WARNING: This chapter involves harsh sex and non-con. I will give an overview of
what was said in the next chapter, so anyone (this would be you, Legyviel) does
not want to read about Viggo hurting Orli and forcing him to say things during
sex, please stop reading when you see this: ***** and continue when you see more
of these ***** do look for the next set, as there is alot that happens in this 
chapter after the sex


Orlando had managed to avoid Viggo for the rest of the day. His husband was in a
foul mood and Orlando knew better than to be around him in such a state. He did
not have to wait long though, for later that night Viggo let loose his rant over
what had caused such a window to his true nature.

They sat at the well set dinner table that night when Viggo finally decided to 
talk. He had stalked around the house all day in a fit and he finally slammed 
his napkin down on the table.

“Unbelievable!” Viggo roared. “The nerve of the man! I mean really, he is gone 
for how many years and then right before I am about to get my money he makes a 
miraculous appearance?! I don’t like it Orlando, I don’t like it one bit. Then 
he has the audacity to thank me, the righteous bastard…”

“He probably was grateful” Orlando suggested, cutting a tiny little piece of his
roasted chicken dinner and nibbling idly, not really interested in what he was 
eating. He could not understand what Viggo was so very upset about, it was not 
as though the man needed the extra money.

Viggo rubbed he bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “The man is 
not grateful, Orlando. He is rubbing the matter in my face…I can tell it in the
snide manner he wrote to me…fronting it all with graciousness. He even made 
reference to you…bastard.”

Orlando wondered why that mattered so very much, but he figured he would not 
ask. He however did want to console the man somewhat so that he would not have 
to handle the man’s sour mood all night. “Well, my Lord…it is not as though you
needed any more money, you are very well set off with a good home…”

“Orlando, my darling, you know nothing of finance and social standing. Everyone
was expecting me to inherit that money…it is embarrassing that right before I 
was to collect this man comes and takes it from me. It is all a matter of 
image.” Viggo took a gulp of wine before firmly setting his glass down. “No 
matter…No one has heard of or talked about Alec Trevelyan Lee in nearly twenty 
years, there is no way anyone will care about him now.” He looked down the table
at his beautiful prize, ever more radiant since his curls had grown out, framing
his face and making him appear ever more the angel people saw him as. 

Viggo smiled slightly as he looked upon his beauty’s cherubic face and doe eyes.
“Have more wine, my darling,” he said, his voice smoothly shifting from the 
short irritation to husky and ‘suggesting.’ He did love to give Orlando 
suggestions. 

Orlando looked up at Viggo with those dark eyes. “I am not quite done with my 
glass yet, my lord.”

“Orlando, my angel” Viggo sighed. “When will you start calling me by my name…do
you realize you have not once told me you love me, and yet I remind you of my 
love almost every day.”

“Forgive me” Orlando said. “I suppose I am as of yet not properly adjusted after
my long time of servitude.” His voice was flat, letting Viggo decide whether to
believe him or not.

“But my darling, we have been married nearly seven months, I think you have been
given all the time you need to adjust. From now on I no longer desire to hear 
you refer to me as your lord…unless we are in the bedroom that is” Viggo smirked
at the flush that came to Orlando’s cheeks at the inappropriate comment.

“From no on, refer to me as Viggo, or as ‘my love.’ Yes, that would be a 
delightful thing to hear fall from your lovely lips.”

“As you wish…Viggo,” Orlando said, accentuating the man’s name and the choice he
had made in how he would address his husband. 

Viggo’s eyes narrowed at the youth’s sudden display of will. His pride did not 
appreciate such displays. He figured that Orlando would come around with the
right persuasion, but after two more weeks and three elegant parties during 
which none had Orlando referred to him in an endearing manner.

The night of the third party he was more than furious. Orlando remained quiet, 
constantly disappearing and claiming to have been in the bathroom. He would 
attempt to hide in corners or remain near Lord McKellen enough for people to 
question if the two were some kind of distant relation. 

Viggo had to keep taking Orlando by the elbow and introducing him to everyone. 
He told Orlando to smile but the boy would not, and when he was forced to by a 
pinch of his arm, it was weak and quite transparent. 

He finally resorted to prodding Orlando to speak, saying things like, “My 
darling, do tell Lady Pitt how you are liking the house…we have been doing 
several renovations and I allowed Orlando to choose his preferences. You chose 
these draperies, didn’t you my love?”

At the end of the night, Viggo was ready to pry any sort of words from Orlando’s
lips. He remembered with dark growing rage when he had caught Orlando with the
servant Mr. Farrell in the hall after one of Orlando’s frequent trips to the 
water closet. The two had been talking in an intimate fashion, Orlando quietly 
whispering in Colin’s ear and the Irishman with his arm about Orlando’s waist. 

Orlando and Farrell were quite close it seemed, and Viggo had caught them 
several times embracing or speaking together, Farrell acting as though he were 
of their status and not a servant in the way he spoke to Viggo’s spouse. Rage 
and jealousy flared inside Viggo when he saw how Orlando would confide in the 
man, seek him out and spend his time with the confounded Irishman as opposed to
him, his husband. 

That night pushed Viggo over the edge. He had bared his teeth in a grin when 
Orlando had excused himself from the party, claiming a headache was making him
feint. He was tired of waiting for Orlando to come around and fully embrace 
their marriage. Viggo was tired of waiting to hear for signs of affection. It
would all end that night. 



Orlando was laying in his bed. Viggo had told him to come to him that night, but
he was far too tired and in no mood. He was sure his husband would be able to 
last one night without his cold company, and therefore retreated to his own
room. Colin had helped him undress and prepare, and it was good to be able to 
speak to the man. Colin was Orlando’s sanity. It was the moments and 
conversations with Colin that made it possible for Orlando to keep going. 

The youth lay facing the door, watching the golden light that peeked from the 
crack underneath. Orlando was quite relaxed in truth, merely glad to be away 
from the party and all of those people. He knew that Ian only meant well for him
in keeping close, but he wished the old man would not make such a fuss of him so
much. Lady Smith treated him quite indifferently, and Orlando rather preferred
it. He was glad he did not have to see Mrs. Dench often, as seeing her still 
brought pains to his heart.

As did the sight of his former friends and now servants. Orlando avoided Miss 
Tyler and Miss Winslet as much as possible, as well as the other former 
servants. He desperately hoped that some day he would be able to explain his 
reasons to them, but as of yet he just hoped to distance himself. He could not 
bear the idea of having to try and pretend to look down on them in front of 
Viggo to appease his husband. 

It was on such a thought line when Orlando saw the shadow of footprints beneath
the door. He froze, drawing the coverlet up to just beneath his nose, covering
his mouth and curling his knees up to his chest similar to the manner he slept
in. 

He closed his eyes tightly when he heard the handle of the door turn, and tried
to force himself to look a little more relaxed so it was not too obvious he was
faking. He heard the door open slightly before quickly closing. Orlando could
smell the burning oil of a lamp and his suspicions were confirmed where he could
faintly see the orange glow of a light behind his eyelids. He heard the clunk of
the lamp being set on the table before he felt the bed dip beside him.

“Orlando…”

Orlando heard Viggo’s gruff voice in a mimic singsong. The man shook his 
shoulder slightly before pulling down the coverlet and moving Orlando onto his 
back. 

“Orlando, I know you aren’t sleeping, open your eyes for me my darling.” Viggo’s
words were commands, not endearing requests, and Orlando obeyed them, batting 
his long lashes as he opened his eyes. 

The youth was still as Viggo began to rub his upper arm, the man’s dry hand 
sliding over the downy soft fabric of Orlando’s nightshirt as he caressed the 
slender limb in an almost obsessive manner, clenching and releasing 
sporadically. 

“You were very quiet at the party,” Viggo stated.

“Forgive me, I was quiet tired.” Orlando said. “And I had a headache.”

“A headache” Viggo clucked his tongue in distaste, his stormy eyes boring holes
into Orlando’s and the young brunette found himself unable to hold his gaze. 
“These headaches have been plaguing you often my angel…do we need to visit the
doctor again and resume your pills?”

Orlando did not say anything and this only aggravated Viggo further. “Yes…we 
should definitely get you some more pills my love, rid you of these afflicting 
headaches…it would indeed aid you in increasing your social presence, would it 
not. As well as make our marriage bed a warmer place…” Viggo studied Orlando’s 
face with an unblinking stare and did not miss the slight darkening of Orlando’s
eyes at the mention of their bed. 

“Forgive me, if I have…displeased you.” Orlando said, shifting slightly into a 
sitting position so that his face was no longer directly below his husband’s 
scrutinizing gaze. 


***** 


Viggo’s gaze never wavered as he watched Orlando shift uncomfortably. 
“Displease?” he said coldly. “Oh…you never displease me Orlando…you are many 
things…but the time I spend between your lovely thighs is anything but….
displeasing.”

Orlando tried to move closer to the wall, trying to create more space between 
himself and Viggo and looking down to avoid eye contact as his face flushed in 
embarrassment. He cried out slightly when Viggo took him by the upper arms and 
dragged him closer until they were face to face.

“What’s the matter my darling? Don’t you want to be close to your husband? 
Doesn’t it please you to know how much I enjoy fucking you? Look at me when I 
talk to you!” Viggo shook Orlando slightly until Orlando raised his chocolate 
eyes to his, fear shining in the dark pools. 

“Answer me, Orlando my dearest darling. Does it not please you to know I take
pleasure in fucking you?”

“I am glad you can take pleasure in such an act.” Orlando managed to say, 
holding Viggo’s gaze with his own.

Viggo did not blink as he stared at Orlando for several seconds until Orlando 
was so frightened he was ready to try and run for the door.

“And tell me, Orlando…do I please you? Do you like it when I fuck you?” Viggo 
grabbed Orlando’s chin and raised his face to look at him. “Tell me my love…do 
you like it when I shove myself between your legs and take you? Do you like the
feel of a man inside you?” Viggo yanked the covers down exposing the rest of
Orlando’s body before creeping his hand between Orlando’s legs and then shoving
it beneath the short nightshirt.

Orlando cried out and slapped at Viggo’s hand, clenching his legs together and 
trying to move away from Viggo. He was almost to the edge of the bed when Viggo
grabbed him by the shoulders and savagely jerked him back down onto the bed. 

Orlando cried out as he fell, struggling against the bigger man in a desperate 
attempt to free himself. 

Viggo grabbed Orlando’s flailing wrists and slammed them down on the bed on 
either side of Orlando’s shaking head. “Calm down, my love.” Viggo said, his 
voice still deceptively strong. “Calm down…now…you have not answered my 
question.”

“What-” Orlando asked, his voice trembling.

“Forgive me darling, I forgot how you can get when you have one of your little 
‘spells.’” Viggo adjusted himself slightly so he could more comfortably hold the
slight young man down. “I asked you…do you enjoy it when a man fucks you…be 
honest now darling.”

Orlando’s chest was pounding and he was too afraid to answer for a moment, but 
Viggo tightened his grip and Orlando nodded.

“What is it darling?” Viggo asked.

“I like it” Orlando said.

Viggo quirked a brow. “You like what?”

“When men…” Orlando swallowed. “When I am taken by…the man I love.”

Viggo sighed in contentment. “And by that man you mean your doting husband?” he
suggested in a mocking manner.”

Orlando hardened himself and shook his head. “No, by my true love. When you fuck
me…it makes me sick.”

Viggo’s whole body shook with rage at the words, and he drew a hand back, 
slapping Orlando across the face. “You dare!” he roared. “We’ll see about that!”
He released Orlando’s wrists and grabbed the neck of his nightshirt, ripping it
in his strong hands down the middle.

Orlando cried out and tried to back away, pushing Viggo’s hands from him, 
kicking his legs out even in an attempt to get free. Viggo moved on the bed, 
taking hold of his young spouse’s legs and spreading them. He commanded Orlando
to hold still, leaning his body down and trapping Orlando effectively. He calmly
reached up and trailed a finger down Orlando’s trembling face, brushing back a 
wayward curl as he spoke in even tones. 

“All night I have been endearing,” he said. “All night…to all our friends, and 
even in private, I have expressed my affection for you. I call you my love, my 
darling, my angel. I show you how much I love you.” Viggo ran his thumb over 
Orlando’s lower lip. “Is it really asking so much for you to do the same? You 
are still so cold and formal.”

“Forgive me, Viggo” Orlando said, trying to calm the man and ease his temper. He
tried to remain as still as possible, though he could not stop his body from 
trembling. 

Viggo’s scarred upper lip curled into a sneer. He snorted slightly before 
brushing Orlando’s hair again. “That is just what I mean darling…I would prefer
you call me “my love” instead. Can you do that for me, Orlando angel?”

Orlando looked aside, not wanting to make eye contact. “I suppose that is just
not how I am accustomed to speaking, Viggo.”

“Not accustomed to it with me you mean,” Viggo said. “Come now…my darling. You 
do not expect me to believe you did not exchange such pleasantries with your 
precious grounds man…”

Orlando’s eyes went wide at the mention of Sean. Why would Viggo bring Sean up 
ever? Orlando was shocked that the man even remembered who his beloved was. He 
could not speak at this, so he let his silence speak for him. 

Viggo ran his fingers through Orlando’s hair. “I thought as much. Now, I would
like to hear it from those rosy lips…tell me you love me.”

Orlando squirmed slightly beneath Viggo, trying to find a way from beneath him 
and not succeeding. “Please Viggo, I am most tired, can we not…”

“No” Viggo insisted. “This must be done now. Say it Orlando,” Viggo wrapped his
fingers in Orlando’s hair and jerked his head back. “It must be done now, my 
sweet. Tell me that you love me.”

“Viggo…please…”

Viggo jerked Orlando’s hair back again, making him cry out. “Say it.”

“No,” Orlando said in a strangled whisper. 

Orlando was rewarded with a slap for his words, and he cried out at the sound of
more ripping as Viggo tore away the rest of his nightshirt. 

“You will love me,” Viggo swore through clenched teeth and he looked down at the
naked slender body before him and reaching for the fastening to his trousers. 
Orlando screeched at this and tried to push the man’s hand away, knowing what 
was coming next. Viggo growled low in this throat and clenched one strong hand 
around Orlando’s throat, squeezing slightly to calm his struggled. As he had 
expected, Orlando’s hands rose to his throat to try and free the other man’s 
hand from there. Once Viggo had managed to free himself from his trousers, he 
released Orlando’s throat and instead grabbed his slender thighs, parting them 
further so he could lean between them. 

Orlando was beginning to cry now, tears of frustration and fear falling down his
cheeks as he pushed against the stronger man. Viggo raised his palm and licked
it for Orlando’s sight and benefit. He then lowered it between his legs and used
it to wet his erect member. He took hold of himself and found Orlando’s nether 
port.

Orlando squirmed when he felt the blunt flesh against his entrance, and tried to
crawl back away from the man, but was effectively stopped by Viggo’s hands. He 
cried in pain as his small opening was stretched wide by the man’s cock as Viggo
shoved into him. Orlando tried to clench his legs together, but the blonde 
lord’s body got in the way. Finally, Orlando just gripped the bedding until his
knuckles turned white. 

Viggo smirked and then groaned in pleasure when he thrust into Orlando again. 
The boy’s body was so very tight around him, and Viggo loved the way it clutched
his cock and squeezed it. Viggo sighed in contentment and stroked Orlando’s 
thigh, before sliding his hand up and gripping the youth’s chocolate curls. 

“There now,” he said, leaning down to lick away a crystal tear, reveling in its
sweet taste. “That’s much better.”

Orlando sobbed and turned his head away from the man’s, trying to hide it in the
pillow. Viggo jerked his jaw back so that their eyes met. 

Viggo thrust again savagely, making Orlando cry out. “Now…” he said. “Tell me 
that you love me.”

Orlando shook his head, the burning pain between his legs preventing him from 
being able to form any actual words. Of all the times Viggo had coupled with 
him, it had never hurt this much. What hurt him even more was how terribly 
obvious it was that Viggo was purposely causing him pain. 

Viggo thrust again hard, as deep as he could go, and smirked when Orlando cried
out in pain, his head falling back and his long legs jerking. Viggo could feel a
warmth around his cock and he knew he had torn Orlando.

“Call me your love” Viggo ordered him. “Tell me that you love me.”

Orlando cried silently, staring at the wall as Viggo continued to thrust into 
him, the searing pain growing with every push in and out. “Please stop…” Orlando
whimpered. “You’re hurting me…please…”

Viggo continued to thrust, some long and then accentuating with a hard one that
jerked Orlando back and forth. “I’ll stop my darling, I just need to hear that 
you love me. Come now…call me your love.”

Orlando shook his head with a sob, gasping in pain with every thrust. 

“Say it my sweet little darling,” Viggo said, his tender words a sharp contrast
to his cruel thrusts. “All I ask from you is a few words of affection. Is that
really so hard?”

Orlando cried out again, the cry much weaker than it had been before. He was 
breaking. He was tired of trying to be strong against Viggo and holding his last
threat of independence. Why was he hanging on so hard? It did he honestly think
Sean was actually going to return to him?

Orlando was limp in Viggo’s grasp, his body moving like a rag doll as is was 
jerked back and forth. Finally he spoke, his voice small and barely audible. 
“Please stop…”

Viggo could not clearly hear the mumbled words, so he leaned down and looked 
Orlando squarely in the face. “What was that angel?”

“Please stop…my love.”

Viggo sighed in contentment, stroking Orlando’s soft cheek and wiping away the 
tears there. “Ah…music to my ears my darling. Was that so very hard?”

Fresh tears ran down where the others had been cleared, and Orlando said 
nothing. He lay limp, feeling disgusting on the inside. He thought he was going
to vomit. Viggo leaned down to kiss him, and Orlando did not bother to move, and
certainly did not respond to it. 

Viggo was not at all bothered by this, and he thrust shallowly a few more times
before cumming with a groan deep inside Orlando. He leaned back slightly before
slipping his cock free of its now loosened sheath. He looked down and saw that
there was quite a bit of blood mixed with the semen on his softening member. The
blonde Lord used Orlando’s torn nightshirt to clean himself of the mess and even
swiped the cloth between Orlando’s legs to remove the mess that was seeping out.
Orlando whimpered at the cloth brushing against his torn flesh, but did not have
the strength to move. 


*****


Viggo removed himself from between Orlando’s legs and allowed the youth to close
his thighs. Viggo lay down beside the brunette and stroked his hair and face, 
occasionally running a finger down Orlando’s throat. He wiped at Orlando’s 
tears, but stopped eventually when he saw that the tears continued. 

“That has lifted a great weight from my heart, my darling.” Viggo said. “There
there my love, no need to cry…all will be well.” The blonde man pulled Orlando
into his arms and kissed the slack lips. “I feel like being close to you tonight
Orlando darling, but I do not desire to remain on these soiled sheets. I would
prefer to sleep in my own room…why don’t you accompany me, angel.”

Orlando knew he really did not have much choice in the matter, but he did know 
he did not want to spend his night lying in his own blood and Viggo’s release. 
Viggo stood and tucked his spent member back inside his trousers and fastened 
them. “Come with me darling, we will sleep in my chambers, and in the morning I
will send one of the servants to clean the sheets here.”

Viggo stood by the door and waited for Orlando to stand and follow him. 

Orlando dreaded the first step, knowing it was going to hurt badly. He gently 
moved himself to the edge of the bed, trying to not apply any pressure to his
anus as he went. He flushed at his own nudity as he moved, feeling Viggo’s eyes
on him and realizing the man still lusted for him even now in his damaged 
condition. It made him shudder.

The young beauty gingerly lowered one delicately arched foot to the floor and 
cried out when he applied his slight body weight to his shaky legs. He had known
it would hurt, but Orlando had not anticipated how crippling the pain would be 
and his knees buckled before he crumpled to the floor. 

Viggo clucked his tongue and chuckled slightly. “Oh darling…do you hurt that 
badly?”

Orlando said nothing but made only a slight choked sob.

“Come on darling…just come to me and I’ll help you to your room.” Viggo waited
for Orlando to move again. He eventually got impatient and walked over to 
Orlando. He pulled one of the extra blankets from the end of the bed and dropped
it on top of Orlando before bending and scooping the slender youth into his 
arms, picking him up easily and holding the beauty against his chest. “Must I 
carry you then angel?” Viggo smirked, completely ignoring the pain that Orlando
was in and treating him as though he were being a silly child.

Viggo carried Orlando from the room and down the hall and to his own room, 
closing the door behind him after laying Orlando on his bed.

The blonde Lord fell asleep quite easily, and did not notice when his young 
spouse slipped from the bed before the sun had even come up, donned some of 
Viggo’s clothes and hurried from the room.


Colin had woken early that morning, before the sun had even come up. He had been
very worried about Orlando, and decided to make the young man a good and healthy
breakfast. Orlando had looked so very tired over the past few weeks, his face 
pale and wan. Colin also noticed Orlando was losing weight, something that 
either Viggo missed or simply did not care about. 

As he was walking towards Orlando’s room, movement caught his eye when he passed
a window overlooking the back of the estate near the stables. Wondering who 
would be moving around this early in the morning, Colin cupped his hand to the 
window and looked out. 

The figure moved with a pained limp, but even in the dim light Colin could tell
that it was Orlando.

The Irishman was racing down the stairs in a second, and bounding out the door.
His heart began to race as he heard the movement of a horse, and he saw the 
curly haired beauty race from the stable on one of Mortensen’s black stallions. 

“Orlando!” Colin screamed. “Come back!” He began to run after Orlando, wildly 
signaling with his arms. The horse was not well trained, it surged and jumped, 
and Orlando was by no means an experienced rider. Colin had actually never seen
the youth atop a horse in his life. Orlando knew the horse was not trained, why
was he taking such a risk?

Orlando looked back, and even at the great distance Colin could see him begin to
loose his balance.

“Orlando! Stop the horse!” Colin could barely breath from running so hard, but 
he had to stop his young friend from whatever he was trying to do.

The horse went over the hill and disappeared, but Colin kept running, he had to
find Orlando before something happened. Colin stumbled against the grassy hill,
tripping on one of the many rocks that littered the grass, crawling a little as
he tried to right himself. His breath was ragged and his chest heaved. His
throat was beginning to burn as he went. He could hear the pounding of the 
horse’s hooves, and occasional neighs and whinnies. 

The horse was agitated, Colin could hear it, and then the scream he had been 
dreading filled his ears, creating a surge of pure adrenaline that pushed him
the rest of the way up the hill. When he reached the top, he looked down and 
could see the horse below.

The horse had no rider.

“Orlando!” Colin screamed, running as fast as he could towards the still form 
that lay unmoving on the ground. He fell beside the young man with a sob before
gently taking Orlando by the shoulders and turning him from his stomach onto his
back. There was blood running down the side of Orlando’s face, and Colin could 
see that the boy’s head had landed on one of the rocks. 

“Oh dear god, Orlando…Orlando please…wake up…” Tears clouded Colin’s eyes as he
frantically lifted the limp body into his arms, praying that the youth was still
breathing, for he was too shaken to actually be able to tell himself. Colin 
cradled the young Brit to his chest as he began the trek home. Though Orlando 
did not weight much, the dead weight added much, as well as the fear and 
shattered nerves that Colin was trying to keep in check enough to remember to 
move his feet. 

“Help me!!” he began screaming, tears running down his scruffy cheeks and jaw as
he trudged. “Please, someone!”

He could make out some lights being lit in the house, and sobbed in joy when he
saw a few people begin to emerge from the house. “Help!” he shouted again to 
catch their attention. He lost his footing and fell to his knees, pain shooting
up his thighs as he did and he gave a roar. The Irishman refused to give up 
though, and from somewhere deep inside him he found the strength to stand and 
continue. 

Colin could see Miss Huston as well as Miss Tyler hurrying towards him, one of 
the large servant Russell not far behind. 

The Irishman’s knees were buckling as he continued on, but he refused to fall or
drop Orlando. “Please help me!” He shouted again.

“Orli!” Miss Tyler screamed as she realized who Colin was carrying.

Colin finally stopped when he reached the house, his chest burned and heaved and
he could barely speak. “He…fell…horse…bleeding…”

Miss Huston took out a kerchief and held it to the bleeding wound on Orlando’s 
head. Russell held his arms out and Colin managed to hand the young man over to
him before collapsing to the ground in a wheeze of breath. Miss Huston directed
an order at Miss Tyler and repeated it when the frightened young woman did not
heed her. 

“Miss Tyler! Go in and fetch Mr. Farrell some water and get something to dress
Lord Orlando’s wound.” Miss Tyler nodded and hurried inside to do as she was 
told. Miss Huston leaned down to Colin and placed a hand on his back. “Are you 
quite alright, Mr. Farrell?”

“I’ll be…fine” Colin managed. “Just help Orlando…”

The housekeeper nodded and turned to Russell. “Mr. Crowe, do follow me. Mr. 
Meyers, hurry and tell Mr. Davenport to fetch his lordship immediately, then go
to town and find Dr. Holm.”

“Yes mum,” Mr. Meyers said to Miss Huston before hurrying into the house.

Miss Tyler reappeared just as Miss Huston was entering the house and handed her
the dressing. She then ran to Colin’s side and handed him a large mug of cold 
water.

“Here, drink this” She urged. 

Colin accepted and drank greedily, coating his dry throat with the cool water so
he could speak. 

“He hit his head on a rock” Colin explained. “Why was he riding that horse? He
knew it was not trained…he knew! Why would he do such a foolish thing?”

“Calm down, Colin…calm down,” Miss Tyler soothed. “Why was Orlando riding this 
early?”

Colin shrugged desperately. “I think he was finally running away. He was limping
Liv…he was hurt already, and I bet you my life that bastard Mortensen had 
something to do with it!”

“Shhhh!” She hissed, a finger before her lips as she tried to silence him. “Be
quiet Colin, what if somebody hears, you could get sacked.”

“I don’t bloody care!” Colin shouted. “He’s been killing Orlando ever since he 
brought him to this horrible place, and now Orlando may really die.” Colin was 
sobbing, hot tears running down his face, his whole body shaking. 

Miss Tyler wrapped her arms around the Irishman, letting him sob against her 
breast. 

Liv Tyler could tell that this was something that Colin had been holding in for
a long time. The Irishman had never kept things in as much as he had in the 
months at Walker Estate. She was beginning to wonder who he was being strong 
for, himself or another. 

She knew he was in love with Orlando. There were few that did not. She however 
was one of the few who completely understood just how deeply Colin’s love ran. 
She had seen Colin defend Orlando’s honor more times than she could count while
they had been at the house. Mortensen’s servants could not have matched the man
any better. With the exception of Miss Huston and Mr. Crowe, all of Mortensen’s
servants were cold and cruel. They mocked Orlando and called him Lady Mortensen
below levels, a name which Colin despised and chastised any who dared use it. 

Now she saw it all coming apart as the hard Irishman sobbed in her arms. 

Liv helped Colin to stand and urged him out of the night and into the house. 
“Come now,” she said. “We should see if Miss Huston needs any help.”

She was relieved when Colin nodded, and she lead him through the house to where
several servants were caring for Orlando until the doctor could arrive.

Colin could feel his throat constrict at the sight of an unconscious Orlando 
lying on a bare table in the kitchen, a cloth being wrapped around his head to 
try and stop the bleeding. He saw Miss Huston ordering Mr. Crowe and a few 
others about, and he tried to remain out of their way. He was relieved to see 
the slight rise and fall of Orlando’s chest, but he was still worried that 
Orlando had not yet regained consciousness. 

About fifteen minutes later, Mortensen came downstairs…dressed…and hurried over
to the table, his face a little overly expressive in his worry, but more furious
that something had happened to his most prized possession. 

“What happened?” he demanded.

“He fell from a horse,” Colin said, his voice hold and hard as stone.

Mortensen flashed him a look of irritation. “It is not yet four, what was he 
doing on a horse?”

“You tell me…sir” Colin sneered, his arms crossed over his chest. 

Viggo glowered at him, but did not say anything. His expression promised that 
the retaliation would come later, but Colin did not care. He knelt down beside
Orlando and cupped the young man’s lax hand. “Come on Orli,” he whispered. 

The doctor arrived in the next hour. Dr. Holm was a small, calm man, and he 
quickly ushered everyone out of the room besides Colin. Viggo was furious at 
this, and demanded why that incompetent fool was allowed to stay and he wasn’t. 

“I am his husband for Christ sake!” Viggo thundered indignantly. 

Dr. Holm quieted him with a wave of his hands. “Now sir, once I have everything
under control, you may indeed return and care for your charming spouse. Let me 
care for him first though. Besides, this man saw what happened, and I am going 
to need to know. Now…I will have Mr. Farrell fetch you when I have finished.”

Dr. Holm ushered Viggo to the door, and the blonde Lord finally accepted and 
left, though he was not pleased. The older doctor closed the door and sighed. He
then turned to Colin and Orlando, and saw that the dark haired Irishman had 
taken off his shirt and rolled it under Orlando’s head like a pillow. He crossed
back to the table and began to examine Orlando’s head. The wound did not look 
good. It was by no means fatal, but Dr. Holm was more worried abut other effects
the injury could have, namely memory loss, but there were others due to the 
placement of the wound.

Colin explained to him what he had seen, trying to be as detailed as possible. 
Dr. Holm nodded, pursing his lips slightly as he listened. 

“Did you say the boy was limping?” Dr. Holm asked. “Do you think he could have 
injured himself before he fell, and that the injury here was not obtained from 
his fall?”

Colin shook his head. “No, I saw him when he started riding. He didn’t have any
blood on his face…” Colin’s voice choked in his throat at the mention of the 
blood. 

Dr. Holms gave the man a smile and an attempt to cheer the other man. “One would
think you were the young man’s husband with the fuss you are making.”

“I should have been” Colin said without realizing it.

“What was that?” Dr. Holm asked.

Colin shook his head slowly, leaning down and stroking Orlando’s hair. Dr. Holm
cleaned the wound and bandaged it. He took his time, making sure everything was
precise and well done. Once he was satisfied, he asked Colin to fetch Lord 
Mortensen and return with him, for he wanted to speak to the both of them.

When the Irishman had left the room, Dr. Holm made a quick last inspection of 
the young man, checking his ankles and knees for any sign of swelling to signify
a sprain or a break. There was none, but as Dr. Holm lifted Orlando’s right leg
to check his knee, he saw some blood smeared on the table. 

Dr. Holm narrowed his eyes and gently spread Orlando’s legs. His eyes widened 
when he found blood between them, seeping through the far too large for him 
clothing. 

The older doctor froze for a second before turning to the door and opening it.
There was a male servant passing by, and he signaled him. The dark haired man 
was fairly large and looked strong, and Dr. Holm was glad of it. 

“Excuse me” he said. “I need you to watch this door, and don’t let anyone 
through until I say so. I mean anyone, including your employer Lord Mortensen.”

The man furrowed his brows in confusion, but like any good servant, he nodded 
and proceeded to stand by the door as he had been instructed. 

Dr. Holm turned back into the room and closed the door. He went back to the 
young man and gently rolled him onto his front before removing the large
trousers. He was worried at the amount of blood that was there, and realized 
what had happened when he saw the semen that was still running out as well. 

What was this child doing riding a horse in this condition?

The doctor was very glad that the poor boy was unconscious when he had to stick
two fingers inside of him to make sure he was not torn. He could see a slight 
tear, but he was pleased to see that the bleeding seemed to be stopping, and was
relieved that the boy was not going to need stitches…this time. He was going to
have to have a little chat with the boy’s husband about the roles of a husband 
in the marriage bed…

There was a pounding at the door and several irritated voices outside, one he 
could distinctly recognize as Lord Mortensen. 

Dr. Holm cleaned Orlando and rubbed at healing salve against his abused entrance
before removing the soiled trousers and instead searching the kitchen for a 
table cloth to wrap the boy in. He found it, and once he had removed the 
oversized shirt as well, he carefully wrapped Orlando in the cloth to cover his
nakedness and warm his body. 

Once that was done, Dr. Holm went to the door and opening it, finding the dark
haired servant and the Irish servant physically holding Lord Mortensen back, the
man sputtering threats and raising a hand to punch one of them, or both.

“My lord?” Dr. Holm said, clearing his throat. “You may come in now. There are 
some things I would like to go over with you.”

Once he entered the room, Viggo made an abrupt question. “Why are his clothes 
gone?”

“They were ruined sir, and I feared they would cause infection against his other
wounds…which is something I would like to speak to you about.” He ushered the 
blonde lord and the dark haired Irishman inside and then made what he had to say
quick and direct.

“Orlando’s condition seems to be stable, but there is no way to tell how long he
will be unconscious. If by morning he is not awake, you should fetch me again 
and we may have to take him to a hospital. The bleeding from his head has 
stopped, but we shall have to wait until he wakes up to see if any real damage 
has been done. I fear memory loss, but I would also hope to rule out any 
problems with his sight. Make sure he stays warm, and try and get some fluids 
into him.”

Dr. Holm turned to Colin and clasped his hands behind his back. “My good man, 
would you please carry young Orlando to his room, I have to speak to his 
lordship.”

Viggo began to protest, but the doctor waved him away and gestured for Colin to
lift the young man into his arms and carry him from the room. Colin was only too
happy to comply, lifting Orlando in his arms and swiftly heading for the door. 
He nodded to Russell as he passed and went to the stairs, climbing them
carefully and then going down the hall to Orlando’s chambers. He was by no means
prepared for the sight before him.

Dr. Holm turned to Viggo and leaned against the table Orlando had been lying on.
“I would like to speak to you sir, of your treatment of your spouse.”

“Excuse me sir?” Viggo said. “What do you know of my relations to my darling 
Orlando?”

“I know what I see, my lord, and I know how I would like to see my own children
treated, and I tell you sir, I would kill any man that left a child of mine in 
the condition I found your spouse.”

Viggo’s brows furrowed and he crossed his arms defensively. “Any injury Orlando
procured was from the fall…”

Dr. Holm shook his head. “The tearing of his rectum that I found was not caused
by any fall from a horse. Marriage is about love and commitment, my lord. You 
should be tender to that boy in the bedroom…why you would be so brutal is beyond
any comprehension of mine.”

Viggo sneered. “What goes on in my bedroom is no concern of yours.”

“It is, my lord, if I am to be expected to provide care for the boy…he is a mere
child sir and incidents such as this obviously have dire consequences.”

Viggo’s eyes darkened. “Are you trying to tell me, sir, that you blame me for 
this terrible incident?”

Dr. Holm nodded. “I am not a man to point fingers, sir, but in this instance, I
see nowhere else to point. I cannot merely take the assault you performed on him
obviously recently and his sudden need to escape as unrelated incidents. I need
to look out for my patient’s health sir, and I must say that the level of 
violence it looks like you inflicted on him worries me.”

Viggo stared at the doctor to see if the small man was serious. Dr. Holm 
returned his gaze with a stony one of his own, and Viggo finally shrugged. 

“Well, what in your professional opinion should I do now?” Viggo asked.

“Well, first of all, I think you should treat your young spouse a little better
in your bedroom. His tearing was minimal this time, but who knows what could 
happen next time. Not to mention the psychological effects this could have on 
him. I have heard the gossip around town about you and Orlando…I have heard how
quiet and withdrawn Orlando is, yet when I have spoken in passing to a few of 
your servants, and those that knew Orlando before he came to work for you have 
said he was a happy, cheerful boy.”

“So now you are telling me that I have been crushing my angel’s spirit. I think
I have heard enough Dr. Holm. Care for Orlando’s head wound…I’ll care of his 
spirits.” Viggo glowered at the doctor before extending an arm in offering for
the man to leave.

While this was going on, Colin had entered Orlando’s room and fell to his knees
when he saw the state of the bed. His eyes widened in horror when he saw the
blood on the sheets. “Oh god, Orlando…what did he do to you?”

What was worse was that Colin had a pretty good idea what had been done, and it
made him sick. He held Orlando to his chest, as though shielding the unconscious
youth from the sight. As carefully as possible, he lowered Orlando to the floor
and closed the door. He then went to the bed and ripped the soiled sheets from 
the bed, bunching them up and carrying them to the fireplace, where he lit them
and let them burn. He then went to the wardrobe and extracted new bedding and 
pillowcases, recovering everything carefully and smoothing them out until they 
were perfect. 

Colin furiously wiped away the tears that were clouding his eyes as he drew down
the sheets before returning to Orlando. He refused to look between the young 
man’s legs when he took the tablecloth from the youth’s slender body and lifted
him naked to the bed. He then returned to the wardrobe and took out a long 
nightshirt to dress the young man in. He knew that Orlando would not want to 
wake up naked, and so he carefully drew the soft material over the youth’s head
and pulled it down until it lay against his thighs. The Irishman than drew the 
covers up and tucked them in around Orlando’s body to make sure he would be
warm. 

Colin leaned down and kissed Orlando’s forehead tenderly. “Please be all right,”
he whispered.

He decided to sit with Orlando all night, his chair set beside the bed. He had 
taken a spare shirt from the wardrobe, donning it but not bothering to button 
it. Orlando was much slighter than he, and he knew the shirt would not fasten 
all the way. 

About twenty minutes or so into his sit, the door opened and Mortensen stepped 
in. He glowered at Colin and with a gruff tone barked, “What are you doing in 
here?”

“I figured someone should monitor him tonight,” Colin explained. “I figured you
would be wanting your rest sir, but if you would rather sit up tonight…”

“No, that’s quite alright.” Viggo said. “I want you to alert me the second he 
wakes or moves, understood?”

“Of course,” Colin said, his voice ice. “I took the liberty of changing the 
bedding…they were not fit to be slept in.”

Mortensen stiffened at the tone his servant used, and his posture hardened. 
“Very good Farrell.” He then left the room.

The night was long, the minutes slowly dragging by and Colin’s head kept nodding
up and down as sleep tried to overtake him. He refused to take his eyes off of 
Orlando’s steadily rising and falling chest, fearing if he moved his eyes for a
second, the youth would stop breathing. 

He thought back on the months they had lived at Walker Estates, and he wondered
how it had all come to this. Only a year ago, he had been bailing hay for Lord 
Lee, Lord McKellen had been sunning himself with Lord Lee on the patio, and 
Orlando and Sean had been locking lips in every dark corner on the premises. 

Colin hated to think what Sean would say of the whole mess. The man would be 
ashamed of what had happened to Orlando. Would he be ashamed of Colin for 
letting it be this way? Colin did not think so. He had done everything in his 
power to save Orlando, the circumstances just went so sour through treachery on
the part of Viggo sodding Mortensen. 

Then there was Orlando. The young beauty confided in him some, but Colin feared
that Orlando held the vast majority inside in attempt to ease Colin’s worries.
He just wished that the boy would be more honest. All he could think of right 
now was that moment in the bathroom on Orlando’s wedding day, when the boy had 
submerged himself and waited for death. Colin felt a shiver run down his spine 
at the recollection. Orlando was the type of person he worried about most, 
because he never knew what to expect from him. The boy was so quiet and serene 
most of the time, but he obviously was strong enough to endure Mortensen’s 
treatment, and had the will it seemed to end his own life if he felt his own end
had come. Now with the episode of Orlando trying to flee on horseback…Colin just
had no idea what to expect when Orlando woke. 

Colin’s head was lolling against his chest every few minutes now, and his 
breathing was evening, very quiet and faint. The room was completely silent, no
clocks there and no sounds coming from the outside. It was for this reason alone
that when the sun finally came up and began to seep into the room, coating it 
all with its sweet white light, that the little whimper that slipped from 
Orlando’s lips was almost deafening to Colin’s ears.

The Irishman jerked awake and fell forward to the floor, leaning over the bed to
look at Orlando, whose head has lolling from the side, his eyes blinking a few 
times. The young brunette’s head turned to face Colin, his eyes searching, the
usually vibrant chocolate color dulled and grayed. 

“Orlando…?” Colin asked, reaching out and taking the young man’s hand. 

“Colin?…” Orlando asked tentatively, his voice cracked and raw. “Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me, Orlando,” Colin said. “You didn’t fall so hard you forgot 
what I looked like, did you?” The Irishman teased Orlando gently, hoping to 
bring a little smile to the boy’s face.

Orlando was expressionless as he looked in Colin’s direction. He shook his head
slightly against the downy pillow and blinked again. 

“I can’t see” the beauty whispered in admittance.