you’re ignoring the question. How did it feel?”

Yves had no idea what to say. He was annoyed by Doug’s presence in his sanctuary, he was insanely jealous of the man’s confidence and the respect he demanded, he was unfortunately attracted to him. The man was striking, not that Yves contained his inappropriate crushes to those with physical beauty. When Rudy had flirted with him, Yves had fallen so hard that the ground shook. Looking back, Yves was almost sure that their few fumbled attempts at frottage or mutual hand jobs had been awkward not because they were both relatively new but because Rudy had been straight and manipulating Yves with sex. It mortified him that he had allowed that sort of behavior, which was the main reason he had followed his father’s wishes that he remain in exile.

“Well?” Nick asked.

“Mostly I was panicked and wishing I had drugs with me,” Yves admitted. Some days he wished he could scoop out the parts of his brain that wanted drugs, and he didn’t care how much collateral damage he suffered.

Nick’s gaze turned sharp, as though searching for signs that Yves had fallen off the wagon.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t indulge. I just wanted to.”

Nick nodded once and said gruffly, “Then I’m proud of you for not.” Striding down the concrete aisle, he set off a dozen dogs who started barking. Even those who had been in their exterior runs quickly returned to the shed when the realized that Nick had appeared.

Yves wanted to bask in that pride; after all, Nick did not hand out compliments often. However, that would make him a hypocrite. “Don’t be. If I could have found drugs in that moment, I would have taken all of them. Luckily I was locked in a key closet,” he shouted over the dogs. Then he moved to Schoonheid’s kennel and rubbed her ears. She immediately stopped barking for Nick and pressed her nose between the bars to get his attention.

“How is my lovely? I missed you,” Yves told her. He crouched down and reached in to scratch her shoulders. He knew most of her puppies went to police and military customers, but he couldn’t imagine putting her in such a dangerous situation. She was too much of a love.

“Get in here and carry your share of the food,” Nick barked.

“I’ll be back, precious,” Yves promised Schoonheid and he gave Grace an ear scratch as he passed her on his way to the food measuring station.

Yves no more than stepped into the storage and weighing area when Nick asked, “And how did you feel about this American protecting you?”

“Did the counselor give you a list of questions to use when you feel the need to nag me?”

“Yes,” Nick said. “And I will tell her what you said so she can make sure you don’t make more mistakes. I don’t know how to train people, but I am willing to assist her since she does.” Nick crossed his arms and silently dared Yves to protest. No doubt he had any number of cutting responses ready.

Yves sidestepped that by answering Nick’s question. “Doug is annoying. He’s like Vlinder—all movement in all directions at once. He wanted to protect my aunt and he hid me in the closet but then he threatened the reporters and I suspect he is colluding with my father and has some reason for being here.”

Nick pursed his lips and leaned against one of the giant bins that contained dog food. “When Vlinder runs around, she is usually trying to catch the attention of a wandering sheep. So, where are the sheep in your analogy?”

“I’m sure my father would say I am,” Yves said drily. “Am I just being paranoid?” 

“Possibly.”

Nick’s non-committal answer made Yves’s chest tighten. “Or possibly not,” he concluded since that was the natural corollary. “That’s what you’re saying. So my father may have sent someone to… what? Catch me with drugs? Set me up? Discredit me in the king’s eyes? What is my father doing?” As he listed each possibility, his heart beat faster. 

“You could ask him,” Nick said, “but I doubt he would tell you.”

“And I’m sure Doug Wasso is equally skilled in obfuscation,” Yves said bitterly. He hated his habit of falling in lust with those who would hurt him, and he was even more frustrated with his inability to distinguish lust and love. “I am so tired of this.”

“The Good Lord Above does not give you burdens too heavy to carry.” Nick returned to measuring out portions of dog food.

“Yeah, well either the Lord misjudged my character or there is no Lord and we are all the product of simple evolution as each generation competes for resources and attempts to pass on genes.”

“You are too young for such cynicism.”

“I have lived too long in a castle for anything else.” Yves sighed. “But I don’t know how to deal with the machinations of my father, not anymore. I’ve grown used to people who speak openly and honestly. I couldn’t even read Hagan. I thought he was on my side, but when I dropped my guard, he would use that against me. Then I tried to shut him down and ignore him, and Mr. Wasso insulted me for the way I treated him. I still don’t know which side Hagan was on.”

“Hagan is simple,” Nick said as he pulled down the krill oil bottle. “He is like Yaa. He will watch and avoid getting involved at all, and when he decides he must protect his flock, he will move quickly and with deadly accuracy.”

Yves picked up the food dishes that Nick had already added oil to. “That does not make me feel better,” he said before heading into the kennel proper to give the dogs their meals.

“But is it accurate?” Nick yelled after him.

Ignoring all decorum, Yves yelled back, “Yes.” He slipped the bowls under the gates and gave Grace another quick ear rub before heading back to pick up the next set of dishes.

Nick waited for him at the feed room door. “You know animals. You have a keen understanding of them. Humans are simply a deadlier and taller form of animal. Apply what you know to the people in your life. Find your Sne and your Yaa,” he said. Unfortunately, Yves had no idea how to do that.

Twelve

Morning woke Doug. While he had never been one to sleep late, four fifteen was too damn early for the sun to rise, and the bedroom had no curtains. Doug figured this was Yves revenge, but he had underestimated Doug’s persistence. Doug’s luggage hadn’t made an appearance yet, so he sat on the edge of his bed naked and checked his texts.

You are in the news with the Stenbock sister, his publicist had texted.  Reaction positive to both race and royalty angles. 

She had added a link, and Doug clicked on it. One of the entertainment shows had a short segment on it featuring the same picture of Doug and Lady Anne. Even if the bride search didn’t go anywhere, this was the sort of publicity the owners lived for, which meant that Doug’s value had just gone up. Some of the players misunderstood football. They saw it as an athletic competition, but the owners sold fantasy and entertainment. 

Refrigerator Perry had been a decent enough player, a good one even, but he had never earned his paycheck on the field. He had charmed the country, and that kept him in the game longer than his physical prowess. His brother had been a better player. But a gap tooth smile and a gentle nature had earned Perry the right to be less than successful at following the training regime or having endurance in the actual game.

Doug wouldn’t have that leeway as a quarterback. A good but not great linebacker was fine; a less than great quarterback was not. However, the owners would give him more time to recover from injury and more slack for any mistakes if he could develop the same sort of cult following.

Given the comments on the web clip of Doug and Lady Anne, it seemed like Doug had found his golden ticket. If he could get a wife out of this world of royals, he’d be set.

Looking good, he texted back. Clearly his publicist was still working because she responded immediately, and Doug wondered what time it was in California. 

Where are you?

Hiding with another Stenbock. Paparazzi too pushy.

Which Stenbock?

Doug trusted his publicist to do what was right for Doug’s career, but she would leak like a sieve if she thought that would make people like him more. If Doug wanted to protect his relationship with the Stenbocks, he had to keep certain facts away from her.

Classified above your pay grade, he texted her. 

Bastard. This is good stuff. Give me something.

Duke Gerard promised to protect my privacy and get my stuff back. Was robbed.

What? Are you safe?

Absolutely. I was stupid and left documents in car. Duke Gerard is very helping get them back. Is my reputation safe if I’m associated with him?

When young, he got a girl pregnant. Rumors of abortion or poison to make her miscarry. Not the most popular guy in country. Does charity now. Next in line for king.

I knew the king stuff. Should I bail? Doug disliked the idea of some girl who was star struck by royalty getting abused that way. On the other hand, Doug had been stupid in his youth as well. Hell, if he hadn’t preferred men, he probably would have fathered a couple of illegitimate children just because alcohol, lust, and common sense didn’t go well together. Besides, people spread rumors even when there was no truth to them. The news about Doug and Lady Anne’s affair was proof of that.

Bail on a future king? I’ll draw and quarter you. Stay. Play nice. Tell me where you are.

Ok. I will. Not a chance, Doug texted back in response to her three commands.

Again—bastard.

Doug laughed.

I’ll get new paperwork

No. I’ve got it covered. Keep an eye on the news, Doug texted. 

He tossed the phone aside and pulled on his underwear from yesterday. He hated feeling grungy, but he didn’t have any other clothes until his luggage showed up. He was starting to regret that he hadn’t refused to leave the castle until someone showed up with his bags. However, it was too late to worry about that now. He pulled on his suit trousers and the light blue shirt he’d worn under the long jacket. When he rolled up the sleeves he looked almost normal.

The small main room was empty, and Yves’s door stood open. His window faced west so the sun wasn’t pouring in, yet it was empty. The twin bed was already made. For a lord, he certainly didn’t demand many luxuries. The cabin didn’t even have a kitchen. Last night Yves had brought sandwiches from the main house. Doug quickly washed in a bathroom that looked like it had escaped the fifties, complete with sea green tile. 

Outside, the summer air was nippy enough to make Doug consider getting his dress jacket. However, that would look silly, so he simply rolled down his sleeves and headed for one of the larger buildings on the property. Several patches of darker wood interrupted the weathered gray siding, and in one place, corrugated metal covered what had been a window. As Doug grew closer, he heard someone calling out commands in English.

“Mes, crate,” someone said. After a pause, they said, “Good girl. Good. Stay.” Doug followed the voice around the corner of the barn and found what looked like an obstacle course. 

“Grace, come.” Yves faced a low wooden crate, and a German Shepherd came bounding out. Yves pointed to the right. “Go, Grace.” The dog ran to the right and circled the entire area, which had to be at least an acre. Yves gave a sharp clap. “Grace, come.”

Immediately the dog altered course and cut across the obstacles, dodging and leaping over barriers to get to Yves as quickly as possible. When Grace reached Yves, he went to one knee and hugged the dog, ruffling its fur. “Good girl. Good Grace.” Doug watched as Yves moved with a grace he had lacked at the wedding reception. The tension was gone from his shoulders, and he squinted in the sunlight, making small lines appear at the edges of his eyes. It made Doug wondered what he would look like when he laughed.

Doug was willing to bet he was radiant.

“So, this is where you work,” Doug said as he leaned against the fence. Yves stood, and suddenly he was all angles and elbows and tention. Yesterday Doug thought he’d made some headway, but now Yves looked more suspicious than ever. Doug focused on the landscape.  “This is a beautiful place.” The hilly land was dotted with trees and patches of wildflowers that made it look like someone had splattered vivid paints across the green grass.

Yves stood next to the dog, his fingers caressing its ear. And the dog leaned closer giving every indication that it trusted Yves completely. Doug could definitely see why Yves’s father believed Yves was best suited to this life. Yves looked down and then asked in a scandalized voice, “Are those the trousers from your morning suit?”

“I’m wearing this until someone brings my clothing up.” Doug propped his foot on the lowest plank on the fence. He was less worried about his trousers than his shoes. He was going to fall on his ass if he wandered around this place in dress shoes, but with no television in the cabin, he wasn’t going to sit around and be bored, either.

“You could drive back to the castle,” Yves said. He moved over to a set of low hurdles. “Grace, over!” Yves patted the upright pole, and the shepherd immediately jumped. Yves played at giving all his attention to the dog, but he kept glancing over toward Doug. As much as Doug wished he had caught Yves’s admiring gaze, he had the feeling the looks were more suspicious. 

“Don’t you have rules around here about having a driver’s license and identification with you?” Doug asked. “Because I don’t have any of those things until someone finds Rudy and gets that damn car back.” Doug turned, and two enormous white dogs were wandering toward him. The bigger one had to be one-fifty or one-sixty. “Whoa. Those are big dogs. Tell me they’re friendly.” Doug tried to keep his voice calm.

Yves glanced over. “Not particularly. They are known for driving strangers away from their flocks. The larger one is Sne and the female is Yaa.”

“Ya as in ‘yes’?” Doug asked as he climbed the fence and sat on the top rail. The narrow wood dug into his ass, but he would rather deal with than then a dog bite. Before Yves turned away, Doug caught a hint of a smile on the man’s face. 

“Yaa means ice. She’s fairly unforgiving when strangers get too near her sheep.”

“Good. Tell me where her sheep are, and I’ll avoid them.” The male came and gave Doug’s shoe an indifferent sniff.

“Are you scared?” Yves turned back around and now he was definitely amused. The little shit had a grin on his face, and it transformed him. He was ethereally beautiful. His sharp blue eyes and fine features made him look almost foxlike or maybe like an elf from mythology. And Doug knew exactly how dangerous those little fuckers were. They used their beauty and their magic to tie men in knots, and right now Yves looked like he absolutely could do exactly that. 

“Hell yes, I’m scared. They could eat me,” Doug said. The female dog kept her distance and gave Doug the evil eye. “What are they?”

“Akbash. Nick raises them along with Belgian Malinois and Dutch Shepherds.” 

Doug breathed a little easier once the walking mountains wandered away.

“Grace, Mes, release,” Yves called, and the two shepherds raced off, chasing each other around the training area. Only then did Yves come walking over. “What are you doing here?” The smile had vanished, erasing some of the incandescent allure.

“Trying to fight off boredom. There’s no television, and I hate staring at my phone.”

“Amuse yourself somewhere else.” The fatigue in Yves’s voice made Doug frown.

“I could, but if there are dogs that look like that wandering around the place, I prefer to stay close to someone who knows their names and can call them off if they decide I’m dinner. Do you need help with anything?”

Yves’s expression turned malicious. “The kennels must have the feces cleaned.”

Doug wrinkled his nose. He could either scoop dog poop or sit in his room and stare at the walls. “Where is the scoop?” When Yves appeared confused, Doug clarified, “The tool to pick up dog feces.” 

The shock on Yves face was worth picking up a field full of dog shit. Clearly he had not expected that response. Doug felt an inappropriate joy at catching the man off guard. Yves had such walls up that Doug wanted to slip past them and figure out what made him really smile. He had to find amusement in something other than Americans perched on fences in terror. After a second, Yves said, “I will show you.”

He headed toward one of the buildings that had chain link fence pens attached to the side. Doug jumped off the fence and followed. “I didn’t think royals did work like this.”

Yves turned. “Are you suggesting I’m not a real lord?”

Doug stopped. He hadn’t meant that at all. He hadn’t planned to even broach the subject of Yves’s titles until he knew him much better. “Americans just think of royalty as sitting around in crown jewels all day.”

“Then they’re all ignorant,” Yves said before he turned back to the building. He opened a door and it turned out to be a kennel. A long hallway down the middle allowed people to access each of the dozens of individual runs on either side.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I might,” Yves said coldly. This was getting off to a glorious start, Doug thought sarcastically.

“We tend to think of royals like we think of celebrities.”

“Celebrities sit around in crowns all day?”

“No,” Doug said, “but they spend most of the day working to keep their celebrity image.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” Yves strode the length of the kennel and retrieved a shovel that had been leaning against the wall. Doug pressed his lips together and tried to plan his words. Yves was difficult to talk to.

“It means I don’t know what a lord does. You are a lord, right? Not a duke or something?”

Yves’s look was pure ice. “I’m a count, actually.”

“And what does that mean?” Doug asked. Maybe if he could understand the advantages of titles he could come up with some reasons to give them up.

“Very little,” Yves said. He passed Doug the shovel on the way past. “Dod and Schoonheid are still in their runs. Don’t clean those,” Yves said.

Doug opened his mouth to point out that he didn’t know which runs those were when the kennel door opened. Nick stood there, his grizzled face practically a stereotype. Weather and age had carved deep lines.

“Nick.” Yves took a step forward and then stopped.

“The duke’s staff brought bags, but reporters have followed,” he said. “Take the four-wheelers and get lost in the hills.”

“What?” Doug asked. “Why don’t you order the reporters off the land?”

Nick finally looked at Doug. “I will, but that won’t make them listen. Get Yves out of their sight and they won’t have a reason to stay.” There was a tension in the corners of Nick’s mouth that made Doug believe the man was genuinely worried.

“Alright,” Doug agreed, “but I don’t have the right shoes.” He gestured down at his dress shoes. 

When Nick looked down, he frowned, but instead of offering to let Doug find more practical shoes in his bags, he told Yves, “Find him a pair of my boots. Go out the back.”

“Of course.” Yves headed for the door at the far end of the hall. “This way,” he said as he opened it to show a storage area.

Doug would have followed, but Nick caught his arm. “Keep an eye on him,” he said. Doug frowned. It was possible that Nick also worked for Duke Gerard, but if so, he wasn’t sure how this was supposed to help Doug with his mission. 

He nodded. “Of course.”

Nick left the kennel, and Doug hurried after Yves.