Low moaned in his sleep. He had been sleeping a little better since he had talked to Derry, but his dreams were making him wake up in a sweat. Over and over it seemed as though his brain wanted to drive him mad with the images of two bodies entwined in passion. Tonight was no exception as his brain descended into oblivion.

The difference tonight was that the man knelt on the floor before his brother did not seem to be Trent. His brother was moaning in pleasure while his hands gripped paler streaked hair that tumbled about. Low wasn't sure why, but he felt like he was holding his breath as he watched the boy being pulled back away from Derry's manhood.

He gasped in a breath, staring into bright blue eyes that stared through him as the head tilted to the side. The wet mouth was grinning at him with the same knowing look that Trent had used in the parlour after dinner the first night. He watched his own hands travelling familiarly up the tanned taut muscles that stood before them.

"It's alright... Just having a little taste." The twin boy was pulled to his feet and Derry was kissing him fiercely in an instant. He felt the ache building in his gut as he watched them in his dream. He wanted to scream and pull out his hair, but he was frozen in place just like that night. Forced to watch. Trapped.

He jolted awake with a gasp and floundered for a moment in his bed. The sheets were twisted about and drenched with his sweat. His limbs were sore, probably from thrashing. His body felt hot and yet cold with the perspiration that coated him. His head was swimming with the mortification of remembering his visions.

His gut ached. A dull throb taunting him with his own pleasurable feelings. He shook his head and willed the feeling away. He refused to give in to his desires. He refused to relieve such a passion as this. Even as his memory of the dream faded, the guilt and unease remained. He washed himself with frigid water from the stand and wore a new night shirt.

It was far too early to rise. He looked at the clock ticking on the mantel and counted the hours until even the serving staff would be awake. He sighed and sat on the side of his bed, raking a hand through his sweaty hair. He had never imagined he would feel so conflicted at the return of his dearest brother.

Ever since he could remember he had wanted to have him here by his side. He wanted to share his adventures with Derry. He wanted to eat, talk and run about the estate with him. Surely a child's dream, but a beautiful one. It was not gone, that dream. Just now, he felt like he wanted more. Not sure what, just more.

He wanted something closer than the friendship he saw between Derry and Trent. He wanted to be more special to him. He was jealous. That was it. He wanted to be special because he refused to be an equal in Derry's heart to Trent. If he had more then he would never lose his brother again. Not to anyone.

His heart ached suddenly with disquiet. He felt the shuddering after affects of his dreams. Like a ghost passing over him, flickering a faint image in his mind before disappearing again. He gulped at the hot rush that felt like embarrassment through his veins. He rubbed his stomach, the firm plane of his stomach lurching as he tried to quiet his mind.

"It was nothing. Just a dream." He murmured to himself. He grabbed a book on his bedside table and took the candle to light in the fireplace. He sat on the settee with the dark blue blanket wrapped about his knees, forcing his mind to concentrate on the words that spilled across the page instead.

It did not take too long for him to become immersed in the story as a substitute. His mind drifting to the world that danced across the pages. His body relaxed and his mind refocused. The candle burned down into its holder as the sun began to lighten the window with its rays. He breathed in, marked his page and turned with a smile as his valet came to check on him.

The man fussed over him, putting on socks and slippers as Lowell put aside his book and warmed his fingers under the blanket. He watched as the man prepared his outfit for the morning, approving of the pale blue morning jacket and tan breeches. He yawned as his valet pulled him about to get his shirt on and breeches fastened.

It did not seem to matter how carefully the man tied his cravat or folded his kerchief, in an hour or so he would look mussed. That did not stop the man from trying though, and Lowell smiled at his efforts. He dragged a hand through his hair as he looked in the glass. His valet smacked his arm and brushed the tangled locks back into a ribbon.

Certainly he looked presentable as he jogged down the stairs to the dining room. The small family sized one at the back of the hall was empty when he grabbed his plate and filled it from the fresh dishes that emerged from the kitchen. He smiled at the maids as they placed covered platters of warm sliced meat, prepared eggs, fruit, cheese and bowls of conserves before him.

He piled his plate and ate like a man starved. The watching staff exchanged small smiles amongst them, pleased that he still had his appetite despite his tired appearance. He ran into his father on the way out of the room, and sidestepped with excuses that he was busy yet again. Just being near the man made him feel uncomfortable still.

He ran out to the stables and checked on his favourite steed. The bay mare was a gentle if lively soul, and always greeted him with nickers and perked ears. He promised her a proper riding that afternoon before tea. Then he went out to the lake, skipping stones along the rocky beach side. He continued to the orchard, where he climbed a tree and sat in the branches to watch the men climbing ladders to harvest the fruit.

"Low? What are you doing up there?" He heard the amused voice call up from the bottom of the tree and he looked down to see Derry and Trent gone for a walk.

"Good morning brother! I am watching the harvesters." He motioned to the other trees with a big smile.

"And you had to do that from the top of a tree?" Trent rejoined with a raised brow. Low laughed and shifted himself so he could look down at them more comfortably.

"It is all about perspective. You should try it sometime." He teased back. Trent laughed and shook his head.

"No thank you. I don't do heights." He admitted with a wave of his hand. Derry had his head tilted back to watch his little brother and the other two men were rather mesmerised with the strong, tanned column of his neck.

"Pity. Shall I come down to you, then?" He asked with a devilish grin.

"Sure. We would be pleased to have you join us." Derry called back to him. He chuckled to himself as he suddenly jumped over the side of the branch he was sitting on. The two on the ground shouted in alarm as he grabbed the branch and dangled for a second as they scrambled out of the way. He dropped to the ground in a crouch and dusted himself off.

"Well now I know why you always look mussed. For awhile there I thought you were tumbling all the maids in the barn." Trent joked with him. He laughed freely and the three of them walked along the orchard path.

"I am afraid not. I have a terrible habit of wanting to climb and run about the estate. It made my tutor absolutely mad and the butler was always worried he would have to inform my father that I had broken my neck." He rolled his eyes as if the thought was melodramatic.

"I would have been frightfully worried to. Honestly I think it is a miracle if you haven't broken something." Derry replied with a frown. Low bumped his shoulder with a wink.

"Naw, I am indestructible didn't you know? I take after my brother." He pursed his lips and walked with a swagger that had the other two laughing at him.

"God, don't say that. He might get some strange ideas." Trent drawled at the two. Derry laughed again.

"If you are worried I might start climbing trees, you may rest assured I haven't the urge." He retorted with a grimace.

"That's good. If you change your mind... I know all the best ones." Low said cheekily. They got to the pasture and watched the shepherd come out with his dog as they were moving the sheep to the next field through a gap in the fence. A few stubborn ones kept trying to run off instead of following the rest of the herd.

The shepherd noticed Low standing there watching and waved to the three of them cheerfully. Low waved back with a grin. There was a sort of quiet companionship between the three men, one that Low had not expected to feel. Even Trent seemed more relaxed and talked less than he was wont to.

They moved through the fields, played fetch with a dog in the lane while his master watched with a smile, wandered up to the main drive and came back around the front of the manor. Trent was making up a new ghost story as they came in the front door, and the three laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

1671