Mother placed a hand over Vasily’s. “Aye, I just…would you…” He hesitated. They hadn’t talked about the future. They hadn’t even talked about Vasily’s royal status, deliberately choosing to ignore it for now. Yet here Mother was, seized with the desire to ask Vasily to live with him like a proper couple. Surely, the very idea was madness.
But then again, wasn’t courting a prince its own kind of madness?
Mother leaned into Vasily’s touch and caught his gaze, and the concern and affection he saw there decided him. Every step of the way, Vasily had been the one to take the lead.
Perhaps this time, Mother could be the bold one.
He settled one hand on Vasily’s shoulder, just to keep himself steady. “I was wondering if you would…stay. With me.”
Vasily’s brow creased in confusion. “Stay?”
“At my house. With me. All the time. Properly.” Mother’s heart thundered against his ribs, and he forgot how to breathe as he waited.
Vasily bit his lip. “You don’t want me to go back to my own cottage?”
Mother shook his head mutely.
Vasily stared for a second, then grinned widely. “I don’t want to go back either,” he said. “I want to stay with you.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, Mother took Vasily’s face in his hands and kissed him, exhilaration fluttering in his chest like a flock of birds desperate to fly free. He pulled back and let out a breathless laugh, unable to hold it in.
Vasily let out a pleased sound and ran one hand down Mother’s spine, making him shiver. “Shall I bring the rest of my things over tonight?”
Mother nodded, then lifted his head and asked, “What things, lad?”
“Well, there’s my clothes and spare boots—no, wait, they’re already there. But I have a towel and a washcloth, except—” Vasily stopped mid-sentence, and Mother waited for him to catch up. “Mother,” he asked, eyes wide, “have I already moved in?”
Mother grinned so hard his cheeks ached. “As good as, love.”
It was Vasily’s turn to laugh, the sound echoing through the stables, and Mother joined him, feeling lighter than he ever had. He didn’t know how this was going to work with Vasily still being an heir to the Koroslovan throne, and he wasn’t sure how he’d cope when the time came for him to leave, but he shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind.
Vasily was his, for now at least, and if his being a prince meant that this turned out to be temporary, then Mother was determined to make the most of it while he could.
They’d worry about the rest of it later.
* * *
Mother spent several hours that afternoon up at the castle with the steward, sorting out Ollie’s apprenticeship and arranging to hire a new stable boy to replace him. Perhaps it was because he was impatient to get back to Vasily and get him moved in properly, but everything seemed to take twice as long it should. Finally, though, the arrangements were made, and Mother was able to make his escape.
The sun was low in the sky by the time he got back, and when he checked the main stables, his grooms were just finishing up for the day, with all the horses fed and in their stalls. He checked their work and dismissed them, leaving him alone with the fragrance of hay and horse sweat. He made his way to the royal stalls, and when he stuck his head around the door, Vasily had his back to him. He was stroking Blackbird’s nose and talking softly to her, completely oblivious to Mother’s presence. His shirt was untucked with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and shadows danced across his body, making him appear longer and leaner than he was. His hair was loose, tumbling down over his shoulders.
He was beautiful.
“Are you going to stand there all day staring at my arse?” Vasily said, turning his head and flashing Mother a grin.
Perhaps it was the way the loose strands of Vasily’s hair danced around his face, or perhaps it was the way he licked his bottom lip, teasing, but Mother was seized by an urge to claim him. Without stopping to think, he marched forward and grabbed Vasily around the waist, hoisting him over his shoulder where he dangled like a sack of feed.
Vasily’s breath caught and he fell silent, and Mother stopped dead, suddenly afraid he’d crossed some line he wasn’t aware of. “Vas?” he said quietly, setting him gently down. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t for Vasily’s cheeks to be flushed or his eyes to be glittering with lust. “You just lifted me like I weighed nothing,” Vasily rasped. “I liked it.”
Oh.
Mother raised an eyebrow and grinned, swinging Vasily over his shoulder again and giving his arse a playful slap as he spun on his heel towards the door. “Is that so? Shall I carry you back to—”
He stopped in his tracks when an unfamiliar man swept through the doorway, a fur-trimmed cloak swirling behind him. He was tall and broad with a straight nose, square features, and long hair that was greying at the temples. His clothing was well cut if travel worn, and his stance was that of a man who wielded power. He was obviously nobility of some sort, and the question of his identity was answered when, from somewhere down by Mother’s right arse cheek, Vasily squeaked out, “Father?”
Mother stared wide-eyed, and seconds later the man was joined by a slim dark-haired woman who was also wearing a fur-trimmed cloak and also holding herself impeccably upright, despite the dust of travel clinging to the hem of her dress.
“Oh gods,” Vasily whispered.
