Compared to the continually rainy weather in Britain, the sunny and cloudless weather in France would always be able to lift Walker's spirits --- but usually, his cheer would not last for long, the happiness he would feel at seeing the bright and beautiful sunshine would quickly fade to almost nothingness when Wiltshire would deliberately stir up trouble.
“Where are my clothes? God, what are you playing at now!” For example, early in the morning on that day --- because of last night's over-indulgence, his waist ached and his legs hurt, but at the same time he also had to endure the Marquess's mischievous pranks. Under these circumstances, Walker really felt like he was approaching the end of his strength in both body and spirit.
“Dear, are you alright?” When contrasted with Walker's stony face, Wiltshire seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood. He was holding a cup of steaming hot red tea, beaming as he looked at Walker from where he was reclining beside the fireplace. “Your clothes were strewn all over the floor last night, I have helped you put them into the armoire, I hope you won't mind.”
Remaining calm and unruffled at such a time of chaos, he took a sip of tea. Raising the cup in his hand, he asked in a relaxed tone of voice: “Want me to help pour a cup for you?”
“No need for that!” Ostensibly, he had just woken up, but Walker was feeling that he had already entered into a state of spitting anger. If it weren't for the fact that his body was totally bare, he would have jumped out of bed and smashed the cup that the Marquess was holding into bits. But when he took into consideration that there was still a favour he had to ask from him, he could only soften his tone and ask: “Then could you help bring me some clean clothes?”
“Ah, the weather today is really not bad at all! Walker, what do you think?” The Marquess's response was to set down the teacup he had been holding, and walk to the adjoining balcony, pretending to enjoy the view and also to conveniently stretch his body on the way.
“You are a…” Walker stopped mid-curse, and finally decided that if he wanted something done, he should do it himself. Swallowing the foul language that had not yet escaped his mouth, he wrapped himself up in the sheets and got out of bed, walking to the armoire and taking out a set of clean underclothes.
However, in the interval before he put his clothes on, he turned around and was directly met with the Marquess's green eyes, which were brimming with a smiling expression. Wiltshire's eyes swept pass his chest and waist, and then quite rudely locked onto the place between his legs --- early that morning, he had racked his brains for a scheme, and had came up with the idea of handing all of Walker’s clothes, both his underclothes and the clothes he wore over them, to the maid to be cleaned, all in anticipation of this moment.
“Wear that Scottish kilt, please? Today we are setting off for Bordeaux, it will be more convenient for you to wear a kilt.” The Marquess leaned on the railing; his beautiful smile, when coupled with his golden hair that shimmered under the sunshine, made him look as if he were angel. However, what emerged from the mouth of this angel were lines that were more fitting for a lewd demon.
Of course, Walker would know exactly what he was referring to when he had said the word “convenient”. He gave a disdainful snort; with an ashen face, he finished dressing himself at maximum speed. Slamming the door as he left the room, he threw the memory of the Marquess's self-congratulatory smile to the back of his mind.
He went downstairs and ordered a simple breakfast; just as he was midway through his meal, Wiltshire walked into the room. His dazzling appearance had always caused him to be the cynosure of all attention in the room. Once the proprietor saw him enter, he immediately went up to welcome him, with a big smile across his face.
“My Lord, I have found you a rental carriage and driver that would suit your needs. As per your specifications, the interiors have been lined with top-quality velvet and the sound-proofing is excellent!” The proprietor's fawning attitude was clear evidence that he must have received handsome tips from Wiltshire.
“Well done!” Wiltshire patted him on his shoulder, and casually fished out two silver coins from his pocket and gave them to him. Instantly, a smile bloomed on the proprietor's face that was as radiant as a flower.
Following this conversation, the Marquess walked over to Walker's table and seated himself. The proprietor followed him over, obviously trying to please him still further, he said: “Just one thing My Lord, since you are going on a long journey, so why did you only request for a small carriage, wouldn't a larger one be better? The fee would only be just a bit higher…”
Abruptly, an ear-splitting “dang lang [1]” sound rang out from beside him, making him jump in fright and stopping him from speaking further --- the sound had been caused by Walker flinging down his knife and fork onto the plate. Clearly in a rage, he stood up and stormed out, seemingly unable to endure having to listen to such a topic of conversation any longer. Greatly shocked, Wiltshire also stood up, after throwing the proprietor an imperious look, he followed behind walker and walked out of the dining room.
“Walker, don’t go yet, listen to my explanation!” He was panting as he caught up to Walker, and caught hold of his arm.
When Walker turned back to face him, the expression on his face was not actually anger, instead, it was one of frustration. “There is no need to explain, my Lord Marquess! I already understand what you are going to say. I know that you're very bored, and I am a toy that you enjoy playing with very much, isn't that right?”
“No! Why would you think that?” Like a rattle-drum [2], Wiltshire quickly shook his head. “I am not so idle that I'll waste my energy teasing someone I don't care about!” He reacted spontaneously, blurting out his words without thinking them over. It was only after the fact that he found that he had said something strange.
Immediately, the air became still with silence. The two people began to feel awkward and embarrassed because of these words, which bordered on being a confession. They looked at each other at a loss, not knowing what they should say.
“Uh, I meant to say...” After a long while, Wiltshire decided to take it upon himself to break the silence, but before he had a chance to speak, someone was calling his name from beyond the door.
“My Lord Marquess, the driver is here, do you wish to set off immediately?” It was the proprietor’s voice.
As if he were waking up from a dream, Walker freed himself from Wiltshire's hands, his expression discomfited. Looking at the Marquess with embarrassment, he said: “I’ll go and sort out the luggage.” Tossing these words out, he raced upstairs as quickly as if he had sprouted wings, looking like a rabbit that was being chased down by a wolf.
When the two of them had completed their packing and were about to set off, Wiltshire discovered that besides the heavy luggage and trunk, there was also a sopping wet bag inside the carriage.
“What is that?” The Marquess shot a look at that bag. Pretending that he did not see the seat opposite Walker, he squeezed himself beside Walker and took a seat, managing to make his actions look quite natural.
Walker shifted his buttocks closer to the side of the carriage, and said ill-temperedly: “Nothing much! They are just the clothes that a certain fool sent away for washing right before our departure!”
“Hehe…” The Marquess gave a couple of giggles, and decided to change the subject.
“Have you heard of Bordeaux?” Bordeaux was a famous city in the south of France, and it was also where Baron Simon Portland [3], the man who had abducted the Princess, lived.
“I’ve only heard of the wines that come out of that region.” Walker admitted honestly.
“In addition to the delicious wines, the scenery of that place is also most excellent. Maybe when our business has been concluded, we can go to the Mediterranean Sea for a cruise and some sight-seeing.” Wiltshire put his hand on top of Walkers, and smiled as he bowed his head, looking as if he were making a promise.
Not giving him any face [4], Walker snatched his hand away.
“Wait until you have found the Princess to speak of this, my Lord Marquess. If the Prince Regent finds out that you have come to France only to persistently go on leisure trips, he may just tear strips off your skin when you return to Britain.”
“Perhaps at that time, it shall be my turn to elope, with you!” The Marquess did not seem at all chastened; instead, he took the opportunity to poke fun at Walker.
Walker gave a couple of hollow laughs. “That is such an unfunny joke! You have probably forgotten, but I am not some idle princess who does not have to worry about where her meal is coming from. I am just a poor farmer, and I have two minor brothers at home and a bedridden mother…”
“Well then, you can play the part of the prince instead! You can rescue me, the pitiful princess, from a dreary life...” Wiltshire interrupted him, and in a half-serious and half-joking manner, he lay down on Walker's knees, taking the opportunity to wink at him with his pair of large eyes, which were framed by rows of thick eyelashes.
Walker was stunned for a moment. Looking down, he had found that there had been some sincerity in Wiltshire's eyes. The Scotsman opened his mouth and was just about to say something when the Marquess's hand suddenly grabbed hold of his most sensitive part...
“Hell with it!” Hearing the sound of Wiltshire bursting into loud laughter, Walker could not help but to curse himself --- that he actually would think that this person, who had only been bullying him right from the start, would ever be serious, even for a moment.
He caught hold of that agile hand forcefully. Walker seemed both furious and frustrated as he said: “Why do you always have to be like this? Why are you not willing to seriously listen to me, even just one time?”
“Alright, alright! Then… I’ll just touch you for a short while this time, alright? My dear?” Wiltshire stopped laughing, pulling out a pitiful expression, he relaxed the hand that had grabbed Walker's genitals.
“You clearly know that that’s not what I meant…”
Not letting the Scotsman speak further, the Marquess's hands had already undone the buttons of his shirt. After Walker's chest had been completely laid bare, Wiltshire embraced his waist with his arms, and deeply imprinted his lips upon Walker's left pectoral. Feeling the strong beats of Walker's heart under his lips, Wiltshire's hand began to slide around slowly, wandering everywhere around the body that had been kissed by sunshine, branding it with traces of his own passage.
Hearing that the Scotsman's breathing was beginning to become chaotic, the Marquess could not help but to press close against his chest and chuckle...
The journey from Paris to Bordeaux was quite a long one, besides the time they stopped for meals and when they retired to an inn for the night, the rest of Wiltshire and Walker's time was spent within the confines of the small carriage.
Although he was annoyed with the way the Marquess always turned their conversations into a combative meeting of the flesh without any provocation, Walker had to admit to himself that he was never ever bored when he was together with Wiltshire. Besides his lovely visage and lofty status, the Marquess's complex character was like a book that one could never complete reading; every time it was flipped opened, the reader would be presented with fresh content. This caused Walker to forget the fatigue of the journey, and it was with keen interest that he conversed with him --- of course, sex was the spice that added even more flavour to the conversation between two people of vastly different social stations.
Every time Wiltshire began to become weary from the conversation that required continuous concentrated effort, he would fall silent and lean against the back of the seat, observing Walker who was still deeply engrossed in their conversation. And when the Scotsman became aware that his gaze had become laced with a hidden agenda, and answered it with his own indignant or shamed glare, the Marquess would pounce on him and press him against the seat of the carriage.
Throughout the long and winding journey, the two people spent their time in a strange way, balanced between conversation and sex, one activity following the other. In this way, one day passed right after the other, and they were also getting closer and closer to their destination…
Very unfortunately, when the driver stopped the horse carriage to announce with much satisfaction that the great moment when they had finally arrived at their destination was at hand, it just so happened that Walker and Wiltshire were in the middle of interacting using their lower bodies.
When he heard the driver announce with unbridled joy that they had reached their destination, the Scotsman, who had been twisted in an awkward position and was grinding his teeth as he endured the pain of being penetrated, began to try pushing away the Marquess, who was on top of his body. However, Wiltshire wilfully wrestled with him, while he picked up the pace of his thrusts and coupled it with the action of teasing his nipples, trying to use pleasure to persuade him to qive up his resistance.
“Darling, it’ll be finished quickly enough! Very quickly… I’ll be coming soon… you’re amazing! Just a moment! Ah ah…” Paying no mind to the driver who was standing quietly outside the carriage and waiting for them, Wiltshire continued to let out passionate shouts, at the same time as he was fiercely pounding into Walker, who was nearly completely exhausted.
After the Marquess finally enjoyed himself to his heart's content, Walker even had to rely on his help to tidy up his clothes. Swaying unsteadily on his feet, he got down from the car. In that split second, his extremely disappointing face had let him down again and became a sheet of red --- the carriage had stopped in front of a building that was representative of the French style. Standing beside the driver, who was wearing a stiff expression, was the female owner of the hotel who was dressed in a beautiful gown, and she was staring at Walker with wide eyes as he leaned on Wiltshire's arm for support…
Walker had never before been so thankful for Wiltshire's thick skin as he was at that moment --- the Marquess calmly supported him as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened and they followed behind the proprietress as she led them into the hotel. He also explained the reason they had not gotten off the carriage immediately in a rather understated way: “… Mr Robinson, my friend, he has a bit of a stomach-ache, I tried to relieve it with a bit of massage.”
When the proprietress gave a relieved smile at receiving such an explanation and praised him for his dedication towards his friend, Walker could only wear a twisted expression as he did his best to walk with his usual posture while leaning on Wiltshire's arm for support.
In accordance with his usual practice, Wiltshire again made a request for the hotel's best suite --- only this time, his excuse for sharing the same room as Walker changed; now it was only to make it more convenient for him to take care of his sick friend.
After the proprietress instructed the maid to bring them water to wash their faces, she retired, wearing a professional smile on her face.
Following that, Wiltshire laughed lightly and came to sit by the expressionless Walker's side. In a casual manner, he placed his hand on Walker's thigh --- which was immediately brushed away by the disgusted Walker.
The tired Scotsman sprawled onto the bed, unable to support his body anymore. In a hoarse voice, he complained: “Don’t you have a limit at all? You are practically like a boar in rut! No, if I were to say you are like him, even a boar will feel insulted. Even a boar that is in rut is more enlightened than you!”
Wiltshire heard what he had said and put on an injured expression. Clutching at his own chest, he affected the fragile voice of a pampered aristocrat and said: “Walker, your words wound me! Ah, you know how much I treasure every minute and every second that I spend with you!” Although that was what his lips were saying, in reality, he had rapidly stripped of the travelling jacket he had just put on not long ago, and was pressing down on Walker's body heavily.
Walker wished to weep, but he lacked the tears. At that moment, his whole body felt sore and limp, even the thinnest traces of strength that he could use to struggle had been wrung out of him --- but the Marquess's hands had already begun to seek out the buttons of his shirt, and he had also quickly jammed his knee between Walker's legs…
“It's all that damned driver's fault, he stopped the carriage before I had even had my fun!” The Marquess probably also felt that he had gone overboard, and for the first time ever, he opened his mouth to explain his lust.
Walker had already become tired because the arduous journey, and the last round of love-making had worn him out so much that he was practically on the verge of collapse. When he heard Wiltshire say those words, he only closed his eyes and ignored him.
A few minutes later…
“… No more! Beg of you… I can’t take it anymore… beg you please don’t do it anymore…” At first, Walker had tried to put up with it, gritting his teeth and allowing the Marquess to toss him around again and again. But the moment when the totally naked Walker felt Wiltshire's finger arrive at the depths of his insides, which was still relaxed and flexible, intense dread suddenly rose up in him --- he really did lack the strength to struggle yet another time and could only use his voice, which was also on the verge of falling apart, to plead with the Marquess to let him off, since he was already approaching the limits of his endurance.
It was a pity that he did not know that he when was in this state, when the rims of his eyes were wet and his voice was pleading weakly, he would only rouse the wild beast that resided in Wiltshire's heart further --- after Wiltshire rejected the Scotsman's pleas with a deadpan face, he quickly flipped him over, used both of his hands to grip his waist and directly penetrated into the place which was already adequately loosened.
With the reason being that he had been entered from behind, the pain and humiliation Walker felt was increased. In a state where his awareness had become scattered and muddled, Walker found the tears of suffering that had spilled over because of the attack to be unbearable. Finally, in that moment when the Marquess had suddenly pulled out, only to thrust in forcefully again, he lost consciousness…
By the time Walker woke up, the whole room was showered with the splendour of the setting sun. Wiltshire was sitting beside the window, looking serene as he read a book --- if he had not had personal experience of it, Walker would absolutely be unable to imagine that under this body with beauty so extraordinary that it had the power to move people, there lurked a nefarious and barbaric monster.
“You’ve woken?” When he saw that Walker had opened his eyes, Wiltshire tossed aside the book in his hand and smilingly walked to the side of the bed.
“Do you feel a little better now?” As he was asking, he reached out a hand to stroke Walker's forehead. “Want me to help you wipe your face?” Not waiting for Walker's reply, he walked to the front of a dresser by the side of the room and poured out some hot water. Carrying the washbowl and towel, he walked back to the bed and started to wipe Walker's face and neck clean.
“You…” Walker watched his considerate actions with his heart palpitating with some fear --- Wiltshire had always been adept at playing the part of a licentious and extravagant aristocrat, but he had never before revealed this kind of gentleness and warm familiarity.
“Don't open your mouth so wide, it makes you look very silly!” Lamentably, the very next sentence the Marquess uttered smashed into smithereens the tender sentiments that were just beginning to take root in the Scotsman’s heart.
Walker hurriedly closed his mouth, which had been hanging open because of his surprise, angered by the humiliation he had received, his tone of voice became mocking: “…I am very sorry about my gauche behaviour. But my Lord Marquess, please remove your honourable hands. I am just a commoner, I am not worthy of your concern.” As he was speaking, he was also reaching out his own hands to tear away Wiltshire's hands, which were wiping his neck.
But Wiltshire persisted in a most stubborn way, he even tore Walker's shirt open and began to wipe his chest --- weakened, Walker lacked the strength to engage in another bout of wrestling with him, and he could only choose to glare at Wiltshire angrily to express his dissatisfaction.
At first, he only wanted to express his apologies through his actions, but Wiltshire had slowly fallen in love with this game. It was different from direct caresses, their skin did not touch because of the towel, and Wiltshire pretended to brush across the Scotsman's nipples accidentally, so as to make his body become even more sensitized. Seeing how cute Walker looked at that moment, when he was making a supreme effort to show restraint but was still unable to keep from breathing deeply, the corners of the Marquess's mouth could not help but to curve upwards.
“Bastard! No need for you to wipe me!” When he saw Wiltshire's lecherous smile, Walker suddenly regained his senses. He gave the Marquess a shove with his arm, thinking to get out of bed under his own power, but the result was that because he had used too much force, he took a tumble and fell to the floor.
Without expression, Wiltshire looked at the Scotsman who was cutting a very sorry figure indeed. He knew that if he should laugh that this moment, he would surely be murdered by Walker. With great effort, he fought back the urge to laugh as he helped Walker up. Looking at the Scotsman's dejected profile, he tried to divert his attention away from his anger.
“I've asked around and have heard from people the location of Portland's residence. It is about an hour's journey from here; we shall set off early in the morning tomorrow.”
Walker was still deeply immersed in his miserable mood, but since Wiltshire was speaking of proper business, he could only respond: “If I can get sufficient rest today, I don't mind setting off early tomorrow morning.”
When he saw how serious and proper Walker looked as he made his hint --- that he was not allowed to make another sexual demand --- the Marquess could not help but to laugh out loudly and openly.
“My dear, no problem. Tonight we shall simply sleep.” That said, Wiltshire bent his head and planted a kiss on Walker's forehead --- the setting rays of the sun that streamed in through the whole window illuminated his jade-green eyes; in a split second his intoxicating beauty, that caused people to be dazzled and stunned, pieced like a sharp arrow through the Scotsman's heart, and it was a long time before he managed to regain his senses...
[1]: 当啷 (dāng lāng): this is supposed to be a metallic clanging sound.
[2]: 波浪鼓 (bō lang gǔ ): A hand-held toy. When it is shaken from side to side, the beads at the side will strike the drum.
[3]: A note on the names of the characters in this volume. Many of them are probably French nationals, but the names sound more British in the translation. That’s because guessing at French names is quite beyond me, and these names are the closest that a google search turns up.
[4]: 面子 is the concept of "Face" in Chinese culture. This is a very important concept that governs all social interaction. One can lose face, gain face, and lose/gain face for others. Face can be roughly translated as "Dignity" or "Respect", but it is less about personal pride or ego, and more about how one is viewed by others. I think the closest Western concept would be social capital or stock. One is not only concerned with maintaining one's own face, he must also not cause others to lose face. You cannot gain face by causing others to lose face in Chinese culture, perhaps unlike in other cultures where you might be able to increase your personal prestige by proving a point at the expense of another person.
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