Page 88 of The Boy Bride

Now Vanu was taking Lill’s hands—still kissing him—and drawing them up to his face, so Lill felt the hard line of Vanu’s jaw under his palm, the prickle of stubble against the pad of his thumb.

“Thank you,” he murmured against Vanu’s lips. “I didn’t—know—what to do with my hands.”

Vanu lifted a hand to make a sign that Mikhi had shown Lill the other day: a rude way of saying “I noticed.” Lill wriggled closer and stroked his hands over Vanu’s face, clumsy with tension.

He should let Vanu take the lead, remain in charge; of course he should. Honour, prudence—everything demanded it. If he let Vanu take the lead, his mind would wander to horrors. He would tense up or gasp in the wrong way or shout “No” and whack Vanu in the head, and Vanu would shut the whole thing down because he didn’t want Lill like that. He wanted Lill like his childhood friends—the ones he couldn’t accidentally get pregnant—eager like he was.

Lill reached down with both hands and seized fistfuls of Vanu’s shirt, tugging it loose from his sash.

“Off?” Vanu signed one-handed. He looked pleased.

“Mm-hm.”

Vanu obliged, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it off the bed. He lay down on his back. The sun came in the window and made the hair on his chest gleam like flecks of gold. Lill sat up and looked at him, thinking how complicated it was, when what you wanted to do and what you thought you should do for your mission were the same thing—how hard to still feel you were in control. Not something that Master Moon ever addressed in his treatise.

He laid his hand on Vanu’s chest, fingers spread. He could feel Vanu’s heartbeat. The curls of pale gold were rough under his palm. Outrageous sentences formed in his mind.

You’re lovely.

Everything about you is beautiful.

He moved his hand slowly, lightly, smoothing over the swell of pectoral muscle. He looked up into Vanu’s face. Vanu was watching him, his eyes heavy-lidded, his smile soft. As if he might let Lill take all the time he wanted. He shifted under Lill’s touch, like a warm landscape moving, tucking one hand under his head, and lifted the other to toy with one of Lill’s braids. He wound it gently around his hand and clenched his fist—the muscles in his upper arm tightened thrillingly—but did not pull.

My Lion.

Lill leaned forward.

Someone knocked on the door downstairs, rapping out a jaunty rhythm. Lill and Vanu both started; maybe talking about messing around in haylofts had put Vanu in a state to be wary of interruptions, too. He dropped Lill’s braid, and they looked at each other and shook with laughter.

“Helloo!” came Halza’s voice from downstairs. “Lill? Are you in?”

“Yes, but I’m busy,” Lill signed.

“Should I go scare him away?” Vanu moved to rise from the bed.

“No, no.” Lill scrambled up.

Somehow the idea of Vanu going down there half-dressed … It wasn’t embarrassing; everyone knew they were married. It was something else.

“I can scare him myself,” he added as he backed toward the door of the room.

Chapter 25

Plum Wine

By the time Lill had gotten rid of Halza, Mikhi had come in the house to ask about something, and Vanu emerged from the bedroom with his shirt back on. Lill felt a swoop of disappointment in his belly when he saw it.

“What did Halza want?” Vanu asked.

“Oh, he invited me to come to his house this evening. Tirtu has made some plum wine and wants us to drink it with him. Me and Halza and Padunu. You’re invited too.” He added the last a little uncertainly, because actually it had not been clear to him that Vanu was invited. But it seemed only right.

Vanu shook his head. “No, I’m not. It’s all right. I can’t drink that stuff of Tirtu’s, and he knows it.”

“Oh. Should I not go? I don’t need to go.”

“Of course you should go. You’ll enjoy yourself.”

“Da will be fine at home with us,” said Mikhi.