The room exploded in approval, cheers, calls of his name. He could hear shouts of suggestions, ribald calls to Lord Rouart in the thick excitement of the crowd.
He felt shivery with triumph, and had to ignore the sensitivity of orgasm still on him as he rose, his legs unsteady. ‘How was he?’ came the amused call from somewhere in the audience.
Ancel gave Lord Rouart a single taunting look, playing to the crowd as he said, ‘I’ve had better.’
The heated snarl of a look Lord Rouart gave him in return was like victory.
Of course, Ancel still had six months of contract remaining with Louans. A bidder would need the agreement of both Louans and Ancel to buy that contract out. But Ancel would accept the highest offer—had angled for it, could hardly wait for it—and Louans was just a merchant. He would not say no to a lord.
On the sidelines, Ancel was bundled into a sheer silk wrap. He felt it on his still-sensitive skin before he was taken to an antechamber, a bidding war erupting behind him.
In the antechamber, he closed his eyes and breathed and smiled and was ready when Louans entered behind him.
‘Congratulations,’ Louans said, only a little bitterly. He may have been outmanoeuvred by his own pet, but the deal overall reflected well on him. ‘Your career is made.’
‘Whose bid was highest? Rouart? Or one of his rivals?’
‘Neither,’ said Louans. ‘It was Lord Berenger.’
‘Berenger?’ said Ancel. He didn’t know the name. He’d thought he knew everyone from this region. ‘I don’t know him.’ He thought over the men he’d seen tonight, the spectators among the stands. Which one was Lord Berenger?
And then he heard the amount that had been offered, and his eyes flew wide. A year’s contract, to an aristocrat, at a fee that had everyone talking . . .
‘He’s given you a week to say your goodbyes and wrap up any business,’ said Louans.
‘No. Send me to his rooms right away,’ said Ancel. ‘Tonight.’
He was taken through a series of three antechambers in the dim light, then made to wait, alongside an old manservant called Parsins, in front of a large wooden door.
He could feel the spark of success, the anticipation that spiked his pulse and made his heart pound. It felt like validation. The climax to his actions in the ring. He was going to meet his new owner, and his new owner was going to fuck him.
He had washed only what was necessary, and stayed in his silks from the ring, loosening them slightly, leaving his paint a little smudged, his lips and eyelashes heavy with it.
The doors opened, and he got his first look at Berenger.
Berenger was a man of perhaps thirty years of age, austerely dressed, with strong features and dark eyes passing over a sheaf of papers at the desk. He was clean shaven, as was the current fashion, and he wore his dark hair short as well. He looked serious, even stern, his expression one of intent concentration.
The room itself was small and intimate, containing a reclining couch and a desk with a rich walnut patina and tapered
feet. The desk was covered in papers and was the focus of the room’s light, three lamps that were all lit.
Ancel leaned his body against the door column, let the light touch him just so, let his silk garment fall open to his waist, though not beyond. He knew how he looked, the elegant line of his body, his green eyes under sultry lashes, his nipples slightly pinked with paint.
‘So, you saw me in the ring, and decided that you just had to have me,’ said Ancel.
Berenger looked up. ‘No. I hate the ring.’ The words were matter-of-fact. ‘Parsins, hand me my jacket.’
‘So it was just me,’ said Ancel.
‘I told Louans that you had a week to set your affairs in order.’ Berenger had returned his papers to the desk and was shrugging into the jacket that Parsins held out for him.
‘I couldn’t stay away, once I heard it was you.’
Ancel came into the room, his skin fresh, the silk almost slipping from his shoulders, like a flower waiting to be plucked. He felt the pulse of possibility that hung between two people in a small, intimate room, his body prepared and ready.
‘My household is travelling back to Varenne tonight. You can travel with them. I’m riding to Ladehors. Parsins will take care of whatever you need: clothing, jewellery.’
Ancel blinked. ‘Your household is travelling back to Varenne . . . but you’re not?’