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Three Hearts on the Line
Copyright ©2023 Michelle Dare
Cover Design: Michelle Dare
Editing: Barren Acres Editing
Proofreading: Joanne Thompson
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means without express written permission from the
author/publisher.
No Generative AI Training Use. The Author expressly prohibits using the Work in
any manner for purposes of training artificial intelligence technologies to generate
text, including without limitation, technologies that are capable of generating
works in the same style or genre as the Work. The Author reserves all rights to
license uses of the Work for generative AI training and development of machine
learning language models.
Author’s Note: No artificial intelligence (A.I.) or predictive language software was
used in any part of the creation of this book.
 CONTENTS

Follow Michelle
Three Hearts on the Line
Content Warning

Prologue
1. JJ
2. Greer
3. Dexen
4. JJ
5. Greer
6. Dexen
7. JJ
8. Dexen
9. Greer
10. JJ
11. Dexen
12. Greer
13. Dexen
14. JJ
15. Greer
16. Dexen
17. JJ
18. Greer
19. Dexen
20. Greer
21. JJ
22. Dexen
23. Greer
24. JJ
25. Dexen
26. Greer
27. Dexen
28. Greer
29. JJ
30. Dexen
31. Greer
32. JJ
33. Dexen
34. Greer
Epilogue

Books by Michelle Dare

About the Author
FOLLOW MICHELLE DARE

Michelle’s Reader Group

Michelle’s Newsletter
Michelle’s Website
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Michelle’s Pinterest
Michelle’s BookBub
 THREE HEARTS ON THE LINE

The Namesake
Dexen Dremest leads a good life. He owns an exclusive club, has
friends he cares about, and has a supportive family. Too bad there’s
a hole inside his chest where his heart used to be. One man ripped it
out, leaving only tattered ends behind.

The Tech Guru

Greer Lynx is happy most of the time. He can be serious when he
needs to be, but he’d rather be the calm in the storm than the wind
whipping everything up. If only he could find a man of his own, his
life would be perfect. Or maybe two men will do.

The Mafia Boss’s Son

JJ Altair hates everything his dad is. He wants no part of that life
and has fought hard for years to keep his distance. He’s got a great
career, a friend he can’t keep his eyes off of, and an ex he can’t get
out of his mind.

Three ties to bind. Three hearts on the line.

Three souls who break trying to ease their ache.

Dexen, Greer, and JJ are building something new and exciting

together. It’s also terrifying since they’ve been burned in the past.

What’s worth giving up versus worth holding on to will need to be

weighed. The scale won’t easily balance between the three of them,
but they will lean one way or the other.
 C O N T E N T WA R N I N G

Please note that this book contains the following: descriptive

violence, off-page attempted rape, and homophobia. If any of these
are triggers for you, please proceed with caution.
PROLOGUE
 DEXEN

Love.
Who the fuck thought that was a good idea?
I did. Once.
Then my heart was shredded inside my chest. I gave up on
finding love again after that. Why would I do that to myself? That
one time did enough damage to last me for the rest of my life.
I wasn’t young and naïve anymore. I was forty-six and had more
than enough to keep me busy.
Between my club, Untouchable, and the other businesses I ran, it
was a wonder I found time to sleep. Though nothing pulled my
attention like my club did. It was my baby. It made me happy.
Happy.
There was another loaded word.
I used the term loosely. My businesses were thriving, which was
great. My personal life was nearly nonexistent, which was good too.
Except it wasn’t. It was an empty chasm inside me, the edges full of
thorns, waiting to draw blood.
Jordan Altair Jr., or JJ for short, saw to the end of my joy. Once
upon a time, I would have given him everything. I would have sold it
all if he asked me to. He wouldn’t, though he knew I’d do anything
for him. We burned so hot and so bright.
I foolishly went and did what I always did. I took control.
Handled shit. JJ didn’t like it. He’d told me he didn’t want me killing
anyone for him again. I understood why. His father was a mafia
boss. JJ didn’t want anything to do with that world. He actively tried
to stay out of it, even though his father found a way to keep pulling
him back in.
And there I was doing the very thing JJ hated. He didn’t care
why I did it. He only saw the act, not the motive behind it.
All in the fucking name of love. For JJ. For his life.
When he walked away from me after us being together for a
year, leaving my heart a mess, I told myself I wouldn’t fall ever
again.
Enter Greer Lynx.
Jesus, that man.
He was different from anyone I’d slept with before. I’d known
him ever since Perry Altair Sr. asked my brother, Xaiden, to train the
Lynx brothers over two decades ago. I shouldn’t have gotten
involved with him after remaining strictly friends for so long, but he
was a temptation I couldn’t stay away from.
Greer was forty now. Tattooed, which I couldn’t resist, thanks to
JJ getting me hooked on them. He was covered in them after all. But
Greer was the polar opposite of the man I gave my heart to, so I
thought I was safe.
Wrong.
Greer was kind, honest, and open with his emotions. I knew he
was falling for me. I was helpless to pull away.
Until JJ was back in front of me, reminding me why love was the
worst emotion known to man. I had to put a stop to the casual sex
Greer and I had. He wasn’t the only one getting attached. But I
couldn’t let him in. Couldn’t give the tattered remains of my heart
only for him to destroy the rest of it.
I had to protect myself. In the process, I hurt myself more than
anything.
JJ hated me.
Greer looked like a kicked puppy.
I was a fucking mess on the inside. On the outside, I was my
usual self. No one saw past the armor I had in place. It was
bulletproof. Yet, I still felt. Still bled for the two men I shouldn’t
want. They were better off without me.
 Fuck love.
Fuck my life.
Fuck everything that made me feel.
Except them. Never them.
I didn’t want to love them. I didn’t want to care. Yet I did.
Deeply.
1
 JJ

I hardly recognized myself in the mirror these days. The only time I
felt like the other me, the mechanic me, was when I was covered in
grease and oil from my shop, which was usually on the weekends.
During the week, I put on a suit and tie.
My blond hair was combed back out of my face, not the unruly
mess it was on my days off from PJS. My cousin owned the
company. Well, I did too, though my shares were significantly less
than his. One of his boyfriends, Peyton, owned a stake and so did
Peyton’s brother, Greer. Four of us in total, me owning the least. It
didn’t make any difference to me.
I was brought into this venture without a choice. My old man was
sick of me playing mechanic, his words not mine. I wasn’t the son he
envisioned as he raised me in his world of organized crime.
My old man was Jordan Altair Sr., the mafia boss of East
Dremest. He owned that side of the city, figuratively anyway. West
Dremest was home to my cousin, Perry Altair Jr. I called him Junior.
Yeah, we had a thing about names in our family.
PJS stood for Perry, Jordan, & Sons Auto. When my uncle created
the company, he had hopes of my dad joining him and then their
sons. That didn’t happen. My dad didn’t want shit to do with the
business. Now I knew it was for the best. Senior, that was what I
called my uncle, was a great man. The kind I wished my dad could
be. My cousin had an amazing life while mine was full of guns,
drugs, and violence. I didn’t blame Junior for having what he did. I
envied him when I was younger.
Now I was older. Wiser. Working for my cousin as a vice president
in his research and development department. My dad bought my
way in. Junior needed the money since the company wasn’t doing
well. He went to my dad, who in turn offered him millions in
exchange for me having partial ownership and a position of
importance within the company. That was what my dad did. Bought
what he wanted. Why earn something when it could be easily paid
for?
He hated my chosen profession. Thought it was below someone
with the Altair name. He wanted me to be successful like my cousin.
Or be more like my old man himself. I didn’t want to be stuck in an
office, behind a desk, with a computer screen in front of me. I didn’t
want the mafia life either. I had enough of it being on the outside
between death threats, actual bullets flying my way, and my dad
pulling me in every chance he got.
Owning a part of PJS was another way to get what he wanted. A
son who had a good job with a reputable company—a family
company—he could brag about. Not me building a business from the
ground up and providing a service to the community. No, that was a
waste of my time to him. My office job made me look good.
I hated the idea of being stuffed into a suit at first. I wanted to
reject it when he told me I’d work there, but I knew better. If I
refused, he’d make my life a living hell. I didn’t need that, and I
certainly didn’t want to put it on my employees at the shop. My dad
wouldn’t have been subtle about it. There would be harassment
from the men who worked for him. My shop would get broken into
and my shit stolen or broken. He wouldn’t hurt my employees per
se, but he’d come for my livelihood and in turn, theirs.
So, when I looked in the mirror today, almost eight months after
I’d started working at PJS, I didn’t hate what I saw. It was
surprising. I’d gotten used to being in a suit and tie. I actually kind
of liked it. I loved the work I was doing there, which I didn’t think
would have been possible.
 Leaving my bedroom, firmly slipping the knot of my tie into
place, I went into my kitchen to find Val at the coffee maker, beating
the fuck out of it. The machine was a temperamental shit that only
worked when it felt like it, or as Val liked to point out, it only worked
for me.
Valiant Bowen was his name but if anyone called him by his first
full name, he started swinging. He hated it. Everyone called him Val.
I stepped up beside him and started fidgeting with the coffee
maker. Noises came from within; the good kind, which meant coffee
would be coming soon.
It wasn’t just a coffee maker. It made lattes and other drinks. I
only used it for coffee. I wasn’t a fancy guy, but I had a fancy
machine sitting on my counter. The urge to throw it out had been
there for years. The thing was finicky as hell. I knew how to stroke
and poke it just right to get it to do what I needed. The reason I
kept it was because of who gave it to me. I shouldn’t have held on
to it, yet I couldn’t seem to let it go.
Val grumbled, “Stupid piece of shit.”
“It cost more than my pickup.”
“You drive a ninety-seven F-150. I would hope so.”
“Hey, that truck runs like a champ.”
Val snorted. “Because you fixed it. Without you, it would have
ended up in a junkyard.”
“My point stands.”
Why did the coffee maker cost so much? Because Dexen
Dremest, my ex-boyfriend, didn’t do anything in small measures,
especially when it came to me. He spoiled me while we were
together. Money was no object to him, although he didn’t let it rule
or define him. When he’d stay at my place, he hated the cheap-ass
coffee maker I used to have because he never got a decent drink
from it. There were always grounds in the cup, swirling around when
he stirred it. It was either too weak or too strong.
I shook my head. Nope, not going down that road today. There
was no room on my highway for Dexen. He had to stay firmly out of
my way.
 Val poured himself a bowl of cereal and added milk. He took it
over to my small table against the wall, along with his coffee which
finally brewed. The table only sat two. My kitchen wasn’t big. The
whole place was on the smaller side. That was what I got for
wanting to live near my shop. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a tiny
kitchen, and a living room that barely fit a love seat and a TV. Living
it up, I wasn’t. What I did have was a bank account with a nice
chunk of savings in it.
This apartment was just supposed to be for me. I didn’t plan on
a roommate. Then Val entered my life, trying to steal one of the cars
on my lot. Well, that shit couldn’t fly. I scared him and realized he
was a good kid. Afterward, I taught him everything I knew. Val was
smart, great with his hands. He could rotate tires with a speed
rivaling a pit crew. I got him out of his shitty situation and into a
stable one. He’d lived with me since.
I brought him on at PJS once I got my footing. Him and some of
my other mechanics. My shop still ran thanks to Keith, who was the
manager. But my heart was quickly moving to PJS and the work I
got to do there.
There was something magical about being able to design a
product, have others provide their input, then see it brought to life. I
had funding for my inventions. They were making positive changes.
My favorite was blending what I knew about cars with what Greer
knew about technology. He was the chief security officer at PJS.
Brilliant, kind, and it didn’t hurt he was sexy as hell.
That was a road I shouldn’t go down. Not that I couldn’t, but it
wasn’t smart. The Lynx brothers were tight and had formed a family.
Junior was in a serious relationship with Peyton Lynx, his bodyguard,
and Dominic Summit, his ex-assistant now full-time exotic dancer.
Greer, Peyton, and Junior had lived together since Greer and Junior
graduated college.
I didn’t have the energy to put into a relationship. The best I
could do was hookups in bar bathrooms. I didn’t bring men back
here anymore, now that Val lived with me. He wouldn’t care. I just
didn’t want to make him uncomfortable listening to me fuck
someone. I liked to get loud, and I liked to talk dirty.
 “I don’t know why you don’t bend him over and get it out of your
system,” Val said around a mouthful of cinnamon cereal. Of course,
he noticed my thing for Greer. Everyone on my team did. I went
stupid when he was around, not my normal sharp-tongued, hard-ass
self.
“How do you know I’m not the one who wants to get bent over?”
I shouldn’t have said it. I should have denied my attraction to Greer
like I usually did.
“Whatever, Jay. Just wrap it up.” I lifted my hand to ruffle his hair.
He quickly dodged out of reach. “Don’t mess this up. I spent five
minutes trying to get it to lay flat.” He had a cowlick on the front of
his head toward the right side. If his hair was in between being too
short and on the longer side, his hair twirled oddly.
“Got someone you want to impress at the office?”
He scoffed. “Yeah, everyone’s banging down my door.” I knew Val
was gay, but as far as I was aware, I was the only one he’d told. The
kid was wound tighter than a timing chain. He needed a way to blow
off steam. Nothing did that better than getting off with someone.
“You’re cute.” I tried to ruffle his hair again, but this time he
stood and took his bowl and mug over to the sink.
“I don’t want to be cute. That’s something you call a child or a
dog.”
I shrugged. “I love you, but you’re not my type, hence the cute
factor.”
Val rolled his eyes. “Are you eating? We should get going.”
“I’m grabbing a bagel at work.” On Monday mornings Stefen,
who was the head of R&D, brought in fresh bagels for our
department. I always made sure I had my appetite going in. Give
me an onion bagel with veggie cream cheese and I was a happy
man.
We grabbed our stuff and headed out the door. I missed my bike.
I had it stored in my shop for safekeeping. I rode it more over the
summer at night and on the weekends. It wasn’t easy to do so in a
suit. I opted for my truck instead.
Pacific Green Metallic was the official color name of the paint on
my Ford. It had faded over the years. Wasn’t shiny and bright. I still
lovingly caressed my hand over the dashboard every time I got
inside.
“Are you going to fuck it or drive it? We’re going to be late.”
I glared at him. “I’m your boss. You think I’m going to fire you
for coming in late when I drove your ass? You know you have to
treat your vehicles right, so they perform well for you.”
“You could say the same for a partner.”
“Jackass,” I muttered.
My truck started with a throaty rumble, thanks to the aftermarket
dual exhaust I installed on it. I loved that sound, unlike the quiet
purr of newer vehicles. The rumble from the truck wasn’t quite as
nice as the one that came from my Harley, but it would do.
East Dremest went by the truck’s windows like it did every
weekday morning as we drove through it. The city wasn’t full of
garbage and graffiti. It was cleaned up thanks to my dad. I’d like to
say he kept it this way out of the goodness of his heart, but that
thing had shriveled up and turned black in his chest a long time ago.
No, East Dremest looked like it did because it was a reflection of
him. Like me. Except I wasn’t something as easy to shape as the city
and its residents were. I didn’t bow down at my dad’s feet. Given the
chance, I’d sever his fucking toes.
Blood and violence. Just what I should be thinking about on my
way to work. Such was my life. No matter how much I wished it
weren’t, there was no escaping my DNA.
2
 GREER

The rough feel of the tennis ball leaving my palm as it bounced off
the wall and back to me did little to quell the nervous energy
running through my system. I wasn’t usually like this. When I was,
I’d workout or have sex. I’d worked out so much lately, it wasn’t
doing a damn thing anymore, except adding more muscle. And sex…
Dexen was my go-to and he kept his dick in his pants now, at least
around me. I didn’t want to think about him fucking anyone else.
When did everything get so screwed up? We had a good thing
going. Sure, I wanted more with him. I thought I could be the guy
who kept sex casual. Turned out, I wasn’t. The more I slept with
Dexen, the more I felt his strong hands move over my skin, the
more I wanted him outside of sex. I wanted a relationship, though I
didn’t voice it.
Dexen shut it down between us. I hadn’t been to Untouchable in
a while. The last time I was there, he was still sweet to me, like
always. He caressed his hand along my back. He stayed near me for
a while. But he didn’t invite me back like he used to. The reason I
went there was for him, not the dancers, although they were a nice
bonus.
Forward. Back. The tennis ball was my only outlet at work. There
was no heavy bag for me to pummel. No weights for me to lift.
A knock on my open door drew my gaze to it. There stood Perry,
my boss, but also one of my closest friends. Of course, my brother,
was right behind him. Peyton always watched Perry’s back. Since
they became an item, he’d gotten even more protective, which I
hadn’t thought was possible.
“What’s up, brother?” I asked Perry. We weren’t related by blood,
but that didn’t matter. He was family through and through.
Perry sat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of my desk. I
was a minimalist when it came to furnishings, especially at work. I
had a big office, thanks to my title as CSO. There was a large, black
metal desk that sat close to the wall to my left. Not against it. I
wanted to be able to bounce the tennis balls off it. I had a long table
on the other wall filled with computer screens, equipment, basically
anything I needed. I could roll my chair over there and work just as
easily as I could at my desk. My desk only housed two monitors, my
laptop which docked to them, and that was it. Pencils, pens, paper,
all that shit was in the drawers. Oh, there was a coffee mug on the
desk. Almost forgot about that. The less clutter, the more at ease I
was, except recently. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake this
restlessness.
“How are you doing?” Perry asked.
I quirked an eyebrow at him. I lived in the same house as him.
He knew damn well how I was. “Is that a trick question?”
“You didn’t come home the past two nights.”
“I’m surprised you noticed.” I didn’t say it bitterly, more factually.
Perry, Peyton, and Dominic spent their time holed up in my brother’s
room getting off. Sometimes loudly. I’d stayed at Perry’s penthouse
where I had a room, knowing the three of them would be at the
fortress.
“It’s Dom’s birthday,” Peyton said from where he leaned against
the doorway, half of his attention in here, half in the hallway. Always
looking. Always protecting. There was no danger here. The need to
guard Perry was so ingrained in him, he couldn’t easily stop unless
they were at home or the penthouse.
“Is he turning twenty-one?” I asked. “Are we taking him out for
his first legal night of drinking?” I knew damn well how old Dominic
was, but I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to get a rise out of my
brother. Dominic was thirteen years younger than him.
 Perry rolled his eyes. “Dex is throwing a party for him tonight at
the club. We want you to come.” I wasn’t surprised. Dexen took care
of his dancers. I’d been there on numerous occasions when they
celebrated one of the dancer’s birthdays.
“I’ll wish him a happy birthday when you get home.” I didn’t
want to go to Untouchable. I didn’t want to feel the sting of rejection
that hit me when I showed up there. I was already strung too tight.
One wrong move and I’d snap.
JJ stopped just outside my door. We had a meeting in a few
minutes I wasn’t prepared for. My mind wasn’t on work today. I gave
him a quick once-over. He looked good in a suit, but I liked him
better in his grease-streaked jeans, Doc Martens, and leather jacket.
This suited up version of JJ didn’t do as much for me. Except where
the sleeves of his white button-down were rolled up and his corded,
tattooed arms were visible.
I shook the thought away. I couldn’t lust after Perry’s cousin. I
was a train wreck lately. Besides, JJ never showed interest in me.
Perry followed my line of sight. “JJ, what are you doing tonight?”
“Sitting on my couch and drinking a beer, why?”
“Come out with us. It’s Dom’s birthday and we’re celebrating.”
“Where?”
“Untouchable.”
It was so small, I wondered if anyone else noticed. JJ’s shoulders
tensed ever so slightly. “Hard pass.” We were all aware of a history
between him and Dexen. Peyton and Dominic had discussed it one
night at the dinner table.
We’d heard JJ and Dexen talk that night at JJ’s shop when
Dominic was held against his will, and we’d neutralized the situation.
What JJ and Dexen’s past was, we didn’t know all the details of,
though Peyton and Dominic liked to speculate.
“You don’t have to talk to Dex,” Perry supplied.
“I haven’t stepped foot in that club in years. I’m not about to do
so now, even for Dom. You going?” he asked me.
“If I am, it’s not by choice. I have about as much desire to see
Dex as you do.” Though for very different reasons. I didn’t think JJ
still harbored love for Dexen, but there was something between
them.
“You can come drink with me on my couch. Val is making
spaghetti for dinner.”
“He cooks?” Perry asked.
“He’s not a hidden talent or anything but he does it better than
me, so I don’t complain.”
The urge to hang out with JJ outside of work was strong. I was a
glutton for punishment. I knew I’d end up at Untouchable tonight.
Peyton and Perry would drag me there. I wouldn’t be able to keep
my eyes off Dexen. If I was a more aggressive man, I’d pin his ass
to a wall and make him tell me what his issue was. I was desperate
for him. If all he could give me was sex, I’d take it. Pathetic, that
was what I was.
I rolled the tennis ball in my hand, wanting to bounce it again.
With JJ here I’d refrain. Perry and Peyton were used to my annoying
habit. JJ wasn’t.
Perry stood and looked pointedly at me. “We’re going tonight and
you’re coming with us.”
I threw the tennis ball at him with no real force. He dodged to
the side and my brother caught it. He didn’t send it back, so I
opened one of my desk drawers and took another one out, throwing
it into the air and catching it.
“Pain in the ass,” Peyton muttered.
JJ stepped inside after they left, closing the door behind him, and
took a seat in the chair Perry had vacated. “You don’t have to go.”
I sighed. JJ didn’t understand the dynamic between Peyton,
Perry, and me. We’d experienced a lot of our lives together. They
knew if they asked me to go somewhere, I’d go. I wouldn’t always
be happy about it, but I’d be there. “I know, but I will.”
“Not that it’s any of my business, but I’m guessing you had
something going on with Dex and don’t anymore. That’s why you
don’t want to go.”
I nodded, not sure I wanted to discuss this with JJ, who was
obviously Dexen’s ex.
 “Dex could have changed over the years, but I doubt it. He’s
someone who’s used to getting his way and when he doesn’t, he
feels like he’s lost all control. He needs that. Lives and breathes
knowing he has everything the way he wants it. What he never
realized is how fucking suffocating it is to others.”
“Not everyone.” I wasn’t looking for a guy to tell me what to do
day in and day out; however, I loved those moments with Dexen
when I could be someone other than the strong, tough guy. When I
could let go and have someone else take care of me. I didn’t need a
man to rule my life. If they could make me forget everything else
and focus on pleasure, I was there for it.
JJ shook his head. “Dex doesn’t know when to stop though.
There’s no line in the sand he won’t cross.”
“It doesn’t matter. He cut me off.” I shrugged like it was no big
deal, when in reality, it hurt like a bitch.
“The invitation stands if you want to come over. Doesn’t have to
be tonight. If I’m not here, I’m at the shop or at home.”
“You don’t go out?” I couldn’t picture JJ as a homebody.
“I’m happier when I’m home.”
“You’re always welcome at my place.” What was I doing inviting
JJ over? It wasn’t just my house. There were four of us living at the
fortress. No, I didn’t name it. Perry did once he saw the extent his
father went to so Perry was protected. The fortress was solid with
not only an advanced security system in place, but we had plans on
top of plans in case something happened. Which it hadn’t. At least
not yet. I hoped it never did.
JJ chuckled. “Hanging out with you, sure. Hanging out with my
cousin and his men, not my idea of a good time.”
“It’s not like they fuck out in the open. Full disclosure, Dom does
walk around in barely any clothes when it’s warm inside or out.”
“He’s not bad looking but not my type.”
“No?”
Leaning forward, JJ put his elbows on his knees, his eyes held
mine. They were such a rich, deep blue, it was mesmerizing. “I like
my men solid. I don’t want to worry about breaking them when I’m
fucking them.” Fuck. Did it suddenly get hot in here?
 The tennis ball stilled in my hand. I couldn’t take my eyes off his.
“You’re a top then.” I shouldn’t have said it. JJ’s sexual preferences
weren’t my business, yet I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Which
meant Dexen let JJ fuck him. He didn’t give me that opportunity.
When I was with Dexen, it was always him pounding me.
He hummed. “You?”
“I can go either way, but I prefer to bottom.” Most men saw me
and thought the opposite. I wasn’t a small guy. Six foot five with
broad shoulders and large muscles. I worked out religiously. I still
knew all the fight moves Dexen’s brother, X, taught me. When I
went to a bar or a club, everyone assumed I was a top. The
presumption pissed me off. Not every beefy dude wanted to do the
fucking.
“We could have fun together, the two of us.”
“Are you propositioning me, JJ? We work together.” We don’t
work for each other and we both owned stakes in the company. It
wasn’t like one of us was after what the other had. It would be a
mutual scratching of an itch, or so I was trying to convince myself.
“So do Peyton and Perry.”
“They’re different. You and I work closely on projects.” Why was
I even talking about this? JJ was hot, but this had bad idea written
all over it.
He shrugged. “We separate work from pleasure.”
JJ had come a long way from the surly asshole who showed up
at PJS to sign a contract. Time changed things. JJ had come into his
own here, found where he fit, and was making a difference. I
doubted he changed completely. Going through all he had didn’t
suddenly disappear with no scars left behind.
I shook my head. “This is insane.”
“It’s not. Just think about it.” He put his tablet on my desk with a
schematic on it. “Now, about this system…”
3
 DEXEN

Thirty years ago, my brother had just graduated high school. After
he got his diploma and the ceremony was over, he stood for pictures
with Sasha on his arm. She was his girlfriend, the only woman he
had eyes for. They started dating sophomore year and fell quickly
and madly in love. It was the kind of love where anyone could look
at them and see how much they meant to one another. Not a high
school crush. It was a deep connection.
That night, there was a party. All the new graduates went to a
big field one of their families’ owned and had a bonfire. They drank,
were rowdy. But that wasn’t Xaiden. He went because Sasha wanted
to go. They had fun, her more than him. Xaiden didn’t consume a
single drop of alcohol. Sasha saw how much he wanted to leave so
they did just that.
On their way home, Xaiden stopped to put gas in his truck. He
went inside to pay cash. While he was in the store, outside his world
was ending.
A man who was high off his ass got in the driver’s seat and tried
to steal Xaiden’s truck. Sasha punched him, started lashing out. We
know this because there were scratches and bruises all over the
man. He could hardly remember anything once he came down from
his high.
He had fought with Sasha and ended up with his hands around
her throat, not letting up until she stopped breathing.
 Sasha died that night. Strangled. While Xaiden was inside paying
and talking to the kid behind the counter who was a junior in our
school. By the time Xaiden went back outside, the man behind the
wheel of his truck had the door open and was scrambling to get out.
Xaiden rushed over, pulled the man away, asking him what he was
doing.
The man was strung out, eyes wild, shaking. Maybe it was from
the drugs. Maybe it was from killing someone. Either way, Xaiden
dragged him toward the store, yelling for Sasha to stay in the truck.
Xaiden didn’t realize what the man had done yet.
The kid behind the counter called the police. They locked the
man in a storage room so Xaiden could check on Sasha. When he
got there, he saw the love of his life dead. He tried to revive her, but
it was no use.
He was rounding the back of his truck to go inside the store
when the police showed up. If they hadn’t been there, he would
have tried and probably successfully killed the man who murdered
Sasha.
Afterward, Xaiden shut down. He hardly talked to anyone.
Dropped his plans for college. He started fighting underground, a
way to channel his pain. Our parents tried to stop him with no
success. Xaiden didn’t care how badly he got hurt. It was the only
way he knew to release a little of what was inside him. Someone
spotted the talent in him and a bit after he started fighting, he got
an offer to become legitimate. To fight with a trainer, a sponsor, to
work his way up in the ranks.
It was on the third anniversary of Sasha’s death when the fight
finally left Xaiden after winning a few titles along the way. He came
home that stormy Sunday when I was having dinner with our
parents. He dropped to his knees in the middle of the dining room
and wept. The man who killed Sasha was murdered in prison.
Xaiden could stop fighting, stop hurting himself in the process. We
surrounded him, held him tight.
Xaiden was so fucking lost. He didn’t know where to go or what
to do. Our dad knew he had to give Xaiden a purpose. Dad was
already planning on opening a gym. He changed the specifications
for it and made it more than that. He made it a place where Xaiden
could teach others how to fight, not just in a ring, but in self-defense
too. If Xaiden could help someone else who was in a situation like
Sasha was, it would be worth it to him.
The gym thrived today. Xaiden ran it, though he tended to show
up when he felt like it. He had trainers under him, a full staff to take
care of the place. Our parents signed it over to him a few years ago.
Xaiden was still a quiet man but some of the light had returned to
his eyes. I wasn’t sure it would ever all come back, but it was better
than nothing.
“Xaiden,” I said softly to get his attention. He sat on the leather
couch in my office at the club, staring off into space. Only family
called him Xaiden. To him, Xaiden’s full name was used by those
who cared about him, who loved him, who really knew him. We
always said it, and so did Sasha.
He turned to look at me, his hair the same copper color as mine.
He had his shaved on the sides, hanging longer on top. “Yeah?”
“Are you staying for the party?” Xaiden liked to drift in and out of
here. I never knew when he’d show up. “Junior and Peyton will be
here. Maybe Greer.” My brother loved them. Got as close to them as
he did anyone who wasn’t family. They knew something bad had
happened to Xaiden before they met him. It wasn’t brought up or
discussed. Even our family didn’t mention Sasha anymore. She was a
part of our lives so long ago. Xaiden had moved on the best he
could, but losing her still haunted him.
“No. I just wanted to see how you are.”
Ever since shit went sideways with one of my dancers being
abducted by another one of my dancers, Xaiden had been coming
around more often. He knew I could handle myself, but he had a
strong fear of losing someone else he loved.
“You don’t have to go out there. You can stay in here. Watch TV.
Do whatever.”
He shook his head and stood. “I should leave. Mom asked me to
stop by. I guess Dad tried to fix a leak on the kitchen sink and made
it worse.”
 “God forbid she hires someone to do it.” Our parents had more
money than they’d ever know what to do with, yet if there was
something wrong with the house, Mom would call us to come take a
look.
Xaiden’s lips twitched in a half smile. “You know how she is.”
“I do.” I stood and went over to him, pulling him in for a hug. I
patted his back before leaning away to look at him. “Where are you
going after?” Some nights Xaiden ended up in my spare bedroom
when the silence got to be too much for him.
Xaiden was lonely. He wouldn’t admit to it though. He preferred
to find women to sleep with who didn’t want to get to know him. He
didn’t care if they used him for his body. But I saw the torment in
my brother’s eyes. He needed more; however, he was scared to
death to ever go there again.
I could understand to an extent. The man I loved didn’t die.
Came close more than once, but he was still walking the earth. I
wished I could take Xaiden’s pain away. His loneliness. That was
something he had to do for himself though. In the meantime, I’d be
here for him, for whatever he needed.
“Home,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”
“If you need me—”
“I know, Dex. Thanks.” He left without another word, slipping out
my office door, out of the club, and into the night.
I sighed and dropped back into my desk chair. I had to get my
shit together so I could go out onto the main floor with a smile and
be my usual charming self. It was Dominic’s birthday. He deserved to
celebrate and have fun like the rest of my staff did when they had
birthdays. Life should be celebrated. If anyone knew how fragile it
could be, it was my family. It was yet another reason why I wouldn’t
let anyone hurt the people I loved. Why I had fought to keep JJ
safe. Why I would do whatever I needed to so my employees were
looked after.
A knock on my door brought my attention to it. Simon stuck his
head in. He was one of the guards at the club. “Boss, Dom wants to
see you.”
“Let him in.”
 Dominic entered my office wearing muted pink slacks, white
suspenders with cherries on them, a bowtie that matched the slacks,
no shirt, and one of those party hats that were common at children’s
parties. There was even a pink pom-pom on top. I couldn’t help but
laugh.
He cocked his hip and put a hand on it while the other tilted his
hat. “What? You don’t like my party attire?”
“You’re so damn cute.”
He grinned. “Thank you. I’m ready to celebrate.”
“Where’s Junior and Pey?”
“Out on the floor, I’m guessing. We came separately. I got here
before they left the office so I could get ready.” He spun, the light
catching the pink glitter he’d sprayed over his body. He was good
about not overdoing it. The glitter was just enough to give him a bit
of a sparkle.
“No mask?” Dominic always danced with a mask on. When he
started working here, it was one of his conditions. He didn’t want
the members to know who he was. That was also when he was
working for Junior. Now he worked here full time. Since his
relationship with Junior and Peyton went public, the members knew
Dominic was the very sexy dancer, Ocean.
“It doesn’t go with the hat. I’m going to put it on later when I
dance though.”
I stood. “Let’s not keep your fans waiting.”
Dominic looped his arm through mine as we went down the hall
and out onto the main floor. It was after eight at night on a Monday.
Dominic normally danced the dinner shifts on Mondays but since it
was his birthday, I asked if he wanted to go on later so we could
have a party for him. He readily obliged.
The club was nearly full when we entered. Dominic was my top
performer, raking in more money than the other dancers. He waved
as we came out, blowing kisses to Peyton and Junior. I didn’t miss
the way Peyton’s eyes narrowed at us where Dominic held my arm.
He was possessive over his men. He also knew damn well I’d never
make a move on Dominic. I certainly wouldn’t on Junior. Not that he
wasn’t attractive, I didn’t see him that way.
 For as long as I could remember, West Dremest had been ruled
by my family and Junior’s. Not in actuality. Neither of our families
were in politics, but it was our side of the city. My family founded
Dremest way back when, naming it after themselves then dividing it
in half by the creek which ran through it. Generation after
generation of Dremests lived and worked here. My brother and I
continued the tradition, working in the city. What happened after us,
I wasn’t certain. I didn’t want kids and Xaiden hadn’t looked at a
woman seriously since Sasha died. At least our parents weren’t the
type to harp on us about children, though given the opening, Mom
brought up me adopting. Back when JJ and I were together I might
have had fanciful dreams of it happening. Those shattered when my
heart did.
I looked out over the crowd, who was walking toward us to wish
Dominic a happy birthday. The members knew they couldn’t touch
him, but they could smile and talk with him.
Untouchable was named what it was for a reason. The members
didn’t lay a finger on the dancers. Not while they were on stage, out
here, or while they were in a private room. To tip them, there were
envelopes on each table and in the private rooms along with pens.
They wrote the dancer’s name on it and dropped it in a secured box
on the way out.
Junior and Peyton were there waiting with open arms for
Dominic, who was careful how he hugged them, not wanting to get
pink glitter on their suits. They both took turns devouring his mouth,
pink gloss shining on their lips when they pulled back. I was certain
it was done to let the members in the club know Dominic was very
taken.
I smiled. It was nice seeing them together and happy. The
feeling was fleeting. There and gone. Their happiness wasn’t meant
for me. I didn’t get my happily ever after.
My eyes latched onto Greer, but I avoided looking into his. I
knew what I’d see. My heart couldn’t take it. He hadn’t been here in
a while, and I drank him in like a man in search of water in the
desert. He looked damn good in his black slacks, white button-down,
and navy tie. His arms were crossed, showing off the impressive
muscles beneath the fabric, ones I knew intimately. Ones I’d licked
and kissed. I’d tasted every tattoo on him. I had to pull my gaze
away before he caught me. Hell, he might have already.
Leaving the crowd to their festivities, I went to the bar to make
sure the trays were being loaded. There was always a round on the
house when there was a birthday.
If I stayed back here, I wasn’t watching the floor. I wasn’t
focusing on someone I shouldn’t still crave. Whose touch had the
power to send my body ablaze.
Greer was off-limits. I couldn’t let us have what we used to. It
wasn’t good for either of us.
4
 JJ

By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I was coming out of my

fucking skin. All I could think about was Greer beneath me, my cock
buried in his ass. What his moans would sound like. How his lips
would taste.
Me bringing up sex to him was stupid yet seemed right when I’d
said it in his office. Except now I felt unhinged. Like I wouldn’t be
calm again until I got my hands on his body.
We’d had meetings on Wednesday and yesterday, where I had to
force myself to remain in my seat while he rattled on in tech
language that went over my head. I was the car guy. He was the
technology guru. I’d learned some stuff from him but not enough to
speak his language.
“Jay,” Val said quietly.
I jumped, nearly knocking my ass from the stool I was sitting on.
There was a long table spread out in front of us where we were
going over drawings and marking them up. Sometimes it was easier
on the tablet. Others, I needed to see it in front of me where I could
write on it.
Spinning, I glared at Val. “What?” It wasn’t his fault I was short
with everyone, yet I still took it out on my team. Luckily, they were
used to me and would tell me to go fuck myself if I got to be too
much.
“It’s six. Time to go.”
 I waved him off. “Take the truck home. I’ll get a car.” I wasn’t
ready to leave. I’d barely gotten anything done today.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, go.” I glanced around and told the rest of the team to
leave too. No need to keep them here when I was the one who
couldn’t concentrate.
A half hour later, I was alone in this part of the building. I stood
and grabbed my laptop to shove into my bag. Maybe I could get
something done over the weekend, although I highly doubted it. I
tended to want to be under a car on my days off.
The way Altair Plaza, which housed PJS, was set up, R&D was in
a different building than the main offices. We needed the space to
spread out.
Entering the crisp fall night, I turned toward the office building,
instead of the street where I should be going and ordering a car. I
waved to the security guard behind the desk and took the elevator
up to the twelfth floor where not only my cousin was, but also a
man I couldn’t stop thinking about. I wasn’t sure if he’d still be here,
but I had to give it a shot. I had to do something before I
combusted.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The floor was
mostly empty, just a few stragglers left. They didn’t pay me any
mind as I went toward Greer’s corner office. The light was still on
within, which hopefully meant he hadn’t gone home.
The familiar sound of a tennis ball hitting a wall was of little
comfort as I got closer. I noticed Greer started bouncing it off the
wall when he was stressed or trying to work through something in
his head.
I stopped outside of the door, out of sight, not sure what I was
doing. This wasn’t me. I was usually certain about everything in life.
From how I wanted nothing to do with my old man and his shit
work, to how I wanted to work on cars, to how I dressed and acted.
I was a confident person, yet in the presence of Greer, I became
uncertain. He was so much fucking smarter than me. More refined,
more controlled. I did what I wanted when I wasn’t working here. I
had to set an example at PJS. Continue to pull my weight and prove
I deserved to be here.
What was the worst that would happen? I’d go into Greer’s office
and he’d tell me no? It wouldn’t be the first time I was rejected. Not
everyone wanted the tatted-up son of a man who instilled fear
citywide and beyond.
Greer wasn’t everyone else though. The only time he treated me
differently was the day I came to sign the contract. When I showed
up in my dirty jeans, boots, and leather jacket. When I was trying to
be an asshole and not dressing appropriately for the office.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly then stepped forward
until I was a foot inside Greer’s office.
The tennis ball stopped moving, held in Greer’s big hand. “JJ?
Everything okay?” I’d learned Greer was a caretaker. He wanted
those around him to do well, be happy and healthy.
I took my bag off my shoulder and propped it against the wall
near the door. The metal of the door handle was cold in my palm as
I carefully pushed it closed and locked the door.
Greer didn’t take his dark eyes off me the entire time. He tracked
my movement, every step, until I was standing in front of him,
peering down, loving the height advantage I currently had over him.
There were no windows facing the office space beyond his walls.
No one would see what I was about to do. If I made a fool of myself
and made a huge mistake. Or if I did something right and got the
reward I was after. The only windows in the office were the floor-to-
ceiling tinted ones facing outside.
Leaning down, I braced my hands on the arms of his chair,
bringing my face level with his. He sucked in a breath, his eyes
going wide. “If you want me to stop at any point, just say the word.
No harm, no foul.”
“Stop?” Greer asked and licked his lips.
“Yeah.” I brushed my mouth against his, unable to resist. “I want
to taste you, Greer. I want to put my hands on you. I haven’t
stopped thinking about our conversation on Monday.”
“I haven’t either.”
“Do you want to touch me too?”
 He nodded.
I straightened, putting my fingers over my belt to slowly undo it.
Greer didn’t take his eyes off my waist as I worked the leather loose,
the clang of the metal ringing out in the quiet room. I flicked the
button on my slacks next and brought the zipper down. My cock
strained against the material of my boxer briefs, but I left it in there.
“Your turn.” I meant I wanted him to start to undress as well.
Instead, he leaned forward, nuzzling his face against my groin,
inhaling deeply, mouthing over my cock through the fabric.
Moaning, I ran my fingers through the hair on top of his head.
Fuck, it was soft.
He carefully worked the fabric down over my hips, bringing my
slacks with it until everything pooled at my feet. Greer licked over
one hip bone before moving to the other. His palms cupped my ass
as he brought his chair closer, his legs spread, going on the outside
of mine.
From root to tip, his tongue dragged over my flesh. I fisted my
cock, pointing it at him. “Taste me. Show me how you suck.”
A moan worked its way up his throat before he parted his lips,
letting me ease myself inside.
“Do you want me to drive this?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Tap my ass if it’s too much and I’ll back off.”
Greer kept his hands on my cheeks as I started a slow glide in
and out of his mouth. Fuck, it felt good. Velvety smooth, hot, wet. I
wanted to fucking live in there.
With every thrust I pushed a little deeper, testing how far he
could take me. I learned fast I could go as deep as I wanted to. I
buried myself in his throat; his face pressed to my groin. He
swallowed.
“Jesus!” I cried, barely hanging on. No one had ever deep
throated me like this before. Who knew Greer was hiding this talent?
One of his hands slid from my ass to my balls. He rolled them in
his fingers, tightened the pressure, found out what I liked most then
swallowed me again. I bucked my hips, losing my rhythm, trying to
fuck him as hard as I could without hurting him.
 Tears ran from the corners of his eyes, which I swept away with
my fingers. “You’re doing so good for me. So fucking good.”
I became an incoherent mess of moans after that, unable to
speak full words, let alone sentences. Greer kept pace, taking
breaths when I pulled back enough, letting me fuck him like I
wanted.
“Coming,” I panted out. I pushed in, cutting off his air supply as I
buried my cock as deep as I could go. Cum shot from me, down his
throat, all the while I held him there, not able to think of a single
time I’d gotten head like this.
Greer was the one to lean back this time, gulping in air when I
was free from his mouth. His eyes and lips were wet, his hair was a
mess from my fingers. Goddamn, he was gorgeous.
Leaning down, I crashed my lips against his, immediately pushing
my tongue inside so I could taste myself on him. We both moaned.
The sound of a zipper reached my ears.
I released him and stood again in time to see him pull his cock
out. “Touch yourself for me, Greer. Get off while I watch.”
My own cock had softened, but I couldn’t resist gripping it as I
watched Greer work his hand up and down his shaft, slicking himself
with the precum that formed at the tip.
“That’s it,” I told him. “Keep going. Show me how much you want
me. Yeah, fuck your fist. Just like that. Do it for me. Give it to me.
No one else. I want it all, Greer.”
He came with a cry, cum hitting my bare thigh. He didn’t stop
jerking himself, dragging out every last drop until he collapsed back
against the chair, his body wrung out.
Reaching down, I dragged my finger through his cum on my leg
and brought it to my lips, humming around the digit, savoring his
flavor. “So good.”
He surged upright to stand, wrapping his arms around me, and
initiated the kiss this time. It was no less demanding than the one I
gave him. But there was a neediness to it, a desperation. Like he
had to kiss me in this moment to convince himself this was
happening.
 I held him, let him lead. He slowed it down, languidly caressing
his tongue against mine. I didn’t know which was better, the rough
kiss or this one. Each had their merits. Each made me want to kiss
him for hours.
Greer pulled away to drop his forehead down to mine. Standing,
he was a solid four inches taller than me. When he was in his chair,
it was me who had the height advantage. Now, I was smaller.
“That was…” He left the sentence hanging.
“Yeah.” I didn’t have a clue what to say. I knew what was stirring
inside me. I thought I could come here and sate my need. Instead,
it only made me crave him more. “Greer, I—”
“It’s okay. I understand. You don’t want anything more than this.
I’m used to hearing it.” He turned away, taking his warm body with
him.
I stood with my pants around my ankles as he tucked himself in.
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out some tissues for me,
not meeting my eyes when he handed them over. I wasn’t sure what
was happening, but I hated it just the same.
Greer shouldn’t look so defeated. Like everyone he fooled around
with walked away. Like it was all he was good for.
It took seconds to wipe the cooling cum from my leg and throw
the tissues out. I re-dressed, righting myself. Greer closed his laptop,
still not looking at me.
I couldn’t stand it any longer. I stepped closer, putting my hand
on his bicep. “Hey.”
Sad eyes met mine. “You don’t have to give me any niceties, JJ.
You said we could have fun together. You didn’t promise more. I
know the score.”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond, showing me his back
once again.
I stumbled toward the door on shaking legs, whether from the
orgasm or the defeat on Greer’s face. Grabbing my bag, I gave him
one last look. He faced the window, effectively shutting me out. Or
maybe he was closing himself off. It made me feel emptier than I
had in a long time.
5
 GREER

I stayed at the office for a while after JJ left. I couldn’t move, didn’t
want to step out into the hallway or down to the parking garage and
have him still be there. What could I say? I couldn’t tell him about
my need for someone to actually give a fuck and want to be with me
for more than sex. I knew I had it better than some. I had a solid
family unit. My mom was in Florida with my aunt. I lived with my
brother as well as his partners. I wasn’t alone, though it felt like it at
times.
I was still rattled when I got to the fortress around nine. I went
upstairs to take a quick shower and put on a pair of sweatpants and
a T-shirt before venturing downstairs to where everyone was. Perry,
Peyton, and Dominic were in the kitchen making dinner. Well, Peyton
and Dominic were. Perry was leaning against the counter shoving a
piece of a Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie into his mouth. How that
man didn’t gain weight was beyond me. He ate like a teenager.
Dominic stirred a pot of sauce while my brother poured ravioli
into a pot of boiling water.
“Hungry?” Dominic asked. His attire tonight was a long-sleeved
black shirt that was skintight. He paired it with electric-blue lace boy
shorts. I only got the ass view currently. And yes, I looked like I
always did. It was a reflex. Besides, I’d seen him shake his bare ass
up on stage countless times before he got into a relationship with
my brother and Perry.
“Eyes up,” Peyton growled.
 I propped my hip against the island. “I’ve told you, if you don’t
want me to look then Dom should put some clothes on. It’s not like I
pop wood when he walks into the room.” Dominic was hot but I had
my eyes on someone else. Or two someones if I thought about it.
Which I didn’t want to.
Peyton narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I could lie and say nothing. He’d let it go for a bit. Or I could tell
him the truth. There was only eleven months separating us in age,
with him being older. We’d always been close. “JJ and I fucked
around.” There. I said it.
Dominic slowly took the spoon out of the pot and set it aside. He
turned to me with a grin curving his lips. “Was it hot? I mean, I’m
sure it was. He’s smoking in those suits, but what was he like
underneath? Is he muscular? I bet he is. I picture him with ripped
abs.”
Peyton wrapped a possessive arm about his boyfriend. “What’s
that, vixen? You lusting over Perry’s cousin?”
Dominic rolled his eyes. “You’ve seen him, Pey. He’s not bad to
look at.”
Perry groaned. “Can we not talk about how hot JJ is?” He
screwed up his face as he plucked one of the candied pieces from
the top of his brownie.
“You go stir the sauce,” Dominic told him and waved him off.
“Greer, all kidding aside, are you okay?”
“No, he’s not okay,” my brother said. “What did he do to you?”
“You’re squeezing too hard,” Dominic squeaked.
Peyton relaxed his grip. “Sorry.”
“He didn’t do anything I didn’t want. I just… Why can’t I have
what you three do?”
“You want to fuck your best friend and your assistant?” Dominic
asked. “I’ve seen Neil. No offense, but he’s about a hundred and
ten. I bet lots of stuff sags on him.”
“Oh gross.” I scrunched up my nose. “Why would you even put
that visual in my head? Besides, he’s in his fifties. He’s not old.” I got
along well with my assistant. He knew a lot about the business and
even went back to school a few years ago so he could help me
better.
“And his best friend is me,” Perry added. “I’m already taken.”
I sighed. This was going nowhere fast. My phone vibrated in my
pocket, saving me from further misery. A second later, a buzzing
sound came from the panel on the wall near the door to the porch.
Someone was at the front gate. Instead of bothering with my phone,
I went to the panel.
The camera we had out there was top-of-the-line so I could see
right away it was a man on a Harley. A man in leather and jeans.
Just how I preferred him.
Dominic elbowed me out of the way before I could say anything.
“Hello?” he purred in his most seductive voice.
“Open the gate, Dom.”
“What’s the kinky password?”
“Spank my ass and call me Doug?”
I busted out laughing, as did Perry.
“Whatever works for you, sweetheart,” Dominic replied. “Come
on in. Leave your boots at the back door. We don’t track mud into
the fortress.” I loved how Dominic respected my need for cleanliness
and no clutter. We hadn’t spoken about it, but he noticed.
I stayed by the panel as the next camera caught JJ coming up
the driveway toward the back of the house, where a second garage
was that could hold six vehicles. The property was thirty acres in
total with the first ten being at the front. The house wasn’t visible
from the road. We didn’t use the front door often, usually coming in
from the back porch.
The rumble of the motorcycle had chills breaking out over my
skin as JJ revved it loudly one final time before shutting it off.
I moved back to the table we had in the breakfast nook, trying to
look like I’d been here all along. Nothing to see here. Definitely not
me wondering why the hell JJ drove out here. It wasn’t a short ride
from East Dremest, about thirty minutes away.
Heavy boots hit the planks of wood on the porch. It was eerily
quiet in the kitchen. Only the sound of water boiling and sauce
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So finely did the Count of Nullepart feign bewilderment that the
soldiers began to laugh heartily at what they took for his simplicity.
As if to convince them of the truth of his statement he made a
pretence of trying to open the wrong end of the bag.
“You thick-witted clown,” said the captain, “we will take your word for
it that your precious bag holds not the King’s majesty.”
“Wherefore should it hold the King’s majesty, excellency?” asked the
Count of Nullepart in a very tolerable provincial Spanish.
“Have you not heard,” said the captain, “that his blessed majesty has
been murdered during the night, and three of his guard also; that the
royal body has been stolen, and that we are scouring all the
countryside to find it?”
“Gentle saints in heaven!” cried the Count of Nullepart, settling
himself more firmly upon the bag, while its royal occupant refrained
scrupulously from making the least motion.
“Why then, brother Juan,” said I to the Count of Nullepart, “surely
that is what all this blowing of trumpets and horns and beating of
drums and strange pillaloo that we have heard all the forenoon has
been concerned with. The gracious King murdered! His body stolen!
Good Virgin Mary, what an age in which to live!”
“God save us all!” said the Count of Nullepart. “The gracious King
murdered during the dark hours of the night! Did I not say to you,
brother Pedro, that something was bound to occur? For did I not
remark the sky last evening was blood red? And was I not so
afeared at the sight of it that I crossed myself three times?”
“Well, at all events,” said the captain of the soldiers contemptuously,
“the wisdom of you clodhoppers will not help us much. I have never
seen a pair of stupider gabies outside the madhouse at Zaragoza.”
“O excellency,” said the Count of Nullepart, counterfeiting the accent
of tears very skilfully, “I pray you not to say that! Our virtuous mother
was mightily proud of us in our infancy. We were bred together, and
right nobly did we suck. But was it a foray, do you suppose, from the
duke’s castle that killed the King’s majesty?”
“Likely enough, you zany,” said the captain. “Although for that matter
some there are who say it was the devil. For myself I can hardly
credit it.”
“Who is there else to compass such a deed?” said the Count of
Nullepart in a hushed voice.
“Yes, who else, brother Juan?” said I, solemnly removing my hat.
Divers of the King’s soldiers, witnessing our grave concern,
appeared to come to the same mind. Several of them followed our
example.
“Well, talking of the Devil,” said the captain uneasily, “he was
certainly seen last night by many in this neighbourhood.”
“Good Virgin Mary!” exclaimed the Count of Nullepart, “how poor
Juan would have screamed had he seen his horns!”
“Yes, brother Juan, and poor Pedro also,” said I; and in the depth of
our feigning I felt myself to be turning pale.
“Some say he was without horns,” said the captain.
“Then it can’t have been the Devil, excellency,” said the Count of
Nullepart. “All the world knows the Devil by his horns and his tail.”
“It is said he came into our camp in the guise of a water-seller,” said
the captain. “And they say his voice was so dreadful that it could be
heard at a distance of two leagues. In stature he was near to three
yards; his face was so red that you could warm your hands at it, and
he himself was seen to boil a kettle by holding it next to his nose.”
“O Jesu!” said the Count of Nullepart. “Had Juan met him he must
have perished.”
“It is easy to understand the redness of the setting sun,” said I.
“That’s true enough,” said the captain of the soldiers, sighing heavily.
“The sun was certainly red now you come to mention it. How sad it is
that the King’s courtiers did not heed such an omen! The right
virtuous Duke of Manares is a wise and venerable minister; he at
least should have known what was toward. By my soul, we of Castile
ought never to forgive him! But come, boobies.” The captain, who
owing to the heat of his own imagination was now perspiring freely,
turned to his men, the majority of whom were standing bareheaded.
“All the talking in the world will not recover the corpse of our noble
sovereign. Let us help them to drag the stream. But I for one do not
think we shall find anything there, because any child will tell you that
the Devil will have nothing to do with cold water if he can possibly
avoid it.”
Without further parley the captain and his soldiers relieved us of their
unwelcome presence. They went to join a company a short distance
off, that was dragging large hooks along the bed of the stream.
Thereupon we turned the bag over and placed the royal occupant in
as much ease of person as we could devise. We paid this true prince
all the homage of which we were capable, for could anything have
been more regal than his devotion to his simple word of honour? But
his Majesty could only reply to our humble yet heartfelt flatteries with
a shake of the head and a sombre smile.
“Oh, you fools, you fools, you fools!” the King exclaimed. “Did ever
monarch have such a parcel of boobies to serve him since the
beginning of the world?”
Indeed, the King seemed to be truly distressed. Less, however, for
his own indignities, which he could have terminated so easily had he
not so regarded his honour, but because his followers were so
unskilful.
As we continued in our hiding-place we were constantly threatened
with further visits from the numerous parties of soldiers that were
prowling around. Happily they did not come up to us. As the day
advanced the Count of Nullepart declared he was growing hungry,
which was a feeling that I shared. I am afraid our captive must also
have lain under this affliction, but there was no remedy for our strait.
To obtain food was impossible without exposing ourselves to a
danger we must not venture to incur.
In the course of the afternoon, the King, whose comfort had been
consulted as far as ever the case would permit, and who had been
plied freely with water, for which he seemed grateful, fell asleep and
so forgot his pains. Thereupon the Count of Nullepart and myself
were fain to ask one another what had befallen our leader. And
further, what must be the ultimate issue of our extraordinary pass.
Certes, Sir Richard Pendragon’s entrance into the castle would be
fraught with every difficulty and with the gravest peril. First, this
broad and deep ditch beside which we lay would have to be crossed,
and the only bridge that spanned it was held by the troops of Castile.
Doubtless this bold man would take to the water rather than expose
himself to his foes, who would be extremely unwilling to let anyone
pass to the castle, no matter what the cunning of his pretexts.
Upon the assumption that Sir Richard Pendragon was able to swim
the foss, his next course would be to climb the steep rocks until he
came to the foot of these high and insurmountable walls that offered
so stern a barrier to the forces of Castile. In what manner he would
overcome these we could only conjecture. For the drawbridge to be
lowered it would be necessary for him to recommend himself to the
notice of those within the castle without attracting the attention of the
besiegers. Verily, the problem was a sore one. Yet so bold, cunning,
and ingenious was the English giant that no array of perils was likely
to daunt him. However, as we awaited events which we hardly dared
to believe could come to pass, we were heartened by the knowledge
of a singular and masterful genius. Had it at last met its overthrow?
To such a question we had not the courage to foretell the answer.
 CHAPTER XXXIII
A SORTIE FROM THE CASTLE

As evening came on these speculations grew more grave. It was not

pleasant to think of spending the night in the open meadow. And we
were very hungry. There was also our captive to consider. Ease his
bonds as we might, and render to him all the consideration that was
within our power, he was yet in sore case.
Towards sundown, while we were still wondering in what sort we
could bear the rigours to which we were like to be exposed, a furious
clamour was heard proceeding from the direction of the castle. Far
and away the meadows had suddenly begun to echo with the
beating of drums and the call to arms. We came out of our hiding-
place, and going forth into the open fields, were able to discern that
the drawbridge of the castle had been lowered and that a body of
mounted soldiers from the garrison was making a foray.
The purport of this was so plain to us that we could have cast our
hats into the air for joy. It was clear that the English giant had found
his way within those four walls, and now by a bold raid was about to
bring us and our prize also within them.
Even as we stood at gaze, we thought we could detect far away
through the mists of the evening the plumed bonnets of madam’s
defenders. Close by us straggling companies of the King’s soldiery,
unconnected twos and threes, were running in no sort of order
towards the lower bridge. This was but carelessly held by the arms
of Castile, and now that an assault was to be delivered upon it, it
was little likely to be repelled. Our enemies, having lost their King,
seemed to lack discipline and leadership; and we did not doubt that
the bold and masterful Sir Richard Pendragon, swollen with great
achievement as he was, and a most cunning and accomplished
warrior, would prevail in his design.
Such proved to be the case. We had not long to abide the issue. The
oncoming darkness had not time to envelop us ere the meadows
began to shake under a mighty thunder of hoofs; and Sir Richard
Pendragon, mounted upon a splendid war-horse, the choicest in the
stable of our mistress, and accompanied by a body of horsemen
riding in admirable close order, came straight for our little clump of
alder trees.
“A Pendragon! A Pendragon!” arose the great baying voice of our
formidable captain. His bare sword, seeking occupation, cut at the
tall grasses as he rode through them.
“Where are you, you good souls?” he cried as he drew rein before
the place in which we held the King.
He needed not to call again, for the Count of Nullepart and I came
out at once, carrying our royal prize, which, for the reason that it was
habited in a night-gown only, was still covered by the bag. Two led
horses had been brought for our use; and Sir Richard Pendragon
had the captive lifted on to the front of his own saddle. The chief part
of the design being then accomplished, the whole company galloped
back to the bridge, which was no longer held by the arms of Castile.
Our enemies had been beaten off with some loss by this sudden and
totally unexpected foray.
No sooner had we crossed this bridge and had come again into
safety, with the upper path leading to the drawbridge lying before us
free of all our foes, than our formidable leader declared that not the
capture of the King alone would content him. He had the royal
prisoner transferred from his own saddle to that of the Count of
Nullepart; and then he bade us both take the captive behind the
walls of the castle into security, whilst he with a following of two
hundred horsemen would proceed to inflict a further stroke upon the
disorganized army in the plain below.
The Count of Nullepart and myself were loth to assent to this
proposal. For our blood being roused by this martial brilliancy, we
also could have wished to go forward upon this enterprise. Yet it is
the business of a soldier to obey his commander, and Sir Richard
Pendragon had come to stand towards us in that relation. Besides, it
was necessary that responsible persons should hold the custody of
the royal captive.
Regretfully, therefore, we continued along the upper path with our
great prize. And Sir Richard Pendragon riding down the hill, we could
hear him marshalling with voice and with trumpet the two hundred
horsemen that were gathered about the lower bridge to await his
commands. And the last thing we heard of him as we took a turn in
the path was an admonishment of these troopers in his mighty voice
upon their discipline. With his own right hand he threatened to cut
down each mother’s son that dared to forsake his duty for private
rapine.
“By my soul,” said the Count of Nullepart, laughing softly, “I believe
that mad English fellow is the first captain of the age.”
 CHAPTER XXXIV
OF MADAM’S RENCOUNTER WITH THE
FROWARD PRINCE

It was with no little relief, and yet with curiosity, that we crossed the
drawbridge and entered the precincts of the castle. By now it was
dark, but the light of the stars shed their soft lustre upon the sombre
walls and the eager groups of soldiers that awaited us. It was clear
that our exploit had become known in the castle, for no sooner had
we crossed the threshold with our royal burden than loud cries of
triumph were proclaimed from a hundred throats.
The first to greet us was Don Luiz, the opprobrious fat man. He was
accompanied by a number of persons bearing lanterns. By their light
we were able to remark that although the dignity of Don Luiz was
now waxing so great that it would seem that he alone was the author
of this fortunate pass, his bulk was yet sensibly diminished by the
rigours it had recently sustained.
It was not easy for us to forbear from open laughter at the airs the fat
man gave himself, the more especially when we recollected the
indignities to which so lately he had been subjected.
“It will please the noble countess,” said he, “to give an audience to
the gracious King after he has taken some little refreshment and
otherwise eased the royal personality of those discomforts that have
recently encompassed it.”
We crossed the outer patio and dismounted before the doors of the
castle. The Count of Nullepart and I lifted the King from the saddle.
Yet no sooner had we done this than we made the discovery that the
royal prisoner had suffered so sorely in his durance that by now he
was fallen insensible.
Thereupon we bore the unfortunate prince into an apartment that
had been set for his reception. Meats and wine were laid in it, also
burning faggots and lighted candles. With our own hands we chafed
the limbs of the King, and it gave us some concern to find, so close
had his bonds been drawn, that in places the skin had been broken.
Having administered a powerful cordial to the King, having invested
his nakedness in a furred gown and slippers, and having placed him
in cushions next to the warmth, he was presently restored to
something of his true mind. Thereupon we dressed him in the
choicest silk raiment that could be found to fit him, and this was
chiefly from the duke’s own wardrobe.
The King then partook of food and wine, of which he could never
have been in such sore need. More than twenty hours had passed
since the Count of Nullepart and I had eaten, but before assuaging
our necessity we were able to do ourselves the honour of ministering
to the royal wants.
By these means the blood was restored to the King’s countenance
and animation to his eyes, and it was plain to see that rumour had
not belied this ambitious prince. His features were those of an eagle,
with a noble fire in the glance and a proud disdain. And in spite of his
recent distresses and this present pass, that must have irked him to
the soul, he bore himself most scrupulously in accordance with his
lineage. With the frank courtesy of the high-born, he thanked the
Count of Nullepart and myself for our services; and, with a somewhat
rueful smile, he was good enough to say that had it been known to
him that his aged Uncle Roldan was able to gather such skilful minds
about him, he would have conducted his campaign with a less
degree of levity.
The King then asked of the English robber. He asked whether we
were the countrymen and good friends of that formidable adventurer.
And when we had answered the King that although we were far from
being the countrymen of the redoubtable Sir Richard Pendragon, yet
were his good servants in all that he pleased to command us, the
King laughed.
“Ods blood!” said the King, “that English thief is the most
accomplished villain in Spain. I wonder he did not cut my throat while
he was upon his work; yet doubtless the rascal is wise to bait his
hook with a live fish.”
“By your gracious leave and forgiveness, sire,” said the Count of
Nullepart, in his charming manner, “doubtless he was fain to believe
that a bag full of live royalty is of better account when it comes to the
terms of a treaty than a bag full of dead bones.”
“Yes, sir,” said the King, with sombre eyes, “that was doubtless his
argument.”
When the King had supped he reposed for an hour; and in that
period the Count of Nullepart and I were able to doff our peasants’
disguise and to satisfy our hunger. Then came Don Luiz to inform us
that his lordship’s grace and the Countess Sylvia would receive the
royal prisoner.
The King’s limbs were still so sore and constrained that he could not
walk without a great deal of assistance. Thus he entered the
audience-chamber leaning heavily upon the Count of Nullepart and
myself.
We found our mistress seated, in the fashion of a royal queen, upon
the daïs at the end of the apartment. By her side, yet in a sensibly
lower place, was his lordship’s grace, who was fast asleep with a
backgammon board before him. He had been engaged in a game
with the dwarf, who was now mumping and mowing from a corner,
for he durst not show himself much to the Lady Sylvia.
In my travels through all parts of the world I have looked much upon
female beauty. My gaze has been ensnared by the fair of many
lands, yet never, I think, has it beheld a figure to compare with that of
noble fire and queenly splendour that now greeted us.
“I give you no greeting, John of Castile,” she said in her clear
speech, that was so loud and ringing. “I make you no service,
infamous cousin. I would not soil my lips with your name, you bloody
and covetous villain, had they not long been accustomed to bespeak
dogs and horses. But we would have you kneel for pardon,
treacherous caitiff, whose blood smokes black in your heart like that
of the evil fiend. For it is our intention, you paltry knave, first to cut off
your ears, as we would those of a cheat and a pickpocket; and then
we will devise in what further manner to deal with one who would rob
his poor relations.”
To this terrific speech that was delivered with an insolent scorn that
could not have been surpassed, the King of Castile replied with a
gesture of most kingly disdain. And I think the little Countess Sylvia,
meeting the full power of that sombre and fearless glance, was in
some measure given to pause. She had not looked for it that an
enemy brought captive into her hands should venture thus to outface
the full torrent of her fury.
A minute of silence passed, in which each of these creatures
exchanged their regal gestures. The meeting of their disdainful eyes
was like that of a pair of true blades. It was as though each must
overbear the other in the shock of their contention.
“It is my intention to ask no pardon, madam,” said the King
composedly. “I am a young man, but I am learned enough to ask
pardon of none. I do not fear death.”
“You do not fear death, base thief and murderer that you are!” said
the Countess Sylvia, while her eyes spat at him. “Why should you
fear death, you unready slave, when death shall come to you as the
softest clemency of heaven?”
“Whatever indignity you are pleased to place upon this flesh,
madam,” said the King coldly, “it will be less than its merit for having
permitted itself to fall into such hands.”
At this speech, and the demeanour by which it was accompanied,
the Countess Sylvia quivered all over with passion; and had the King
been near to her, and a sword been ready to her hand, I think he had
been spared that which was to befall him, for there and then he must
have breathed his last.
You will not need to be told, gentle reader, that while these passages
were toward, the Count of Nullepart and I preserved a demeanour of
the gravest propriety. Yet, could we have forgotten that the actors in
this play were two of the most considerable persons of their age, and
that their interview was like to have an extremely tragic issue, I think
we must have yielded a little to mirth. For could anything have been
more wanton than the addresses they paid to one another when the
life of each might be said to depend on the other’s clemency.
The Countess Sylvia had only to speak the word for the life of the
King to be forfeit; while on his part, whether he lived or whether he
perished, he was so sure of her castle falling into the hands of his
soldiers, for he was a most powerful prince, and his resources were
very great, that it was equally clear that her life also was in his
power.
Now, this side of the matter was very plain to the Count of Nullepart.
And in the very height of their bitter enmity he sought to render it to
his mistress. After the most searching abuse to which the tongue of
woman was ever applied had been met by the most open contempt
—not very princely bearing on the side of either, yet the sublimity of
their anger seemed to make it so—they were brought to such a pass
that rage tied up their very mouths, so that they were fain to conduct
their warfare with their eyes. Then it was, after they had been thus
outfacing one another for I know not how long a period, that the
Count of Nullepart, greatly daring, made the first of his
recommendations to madam. In his subtlest manner he disclosed to
her the case in which she stood.
“Peace, Sir Count,” she said scornfully. “You are an honest good
fellow, and you have well served the grace of his lordship, but you
must know I can make no abatement of my resolve. The bloody-
minded prince shall perish like a felon. He shall suffer every rigour
that can be devised by the outraged gentle mind and nature of a
daughter. It is not for naught that this uncivil wolf of the forest is
come into the sheep-fold.”
“I pray you, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart, “graciously to
permit me to remind you that, should the life of the King’s majesty be
forfeit, his great host will raze your father’s castle to the earth. And
personally I have no doubt that if a hair of this prince’s head sustains
an injury, you and all its other contents will be put to the sword.”
“You speak truly, Sirrah Count,” said madam. “But I myself will raze
this castle to the earth, and all of us who are within it shall die upon
our swords.”
With his rare address the Count of Nullepart continued long to urge
the more humane aspect of the matter, but the heart of his mistress
was not to be moved. It was in vain that he exerted all those powers
of wise enchantment in the use of which he was without a peer. His
entreaties had no happier result than that the Countess Sylvia
consented to postpone her measures upon the royal person of
Castile against the return of her redoubtable captain, Sir Richard
Pendragon, the English barbarian robber, than whom this unlucky
prince had no more relentless and bitter foe.
“I am indeed between the vulture and the kite,” said the King with a
wry smile, while we were leading him away from this unfortunate
audience. “My amiable, gentle, and dove-like cousin is desirous to
cut off my ears, and proposes to slay me an inch at a time. I shall
therefore be curious to learn the measures that are proposed by my
friend of England. He will, doubtless, ordain that I am cooked in a
pot.”
We conducted the royal captive to the apartment in which he had
supped. In this comfortable place we laid him that he might abide the
return of not the least of his enemies. In so doing, however, we
ventured to disobey the explicit will of our mistress. As we had left
her presence she had enjoined us strictly that “the vile spawn of
darkness be thrown among rats into the deepest and slimiest of the
dungeons underground.”
The King slept soundly after his late fatigues, but there was no
repose that night for any others within the castle. The minds of all,
from that of madam herself to that of the meanest scullion, were
filled by a single theme. What had befallen Sir Richard Pendragon?
Already the exploits of the English giant had given to his name and
personality something of a supernatural cast. Nor was this merely
the view of the commonalty; it was shared by our mistress and the
highly sagacious Count of Nullepart. Under the direction of such a
leader we knew that great haps were toward in the darkness. And so
lively and profound were our speculations of their nature, that
excitement and anxiety reigned through all the long hours of the
night.
 CHAPTER XXXV
OF SIR RICHARD PENDRAGON’S RETURN

The dawn came, yet Sir Richard Pendragon came not. I then made a
proposal to our mistress, who had spent the night like a veritable
captain walking upon her battlements. It was that I should be
permitted to sally out into the plain with the hundred men remaining
in our hands, in order that I might seek for our good friends, and if
they were in need of succour to bear it to them.
To this proposal madam assented. The Count of Nullepart, however,
was greatly averse from it. He declared it to be the height of impolicy
to withdraw from the castle the whole of its defence. It was in vain
that I pointed out that as far as the eye could scan none of our
enemy was visible. It would seem that the Castilian host had
withdrawn in the night. Yet, greatly to my chagrin, it was given to the
Count of Nullepart to prevail in his contention. It was doubtless due
to the weight of his years that madam saw fit to revoke her
permission.
The hours passed, however, and still Sir Richard Pendragon came
not. Then it was that some sort of consternation began to fall upon
us. Yet, as our high hopes began to wane a little, and anxious faces
were to be seen on every hand, the Countess Sylvia refused stoutly
to believe that misfortune had overtaken her arms.
Never could a demeanour have been more steadfast than hers in the
face of an ever-growing dismay. All through the blazing heat of the
forenoon the Count of Nullepart and I remained with her upon the
battlements, regarding that fair and wide-stretching plain below. Full
many leagues were unrolled before us. Here were the dotted points
of the spires and clustered houses of the imperial city of Toledo;
there was the flashing silver ribbon of the Tagus curling in and out
among the hills and meadows. Yet, strain our eyes as we might,
there was never a sign of the Castilian host, nor of the redoubtable
Sir Richard Pendragon and his mounted company.
In the face of this mystery we knew not what to believe. A great army
had vanished from before our eyes. The white tents, hundreds in
number, that were spread over the broad plain, were still exposed to
the glare of the pitiless sun, yet all that day not a solitary soldier was
to be seen about them. Such a remarkable circumstance
encouraged even stout minds to attribute the whole matter to the
exercise of the dark powers. For some were only too ready to
believe that they were wielded by the Englishman. Indeed, it was
recalled by many that he had more than once been heard to confess
himself as a wizard.
Night fell again, yet still Sir Richard Pendragon came not. And as far
as the most distant horizon no sign of an armed host was visible.
The Countess Sylvia refused her food that evening, and summoned
the chaplain of his lordship’s grace, a holy father of the Cistercians.
She spent the night upon her knees in the chapel.
When the morning dawned she came out again to the battlements to
resume her watch. Although her cheeks were wan and her looks
were sad, they had lost nothing of their noble ardour. It seemed that
foreboding had fallen upon her. And then in the lowest depths of her
distress, she summoned the Count of Nullepart to her harshly, and
bade him go immediately and cut off the ears of the spawn of
darkness.
It was in vain that the Count of Nullepart urged his mistress to relent.
Yet I must tell you, good reader, that in her present humour he durst
not enforce her too much, lest he also were shorn. So, finding that
his reluctance did but inflame her instancy, he had no other course
save to go forth to obey.
The King of Castile was indeed a bitter enemy, and he had the name
of a merciless prince. Therefore in the fortunes of war he was
entitled to small consideration, yet the worshipful Count of Nullepart,
as tardily enough he went forth to do the bidding of his mistress, was
yet a person of civility and of a philosophical enlightenment which
was only possible to one of the foremost minds of the age. Thus,
upon taking counsel with myself upon the subject, the worshipful
Count of Nullepart had recourse to a subterfuge, which, however,
must have placed his own ears, if not his life, in jeopardy. Instead of
obeying this severe ordination, he went and hid himself against the
time when madam should have forgot her resolve.
How far this expedient served the Count of Nullepart will presently
be shown. At noon, as madam still watched from the battlements,
refusing all food, and suffering none to come near her, she
summoned the Count of Nullepart again. As he was not to be found,
she had me brought to her, and with much sternness bade me “go
immediately and cut off the head of the bloody-minded prince.”
Now, though the peril of the act was so great, I was fully determined
to follow the course I had enjoined upon the Count of Nullepart. But
suddenly the Countess Sylvia uttered a shrill cry, and then it was
seen she had already ceased to regard her recent order.
Calling me back to her side, she bade me look out over the
battlements, and tell her what I saw. And that which I had to inform
her was that a mounted company was approaching through the
plain.
For more than an hour we stood at gaze, seeking to discern who this
might be. Howbeit, so slowly, and, as it seemed, so wearily, did the
cavalcade come towards us, that at the end of that period it
appeared hardly to have made a league. Yet, as we stood with our
eyes forever strained upon the bright sunlight, and with I know not
what wild speculations in our brains, I think I never saw our noble
mistress with such a signal beauty in her mien.
None dared speak to her as the tardy minutes passed. At gaze upon
the topmost pinnacle of the conning-tower, with her small and
slender woman’s form tense as an arrow upon a bow, so that it
seemed to poise itself midway between the green plain and the blue
sky, all the ardour of her soul seemed to merge in her glance. It was
as though her proud heart was overmounted in the yearning for
victory.
It was from the lips of our mistress, and by the agency of her two
thought-wingèd eyes, that the glad news proclaimed itself.
“’Tis he,” she said softly; “’tis him of England. It is Sirrah Red Dragon,
the sweet giant, the valiant foreigner!”
As our mistress spoke these words, she placed her small white hand
on my sleeve that was near to her, and it was like that of a small
child that is fit only to grasp a toy. Yet when I felt the hot flame of
passion that was burning in it, and its gentle trembling that was like
the autumn willow, the hot blood of my youth surmounted me, and
had I dared—and yet, reader, I must declare to you that I dared not
—I would have paid half the course of nature to enfold this regal
form to my breast.
I was waked from the trance of my desire by a profound sigh. It was
of a melodious yet half mirthful bitterness. Without turning about I
knew it to proceed from the Count of Nullepart. Yet, such was its
delicacy that it lured me to turn my eyes to meet his own. And as
they came together, we found within the gaze of one another the
high yearning of our souls an hundred times reflected.
“Ah, my dear friend,” he lisped in the gentle and charming melody of
his speech, which yet could not still the tumult of my soul, “have you
forgot the Princess, she whom we serve yet see not, she whom we
clasp yet cannot retain?”
“I curse that English robber!” I hissed in his ears. “I ask you, Sir
Count, why does not the devil claim his own?”
“The better to plague an honest community, my dear friend,” said the
Count of Nullepart, with a soft laugh. “Yet, on his part, this gigantic
and monstrous Maximus Homo is a profligate, happy and careless
son of the earth, who forever disdains the caresses that our Princess
Fortune casts upon him. To her he is the prince who mocks her with
the valiant insolency of his prodigal nature.”
And, as if to show that the worshipful Count of Nullepart had truly
rendered his philosophy, at this moment a high yearning cry, like that
of a soul in durance, was proclaimed in our ears. And we saw a
crystal tear within each of the orbs of our mistress, within each of
those orbs that were wont to look proud at the sun.
 CHAPTER XXXVI
OF SOLPESIUS MUS, THE CAPTAIN-GENERAL
OF THE JOGALONES

Madam sat in council to receive Sir Richard Pendragon, her valiant

captain. The afternoon sky burst through the western windows of the
great chamber in the glory of crimson and gold. It clothed in the frank
nobility of heaven the form of our mistress, seated in her jewels and
in her robes of state upon the daïs, with none near to her save his
lordship’s grace, who slept lustily. When the doors were flung back
her eyes sparkled like the beautiful Tagus when its fair face is all
dimpled in smiling to the princely sun, and her proud lips were wide-
parted as with the entranced speech of the heart’s poetry. A fanfare
was sounded upon trumpets; and then Sir Richard Pendragon,
leading nine captive noblemen, some with silver hairs, with their
hands bound and halters about their necks, came into the presence
of his mistress.
“I give you greeting, Sirrah Red Dragon,” said the Countess Sylvia,
in speech of clear and round simplicity. “You are a true captain. You
have done well.”
With the gesture of a queen she extended her beautiful hand.
“I kiss your feet, madam and ladyship,” said the English giant,
sweeping off his bonnet, and his was the gesture of princes.
As he knelt to her, and touched the small hand that was all lily-white
delicacy with his own enormous paw that was begrimed with travel
and foul with the use of the sword, my two eyes sought the spot in
which to place the poniard between his mighty shoulders. Yet was I
fain to dismiss this thought as inconsistent with the sangre azul of
my nation.