Eventually, I finished breaking my fast and downed the last of my tea.
“Is your head improved?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your head, it was aching. Did food help?”
“How did you know my head hurt?”
“You had a little furrow—between your brows. And I caught you rubbing your temples when I found you earlier. Is it improved?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’m glad.”
Breakfast had been a gesture, and a considerate one at that after I refused it, and I felt my resolve soften.
“You were right—I don’t know… what it is to be you. I should stop… speaking—making choices—on your behalf.” His expression was nervous, and he spoke in fits and starts, hands aborting the steps in their usual waltz.
“I might have… overreacted. I’ve been feeling indolent lately. And in my youth, I was peacekeeper between Michael and Hugh, more than brother. I served a function. But I wasn’t a person. With you, the night of the masquerade, it was the first time I’ve ever felt… complete, in my own right—and you could not even see my face.”
“I meant what I said. I want to see you, all of you. Last night—before the argument—I’ve never known anything like it. But I want more than that. I want everything with you, Tom, everything I’ve never allowed myself to want. Every absurd thing that everyone else gets without a second thought. I want breakfasts and luncheons. I want to nurse you when you’re sick, and I want you to do the same. I want to share a bed with you—one that you actually fit in—because I want to know if yousteal the bed covers or if your toes are cold at night. Iwantto fight with you and I want to make up with you.” He’d leaned forward on his bucket, his hand reaching for mine before getting distracted, swept away with the music that was his beautiful declaration.
“Well, it seems we’ve had at least a few of those. I’ve broken a fast with you twice. And we had supper, but luncheon should be easy to manage. My head is much improved thanks to your nursing. And we’ve definitely fought now.”
He must have caught the note of mischief at the end because he swallowed, harsh. “We haven’t made up yet, though.”
“If I promise to remember that you’ve been making decisions for everyone for years, do you promise to try not to make them for me?”
His nod was exaggerated and slow and the sight warmed my heart.
“Then I suppose we could consider ourselves made up. You should know, though, my family doesn’t much care for that step in the disagreement process. I’m not certain I know how it’s done.”
His lips were trapped between his teeth, holding back a smile that spilled out into the corners of his eyes anyway.
“I can show you.”
“Oh, good.”
“I’ll need somewhere private to demonstrate a proper apology. You wouldn’t happen to know of a spider-free shed with an unoccupied corner, would you?”
“Do you know, I think I’ve seen one quite recently.” I made no effort to hide my grin. Instead, I set my tray back on the first bucket.
After a surreptitious glance around, Xander’s fingers caught the fabric of my sleeve and tugged me into the back corner ofthe shed. The corner I’d left conspicuously empty, even in my irritation.
My back hit the wall with an arousing thunk at the same moment his lips crashed onto mine. Last night had been soft and sleepy. This morning was filled with the lingering bite of irritation, evident in the harsh grip in my hair and the way I dug my fingers into broad shoulders, belying our teasing words.
I pulled back, desperation for air overwhelming even my lust. Xander had no such needs. He traced the line of my jaw with the edge of his teeth, following it with his tongue in a filthy display that had a curse escaping my chest.
“So convinced you’re unwanted. That I’m unaffected,” he muttered, thrusting against my thigh. His cock was hard again and impossible to miss even through the thick buckskin of his breeches. “Does that feel unaffected?”
Incapable of words, I shook my head, his fingers tightening even further in my hair.
“I’m aching and you’re certain I don’t want you.”
He yanked aside my shirt, tracing the angles of bone and muscles with sharp nips. “You’re so damn beautiful like this—disheveled and wanting. Drunk with need for me. And you think I wouldn’t spend every second with you on your knees or your back for me, just like this, if I could? If I had my way, you’d never leave my bed again.”
“Xander—”
