“So it is,” Bradford said, glancing around with a smile.
There was so much peace in the fall of snow. It dampened all other sound while adding a whisper of its own to the air. For a moment, Yves was certain he could hear the echo of the carol the waifs they’d encountered earlier had sung. The way the snow gathered on the ground and on the sides of the buildings around them, the trees planted along the street, and even on the carriage as Ben mounted its seat and drove it away so that the noble horses could be put to bed, was softly beautiful.
“I feel as though there are miracles in the air,” Yves spoke reverently into the night. “It is as though all evil and strife is being washed away from the world and a new dawn of possibility is being born.”
Bradford chuckled and took Yves’ hand, even though they were outside in a world that would certainly judge them, if given half a chance. “The cycle of time and nature always turns,” he said. “You are aware, I am certain, that the night that has just passed is the winter solstice. The dawn that will come with the sun in the morning is the beginning of a brighter time.”
Yves dragged his eyes down from the sky to smile at Bradford. “I can feel the newness all around me.”
The way Bradford looked back at him had more than just Yves’ heart jumping. He was not merely a poet and a man ofvision and hope. He was a man of flesh and blood, one with as fierce of a pulse as any.
“Come,” Bradford said, his tone deep and husky. “Let us go inside.”
That was all the invitation Yves needed. He squeezed Bradford’s hand tighter and let the man lead him up to the club’s front door. The attendant on night duty must have been watching them through the window, because he opened the door without either of them having to knock.
The inside of the club was warmer than the world outside, but it was still dark and hushed. Yves was loath to disturb any of his friends and walked as quickly and quietly as he could along the main hall and up the stairs. Strangely enough, Bolingbroke appeared to be awake and playing the piano quietly in the dining room, likely a composition of his own creation.
“I have always enjoyed accompaniment to my amorous activities,” Bradford commented in a whisper as they continued up the stairs to the second floor, still able to hear the ethereal sound of Bolingbroke’s song behind them.
As soon as they were safe behind the closed door of Bradford’s suite, Yves unbuttoned his coat, shrugged out of it with eager speed, and draped it over the back of one of the chairs in Bradford’s front room. Bradford followed suit, tossing his coat and hat aside quickly, then starting in on his jacket as he inched closer to his bedroom. Yves laughed at the heated eagerness that seemed to glow between them, like the embers of the fire in Bradford’s grate that had yet to burn down all the way.
“I hope you do not mind having me again,” Yves said in an excited hush as he tossed his jacket aside in Bradford’s bedchamber, unbuttoned his waistcoat, and loosened his cravat.
“I beg your pardon?” Bradford asked, pausing halfway through the act of undressing himself.
Yves felt a twinge of self-consciousness, but hid it by rushing through removing his clothing even faster. “You’ve already had me for a night,” he said as he bent to pull off his shoes. When he straightened to tug his shirt from his trousers, then to undo his trousers, he went on with, “I was given to understand you loved a man only once and then tossed them aside for the next one.”
Bradford’s entire countenance changed so much to one of hurt and despair that Yves froze after pulling his shirt off. Bradford was in only his shirt and trousers, having taken his shoes off, but his hands had gone still on his shirt buttons. “Is that what you think of me?” he asked.
Panic filled Yves as it occurred to him he might have offended the one man he wished to please and whom he adored more than any other. “I…that is what is said about you,” he said lamely, feeling even worse for his clumsy explanation. “Everyone considers it a great honor to be chosen by you as your companion, even for a short time,” he fumbled on, taking a lurching step closer to Bradford. He placed his hands over Bradford’s as they still grasped the front of his shirt. “I consider it an honor.”
Bradford held perfectly still for a moment before breathing out heavily, his shoulders sagging. “My dear angel, I am sorry,” he said. Yves began to panic before Bradford grasped the sides of his face and went on with, “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel as if you were a cheap bauble to be worn once and discarded.”
“That is not it at all,” Yves said, though perhaps it was.
Bradford shook his head. “I have been a careless fool,” he said. “Not once did I stop to think that my actions, however well-intentioned and careful, were, in fact, callous and self-serving.”
“I did not mean to insult you,” Yves whispered, more panicked than ever.
“You have not insulted me,” Bradford said, letting go of Yves’ face so he could draw him fully into his arms. “You have lifted the veil from my eyes. You have touched my heart and made me see that there is more to life than fleeting pleasures and forgettable adventures.”
“I did not?—”
Whatever Yves was trying not to do, Bradford silenced his panic by slanting his mouth over his and kissing him long and deep. The fear and worry of what Yves was certain were the wrong things said melted away as the warmth of Bradford’s body and the richness of his scent surrounded him.
“You are not some forgettable lamb who I would turn out into pasture tomorrow,” Bradford said when they paused for breath. He kissed Yves again, and when they needed breath once more, he finished his thought with, “You are someone I wish to have and hold close to my heart always.”
Yves was beyond words. He made a sound of soft excitement instead, blinking up at his savior with hope and ever-increasing desire. “I would go with you to the ends of the earth,” he whispered, grasping handfuls of Bradford’s shirt.
Bradford grinned at him. “For now, I only want you to go to bed with me.”
Yves laughed with sudden joy and swelling lust. He was more than happy to follow that command, and any other command Bradford wished to give him once they were between the sheets.
They finished undressing hurriedly. He was done first and dove into Bradford’s bed, twisting this way and that, as he was uncertain which way Bradford wanted to have him. He was still a touch sore from the night before, but he could ignore that if Bradford wanted to use him for his pleasure.
As soon as Bradford joined Yves in bed, he stilled Yves’ restlessness by spreading himself overtop of him and pinning his arms and legs out like a star with his hands and knees. Ashiver passed through Yves at the way Bradford made him feel so controlled and valued, and he smiled impishly at him.
“You are a surprise, Clermont,” Bradford growled, his mouth close to Yves’ own.
