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He scoffed. “Did your business happen to be written on your wrist, Miss Dawson? That required him to read it with his tongue?”
She covered her heating cheeks with her hands and groaned. “Fine. You saw correctly, and it was incredibly foolish of me to allow that.” She slumped in her chair. “He makes me completely lose my wits. Nary a one left. I’m not sure I should be allowed in his presence. It’s too big a risk that I’ll do something dunderheaded.”
Bash’s green eyes glittered. “Oh, this is fantastic. Things are going very well indeed. The Duke’s reputation precedes him, I see.”
“He is…quite accomplished, one could say.”
Her friend snorted. “Accomplished is an interesting way to put it.” He bounced his eyebrows. “Is he more accomplished than Mr. Turner?”
She shot him a dry look. “I am not sharing that information.”
He let out a whine. “Come on, Theo, pleaseee? Give me some sort of scraps. A morsel. Anything.”
She crossed her arms. “No. I know how long you’ve held a tendre for him, and I will not feed into it. You need to move on.”
Bash’s brows crashed together, and he pouted at her through his glare. “I don’t like you any longer.”
A chuckle built in her chest and slipped free. “I’m sorry, Bash, I truly am. But he’s never given any indication he enjoys men. And it’s not something he’d keep from us, nor his brother.”
Theo’d found out about Bash’s affection for Leo after her and Leo’s trysts had already started up. Theo had been so afraid she’d hurt Bash and ruin their relationship, but he’d assured her there were no hard feelings. He knew Leo was never going to be an option. Someone should enjoy the man. Why not have it be you? Were his exact words to her. The man really couldn’t hold his tongue.
“Doesn’t help he still views me as a boy,” Bash grumbled, glowering at the desk like it’d offended him. “I’m eighteen. And a duke’s heir. Which adds a few years.”
“In what world does it work that way?”
“I don’t know, but it seems as though it should.”
She reached for his hand resting on her desk and gave it a quick squeeze. “I wish it were different for you. I obviously understand Mr. Turner’s appeal; he’s quite dashing. And having to see him all the time, considering he’s your closest friend’s brother, must be beyond difficult.”
“You have no idea. I’m very jealous of you. I hope you know.” He let out a wistful sigh. “Getting to experience all those hard-earned muscles. I bet he’s well equipped with a hammer of his own—”
“Bash,” Theo hissed.
He held his hands out in front of him, slowly drawing them apart. “Just tell me when to stop.” His eyebrows lifted when she didn’t stop him. “Mr. Turner is very impressive, I see.”
Theo’s eyes went saucer wide. “Bash, stop!” Lord save her. She scrambled to grab his wrists and stop his nonsense. “And you want to argue you’re more mature than eighteen?”
His eyes sparkled. “Perhaps now that you’re occupied with someone else, I can convince Mr. Turner to see the light.”
She heaved an over-exaggerated sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”
He fluttered his lashes. “Love me.”
“I do, Sebastian.” All teasing fled, and she stared hard at the man across from her. “We don’t need to share blood, and stations be damned. I’m always here for you. You’re the little brother I always wished for.”
Theo’s mother had passed during childbirth, and there’d been no room in Father’s heart for anyone else. Her and Bash’s experiences might not be the same, but the loneliness and longing for family were shared. Perhaps that was why they’d gravitated toward each other so strongly. Why she cherished her time with the Duchess so much.
A sheen built over his eyes, and his smile wobbled. “Love you,” he whispered.
“Love you too.”
18
Rafe
Rafe’s heavy bootsteps echoed in the cavernous hall. There were rooms in this castle that Rafe never wanted to set foot in again. The dining hall was one of them.
So, why was he about to?
