Objects Of His Obsession Read Online Free PDF

warm.
    Benedict lounged back on the
smooth, well-tended grass, weight back on his elbows as he watched the others,
battered panama jammed on his head.
    A relic of his Egyptian life,
he didn’t know why he’d brought it here. Force of habit, he supposed. The thing
had become almost a lucky charm to him. And a touchstone of all he truly loved.
His passion for all things of the ancient world.
    By twelve his passion for
archaeology was so extreme he spent every moment he could, when the family were
in London, taking himself to the British Museum. His obsession had given him a
self-possession that bypassed any adult argument.
    Not quite what his father had
been expecting – the army, the church, or at a pinch, the law would have
done – but then, in many ways, he thought wryly, hell, sadly, he had
never been what his father had expected. Nor his mother and siblings.
    And yet they accepted his
quirks. Loved him dearly.
    Although he knew damned well
that even imagining they’d accept his true sexual orientation was a fool’s game.
If they knew what had happened last night, and the dark, erotic rush of
pleasure that swept over his nerve endings and stiffened his prick every time
he allowed himself to think on it, they would surely cut him dead.
    He would no longer exist to
them.
    It was the way of the world.
    Yet it caused a
near–physical pain in the region of his heart.
    And then he looked across the
green lawns as Evander leant over to mutter a comment into his wife’s ear,
raven black head bent to golden one, and felt a terrible sickness and guilt
wash through him.
    Even as he stared Juliana
turned and called out to him, her cheeks flushed, blue eyes glowing, “Benedict!
Do come and join us. We are attempting to find someone here who can beat my
husband at this, but it seems no luck.”
    “Yes,” one of the other men
called. “Come on, get up and make an effort!”
    Inwardly he groaned. He felt
ridiculously awkward around Evander now and doubly so around the man’s wife.
Dammit, not only was she exquisitely beautiful, she was truly a sweet and most
intelligent woman.
    Before last night Benedict had
enjoyed his conversations with her. She was curious about the world,
insightful. And had a dry wit.
    The perfect foil for Evander,
and he for her.
    Infidelity was an accepted part
of life amongst their class, once a woman had produced the requisite heir and a
spare for her husband, but even though the Casterwells had a son and daughter,
not two sons, it seemed her duty had been done.
    Truly, Benedict did not know
what to make of Evander’s casual, accepting claim that his wife had a lover.
Maybe it was simply a sense of fair play towards the beautiful Juliana, for God
knew, the man damned well had everything and yet still took more, even that
which society would condemn ... And Benedict himself was aiding him in that …
indeed loving that very fact.
    A fact which shamed him even
while, like an opium addict, he could not stop himself.
    He could only tell himself that
Juliana had her own lover, which was of little ease to his conscience.
    He rose to his feet
reluctantly, plucking the panama from his head and dropping it to the ground as
he came over. Evander flashed him that mocking grin, teeth very white against
his pale olive skin. “You’re throwing your lot in with them to declare war on
me? I’m feeling distinctly outnumbered.”
    His wife brushed an
affectionate kiss against his cheek. “Why complain? You always win, darling.”
    “I’m not bad at archery,”
Benedict said easily, reaching the others and brushing a few grass leaves off
his jacket sleeve. “I may give your husband a run for his money yet.”
    Juliana burst into a ripple of
laughter and eyed Evander provocatively. “Wonderful. Perhaps we truly shall see
the mighty topple.”
    “Ha!” one of the other men, a
famous composer, laughed. “I’d like to see it happen, but I doubt it.”
    “Maybe we should put a wager on
it,” Evander