“Frog. Shovel,” Evan repeated with a soft laugh.
He was still laughing when he opened the bedroom door—only to be confronted by the froglike features of the ambassador in question. Evan froze with Thomas directly behind him.
The ambassador blinked as he looked them up and down slowly, and it was obvious he was wondering what business the Captain of the Guard had with the Duke of Ravenport.
Well, that wouldn’t do at all. The last thing Evan needed was for the ambassador to start asking questions. Still, he hadn’t become the best spy and assassin in six kingdoms without being able to think on his feet.
He pretended he hadn’t noticed the man at all and half turned, grabbed the front of Thomas’s shirt, and tugged him down, surging forward until their mouths met in a messy kiss.
Evan was prepared for Thomas to freeze or possibly even pull back. What he wasn’t prepared for was for Thomas, after a split second of hesitation, to bring one broad hand up and cradle Evan’s face, or for him to kiss him back with such intensity that Evan quite forgot that they were meant to be putting on a show, so lost was he in the feel of Thomas’s hands on his skin. Heat and hunger spilled over when Thomas dipped his tongue into Evan’s mouth with unexpected boldness. Evan’s heart pounded and his cock throbbed in the confines of his now-too-tight trousers when Thomas ran a wide, warm palm down his spine and cupped his arse.
A breathy moan escaped him, but it was drowned out by the sound of the ambassador clearing his throat.
Thomas sighed against his lips and broke their kiss, and Evan whimpered at the loss. It took a moment for him to gather his wits before he turned to face his guest—which made it that much easier to act like the addlepated fool everyone expected him to be. “Ah,” he said, still reeling from the sheer audacity with which the captain had plundered his mouth. “Hello.”
“Your Grace,” the ambassador said in a voice that dripped with disapproval. His gaze flicked between Evan and Thomas.
Thomas simply stared straight ahead with his hands clasped behind his back, acting for all the world like their kiss had never happened and he hadn’t shaken Evan to his very core.
That smug bastard. Evan made a mental note never to play cards against him, because his poker face was second to none.
For now, though, Evan smiled brightly at the ambassador and said, “You’ve met the Captain of the Guard, I assume?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” the ambassador said.
“Neither have I yet, but I have high hopes for after dinner,” Evan said breezily through lips that still tingled.
The ambassador gave him a hard stare.
Evan stared right back before tilting his head to the side, knowing it gave him the appearance of a confused puppy. “You’re the man from Fapping, aren’t you? I’ve quite forgotten your name.”
The man’s brow creased. “Marchesi, Your Grace. Ambassador for Falsmark.”
“I knew you were something to do with an F!” Evan exclaimed. “You’ll have to pardon me. I’m hopeless with names. Now, what are you doing at my rooms, exactly?” He widened his eyes in mock horror and clapped a hand to his chest. “Oh, we didn’t have an assignation planned, did we? Only my memory really is terrible, and I find myself enthralled with the captain. I mean, look at him. He’s mouthwatering. I was helpless against his… charms. So I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel our arrangement. In fact, I think it’s best if we pretend it never existed.”
The ambassador went bright red. “I’m a married man! We don’t have an arrangement!”
“Yes, exactly like that!” Evan said, and winked.
The ambassador opened his mouth like he was about to argue, then closed it and pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders drooping in defeat. “Quite so, Your Grace.”
“Excellent. Shall we go to dinner?” Evan beamed at him and stepped out of the bedroom with Thomas by his side, then pulled the door firmly closed behind him, locking it and pocketing the key.
The ambassador had been lurking around his rooms, and Evan wanted to know why. But whatever it was, it would have to wait. It wouldn’t do to show his suspicions now.
They walked toward the dining hall and Evan kept up a string of inane chatter, babbling about whether fish pie or pigeon pie was tastier and what wine went best with both, all the while turning over the events of the afternoon and trying to work out what reason the ambassador could possibly have for sneakinginto his rooms. He considered briefly that perhaps by some weird twist of fate the manhadcome to proposition him, and dismissed the thought with a shudder.
No, he was certain that Marchesi had other, more sinister intentions.
He just had to work out what they were.
“Your Grace?”
Evan startled, his inattention for once not faked. He’d been observing Thomas standing near the door and gotten distracted by the line of his calves, busy imagining running his tongue up them later tonight. “Hmm?”
“I said, are you planning on staying in Lilleforth for much longer?” Ambassador Marchesi said.
Evan blinked in feigned confusion. “Why? Am I meant to be going somewhere? I hope there’s not a carriage waiting. I’d quite like to finish my supper first.”
