Lovers Entwined

By Lillian Francis

Ewan Matthews is one of Boston’s leading genealogy experts. When a would-be bridegroom comes looking for confirmation that there are no skeletons in his ancestral closet, Ewan considers turning the job down. Trey Capell is a jerk of the highest order and yet Ewan experiences an infuriating attraction that’s easy to justify. Trey’s exactly his type—a carbon copy of the man Ewan’s been looking for his entire life.
Harder to explain is the sense of recognition that leaves Ewan speechless the moment Trey steps into his office. Or the stomach-churning sensation at the thought of casting the job aside.
Trey gets more appealing by the day, leaving Ewan struggling with forbidden desire for his client. Desire not helped by strange voyeuristic dreams that have started to haunt his sleep. Dreams that appear to be an echo of the past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lillian Francis
• Release date: Aug 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310580345

Lillian Francis

Lillian Francis. Author of gay romance. Happy Endings guaranteed. Eventually.Lillian Francis is a self-confessed geek who likes nothing more than settling down with a comic or a good book, except maybe writing. Given a notepad, pen, her Kindle, and an infinite supply of chocolate Hob Nobs and she can lose herself for weeks. Romance was never her reading matter of choice, so it came as a great surprise to all concerned, including herself, to discover a romance was exactly what she’d written, and not the rollicking spy adventure or cosy murder mystery she always assumed she’d write.

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Copyright

Cover artist: Meredith Russell

Lovers Entwined, second edition © 2015 Lillian Francis

Published by Finally Love Press

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of Copyright Law.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Warning

This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

Dedication

To Jay, for all her help. Without her I would still be lost in self-publishing hell.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Lillian Francis

Chapter One

Trey Capell pushed himself up off the end of the bed, twisting his body slightly so that his gaze came to rest on the boudoir chair several feet to his right. He inclined his head toward the empty chair in what he hoped would be seen as a gesture of acknowledgement and respect.

Thank you, Carlton…Dad. Wait for the titter of amusement at his audacity or the gasp of shock. Trey tried to imagine the response of the audience, but it was the reaction of Carlton Black that had him more than a little worried. Dad! Geez, what was he thinking?

Damn, he knew how that would go. The chill intensity of that ice-blue stare cutting into him as though laser beams were shooting from them. Or lightning bolts.

Trey shook his head to clear it of his ramblings. They weren’t helping him get his speech sorted and time was running out. Focus.

Putting his hand in the pocket of his slacks, Trey fingered the soft velvet of the box that was nestled in the crease between torso and thigh. It was the only reminder that he needed and focused him much better than the ticking clock in the background.

Think. Only his girls called Carlton Dad, well, Daddy actually. And there was no way he was calling any guy Daddy, even if they wanted him to.

Sir. Sir would be much better. Trey cleared his throat and started again.

Thank you, Carlton, sir, for this opportunity to speak on such an auspicious occasion… Would he be able to say auspicious occasion after several glasses of wine? He’d have to drink slowly, or not at all, until after his five minutes in the spotlight. I’d just like to say how honoured I am that you have given Paige and me your blessing…

Dammit! The ring should be on Paige’s finger, not hidden away in the small, padded box in his pocket. Why had he agreed to this? Carlton was the public speaker, the one with political aspirations. The only speech Trey really wanted to make was on his wedding day.

Maybe it was a test? Subconsciously, Trey knew he wasn’t good enough for Paige and was certain Carlton thought that too. Although he doubted anyone would be good enough for Carlton’s little girl. But Carlton was incapable of denying Paige anything, so he had accepted Trey’s offered hand, warned him to treat her right and asked to see the ring. It reminded Trey of their first meeting four years ago, when Paige had dragged a stray beach bum back from her Californian holiday and announced to her shocked parents that Trey was her new boyfriend.

To be honest, Trey had been just as surprised, but if Trey had any regrets, it was simply that he didn’t get to the beach much these days. He couldn’t deny that, even after all this time, he still missed the grainy texture of warm sand beneath the soles of his bare feet and the sharp tang of salt in the air. Or the endless expanse of satin-smooth, tanned skin…and that was just the boys. Lean, muscular surfers’ bodies, lightly dusted with chest hair bleached by the hot sun, swim shorts riding low on narrow hips, skin and hair smelling of salt and ozone. Tasting of it too.

Unconsciously, he adjusted himself through the lining of his pocket, working around the ring box as his shaft showed its appreciation of those mental images. A chuckle escaped from Trey’s lips, as he remembered girls who tried to surf in the smallest itzy-bitzy teeny-weeny bikini. The outfit, and often the interest they showed in getting up on the board was all for the boys’ benefit, of course. Unfortunately a lot of their effort went unnoticed, when so many of the boys were only interested in each other. Not Trey, he didn’t discriminate against either gender.

A proper man slut, he’d been. Always with a cocky smile and a condom. Nowadays, he still had the smile, but the condom was unnecessary.

His free hand came up to pat his stomach, still flat, although not so ripped as when he was surfing every day, but he’d bet he could still pull a few admiring looks. Hell, what was not to like. He’d have them flocking ‘round just as they had in the old days, flirting a little too…

The gentle tone of the clock above the fireplace chimed the half-hour and reminded Trey he was working against a deadline. Crap! He had arranged to meet Paige before the formal banquet got underway. It was the perfect way to start their evening…hell, the rest of their lives, arriving at the top table arm in arm.

He’d have to rush, there was no way he could keep Paige waiting, not tonight.

But first he’d have to work out how to fix this scrap of material masquerading as a tie.

* * * * *

Trey swivelled on the balls of his feet, his relentless pacing of the service corridor bringing him face to face with yet another in the constant stream of waiters who were scurrying between the kitchen and the ballroom. He stepped back, pressing himself closer to the wall to let the young man pass.

Damn, he must be nervous. He hadn’t even checked out the pull of material over what he just knew would have been a pert ass as the server dashed past.

He might be a one-woman guy these days, but it didn’t hurt to look.

Paige was the one he wanted, someone his dad would have been proud to call a daughter-in-law, someone who stopped him drifting and forced him to evaluate his lifestyle. He had the girl and a steady job, marriage was just around the corner and then, just maybe, a couple of kids…when Paige was ready.

Trey tugged back the stiff, constricting material of his cuff and checked his watch. Ten minutes. Paige should have been here ten minutes ago. He’d been waiting fifteen. He hated waiting. Hated this damn tie she’d forced him to wear. No one would have any reason to notice him, let alone admire the designer shirt he was wearing, if she didn’t turn up soon.

His fingers found the ring in his pocket with little effort, his touchstone slowly losing its ability to calm him. Carlton would be taking the stage any time now, and if he wanted any hope of being in place for the big announcement, Paige had to show up. Now.

As if finally hearing his silent plea, he caught sight of Paige slowly making her way across the ballroom, talking and laughing with those she passed. He fought the urge to fidget at the lack of urgency in her pace, and yet he was completely blown away at the sight of her beauty. She was going to be his. His! Trey Capell, high school dropout, former surfer boy and pleasure junkie.

The frenetic jostling of the serving staff ceased, and they appeared to part, easing her passage as she swept toward him.

Trey, darling. I’m glad you’re here.

Where else would I be? I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten about me.

Never. Her throaty chuckle sent a chill through him, even as he realized he hadn’t actually been joking. No. I was caught in a conversation with Daddy and Senator Johnson.

So you talked to him? What did he say?

Senator Johnson? Paige dropped her gaze, slender fingers grazed the sensitive skin at the base of his throat as she adjusted the knot of the designer tie.

Trey sucked in a short breath. No, your father. Is he still okay with us making the announcement now?

Before Paige was able to respond, the sound of tapping against a microphone echoed through the ballroom behind them. Ladies and gentlemen, could you please take your seats.

* * * * *

The pitch and swell of mayoral hopeful Carlton Black’s speech washed over Trey. After all, he had heard the man practice these words numerous times in the last few weeks. Now he was word perfect and sounded as if he was simply chatting to a handful of close friends and not a hundred or so people who could make or break his campaign.

Casting his gaze over the most powerful and elite of Boston society, Trey sought out anyone who could be considered a friendly face. He barely knew anybody at the party. He knew of them, but none were likely to even acknowledge him. They certainly wouldn’t lower themselves to speak to him. The judges and high-powered businessmen who he had seen in Paige’s society magazines, even some journalists who he recognized, were all people who could influence the election outcome.

A couple of his best friends had been seated at a small table near the serving galley, hidden away from the rich and influential by strategically placed arrangements of late autumn blooms in deep reds and cream to match the tablecloths. But he had no family here. Trey knew that his announcement was only a small part of the evening, but shouldn’t his family be here to witness it? Family was important. It certainly formed a key role in Carlton’s campaign and featured heavily in his rallying speeches.

However, with most of his family out in California, Paige had reasoned that it was too far to drag them all the way across the country for what amounted to a political rally. And for once he had to agree that Paige’s argument had substance behind it.

Certainly it was an easier assertion to accept than the claim that he had plenty of friends at the informal banquet. Plenty of Paige’s friends, he had argued, but his angry words had fallen on deaf ears as usual, friends from the Club and polo, golf partners and regulars at dinner parties. Primarily, friends who followed the fame and the power and Trey had no doubt how many of them would be there for him if he ever fell from grace.

Trey dragged his attention back to his neighbour at the top table—it wouldn’t do for anyone to notice his interest was waning. And surely it would soon be time to acknowledge his recent declaration.

And of course, I wouldn’t even be considering running for mayor without the love and support of my family, especially Paige, my daughter and campaign manager, although which position is more important to her, I’m not sure… Carlton broke off to allow the titter of polite laughter to ripple around the large room. To Trey’s right, Paige blushed as if on cue, protested Daddy! in her sweetest little girl lost voice and the laughter morphed into ahhs and sighs.

The mayor-pretender smiled down at Paige with genuine affection and, with a wave of his hand in her direction, proclaimed proudly, My daughter, Paige. And her ever-present shadow, Trey, who I consider one of my own.

Carlton Black focused his icy blue eyes on Trey, eyes made even colder by the crop of silver hair that framed his face. They held none of the warmth which had been directed at his daughter a moment ago and Trey had to steady himself to avoid visibly flinching. A smile with more teeth than was proper, unless you were a coyote eyeing up a prospective meal, was sent in his direction and Trey reviewed the short response he had prepared for the upcoming announcement.

A young man who I hope will one day consider joining the family proper and make an honest woman of my baby.

Confusion swept over Trey, his prepared reply drying up on his lips, and he opened his mouth to protest. Fingernails, razor sharp and perfectly manicured, dug painfully into his thigh through the high quality wool blend slacks. Flicking his gaze away from father to daughter, he hid his grimace of pain and frowned. Paige’s eyes flashed a warning and her face settled into her public smile, fixed and emotionless.

I’m kidding, son. Carlton’s voice, smooth as syrup, dragged him back to the main, no, only focus of the evening. No need to look so scared.

Forcing himself to laugh along with the gathered throng, who were no doubt laughing at him, Trey battled down the urge to stand and shout about the injustice of it all. Waiting until Carlton’s attention returned to the prospective voters and backers in front of him, Trey let the smile fall from his face and fixed Paige with a glare, which she studiously ignored.

Speeches finished, people started to drift away from their tables, eager to get a word with Carlton or Paige to discuss funding and curry favour. Others sought to ingratiate themselves or their wives by boasting about the charity committees they attended. No one had any interest in the boyfriend – a former degenerate saved by the love of a good woman and her benevolent and understanding father.

Grateful for small mercies, since he had no desire to speak to anyone but Paige at that moment and that wasn’t a conversation that could take place in public, Trey snagged a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and went in search of his friends.

Weaving between empty tables and small groups who had collected while they waited for their chance to approach the top table, Trey found his path suddenly blocked. He glared at the blond who had stepped out in front of him before forcing a smile onto his face. There was no way he was going to let his feeling of betrayal and hurt spill over into this conversation.

Chad. Trey greeted the fellow polo player and one of Paige’s former boyfriends. A position he liked to subtly remind Trey of constantly, and one that Trey suspected he would be happy to resume given the opportunity. It wasn’t hard to imagine the smug, gleeful expression Chad would wear on that near perfect face if he found out what had happened—or not—this evening.

Trey. Chad returned the greeting with a wide smile and ran an appraising glance over him from head to toe. Trey knew he was checking out the outfit, not his body. It wouldn’t occur to Chad to even consider that, he was as straight as an arrow with not a curious bone in his body. But he did like to keep abreast with all the latest fashions, be they gadgets or clothes.

Nice shirt and I love that tie! It’s the new Patrisse, yes? Chad gushed. I’m so jealous, Paige has such connections. That collection isn’t even available yet.

Trey glanced down at the extremely thin tie that had required an overly complicated knot to make it lay right. It had taken him forever to tie and even then Paige had needed to fix it for him before they entered the ballroom. He was assailed by the memory of her blue-eyed gaze dropping to the base of his throat to fix his tie, or so he’d thought. Maybe she hadn’t been able to look him in the eye…if she’d known that her father intended to run roughshod over his plans…their plans? The sharp stab of her fingernails in his thigh and the lack of surprise in her reaction implied not only that she had known, but she had been complicit in railroading him.

Bringing his hand up to push his normal flop of fringe from his forehead in an instinctive gesture, Trey belatedly remembered that his hair had been gelled back for the evening at Paige’s insistence, turning his normally dark strawberry blond hair a chestnut brown shade. Trey didn’t know which was worse, applying the disgusting brown glop or Paige’s derogatory I would hate people to think you were a redhead, darling which regularly accompanied the instruction to make himself presentable.

His hand hovered impotently in front of his face, bringing to his line of sight the ridiculously large, angular cuffs which Chad obviously coveted. He hated this shirt, the way the material of the cuff scraped against the back of his hand. Paige’s claim that he would be the darling of the society pages held no sway. He’d worn the outfit to make her happy because she made him happy. Now Trey was confused and angry and, to add insult to injury, he just looked foolish. If he had to wear a shirt to be shunned, then what was wrong with the classic silk and cotton blend he’d picked out of his own wardrobe?

Yeah, it’s great, Trey said, the muttered words muted behind the stiff material. Resisting the urge to tug at the matching over-large collar, Trey let his hand fall to his side. Damn, he needed a drink and there was no way he was having any more of that sparkling happy juice.

Scotch. Trey caught the arm of a passing waiter and all but growled his request. The acknowledging nod was almost imperceptible, the widening of the eyes at being manhandled even more so. Nevertheless Trey noticed, he’d waited tables in his past and didn’t want to be one of those pricks who never noticed the help. Please.

All attempts to subsequently make small talk failed and Chad soon made his excuses and moved away in search of brighter, more influential pickings. Ones who could get him the latest tie from Patrisse.

Even his friends, his real friends, that was, had disappeared. He grabbed the offered Scotch from the silver tray with a curt nod, leaving the napkin where it lay, and made his way with little subtlety out of the banqueting hall.

After all, nobody would miss him. It wasn’t his special day, was it?

* * * * *

The Patriots game was in its second quarter and Trey had started on the contents of the liquor cabinet before Paige managed to find him, which was strange because he hadn’t made it particularly difficult for her. He could only assume she had taken a while to even notice he was missing.

Where the hell did you go?

Trey raised his gaze from the TV for barely a second before returning to the screen. Her hands rested on her hips and she leant forward slightly. He imagined rolling his eyes, but only visualized it because Paige rarely took kindly to sarcasm of any sort. Since he was lying on the bed in the hotel room they had hired to get dressed in, watching television and drinking Scotch, he was certain Paige could deduce the answer to her own question.

Well? she said.

Perhaps not then.

I didn’t think anybody would miss me. Movement in his peripheral vision caused Trey to glance up, just in time to see Paige bend to angrily pluck the crumpled material of the designer shirt from the floor.

This is an original. How dare you treat it like that? Do you know how much it cost?

I doubt you paid for it. Trey didn’t even attempt to disguise the bitterness in his tone. Philippe would have been grateful for the publicity. Give it to Chad if you’re that bothered, I’m sure he’d love it.

He met her gaze as it finally settled on his recumbent form. Sweats and a tee? Where did you get them from?

They’re mine. I do have clothes of my own. Comfortable clothes. Trey didn’t bother to hide his eye roll this time. He leant over the side of the bed and snagged the decanter of Scotch from the floor. Carefully, he poured an inch of the amber liquid into the heavy cut-glass tumbler resting on his flat stomach. I’m not just a clothes horse for your friends’ latest whims.

Don’t you think you’ve had enough?

Yep. Of this. Trey dug his free hand into his pocket, fingers fumbling against the velvet as he tugged the small box free. He tossed it toward her. Maybe you should give that to Chad too.

Paige caught it deftly, but then she probably hadn’t had anywhere near as much to drink. Sighing, she clasped the box tightly in her fist. I meant the whiskey.

I know what you meant. Trey glanced back at the game as cheers rang out of the speakers. He couldn’t even remember what the score was, or if he’d ever known. And I’ll keep drinking until I’ve blotted out the memory of this evening. Maybe it would be better to forget the last few days.

Actually, I thought the party was going rather well, Paige said, and her tone had slipped from angry and demanding to good-natured and pleasant. Trey assumed she was being purposely obtuse in an attempt to appease him. Well, it wasn’t going to work, not this time.

Oh yes, fab-u-lous. Trey stretched the vowels in exaggerated mimicry of the country club set that made up most of the attendees of the party, and by extension, Paige herself. Irritation, or a similar emotion, flashed over her features, but she managed to keep it in check. Oh she must really want to keep him on her side if he wasn’t going to get a lecture for taking the rise out of her and her friends. With no reprimand forthcoming, and buoyed by a whiskey-induced feeling of bravery, Trey took advantage and continued to voice his opinion.

I invited the few friends I was allowed to hear an announcement that never came. And then I was berated by your dad for something I’ve already done. Trey tossed back the Scotch in one hearty swallow. It burned a path down to his stomach, but Trey ignored it. Thank God I never asked my mom to come all this way.

Ahh. At least Paige had the good grace to blush.

Resolutely, Trey ignored the delicate shade of pink that infused her cheeks and spread down her long, elegant neck. If she started being nice, he would forgive her too easily, even when he knew he was being manipulated. The bed dipped to his left, and despite his resolve, he caught a glimpse of her beautiful, blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders. Damn it!

He clenched his jaw and ground his words out through gritted teeth, determined not to shout. Did I or did I not propose to you, not two days ago? Didn’t you beg me to keep it quiet so we could turn our engagement into a media circus at this banquet?

Yes, you did, Paige said, her voice gentle as a calming balm, and I love you for it. But—

So where was it? The big welcome to the family speech? Trey slammed the tumbler onto the night stand and then pushed himself up on to his elbows. I did everything you wanted. Both of you.

I know you did. Fingers danced lightly up the soft skin of his inner arm, tracing the path of veins with a feather-light touch. "And he is really pleased for us, but Father and I thought it would be best to wait before we make the announcement."

Wait? Under the anger and confusion, something tight unclenched. She wasn’t calling the engagement off completely. Why? I thought you wanted to be Mrs Trey Capell.

I do. I love you, my darling. Paige’s soft palm cupped his cheek and the intoxicating fragrance of her perfume swirled around his head, making him giddy. You’ve got to understand our position. If anything came out that could affect my father’s campaign… I—we need to be sure there are no skeletons in your closet.

Trey sighed. You know all my dirty little secrets. Not that they are particularly dirty or secret. I was a beach bum, spending my evenings waiting tables to keep me in board wax so that I could spend my days cresting the waves. Once in a while I got stoned and, sober or not, I wasn’t fussy about the gender of my bed partner as long as they were fit and gorgeous.

His words unleashed a wave of memories—sea, surf, freedom—bringing the previously receding anger back with them. "That was what you liked about me! I was on the safe side of dangerous. I don’t have any skeletons. You know I don’t."

I do.

Tell it to the minister, Trey said, spitting the words out as if they tasted as caustic as he feared they sounded.

I will, eventually. We just need to get this sorted first. Daddy’s happy he knows everything about you, but what about your family…

"My family? Trey pushed himself up, dislodging the hand on his cheek. Okay, now he was furious. My sister is a happily married kindergarten teacher with two gorgeous children of her own. And Mom, well, she’s a bit of a hippy chick, roaming wherever the sun goes, but she says the cold and the dark nights here bum her out."

Paige raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and Trey knew she was expressing her disdain at that last phrase, but thankfully she didn’t berate him for it. She was already walking shaky ground by questioning his family honour.

"As for my dad, do I need to remind you that he was a decorated soldier who gave his life serving his country?" It took every ounce of strength he had not to scream this fact so that everybody in the hotel could hear. He was from good stock, whatever they all thought. The fact he had chosen to live the first decade of his adult life enjoying himself was because he knew firsthand that it could all be taken away at a moment’s notice. Loved ones, stability, happiness. Life could be too short.

No, you don’t. Paige’s response was subdued. I understand why you drifted away from life in the way you did.

I was enjoying myself! The words exploded from him before he could stop them, but as with many things she didn’t like, Paige just ignored them.

It’s your ancestors we’re worried about.

I’m responsible for the behaviour of my great-great-great grandfather, or even worse, his brother? Trey couldn’t contain his surprise and a laugh bubbled up from his throat at the ridiculousness of it all. Our wedding depends on whether I can prove my ancestors weren’t slave traders or murderers or—

Even the past can hurt politicians. We’ve seen that in the news in recent years. Paige brought her hand back up to reach for him, but something in Trey’s face must have told her not to bother. Instead, she settled it on the bedcovers a fraction of an inch from the flesh of his bare arm. I’ve made arrangements for you to see an eminent genealogist, one of the best in Boston. You have an appointment with him tomorrow at ten.

He can’t be that good if you can get an appointment so quickly, Trey said, aware that he sounded petulant, but not caring one bit.

This man has a waiting list which we have jumped by about three months. We are paying well for the privilege of an early appointment. The least you can do is turn up, give him an hour of your precious time and answer his questions, however dusty, ancient and unnecessary any of this may appear to you. Paige had her official voice on, the one that brokered no argument.

You’re ordering me to go and sit in a dank, musty room full of books while some old guy probes into my past. Trey couldn’t quite believe the direction the conversation had taken.

Not ordering you, no. Go. Don’t go. I can’t force you either way. Paige sighed sadly, and her voice resonated with genuine remorse. Placing the small velvet box in the palm of Trey’s hand, she closed his fingers around it. "But I can’t accept this unless you do."

Chapter Two

Leafing through the documents that had been couriered over that morning, Ewan Matthews pushed his glasses back up his nose so they framed his hazel eyes and bemoaned the complete lack of information he’d been given. A birth certificate, a list of names and some corresponding dates. Oh and a