Mother put his spoon down. “Vasily.” A firm hand gripped his chin, gently guiding him upright. Mother gazed at him, brown eyes wide and sincere. “You surprised me, that’s all. But if youwerewooing me and you said that, we’d be halfway back to the cottage by now.”
Vasily brightened at that. “Really?”
“Really.” Mother ran a hand down the back of his neck, ducking his head. “You keep that up and you’ll enchant your young man.” Something like unhappiness flitted across his features, there and gone again like a cloud passing over the sun. Then he smiled, a weak, uncertain thing, and pushed his uneaten custard to one side. “Shall we go back?”
Mother remained quiet as they started the walk back, and Vasily was just wondering if he’d upset him somehow when fingertips grazed his, and he glanced down to see Mother extending a hand. “Warm me up?” he said, his smile more genuine this time.
He slid his palm into Mother’s, giving a squeeze, and Mother leaned in close, their shoulders bumping together as they ambled along the path. They seemed to be walking far more slowly than normal, and Vasily couldn’t help but be glad of it because it meant he got to enjoy Mother’s touch, as innocent as it was, for a little longer.
Eventually, though, they reached the door of Mother’s cottage, their breath coming out in frosty white plumes. Vasily knew that a chilly evening was no time to be dallying on doorsteps, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to let go of Mother’s hand. They stood there in the cold evening air, close enough that Mother’s face was mere inches from his, his lips parted as he gazed down, and Vasily realised that he wasn’t the only one making no move to untangle their fingers.
He thought back over the evening. About how Mother had reacted to Jeremy. About howhe’dreacted to Jeremy. About how nervous he’d been when trying to compliment Mother—almost like he’d meant it.
Because you did.
When Vasily’s mother had read him fairy tales as a boy, he'd always imagined a happy ending—and a handsome prince—for himself. Mother Jones was not a conventionally handsome man, and he was certainly no prince, but still, Vasily felt the same stirring ache in his chest now that he had when he was a little boy imagining his happy ending. He looked down at their clasped hands and awareness rolled over him, like an ocean wave breaking on the shores of his attraction, and he wondered how he’d been so blind.
He didn’t want to flirt with Jeremy. He wanted to flirt with Mother.
He wanted tokissMother.
And maybe, if the way he was standing close was any indication, Mother wanted to kiss him too. He recalled how Mother had snapped at Jeremy over nothing—like a dog guarding a bone—or, if he thought about it, like a jealous lover.
Surely not, he chided himself. But still, a thrill ran through him at the thought of Mother wanting him.
He must have stood there too long because Mother cleared his throat. “I suppose I’d best—”
“Wait!”
Mother stopped mid-sentence, and Vasily tilted his head back so he could gaze into those deep brown eyes. And perhaps he was imagining it, but he could have sworn what he saw reflected there was his own longing.
For a moment all his years of hiding who and what he was threatened to overwhelm him, and he almost stepped away—almost—but then the corners of Mother’s mouth curved up in a smile, and Vasilywanted.
He reminded himself that he was aprince, and if there was one thing he’d been trained to do, it was to stand straight, speak clearly, and say what he wanted without hesitation.
So he did.
“Mother Jones,” he said, ignoring the slight tremor in his voice, “I should very much like to kiss you.”
ChapterSeven
Mother’s breath caught in his throat, and his stomach clenched around the rock that had formed there. He reminded himself that Vasily didn’t mean what he’d said—no matter how much Mother wanted him to.
Because Vasily wantedJeremy, and this was just him practicing.
It was hard to remember that, though, when Vasily had held his hand and laughed over dinner with him. And it didn’t help that Vasily had ignored Jeremy’s clumsy advances—had seemed almost distressed by them, in fact. It had made jealousy flare hot and strong in Mother’s chest, and he hadn’t been able to help scowling until the boy had taken the hint and left.
Afterwards, Mother had felt slightly guilty because wasn’t he meant to behelpingVasily win Jeremy’s affections? But the guilt had faded when Vasily hadn’t given Jeremy a second look all evening, and Mother had hoped that meant Vasily had realized the boy wasn’t right for him.
Except here he was, practicing asking for kisses, and it was taking all of Mother’s strength not to take Vasily at his word, because for the first time in his life, he wanted that too—to taste Vasily’s mouth and run his hands down his spine, to feel smooth skin under his palms and…well. It didn’t matter what else he wanted, because he wasn’t going to get it, was he?
Vasily was still waiting for an answer, eyes wide and expectant, and Mother knew what he wanted to hear. “If you ask Jeremy like that, he’ll kiss you for certain.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth.
Vasily blinked and then shook his head rapidly. “No, I—” He reached out his free hand and cupped Mother’s cheek. “I wasn’t planning on asking Jeremy. I’m askingyou, Mother. You’re the one I want to kiss.” He moved closer, near enough that their breath mingled, then tilted his head back, lips parted in invitation.
Mother’s heart stuttered in his chest and something like a breathless laugh escaped him. “Me?” he asked, his stomach swooping as his emotions veered between hope and disbelief.
“You.” Vasily’s eyes shone with anticipation. “Will you kiss me?”
