“I don’t understand.”
“The soup. What type of soup is it?”
It was a stupid question because William already knew he’d only bought three variations at the local shop. But he asked the question anyway, diverting the conversation to something more mundane.
Edward pulled a face, a mixture of confusion and interest. “It’s carrot and coriander. Or what I like to call, vegetable and dish soap soup.”
“I can cope with that.” William pressed a hand to his empty belly. The touch alone conjured a feral growl of hunger from its pits. Even if he wanted to continue his petition and say he wasn’t hungry, the noise alone had ruined that excuse to escape.
Edward closed the space between them, the scent of the fire lingering over his skin. To Edward’s apparent amusement, William found his breath catching in the back of his throat.
“Have we come to a truce, William?” Edward said, offering a hand between them.
William looked down at it as though it was a serpent and not a hand. He took it before he could change his mind.
Edward was warm to the touch, his hands rough and yet oddly pleasant. Long fingers, certainly larger than his own, held firm. If Edward noticed the pleasant shiver sent every hair on William’s arm to raise, at least he could blame it on the cold.
“Temporary truce.” William replied with nodded. “Don’t get too comfortable. Our previous arrangement of you leaving as soon as the storm lets up is still on.”
“I’m not one to outstay a welcome,” Edward added, still not letting go of William’s hand. “Anyway, if you’re a fan of coriander, I really think we are fated to dislike one another.”
It was hard to find Edward’s sarcasm annoying when it was followed by the cheekiest of smiles.
“All the more soup for me then,” William replied. “Good job too, since my soul is apparently in need of warming.”
“Good job indeed.”
Neither one of them withdrew their hand, like this was some battle of wills they’d entered into.
William couldn’t help himself but trace his eyes across Edward, who was haloed by the firelight behind him. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself a moment to study another man. He almost felt guilty for even entertaining the conversation. Guilt or no, he couldn’t stop.
“Thanks again,” William said, dropping his gaze from Edward’s intense stare.
“For the soup? The warm fire? Or…”
“All of it,” William added, eyes dropping to the floor between them. Finally, he claimed his hand back. Not without noticing Edward lower his to his side and flex his fingers.
“It’s my pleasure.”
William scoffed, uncomfortable with the sudden warmth budding in his chest. He wanted to batter it down, force it into the depths of his soul and forget about it. But one glance back into Edward’s rich eyes, and he knew that was a hopeless wish. “Why don’t you go and get out of your wet clothes. I’ll dish us up the vegetable and dish-soap soup and have it ready for your return.”
“Gosh, with an offer like that, I might just never leave.”
With his head muffled by the red wine and his body relaxed by the warmth of the fire, William allowed every one of his guards to drop. It seemed, around Edward, that his disarming aura made it easier to do. Something about his company put William at ease, from the comfort of Edward’s smooth voice to the attention of his gaze that seemed to always be on William, following every lift of the glass to his lips and shift of his body on the sofa.
If Edward was The Killer, he certainly took his task seriously. All of this kindness could be one grand show. Then again, William secretly liked a challenge.
By the time William was finished with his second bowl of soup, he gave into the tidal pull of alcohol and fell into the conversation Edward tried so very hard to start. His worries about the stranger had faded to a far-off simmer.
“I had no idea I’d just entered myself into a round of Twenty Questions,” William slurred, frowning into the bottom of his glass, so desperate for more wine that he almost licked the sediment up. “I don’t think I signed up for this.”
“No better icebreaker than a good old game, am I right?” Edward leaned forward, swiped the bottle from the table between them and tilted the neck towards him. “And, just maybe, if we got to know one another a little better, you wouldn’t feel so endangered by my presence.”
“I think we’re past that,” William added, pinching the stem of his glass hard as
Edward poured him more wine without looking at what he was doing. William smiled, and Edward offered a far more beautiful one back, almost overfilling the glass in his distraction.
“Steady, boy,” William chirped. “Don’t waste the goods.”
