Gothic Romance - (LGBT)

Chapter Six

Chapter Six 

Jonathan sat wearily on a bench by the side of the road. He had gone as far as he could without a rest. The milestone said Yorktown was only another three miles further, but it might as well have been thirty, the way he was feeling at the moment. He wished uselessly that he had had time to grab something to eat before he fled, but he had just wanted to escape, there had been no time for plans. 

He rubbed his lips unconsciously. Stopped immediately, when he realised what he was doing. He knew that men could be attracted to other men, he could hardly have spent those years at university without being aware such men existed, but for the most part they had been willowy creatures, forming their own clubs, interested in art and fashion. Holding themselves daintily aloof from the rough and tumble of the sporting men. He had certainly never encountered one like Lord D'Anvers. 

He rubbed his lips again. 

The clip-clop and jingle of a horse approaching, broke into his thoughts. He looked up quickly, just in time to see the nose of a black horse coming around the corner of the hedge behind him. Without thinking, he was over the bench and crouching down behind the hedge. He waited, his heart in his mouth, for the horse and rider to pass him. He had no doubts at all that the rider was Lord D'Anvers. Head down, he held his breath as each measured stride went past with agonising slowness, desperately hoping he had been quick enough. 

He waited until the horse was out of earshot before he scrambled to his feet. Which way could he go? It would be madness to continue on now towards Yorktown, there would be too much risk of running full into D'Anvers if he turned around. He couldn't go back the way he had come. The only choice was to go across the fields until either he came to another road, or he found somewhere to take shelter. 

He stumbled over the uneven ground, trying not to disturb the grazing sheep, cursing silently when his boot landed in something squishy. His back felt exposed and he hunched down, even though he knew his pursuer must be miles away by now. At last he reached a small copse on the other side of the field, and breathed a sigh of relief. 

He was tired and thirsty but there was nowhere, not even a small stream, where he could quench his thirst. He jingled the few shillings in his pocket. He would just have to keep walking until he came to a village or possibly a farmhouse, where he could buy something to eat and drink. He kept walking and eventually he came to a narrow lane. It appeared reasonably well used, but there were no signposts to tell him what lay in each direction.  

He was standing in the lane, trying to make a decision when a voice spoke lazily from behind him. "Going somewhere, Jonathan?" 

It was almost with resignation that he turned to face Lord D'Anvers. 

Jonathan couldn't help it, he blushed. He braced his feet squarely on the ground and met D'Anvers quizzical gaze. "I won't go back with you," he stated, as firmly as he could. 

"Oh I think you will," came the silky reply. Not for nothing had he persevered with that damn boxing. His fist caught Jonathan neatly and entirely by surprise, landing right on the point of his chin. Jonathan went out like a light. D'Anvers gave a wry smile of satisfaction and hauled him up over one shoulder. He grunted. The lad was heavier than he had thought. He gave a sharp whistle and Destiny trotted out from where he had hidden him further down the lane. He draped Jonathan's unconscious form over the front of the saddle and got up behind him. Walking slowly, Destiny carried them both back to Castle Blackstone.