Arden sagged at once. He had a knee either side of Jack’s thighs, and he slumped and tucked his face in Jack’s throat, inhaling his scent greedily: frost, stone, and warm, crackling fire. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?” he mumbled against Jack’s skin.
“I thought it would be a nice surprise.”
“It was. Itis.”
“And also,” Jack heaved a dramatic sigh, “I was worried that you’d changed your mind, and wouldn’t let me visit after all.”
Arden pushed back to sit upright, and braced his hands on Jack’s chest. “Let you visit? This is your house, Jack, you hardly need my permission. Besides?—”
“In actual fact,” Jack said, sinking lower in the chair and curling his hands around Arden’s hips, “it’s your house.”
“Yes, because we are married, but?—”
“No.” He leaned up and kissed the tip of Arden’s nose. “I have settled it upon you.”
“I don’t…?”
“I had the house and its land transferred to you. You own it.”
Arden stared at him, aghast. Jack burst out laughing.
“This is not at all the reaction I expected.” He jostled Arden lightly in his lap. “Why so horrified? It was supposed to be a nice surprise. I thought you liked Greylag.”
“You are a nice surprise,” Arden said. “Giving me an estate is not a nice surprise.”
“No?”
“I don’t know how to run an estate. I don’t know the first thing about it, or about owning property. Owning anything, really, other than books and clothes, and Lassit always told me that even those were?—”
Jack leaned in and growled against his mouth. “No talk of Lassit or any of his stupid fucking ideas about you, and what you deserve.” He nipped Arden’s lip and drew back.
“All right,” Arden said.
Jack rested his head against the back of the chair and smiled.
Arden tried not to quail under the heavy look in his eyes. He knew what that look meant, now. He’d seen it on Beckett. He liked to see it on Jack, but…it was a bit unnerving. “Can I…?” He played absently with the soft fabric of Jack’s shirt front, smoothing it over and over.
At the glint in Jack’s dark eyes, he realised that he wasn’t playing with the shirt so much as stroking Jack’s solid chest. He froze for an instant, staring at his own hands with wide eyes, wondering at his daring.
Then he shyly continued.
Jack sighed and settled deeper into the chair. “Can you…?” he prompted.
“Can I send for refreshments? A pot of tea and some sandwiches?”
“That sounds nice.”
Arden dropped his hands to his lap and lifted a brow.
“What?” Jack said on a laugh.
“Do you actually want tea and sandwiches, or are you being agreeable because you think it’s what I want?”
“Me?” Jack said, tickling his sides and making him jump. “Agreeable?”
Arden smacked his hands away and scrambled off his lap. “You’re the most agreeable man I’ve ever met,” he said. “And I’m ringing for a pint of stout and some bread and cheese. Or a pie. You’ve no doubt been in the saddle for hours and somehow I don’t think you’re craving a cucumber sandwich and a light blend of lavender and chamomile.”
“I am not,” Jack said.
