CHAPTER15
SAGE
Sage fellasleep with his cheek against Conrad’s chest and perplexing thoughts of pilfered wine.He woke with a start out of a dream that had come to haunt him.It was that dratted lavender pillow.The staff had freshened the pillowcase for him, and the scent was as strong as the first night he’d used it.With a groan, Sage swept his arm at the pillow in one easy motion and it fell off the bed onto the floor.He turned over to face his bedmate.
It had become so common to find Conrad reading in the early morning light that he was surprised to see the man’s eyes closed, though a small, peaceful grin was settled at the corners of his mouth.Sage nearly rolled his eyes.Even unconscious, he still found something to smile about.
“Are you asleep?”Sage whispered at him.
The grin grew slightly.“No,” Conrad whispered back.
“Gleaned all the information you were hoping for out of that stack of books, have you?”
“Wyndham told us to get plenty of rest for today,” Conrad explained.
Sage snorted.“You can stop trying to win his favor now.If Roger likes you, that’s all you really needed to accomplish.”
“I am simply taking his advice.He’s rather brilliant.”
Sage’s magic curled tightly in his chest, nearly to the point of pain.Whichever way Conrad meant for that word to be taken—intelligent, exceptional, marvelous—it was the truth.
“Indeed,” Sage said, still in a whisper, though this time he knew he couldn’t have managed more.Conrad seemed to notice.He opened his eyes and turned his head against the pillow to give Sage a curious look.
“You’re very fond of him.”It was an observation, not a question.Under normal circumstances, it would’ve set Sage on the defensive immediately.He had enough people speculating about his private affairs.But there was something in the way Conrad said it, perhaps the sincerity in his voice, that kept him from reacting so strongly.Combined with his lingering dream and his thoughts still being foggy with sleep, he found himself being far too honest.
“I am in love with him,” Sage admitted into the quiet space between them.“Or well, I was.For a very long time.”
He braced himself for Conrad to laugh at his misfortune, or make a quip about how obvious it was.Patheticwas the word he used most often against himself when he had this recurring dream—the one that had woken him—of the night he finally confessed his feelings to Wyndham at Vauxhall.With how much drink he’d consumed that night, it was astonishing he remembered any of it at all.But there were parts that stood out: shouting in an alcove, a smashed wine glass, Sage being on the verge of tears, and Wyndham being infuriatingly logical about the whole thing.
Sage was entirely unprepared for the reaction he actually got.
Conrad rolled onto his side to face him and lifted his hand to Sage’s hair, running his fingers through it in the most comforting sort of way.
“I am sorry,” he said softly.“That must be so difficult.”
Sage found that he could not look Conrad in the eye.Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on Conrad’s bare chest as he continued to stroke his hair.
“I do not know how much everyone else has told you about me,” Sage went on, for at this point there was no use in keeping it to himself.
“Very little,” Conrad said plainly.“I have never cared much for gossip.I prefer to learn about people directly from the source.”
“How refreshing.”Conrad’s hand moved from his hair to his shoulder, thumb sliding idly against the skin there as Sage continued.“I have a bit of a reputation in London.I will admit it has been well-earned, but in conjunction with my name constantly appearing in theTribune, I believe most everyone has forgotten I am more than a few lines of scandalous entertainment to talk about amongst friends.”
Conrad gave a slow hum of what sounded like understanding, probably making connections with the things he had been told.Not for the first time, but for the first time in a long while, a rivulet of shame streaked through Sage.What must Conrad have thought of him that night when he’d brought the oil to bed?It had become so normal to assume that any man with an inclination toward him would want to use him that way.
“Do you enjoy it?”
Sage’s gaze flicked to Conrad’s at the question.
“Do I enjoy being talked about?Absolutely not.”
“I mean, do you enjoy the activities that have earned you a reputation?”
Sage bit back on theyeshe wanted to say.It was the answer he would give anyone else if they asked.It was the answer he had convinced himself to believe.In his youth, of course, there was no greater thrill than a handsome gentleman taking him to his bed, or an empty room at a ball, or a darkened alleyway in a questionable part of town.But he discovered that as his feelings for Wyndham grew, his interest in anyone else became less about the excitement and more about filling the emptiness in his chest that the man he loved would not.And the men he’d been with since Wyndham and Roger’s wedding?They were nothing more than attempts at distraction.Salve for his wounds.
“At one time, I did,” he said finally.“That is, I still take pleasure in the act.Finding a pleasurable partner has been the challenge.”
“I would imagine so, after falling for a man like Wyndham.”Conrad slid his hand from Sage’s shoulder to the sway of his lower back.Thoughts of shared wine came rushing at him once again.
