Harris snorted and rolled his eyes. “Tosser got what he deserved. Tell me where she is—I won’t ask again.”
Marcus nodded slowly. “She is with a friend. I was sent by her. I will pass along your deep concern, Mr. Harris. I’m certain she’ll reach out if she wishes to see you.”
Harris cocked his hand back with another growl. As he did so, Marcus reached into his jacket and withdrew his pistol. “That will be enough of that.”
Harris hesitated, staring at the weapon trained on his chest, then back to Marcus’s face. After years in the army, Marcus knew that when he held a gun, his demeanor changed. He went from easygoing gentleman to soldier. It was old habit, never lost no matter how far from service he strayed.
Harris backed up. “Fine. But you’d best tell her she needs to see me. Else next you and I meet, you won’t have time to pull a gun.”
“I’ll pass the message along,” Marcus said with a slow smile. He walked past Harris to the door and found a servant was waiting there with a trunk of Naomi’s things. Beside it was a young woman who was shifting her weight back and forth and glancing into the room toward Harris.
“I’m Lady Walridge’s maid,” she said, her voice wavering. “You really ought to have me come, too. I’m sure she needs help, wherever she is.”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder at Harris and then shook his head slowly. “You’ve been reporting to him, eh?”
She froze and her expression told him all. Terror and guilt mixed as one. He almost felt sorry for her, as the girl likely had few choices.
“You’ll want to go,” he said softly. “Perhaps Lady Walridge will be kind enough to write you a reference. Good day.” He glanced to the male servant holding the trunk. “Put that in my carriage.”
“Yes, sir,” the man said, and hustled out in front of Marcus to do just that. He followed and got in, calling out to his driver to take him home.
But as the carriage rolled away, he saw Harris come out and stare after him. And his discomfort about Naomi’s safety, as well as whatever he’d face after his abrupt departure earlier in the day, grew in his chest.
Everett stepped from the parlor as Marcus barked out instructions for Naomi’s trunk to be taken to her room. As Marcus entered the hall and saw Everett, he came to a stop, his handsome face falling.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Everett said softly. “I was concerned.”
He reached out as he said the words. Watched Marcus track his hand, his pupils dilating with every moment Everett closed the distance between them. He saw the want there, the want that always gave him hope.
Then Marcus slammed the wall down. “Don’t.”
He ignored the order and placed his hand on Marcus’s. He felt the pull, felt Marcus shift toward him, heard the slight intake of his breath. They stood that way a moment, eyes locked.
“I told Naomi about us,” Everett said.
The spell was broken as Marcus wrenched his hand away and staggered back. He stared at Everett with utter betrayal. “Why the hell would you do that? Why the hell would you tell her my story?”
“Yourstory?” Everett repeated in disbelief. “Just yours, then? It’s not my life, too, my secret?”
“Notjustyours,” Marcus corrected, shoving a hand through his hair. “And not just mine. Either way, you had no right to speak of it.”
Everett threw up his hands. Marcus wouldn’t even ask her reaction, just push him away like all of it meant nothing. “We’re bound together and you know it, no matter how far and fast you try to run away. And she could be the one who holds us together, Marcus. She could be the piece that makes us all whole.”
Marcus’s expression was unreadable in the dim hallway. Then he stepped closer, closing some of the distance that separated them.
“You’re in love with her,” he said, his tone rough and quiet, hardly a whisper.
Everett drew a long breath. “Yes,” he admitted.
Marcus was silent a beat. Two. Then he shook his head. “Wonderful. Then marry her. Do your duty with a woman you can actually care about, one who understands you. And…and forget about us. This.”
Everett shook his head. He’d had enough of this argument. Enough of this rejection. Without hesitating, he stepped up, pressed a hand to Marcus’s shoulder and shoved him back against the wall. He cupped Marcus’s cheeks and then he kissed him.
For a moment, Marcus remained still, fighting with all his might to not respond. But as Everett traced the crease of his lips with the tip of his tongue, Marcus let out a low moan and opened to him. It had been months since they’d done this, close to a year, and Everett drowned in the taste of him. The feel of their tongues clashing with desperation and need and love. Oh yes, with love.
Marcus stiffened in an instant, though, and pulled away, turning his face. Everett ducked his chin as he backed up. Gave Marcus the space he required.
“Forget this? Forget us?” he repeated. “I will never do that, Marcus. Never.”
