Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DRAVEN

Draven

I turn back to the car to grab our bags. Several o' the staff stare at me in disbelief, unsure o' what they should do. It's nae like I've never carried my own bags, but to leave a guest behind as I did Tavish when they're all standing here has their mouth's hanging open.

Hefting our luggage out o' the boot, I turn back toward the house. I murmur, "Follow me, mo ghille donn," as I pass Tavish.

I dinnae look back to see if he's following until I'm inside the door. When I see he's still standing at the foot o' the front steps, I arch my brow at him.

He hugs Mack again, then he scampers up the stairs after me. I'm halfway up the stairs to my bedroom when I hear him yell, "Nice to meet you," before he slams the front door behind him.

His quick steps echo through the entryway and up the stairs. When I reach the bedroom floor, I pause, waiting for him to catch up. With him at my side, I continue down the hall, glancing at him, gawking in awe at the open doors to the bedchambers as we pass along the way. All the while, my mind spins at the fankle I've found myself in.

With Mack being Tavish's Mack from his childhood, and Mack knowing some o' the things I've done since receiving the letter my grandfather sent to my father, I ken I must tell Tavish exactly how his father died. The boy isnae an eejit. He'll piece the shit together in a flash.

I stop outside the Laird's bedroom, as the house staff has always called it, and motion for Tavish to open the door. When he does, I step past him, taking the luggage to the wardrobe.

"It's like I've stepped back in time," he mutters just loud enough that I hear, but I'm nae sure he meant me to.

"Aye. It may be home, but it could easily be a museum," I reply as I sit down on the sofa nestled in the circular portion o' the room made possible by the turret on this side o' the building.

Tavish hurries over to me, bouncing on the seat cushion next to me. "I didn't mean it was old or outdated. I just meant…"

I interrupt him quickly so he disnae think his comment was taken poorly. "I dinnae think ye did. I also get that feeling from time to time. Especially when I've been away for a while or people call me yer lordship. It's strange. Especially since I spent the last few years o' my childhood in an orphanage."

He nods and settles himself on my lap. Something I've come to love. He did it occasionally prior to me leaving on my last jaunt to find Maeve, but it's been a regular occurrence since the flight from America. He tucks his head under my chin and plucks at the frayed fabric on the knees o' his jeans. His mind is swirling with questions. It always is when he fidgets like he is. I just have to wait him out.

Finally, he asks, "Why did you look funny when Mack told us about how he left my family to come here to you and Simon?"

I heave a tremendous sigh and let my eyes slide closed. I dinnae ken how to tell him what I did. How I forced him into the hell he lived through over the last few years. I need to tell him. I ken it, but I'm nae ready, so instead I say, "I dinnae ken what ye mean, lilla du."

His eyes widen in shock, and I ken then that he kens I'm nae being truthful with him. After staring at me for several minutes, he stands and walks away nae looking back at me at all.

"I'm going to shower. I feel gross," he says as he walks through the open door to the bathroom.

Watching him walk away from me and nae following him is one o' the hardest things I've done since meeting him. When the door to the bathroom closes behind him, I lean forward, my elbows propped on my knees as my head drops into my hands. Hoping I'm wrong, I wait to see if he beckons me to join him.

When the shower turns on and there's nae any sign o' my boy, I realize I've fucked things up royally. The boy never showers without trying to entice me to join him.

A soft knock on the door drags me from my self-loathing. Opening it, I'm greeted with the smiling face o' one o' the maids. Kenna, I believe her name is.

"Did ye want yer luggage unpacked, sir?"

I shake my head. "Nae, lass. I'll handle it. Thank ye, though."

Her eyes widen even more than Tavish's did mere moments ago, but she says nothing, just smiles and bobs a short curtsey before turning her back to me.

I've told the entire staff that the curtseying and the yer lordships need to be tossed out, but they persist. I ken it's the way o' things and my birthright, but it's weird to me. Even though I remember them doing the same for my mother and father before they passed and, to a lesser extent, to Maeve and myself, but it seems so archaic at times.

"Who was at the door?"

Realizing I'm still standing at the open door, staring after the maid, I shake my head and turn back to Tavish, closing out the world as I shut and latch the door. He's standing before me in just a towel. Another plopped on his head as if he was rubbing his head dry, but stopped at the sight o' me, lost in thought.

I take a few steps toward him as I respond, "The maid. She asked if we wanted our bags unpacked."

Tavish's forehead crinkles in anger, but it smoothes out quickly. "That's a sub's job and I'm your sub. I take care of those kinds of things for you."

I grin at the possessiveness in his tone. Even though I dinnae expect it o' him either, he'd laid claim to doing that sort o' thing for me over the last week. I've never been into domestic servitude from my subs, but the boy seems to enjoy it, so I foresee a conversation in my future with the house staff about who will be doing what.

I pull him toward me, kissing his forehead before whispering against it, "Och, aye, lilla du. It is yer job for as long as ye want it."

He pushes against my chest, gazing up at me. "What's that supposed to mean? As long as I want it. You said you wouldn't leave me, and I said the same. So why wouldn't I want to be your sub?"

My hands cup his face and I explain, "Kinks are living just as the kinksters who are in the lifestyle are living. And living things change. It is the way o' things. There may come a time that ye dinnae wish to serve me domestically, such as that, and that is okay. It disnae mean ye arenae my sub any longer. Just that ye are my sub in a different way."

He sags against me, his sigh o' relief ghosts over my body. That small, seemly inconsequential thing lights me on fire, and I scoop him up in my arms. He squeals a laugh as I toss him on the bed, before ripping the towel from his body. He drops the one he used on his hair to the floor. I stare at him as I retrieve the lube from the carry on I'd dropped at the foot o' the bed. I chuck it onto the bed next to him then strip myself o' the clothes scratching at my lust heated skin.

Once I'm naked, I climb on the bed, crawling up to where he lays, watching me stalk toward him. I kiss and suck my way up his legs to his cock, standing tall and proud, and his testicles, full and drawn up against his body. I nuzzle his cock, dragging my tongue up his hard flesh from base to tip before tracing my tongue down his groin to where his leg meets his body. I suck first one ball and then the other into my mouth, rolling them around with my tongue. Releasing the second one with a slurp, I move onto his cock, sucking the tip into my mouth and toying with the slit with my tongue.

His breathy moans and whimpers spur me on, and as I continue up his body to his nipples, my eyes light on the nightstand on what was once Simon's side o' the bed. The drawers there hold a treasure trove o' pleasure. Licking and nibbling at his nipples, I stare at the drawers, envisioning what's hidden within. Most will need to be replaced as they are old, having nae been used since before Simon died, but there are a few items that can remain, and one o' those items has me giddy with wantonness.

Biting down harder on the lad's nipple has his hand sinking into my hair, screwing up and loosening the braid I threw it in this morning after our romp in the shower.

"Color?" I ask, just to be certain I've nae bit the boy too hard.

"Green, Daddy. All the greens."

Smirking, I take his mouth in a quick deep kiss before saying, "Close yer eyes, min kara."

He complies immediately and I reach for the drawer, sliding it open quietly. There, lying on top o' the other items, is the riding crop I purchased years ago. I bought it for the sub Simon and I never found. I even used it on Simon once, but he hated the thing, declaring it a hard limit after just a few light smacks to his ass. But Tavish loves being spanked. His more severe bratty moments were typically him begging for a bruising.

Settling back on my heels, I laid the leather end on the boy's shoulder, and dragged it over his chest, rubbing first one nipple then the other with it. He writhes and moans, twisting his body to tease himself even more.

"Open yer eyes."

They pop open instantly and as soon as they meet mine, they flash to my hands, then trail up to the shaft o' the crop to where it lies on his body.