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  Mr Winterbourne's Christmas

  Winterbourne, Volume 2

  Joanna Chambers

  Published by Joanna Chambers, 2018.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Mr Winterbourne's Christmas

  Chapter 1 - Adam

  Chapter 2 - Lysander

  Chapter 3 - Adam

  Chapter 4 – Lysander

  Chapter 5 - Adam

  Chapter 6 - Lysander

  Chapter 7 - Adam

  Chapter 8 - Lysander

  Chapter 9 - Adam

  Chapter 10 - Lysander

  Chapter 11 - Adam

  Chapter 12 - Lysander

  Chapter 13 - Adam

  Chapter 14 - Lysander

  Epilogue - Adam

  Further Reading: Introducing Mr. Winterbourne

  Mr. Winterbourne’s Christmas

  LYSANDER WINTERBOURNE and Adam Freeman have been living happily at Edgeley Park for the last eighteen months. By day Lysander is Adam’s estate manager, by night, his lover, but neither man has spoken of their deeper feelings. Is this a happy-ever-after or just a convenient arrangement?

  When the two men are invited to Winterbourne Abbey for a family Christmas, matters quickly come to a head. Snowed in at the Abbey with a house full of guests, they have to face up to shocking revelations, long-held secrets and a choice Lysander never expected to have to make...

  Mr. Winterbourne’s Christmas

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 JOANNA Chambers

  Cover art: Natasha Snow

  Edited by: Deborah Nemeth

  Published by Joanna Chambers

  ISBN: 978-1-9997091-9-8

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or business establishments or organisations is completely coincidental.

  PLEASE DO NOT HARM the author’s livelihood by using file-sharing sites.

  Chapter 1 - Adam

  Edgeley Park, Buckinghamshire

  December, 1823

  Adam woke to the unmistakable sound of a cup of tea being stirred, the domestic tinkle of a silver teaspoon against china.

  Yawning, he stretched and opened his eyes. Lysander was standing at the window, naked, his slim, strong body beautiful in the weak winter sunlight. In his hands he held a cup and saucer. Fine eggshell porcelain decorated with delicate pink roses, absurdly dainty in his capable masculine hands.

  Lysander hadn’t yet noticed that Adam had woken up. He was gazing out at the grounds of Edgeley Park, his expression peaceful, a small smile playing about his lips.

  “Aren’t you cold, Mr. Winterbourne?” Adam asked sleepily.

  Lysander turned, his small smile growing into a bigger one, happiness in his blue eyes to find Adam awake.

  Was there anything better than that? Being looked at like that, by the person you were in love with?

  “Oh, Mr. Freeman, you know me.” Lysander set the cup and saucer down on a side table before strolling back to the bed, moving with that easy grace Adam had admired from the first. “I don’t feel the cold. Comes of growing up in a draughty old abbey.”

  Adam reached for him as he drew near, pulling him down to land heavily on top of Adam, making Lysander laugh when Adam gave an unexpected “Ooof!”

  “You might not feel the cold,” Adam said, when he had his breath back, “but your skin’s like ice. Let me warm you, beautiful boy.”

  Lysander chuckled happily. “Boy,” he scoffed.

  “Always my boy,” Adam assured him, settling his mouth on those sweet lips before rolling them over till Lysander lay on his back beneath him. Breaking the kiss, Lysander gazed up at Adam, eyes dancing with mirth and affection.

  “I should be going,” he murmured, though he made no attempt to move. “I’ve work to do.”

  “It can wait a little longer, surely.” Adam pressed a kiss to Lysander’s throat, then laid a trail of them up to the sensitive spot where his jaw met his ear, relishing his lover’s moan of pleasure. “First I need to taste you spending in my mouth. Would you like that? A little reward for taking my cock so well last night?”

  Lysander moaned again. “God, your cock—I can still feel you.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Yes, suck me. I love your mouth on me.”

  Adam squirmed his way down the bed, dropping kisses on Lysander’s body as he went: left shoulder, right nipple, the arch of his ribcage and down to his navel.

  So many delights.

  With a happy sigh, Adam settled between Lysander’s open thighs, spreading his elbows to make a little more room for himself, chuckling softly at Lysander’s sigh of acquiescence.

  For a moment, he let himself have the luxury of simply looking at Lysander, staring with unabashed fascination at the light brown nest from which Lysander’s cock sprang, hard and red-tipped, bobbing with need, and the neat purse of his balls, already high and tight.

  “Adam, please—”

  He glanced up. Lysander had his arm thrown over his face and his chest rose and fell as he panted.

  Such a lovely, uninhibited boy.

  Adam’s heart clenched, a feeling that was joyful and sad at once. He wished he could preserve this moment forever. The truth was, he wasn’t sure how long this would last—how long Lysander planned to stay at Edgeley Park—and somehow, he could never bring himself to ask, as though by doing so he’d remind Lysander there was a world outside this house, waiting for him.

  Setting those thoughts aside determinedly, Adam turned his attention to the matter at hand. He began with Lysander’s balls, licking a luscious, wet stripe over the tight, wrinkled flesh and drawing a shaky laugh from his lover.

  Lysander liked this sort of thing very wet, so Adam held nothing back, licking with abandon till his chin was wet and his mouth made lewd slurping sounds. Lysander squirmed against him, moaning and bucking without an ounce of shyness.

  God, Adam loved that. Lysander writhing beneath him, undone with pleasure. There was no shame in the bed they shared. No shyness. Only wild, uninhibited joy.

  Adam shifted his attention to Lysander’s cock, first thoroughly wetting the base, then painting the shaft with generous swipes of his tongue, loving Lysander’s heady scent.

  “Ah, Christ, you’re good at that—” Lysander cried, hips straining upwards for more. Adam looked up, meeting his gaze and grinning wickedly, before lowering his head to finally take Lysander’s shaft fully into his mouth, right to the back of his throat.

  Lysander groaned deeply, and Adam felt like his master and his slave at once, vanquishing him with the passion of his service.

  He sucked his boy, sucked and laved and licked, all abandon, no finesse, cheeks hollowing, face wet. He sucked till the muscles in his jaw ached and still never wanted it to end. His own cock was hard as stone, yet he didn’t even think about touching it. This was all for Lysander.

  Lysander’s fingers tangled in his hair, urging Adam on while he babbled pleas and praise, punctuated with hoarse, inarticulate cries of pleasure. And then, all too soon, Lysander was coming, in joyful, salty spurts. Adam managed to swallow most of it, but a bit spattered across his face, making him chuckle—such a messy business this, tending to his boy.

  He crawled back up the bed, leaning over Lysander’s relaxed body to grin down at him. Pointing at his face, he said, wryly, “You got me.”

  Lysander laughed too, reaching up to wipe away the pearly fluid decorating Adam’s cheek with his thumb, only for Adam to catch his hand and draw it to his mouth, smiling i
nto Lysander’s eyes as he sucked it clean.

  Lysander’s smile was wide and uninhibited. All sunny handsomeness. “That was lovely. Now it’s your turn. Shall I—”

  Before he could go any further, there was a short, sharp knock at the bedchamber door followed by a rattle that had Adam looking over his shoulder and howling, “No!”

  Not that it did any good. The door still creaked open and a familiar auburn head peeped round the doorframe.

  “Only me,” said its owner cheerfully.

  Adam scrambled onto his back, pulling the bedcovers over his and Lysander’s bodies. “For God’s sake, Jonny!”

  Lysander—the traitor—started laughing and pulled the bedcovers right over his head, squirming further down the mattress to hide from their intruder.

  Another voice, from behind Jonny in the corridor, called out anxiously, “I’m very sorry, sir! I tried to stop him!”

  Poor Fletcher. Adam’s butler was very protective of his master. Adam had given the man a job when no one else would, when the man was straight out of prison after being found guilty of the same crime Adam committed every day—preferring to share his bed with a man.

  “It’s all right, Fletcher!” he called back. “I realise Mr. Mainwaring is impossible.”

  Jonny chuckled and Adam gave him a look before sighing. “Come in then. Shut the door behind you at least.”

  Jonny strolled in, resplendent in a dressing gown of heavy gold silk covered with lavishly embroidered peacocks, and let the door click softly behind him.

  “Good morning,” he cooed, draping himself in a chair by the window. “You look wonderfully well this morning. All flushed and handsome. Have you two just been carrying on? I thought I heard some curious noises.”

  Adam’s face heated with mortification. “You shouldn’t be let out on your own,” he muttered. “It’s a wonder no one’s murdered you yet.” Beneath the quilt, Lysander shook with laughter.

  “You know my dear, I think you’re actually quite right about that,” Jonny said. “I could do with a full-time protector, but I’ve yet to find a fellow with the stamina to stay the course.”

  “For a man who rarely gets up before luncheon, you’re surprisingly exhausting,” Adam agreed dryly. “Speaking of which, why are you up at this ungodly hour?”

  Jonny grinned wolfishly. “I want your sweetheart for the day.”

  Lysander popped his head above the bedcovers at that, eyes wide. “What?”

  Jonny laughed. “Only to paint you, dear heart. You did promise me, and the light this morning is quite wonderful, all bright and wintry. I fancy you as Narcissus. We could walk down to that ridiculous folly next to the pond for my initial sketches. Don’t worry, you needn’t disrobe—it’s far too cold and I’m not a monster.” He smiled at Lysander winningly and batted his eyelashes.

  His charms had no effect on Lysander though, who sat up and said, “I’m afraid I can’t this morning. I’ve a deal to do. There was a suspected case of sheep scab a fortnight ago over at Whitecross Farm and we’re double-checking all the herds.”

  Jonny pouted. “Oh, but the light’s so perfect!” He glanced at Adam and added with a chuckle, “Can’t you order him to pose for me, my dear? There must be someone else you could send to check the sheep?”

  Adam felt Lysander stiffening slightly beside him, the sudden awkwardness between them palpable. It was a tension that arose whenever this was mentioned explicitly—that Adam was both Lysander’s lover and his employer.

  They never really discussed it, or how it had come about. Adam had invited Lysander to come to Edgeley Park after a single day’s acquaintance. He’d fallen for Lysander absurdly quickly and wanted more time with his new lover. And since he had no idea what to do with the dilapidated estate he’d just bought, Lysander’s advice in those early days had been invaluable.

  Suggesting Lysander take the position of steward had been a natural progression, so neat it felt positively destined. Adam wanted Lysander to stay with him and he needed a steward. Lysander seemed equally keen to stay with Adam and he wanted to manage an estate. He’d already asked his father, the Earl of Winterbourne, to allow him to run the family estate in Derbyshire, but the earl had refused him.

  The difficulty was that now, a year and a half later, Adam wasn’t sure exactly why Lysander stayed. Was he, like Adam, head over heels in love? Or did he stay only to continue looking after Edgeley Park? Adam knew Lysander enjoyed everything they did together—there was no question that he shared Adam’s bed because he wanted to be there—but would he still be here had Adam not offered him his position? The truth was, Adam didn’t know—and he was afraid to ask.

  Jonny’s question was a joke, nothing meant by it, and Adam treated it as such.

  “Don’t be a brat,” he told Jonny firmly. “As and when Lysander has time to pose for you, I’m sure he’ll let you know.”

  Jonny pouted again, which made Lysander chuckle, and the tension dissipated.

  But Adam was left with a queer ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

  Chapter 2 - Lysander

  Once Jonny had left, still pouting, Lysander got out of bed and donned his own, far less spectacular dressing gown.

  “I’d better get going.” He looked at Adam, who was staring into the middle distance, lost in thought. “Shall I see you downstairs?”

  “Sorry, what?” Adam blinked and glanced his way.

  Lysander headed for the door. “I’m going to get dressed now. Shall I see you downstairs for breakfast?”

  Adam shook his head. “I’ll eat later. I need to shave.” He rubbed at the dark stubble on his cheek.

  Lysander smiled fondly. “I like you unshaven. You look...disreputable.”

  Adam’s mouth quirked. “All right, I’ll leave off shaving tomorrow but today I need to call on Mr. Dawson, so there’s no helping it.”

  “Spoilsport,” Lysander said, by way of a parting comment and slipped out, Adam’s soft laughter following him.

  He dressed quickly in his working clothes—a well-made but hard-wearing suit of brown worsted and his favourite riding boots—and made his way down to breakfast.

  Jonny sat at the table, a newspaper spread out in front of him, cup of tea in hand. He glanced up and smiled, eyes twinkling with pleasure. “My, don’t you look handsome?”

  He really was impossible to dislike.

  “You’re very kind.” Lysander crossed the floor to the row of silver serving dishes on the sideboard and began heaping a plate with food. “But I can’t claim to match your splendour. That dressing gown must’ve cost the earth.”

  “It did,” Jonny admitted. “And I adore it. I only wish I could wear it outside. Can you imagine me strolling down Park Lane like this?”

  “I should pay to see it,” Lysander said, setting his plate down. “The ladies would be green with envy.”

  Jonny laughed appreciatively, then looked at Lysander’s plate and grimaced. “Ugh. how can you eat all that first thing in the morning? I need at least three cups of tea before I can face a bite.”

  “I need a good breakfast,” Lysander said, tucking in. “I’ll be riding all day.”

  Jonny sighed. “Thighs.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yes, you did. You said thighs.”

  “Did I really?” Jonny said wonderingly. “How very odd of me.”

  Lysander shook his head and turned back to his breakfast. Adam’s cook was excellent.

  “You’re very good for him, you know,” Jonny said.

  Lysander glanced up at that, surprised by Jonny’s serious tone. Jonny’s expression was soft and a little wistful. He was the same age as Adam—they’d been at school together—but he looked a great deal younger. Lysander would have put him at five-and-twenty, like Lysander himself, rather than two-and-thirty.

  “He’s prone to be overly serious,” Jonny continued. “Even when we were boys, he was like that. He needs someone to remind him to
laugh and have fun occasionally.”

  Lysander smiled at the accuracy of that. Adam took his responsibilities seriously and worked harder than anyone Lysander knew, regularly travelling to Manchester, and occasionally London, on business. Even in his spare time he was consumed by learning about agriculture and farming so as to understand better the workings of the estate. Sometimes Lysander had to confiscate his books, dragging him out for a ride, or to eat dinner...or to join him in bed.

  “We get on well,” he said.

  Jonny raised an auburn brow. “So I heard this morning,” he said, laughing when Lysander blushed hotly. “You’re good for him that way too,” Jonny said. “I used to worry that he’d never have that.”

  “Have what?”

  “That”—Jonny waved his hand in the air, as though summoning the right word—“connection. Companionship, you know?”

  “I...think so,” Lysander said carefully. But in truth, he wasn’t sure. It was certainly true that he and Adam got on well. They were both good-natured and gravitated to the same interests, both enjoying outdoor pursuits, good food and wine, lively conversation. But those were things you could enjoy with lots of people.

  “He was never one for falling in love,” Jonny continued, “Not like me.”

  “No?” Lysander said faintly, he was beginning to feel a little sick. He set down his cutlery.

  “I don’t mean he didn’t have anyone,” Jonny said. “Quite the opposite. In fact, he used to have quite the little harem dotted around that he’d visit—he’s got a healthy appetite as I’m sure you know—but no one to share that deeper connection.”

  A harem? Lysander’s stomach writhed with sudden, unexpected jealousy. He forced himself to meet Jonny’s gaze.

  Jonny said, quietly, sincerely, “I think he finally has that—with you.”

  A lump rose in Lysander’s throat, and he wasn’t entirely sure why, but it might be to do with the fact that he didn’t know what he was to Adam—Adam hadn’t told him. And yes, all right, it wasn’t as though he’d told Adam how he felt—that he was, not to put too fine a point upon it, utterly besotted with the man—but, well, weren’t their positions different?