Jus Primae Noctis

Vol 2, Chapter 1

When The Princess Elizabeth arrived at Le Havre, it was a cloudless morning and the sun was shining brightly.

Carrying their simple luggage, Walker followed behind Wiltshire and they disembarked from the ship. Walker worked hard at not allowing himself to appear to be curious, although the sounds of the foreign language that constantly drifted into his ears and the distinctively humid air of a harbour city were both novel experiences for him.

Outside the dock, there were many carriages lined up, made available for rent. Whenever the drivers saw someone who looked like a tourist pass by, they would eagerly shout out their rousing blurbs, hawking their services. Wiltshire was expensively and elegantly attired, naturally, he would not escape the attention of the drivers, and at any given time there was always at least one of them who was calling out to him to board his coach.

Wiltshire picked out a driver who was neatly dressed, and after haggling with him for a bit over the fare, he called out to Walker, asking him to carry the luggage up the coach.

"Sir, where to?" The driver asked in guttural English.

Wearing a smile, Wiltshire said the name of a place in French. Although the sound of his words and accent were exceptionally graceful, Walker had no absolutely no inkling as to what he was saying. He could only watch with a belly full of suspicion as the driver nodded and after, the carriage set off with a flick of his reins.

"What did you say to him?" He surreptitiously asked Wiltshire.

"I merely told him that we want to go the Mrs. Bridget's inn." Wiltshire was lounging against the back of the seat with a most relaxed expression. All of a sudden, his lips parted in a beaming smile, revealing a set of snow-white teeth. In that moment, he appeared to be exceptionally comely and young, and Walker could not keep himself from blushing as he gazed upon him.

"Is there really a need to make such an amorous display in broad daylight?" Of course, his own behaviour --- always feeling bashful for no reason --- was very absurd as well, but who was it who had ordained that Wiltshire's smile would always cause him to think of some scenes that were definitely not suitable for children to witness?

"I just feel that the relationship between the two of us is a bit strange." It was rare that Wiltshire would be so contemplative. "You see, just a few months ago, we were as unconnected to each other as a horse and an ox. You were working the lands in Stonehaven and as for me, I was enjoying myself at the clubs in London. But at this moment, we are travelling in France together, don't you feel that this is a wondrous thing?"

Walker felt that he could not quite follow Wiltshire's train of thought and said: "But, that is only because you forced..." Images flashed passed his mind about the things that Wiltshire had forced him to do... and he had to fight desperately to quash his impulse to feel shy because of that.

Wiltshire had quite evidently read his thoughts, because once again, a lecherous smile revealed itself on his face. The Marquess leaned his body close to Walker, as if he was about to say something. Fortunately, the driver called out just at this critical juncture, putting an end to the dangerous atmosphere, dispelling it to leave no traces.

"Sir, we have arrived at Mrs. Bridget's Inn."

"So soon?" Wiltshire looked somewhat discontented; throwing Walker a "you are spared for the time being" glance, he got down from the carriage.

Mrs. Bridget's Inn was an old house constructed of red bricks and done up in a rustic style, and its clientele was mainly composed of British tourists. Mrs Bridget was in her fifties, she had immigrated over to this place at an early age after getting married to a local. After her husband's death, she had operated this establishment by herself and had changed it to become a homey and welcoming inn that was done in the British style. Gradually, the inn had earned a good reputation among travellers who were heading for France.

"My Lord Marquess, have you come to France for a vacation?" Walking ahead of her guests as they went up the wooden staircase, Mrs Bridget was evidently rather curious about this beautiful Marquess.

"Yes, and also to look out for any trade opportunities in passing." It seemed like the Marquess was not accustomed to climbing up narrow stairs, wearing a watchful expression, he placed each step deliberately on the precipitous wooden structure.

"My Lord, this room is known as the Dovecote, it is one of the best rooms in this inn." Leading them through the corridor of the third floor, Mrs Bridget pushed open the last door in the hallway --- the room that was presented in front of the two men had been painted a fresh and cool shade of blue, and the balcony that was attached to it faced the vast ocean, making for an extremely charming view.

Once again, Mrs. Bridget pushed open a small door to the side, to reveal a small room behind it.

"The suite comes with a small adjoining room that servants can reside in for the duration of their stay." Apparently she had assumed that Walker was a male servant who was accompanying his master on his travels, but since she would not question closely why two men would make a request for only one room as a result, Walker would also not choose to take the initiative to clear up this misunderstanding.

"Mr. Robinson is my friend." However, Wiltshire did not seem to share his thoughts, in a serious manner he spoke up to correct Mrs Bridget.

"Ah, so it's like that. Then you have my sincere apologies, Mr Robinson." Mrs Bridget looked very embarrassed; after all, nobody would be pleased to be regarded as a member of the lower class.

"It doesn't matter." Walker genuinely did not mind, it was indeed true that in his appearance and his dress, he really did look to be just a servant.

"Then I shall take my leave first, may the two of you have a good rest." The proprietress, having made a faux pas, very tactfully prepared to leave, "Hot water for bathing would be delivered here soon."

Mrs Brigitte opened the door and left. Walker turned his head to look at Wiltshire, only to find that at that moment, he was looking at Walker with blazing eyes.

"Walker?"

"What is it?" Walker was just taking off his heavy travelling jacket, but when he heard the call, he could not help but to still his hands.

"Walker?"

"What is it?" God, why would the Marquess behave like a suckling infant that was not yet grown up? Walker felt a bit helpless.

"Walker Walker Walker Walker..." Wiltshire gave a series of chants, and then he threw himself at the Scotsman. His momentum was so great that it was enough to knock the whole of Walker onto the bed.

"You are not seasick anymore?" Walker could not resist jeering at him.

"Damn it! Don't speak of that ship anymore! Know that it was because of her that I haven't touched you for a whole day."

Thinking back, when the Marquess had been seasick, he had become so utterly incapacitated that he had not had the wherewithal to lay his hands on him. Walker could not help musing to himself that he had really made a fine choice of a profession when he had decided on becoming a seafarer.

Feeling a pair of warm lips touching his own cheeks, Walker did not try to dodge or to resist; after all, between the two of them, this kind of contact was one that could not possibly be any more familiar.

"Could you part your lips?" When that pair of green crystal eyes with the power to steal souls was staring at him, even a man carved of stone would also obediently part his lips.

Walker parted his lips slightly, and the Marquess's hot and moist tongue very quickly dived inside, licking at and teasing Walker's own, only releasing his mouth when the both of them were all out of breath.

The two men's eyes met for a short period of time as they silently looked at each other. It had only been a shallow kiss, but it seemed as though they had caressed each other souls a hundred million times.

"Your eyes are so enchanting!" The tail end of Wiltshire's words became a whisper as they fell from the corner of his lips. Although it seemed like it were only low-grade flattery used to dupe girls, but when it was in concert with the Marquess's kisses, that fell upon his cheeks like raindrops, Walker's heart was suffused with a tender sweetness and he could not help but to reach out with his hands and hug the body that was tightly pressed against his own.

"To do this when it's still broad daylight is such a sin..." His conscience attempted to have him try to reject the Marquess's hand, which had already wandered deep inside his trousers, but the Marquess's only reply to him was to lavish kisses to his neck and chest with greater frequency.

Although his actions of kissing and thrusting were not so different from his previous ones, but to have Wiltshire hold him tightly in his arms as he rocked his body back and forth, to be made by him to gasp out that he needed and demanded everything, Walker actually felt that his heart had been deluged with a type of passion that was completely new to him. It caused him to give up his pride and feelings of shame, opening up his body even more to accept him, and in the moment when the pleasure had reached its peak, he was so carried away that he forgot himself and uninhibited moans and cries issued forth from him...

The passion had been so intense, to the extent that the Marquess was unwilling to leave the Scotsman's body after the event. Rather, he curled up intimately with him and soon, the two people had fallen fast asleep because of the vestiges of fatigue that their journey had left upon them.

And so, in this way, the entire afternoon was spent in a deep slumber and as had become normal and to be expected, when they took their bath in the evening, it also became a time for the Marquess to flirt. Although he was feeling a strong sense of guilt due to having spent the day indulging in debauchery, in the end, Walker still had to yield to his opponent's transcendent skills and sweet eroticism, and was perfectly willing to open up his body to the Marquess once again.

After sailing on the onerous seas, he had once again been tossed about for practically the entire day. Even with Walker's strong constitution, it was inevitable that on the morning of the second day, he would feel his whole body aching as though it had been trampled upon by a herd of elephants.

"What happened, is your body not feeling well?" The most annoying thing was that in contrast, Wiltshire, who had appeared to be more dead than alive while they had been on the ship, seemed to have become radiant because of the excessive and uninhibited sex. When he saw the white-faced Walker, who seemed to have more heart than strength at the moment, he even asked after him with a relaxed tone of voice.

"No... ah, what are the plans for today?" Although he was indeed not feeling well, but because the reason for his body's discomfort was too shameful, Walker was unable to admit to it, and could only deflect the question by changing the topic of conversation.

"Go to the harbour to ask around and see if anyone has seen the Princess, if we can confirm that she has not been here... we can only go to that damned Frenchman's hometown." As Walker had wished, the topic of conversation was changed, but the mischievous smile on the corners of Wiltshire's lips showed that he had some strange idea in his heart.

"Then let's hurry to the docks!" Since the Marquess's thoughts were beyond his ability to control, Walker just had to be content with his not declaring them with his lips.

After they had a simple breakfast, the two of them returned to the docks where they had disembarked yesterday. Wiltshire carried around on his person a portrait miniature [1] of the Princess, and he continuously showed it to the hawkers, carriage drivers and servants milling around the docks, but no matter who he asked, that person could not be sure if he had seen a similar female.

In the miniature, Princess Caroline appeared young and beautiful, her skin seemed to be as radiant as fine white porcelain, while her blue eyes were the colour of the sky and the carefree smile that hung on the corners of her lips said that she knew nothing of the pains and suffering of the human world. In light of this, Walker was deeply sceptical that anyone could bear to cause harm to such an innocent girl.

"Seems like the Princess's travelling companion must be very canny, to be able to carry out his plans without leaving any traces." Wiltshire remarked to Walker, looking at the miniature that rested on the table as they were eating a simple meal at a small shop by the side of the road.

"I wonder what type of man he is, even the noble Princess would be perfectly willing to disguise herself and follow him to a foreign land to seek shelter...." Walker turned the miniature to face him, sighing with emotion at the same time as he was tearing apart a wheat bread and putting it into his mouth.

Wiltshire's reaction was one of disagreement.

"How do you know that she was willing? Although you were not really willing, you also followed a man and came to France with him, eh?"

"To hell with it!" Walker nearly choked on the bread in his mouth, wildly looking around at all four corners as if he were a thief. He only relaxed when he was certain that nobody else had taken any notice of that sentence Wiltshire had uttered.

"This matter and that one are two quite different things. The Princess is a woman, and then... she is a princess!"

"Besides that she is a woman and you are not, she is a princess and you are not, other than that, frankly speaking you are both in similar circumstances now." The expression on Wiltshire's face was still damnably calm.

Although he did actually feel that his own circumstances was indeed somewhat similar to Caroline's, but Walker would sooner be killed than to admit that he was currently eloping with another man.

Seeing that Walker had opened his mouth wide, appearing as though he intended to continue arguing with him, the Marquess looked skyward, gave a yawn, and said: "Alright! Let's not discuss this anymore. Walker, please tell me something now, do you know how to use a sword?"

Not quite able to adapt to the speed at which Wiltshire's thoughts darted about, Walker could only come up with a response after a long time passed.

"Not really, I've only handled a wooden sword while playing with my brothers." He answered honestly.

"In that case, it's decided that the afternoon will be spent on fencing lessons." The Marquess seemed immensely pleased as he made the announcement.

Wiltshire seemed to be exceptionally zealous about the matter of instructing Walker in fencing, running out in the afternoon to buy two longswords that looked to be of rather fine quality, and borrowed an empty spare room in the inn to serve as their fencing classroom.

"Alright, now you try attacking me." Wiltshire was wearing a thin shirt made of silk, the way he looked as he grasped the sword while standing tall and proud really did project shades of grandeur reminiscent of the dashing swordsmen of legend.

"But aren't you afraid that you would get hurt?" Walker looked that the sharpened longsword in his hand, a genuine article obtained at a pretty price, and curled his lip at the peacock preening opposite him.

"Don't flatter yourself?!" Wiltshire began to laugh loudly, and Walker suddenly felt as though the greatest insult had been heaped upon him. Not wishing to waste words on the Marquess any longer, he raised the sword in his hand and directly did as he had asked.

But since Wiltshire had been so confident in his own fencing skills, naturally he was not an incompetent hand at it. Although he only brandished the sword in his hand a few times, his movements light as a feather, Walker's offensive was quickly entirely neutralized.

The Scotsman did not believe in being jinxed; he had enough strength to use the sword in his hand, which was of considerable weight, and he also had enough patience and persistence to wait for the Marquess, who looked to be significantly slimmer than him, to tire.

But in the end, he was still left disappointed...

Walker retreated a few steps, tossed the longsword to the ground and crouched his body down, with his breath laboured.

"This is ridiculous! You're simply... simply..." He was both angry and tired, but still, he could not bring himself to say the words "you are simply toying with me" out loud, because it was not, after all, some glorious thing that he could be proud of.

Wiltshire's expression remained poised and relaxed, he lifted a corner of his lips and unleashed a beguiling smile at Walker. "Now you should be willing to let me teach you from the basics, beginning with the proper stance to use when holding a sword!" He smilingly said.

Although he had to admit that the Prince Regent's choice in selecting Wiltshire to rescue his daughter must have been made after serious consideration, but Walker found that arrogant attitude of the Marquess to be insufferable, and his way of continuously taking the opportunity to make some provocative moves while rectifying Walker's stance was even more aggravating.

Take now, for example. It was only to correct the manner in which an attack should be launched, but the two of them were pressed so closely against each other and the way that Wiltshire's hand was lightly pressing against his abdomen felt strange, causing goose bumps to rise up all over his body uncontrollably.

"For goodness sake, if you are going to press then just press down more firmly, alright?" At the moment, their positions not only reminded Walker of an embrace, but also the sort of embrace that came from behind, making him feel very uncomfortable.

"Then how about this?" Suddenly, the hand that Wiltshire had rested against Walker's stomach exerted its strength, and his body also pressed even closer to Walker's. Feeling the burning heat against his own buttocks, Walker understood that at this moment, the thoughts on the Marquess's mind had absolutely nothing to do with the sword in his hand.

"Or how about this?" The Marquess's hand slowly slid down, while the warm moist air exhaled through his mouth made Walker's neck feel a burst of ticklishness...

"Don't be like this..." His lust, having been incited, struggled for release, and he had to remind himself that the view outside the window showed that it was still daylight. Also, their locale was the first floor, the windows to the empty spare room were wide open and anybody who happened to pass by could easily see what was happening inside --- and yet the words he had used to refuse Wiltshire's advances had sounded so feeble and indistinct.

"All right then!" Nevertheless, Wiltshire let go of him and his casual attitude caused Walker to be in a state of shock for quite a while.

The Marquess picked up the sword, and said to Walker with a wink: "Dear, I think it would be better for us to keep practicing."

In an instant, the hot body and breath that had just been enveloping him vanished, along with the dangerous mood in the room...

Obviously he should be joyful, but Walker found that he was unable to take any delight in it. With a stony face, he picked up his sword and continued to study. But there was a marked departure from the high-spirits that he originally had, it was obvious that he had become distracted.

"Are you feeling rather unhappy?" After dinner, the Marquess requested hot water for their baths. As they soaked in the tub, he scrubbed at his body with a contented expression on his face, the same time as he was questioning Walker.

Walker shook his head. He was confused by this version of himself, who no longer rejected Wiltshire's sexual demands. And this afternoon, when Wiltshire had so readily given up on putting the moves on him, the disappointment and frustration he had felt in his heart --- as if he was losing something --- had even made him feel afraid.

"What exactly is the matter?" The Marquess's hand slid over Walker's neck; when the green eyes that were made hazy by the steam rising from the water gazed at his face steadily, there was a look in them that could make hearts quiver.

Walker still did not answer and the Marquess smiled at his silence. He leaned his body close and kissed the Scotsman's lips... Walker did not refuse; he needed to gauge his reaction to Wiltshire as a means of determining the feelings in his heart.

After their somewhat late bath had ended, Walker tried to seek out the answer from the sex that followed, as had become their routine. However, Wiltshire's passionate kisses and caresses that made him blush endlessly, obviously would not leave him with any time for reflection. After their love-making, which had lasted for longer than usual, Walker very quickly fell asleep in the Marquess's embrace; even at the end he still could not clearly understand what his own feelings were.

It seemed that Wiltshire very much liked the feeling of teaching Walker, even insisting on teaching him fencing on the second and third day, and since Walker was indeed interested in this skill, he did not refuse his tutelage.

Very quickly, Wiltshire discovered that Walker was improving at lightning speed. Although he had not yet reached the level where he could contend against Wiltshire himself, but even if Wiltshire had wanted to defeat him as easily as he had at the beginning, it was no longer a possibility.

"Alright, I admit that these hands of yours, that are more accustomed to holding hoes, do indeed have some strength." He said grudgingly; Walker was bearing down on the sword in Wiltshire's hand, and his arm felt a little sore.

"Or is that your hands, which are more accustomed to holding forks and knives, are too weak?" Walker's laugh was very cheerful and open, as his eyes shone as brightly as the sun did in Spain.

"Is that so? Or have you already forgotten that you had once wept because you could not free yourself from this pair of hands, perhaps you need me to give you a reminder?" Wiltshire threw a provocative glance at Walker.

"You are such a hoodlum..." Walker could not keep from gnashing his teeth, and Wiltshire took the opportunity to free his own sword. As if it had a life of its own, the sword jabbed forward, and slashed down the front of Walker's shirt perfectly.

Walker got a fright, immediately dropping his sword and holding his clothes together.

"To hell with it! If you keep this up, I'll soon be left with no shirts to wear!" Wiltshire had already repeated this type of evil behaviour numerous times over the course of their lessons over the last few days.

"I can lend you..." Wiltshire was beaming as he stepped forward and hugged him, sliding a hand in a most provocative manner into his damaged clothing. He accurately found a brown nipple, and showed no restraint as he gave it a pinch with his fingertips --- his bud, which had already been subjected to torment the night before, thus ached unbearably and Walker could not keep his muscles from giving a spasm.

"Since you have already mastered the basic elements of fencing, perhaps we should go out tonight and find a place to relax, to celebrate your graduation." Moving close to Walker and taking in the purely masculine musk of his scent of his body, Wiltshire tried to speak using a beguiling tone of voice.

"Where..." It was very unfortunate, but after Walker had tasted the sweetness of sex, he had become very open to temptation. Feeling how close Wiltshire was, Walker was so keyed up with desire that he was almost unable to make a sound.

"Paris! Of course it's Paris. Dear, tonight we shall find a tavern, and then drink, dance, find two Frenchwomen to flirt with... following that, of course it would be time for the both of us to be wildly joyous again, keke!" Wiltshire's smile was so sweet, as if he were a schoolboy who had just suggested a field trip.


End of Jus Primae Noctis Volume 2, Chapter 1