Chapter 67

“Boy,” Bear snarled. “For causing this, you will shower alone and be done in less than fifteen minutes. I will see you in the breakfast room. Tell Maria I will have my coffee in exactly twenty minutes.” Brian looked back up and reacted like a jack rabbit chased by a fox. He headed through the hall to his suite and hurriedly used the less private hall shower while Bear used the one en suite.

* * * *

As soon as Bear saw the white of Brian’s ass disappear around the corner, he broke into a full-throated laugh. How his boy managed to tease and play with his uncertain temper and avoid the consequences was beyond his comprehension. However, Bear mused, the cub only baited Papa when they were alone.

In public, he was respectful to the point of reverence, and he seemed to have an innate sense of timing.

He would tease and play when it would do no harm, or to bring a smile to his Master’s face, when a smile was needed. He would either kneel in complete silence or asked to be dismissed from the room when he thought he might become a distraction.

To Bear, Brian was his perfect foil, a lover, a lively, intelligent companion. He was a perfect submissive who, if Bear read him right, was already fanatically devoted to his Master. The boy called it love. In his heart, Bear knew the boy was right.

Bear descended the stairs and strode into the small breakfast room built conveniently next to the kitchen so the rooms shared a common hearth. Most of the fireplaces had been modernized both on the inside and on the outside, decorated with tiles, ornate fretwork in silver or gold and in some cases marble. Fortunately, the former owners of the house had left the kitchen hearth in its original condition, open to both sides. Of course, the chimney had been reconditioned, replaced, and relined, but the beauty of the simple farm hearth stood through time without being, as Mrs. Santore would say, “All tarted up.”

In warm weather, the open hearth served as an air conduit to the kitchen from the windows and doorway of the breakfast room, providing a natural breeze off the river to cool it. When the weather turned cold, the fire burned, warming an otherwise draft filled chamber. Bear found Brian at the hearth. The boy was on his back, peering up into the chimney with a flashlight, no doubt supplied courtesy of Mrs. Santore.

“Is there something that is urgent enough to stop you from serving my coffee, Brian?” Bear asked in a polite, but bland tone.

“No…I mean yes, Sir. There is something in the flue. But your coffee is at the side of your plate as requested.”

“Is it still hot, boy?”

“Oh yes, Papa. I just set it down.”

“So, what did you see up the flue?”

“It looks like rags, Sir. Almost as if the chimney sweep forgot them the last time he did the flue. It can’t be though. Modern sweeps carry machinery to do the job once reserved for underfed and vertically challenged boys. I think I would have been tagged for a chimney sweep.”

“Have Maria call a new service. I do not want a fire in the middle of the night, boy. May I ask how you discovered these rags?”

Brian blushed. “I adore old Victorian and Federal farmhouses, especially those which have been enlarged frequently over time.

They have such interesting nooks and crannies to explore.”

“You sound like you have had the opportunity,” Bear stated.

“No, Papa. Unfortunately, I have not. Even so, I had a friend with a farmhouse in Hamilton when we still lived in our house. His dad was always making curious discoveries of hidden rooms, windows, blocked doors, and bricked-over fireplaces. They were always trying to figure out what was actually in the original plans.”

“I have the original plans to this house, if you are interested,” Bear said, smiling because he knew he was about to grant his boy a boon.

“Oh, Papa Bear, that would be so much fun. Would you care to look at them with me?”

“I might spend an evening or two looking over your shoulder. Nevertheless, you should tell Jim Boy you are interested in old homes and antiques. He is forever fussing after Reed to go to the antique and flea market over on Route 29 on the weekends. However, I am afraid Reed is a lay-about like your own Master on weekend mornings. Why not go with Jim. If you find anything for the house you feel would fit its look, bring it home. Speaking of home, we are going to pick up your mother today,” Bear told Brian.