‘The problem is, one quickly ceases to be a gentleman of any sort,’ Daizell said. ‘Which is all very well until one has aspirations to mix with gentlemen again. Maybe I should have picked one or the other. Fought harder to retrieve my name and preserve my standing, or given up and settled to profile-cutting: it’s made Miers rich. I should have done that, but I thought, I kept thinking, I could retrieve my position one day. Well, I couldn’t and I haven’t, and now I wish I had done everything differently.’
He sounded so bleak. It looked so wrong on his face. ‘Oh, Daize,’ Cassian said. ‘Surely we can do something.’
‘Don’t. It’s not— Ugh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spill all that out on you. It’s just been hitting home in the last days that most people wouldn’t count me fit company for a gentleman. For you.’
‘Daize, you are,’ Cassian said, knowing it wasn’t true, or not for the Duke, at least. ‘I hope I haven’t made you feel otherwise. Have I done something?’
‘Reminded me I’d rather not be notorious, that’s all. Forget it. I’m being foolish. Let’s talk about something else. Please?’ he added, as Cassian began an objection.
He sounded like he meant it, and Cassian didn’t know what he could say anyway, except for things that he couldn’t say at all. He bit back the urge to say them anyway, as he had long learned to do because the Duke of Severn weighed his words and considered his commitments. The silence still felt like a betrayal.
Cassian was exhausted by nine that night. The last couple of days had been so absurdly up and down that he felt quite adrift: from the exquisite pleasure of his day with Daizell to its terrifying ending; the sense of need for urgent action coupled with the staggering monotony of his hours on the stage or the lengthy time waiting in the bank, and then Daizell’s distress. His eyelids were heavy when Daizell said, ‘Let’s go to bed.’
It was another large bed to share, which they had because Daizell had indicated to the innkeeper that they were unconcerned about sharing if that was more convenient for the inn. As simple as that. Cassian washed his face, noting that he definitely needed to shave tomorrow. He would have put on his nightgown too, out of habit, except that Daizell was even then swinging himself into bed stark naked.
He was lovely in the candlelight. The flickering light caught bronze and gilt and copper hairs, making him glimmer, and Cassian stared at his chest, and the glittering hairs that trailed downwards, and then looked back up to a face that was grinning at him.
‘I wasn’t going to trouble with a nightshirt. Unless you object?’
‘I don’t object.’ Cassian caught himself from dropping his own nightshirt on the floor, and draped it over a chair instead. He stripped off his breeches and walked, very aware of his own nakedness and his slim build compared to Daizell’s far more satisfyingly solid form.
Daizell didn’t seem to be complaining. He reached for Cassian’s hand, his laughing eyes alight. ‘You are lovely. Come here.’
Cassian would have given one of his minor estates not to be so tired. Daizell was so warm, so beautiful, and Cassianshifted willingly under him, feeling Daizell’s thigh settle between his own, and reached up to pull Daizell’s head down. Daizell kissed him gently but thoroughly, and Cassian wrapped himself around whatever of Daizell he could, straining up into him with relief and joy and a sense of wonderful rightness, and very aware his eyelids were sagging.
Daizell broke off to kiss his ear, then snort in it. ‘You look half asleep.’
‘Don’t mind me.’
Daizell nuzzled his way down Cassian’s neck. ‘Go to sleep. We’ve all the time in the world tomorrow.’
‘I’d rather . . .’ Cassian tightened his grip indicatively.
‘Don’t be silly. Look at you. You’ll fall asleep half way through.’
‘I don’t mind. I’d like it.’ The words were out before he realised, his sleepy brain betraying him.
‘Well, I wouldn’t,’ Daizell said. ‘There I’d be, having my wicked way with you and you’d be snoring. Aside from the questionable morals, it would be quite offensive to my self-esteem.’
‘Uh,’ Cassian said, stifled. ‘Yes. Sorry. I—’
‘Cass.’ Daizell pushed himself up on an elbow. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No.’
‘It is. Did I just say something stupid?’
‘No.’
‘Cass.’ He spoke with a touch of exasperation. ‘I felt you tense there. What did I say?’
‘It wasn’t you. Nothing. I’m just sleepy.’ He could have kicked himself. If he’d just kept his mouth shut they could have been kissing and stroking still. He tried to tug Daizell back down to him.
Daizell resisted, contemplating him with a little frown. ‘Did you – were you just trying to tell me something?’
Cassian felt the tide of blood flood his face, thickening his throat so he wasn’t sure he could answer. Daizell was looking down at him with an expression that was mostly baffled, and a little worried, which made everything worse. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he mumbled, turning on his shoulder, away.
There was a second’s silence, and then Daizell settled behind him, arm coming over Cassian’s waist and curling up to hold him close. ‘It matters to me,’ he said softly. His breath tickled Cassian’s neck ‘It matters that I don’t say stupid things to you, and it matters that something I said made you unhappy. And it matters very much if there’s something you want from me that you haven’t said, because there’s nothing I’d like more than to do whatever it is you want. So could we go back to the part where you said you’d like it and I didn’t listen?’
