He made a show of apologising for forgetting to pass on the king’s request, and the guests all assured him it was fine. They rolled their eyes as they arranged their departure and grumbled under their breath about what a fool he was, but Evan wasn’t bothered by their muttered insults. After all, it was exactly the impression he’d wanted to leave. He made a point of lingering in the area, offering to help pack their bags and generally making a nuisance of himself, and his presence had the desired effect. By late afternoon, the last three visitors had been firmly ejected.
He made sure to flash a bright smile at the ambassador for Falsmark as the man’s luggage was being carried down the stairs. “Such a shame you can’t stay! We could have had more drinks!”
Marchesi’s mouth became a thin line and he stormed down the stairs without bothering to reply. Evan couldn’t help but feel that he was more annoyed than his enforced departure warranted—almost as if he’d had plans that had been thwarted.
He followed the ambassador out into the courtyard and lingered as the man’s trunks were loaded into two coaches, then gave a happy wave as they rumbled through the gates. The ambassador did not return it.
He hurried up to the ambassador’s vacant rooms and searched them thoroughly while the staff were otherwise occupied, but just as he’d suspected there was nothing to find.
There was no dinner in the main dining room that night, with Leo and Felix opting to eat in the kitchen to make Cook’s life easier. Evan joined them, glancing around the room. Thomas’s height made him unmissable, and Evan spotted him easily. He was seated at one of the long tables with his back to Evan, talking with his men.
Just the sight of his broad shoulders and messy blond hair made something in Evan settle. Perhaps it was the knowledge that there was another person keeping their eyes and ears open. Evan was so used to working alone that it was still strange to think that he wasn’t carrying the fate of the king solely on his own shoulders.
Strange, but reassuring.
He was tempted to slip out of his seat, wander over and sling his arm around Thomas’s shoulders, and invite him upstairs—he was sure word of their affair must have spread after their display at the dinner the other night—but just as he prepared to slide his chair back from the table, Thomas tilted his head back and let out a massive yawn. Evan was reminded that while he might have spent the day making a pest of himself to the guests and hanging around the place, Thomas had been working and training his men all afternoon.
In fact, Evan had taken time out of his pestering to just drink in the sight of Thomas instructing his newer troops in the proper use of a sword. Thomas had worked as hard and sweated as heavily as any of his men as he thrust and parried and taught them how to defend themselves. He was impressive with a blade, and the sight of him shirtless and gleaming with sweat, shoulders flexing as he swung a broadsword, was unfairly arousing. Evan could picture it clearly, and he had no doubt that once he retired for the night, he’d picture it again—this time with a hand wrapped around his cock.
For now, he ate his dinner in relative silence, stealing quick glances over at Thomas in between bites and hoping against hope that his captain would approach him. It was all too easy to imagine him striding across the kitchen, scooping Evan up in those muscular arms and throwing him over one shoulder, then carrying him up the stairs and tipping him into a bed before ravishing him—preferably twice.
But of course, that was never going to happen. It was one thing for a duke to ignore protocol and dally publicly with the Captain of the Royal Guard but another thing altogether for Thomas to be the one making advances. That would be unheard of.
No, Evan would be going to bed alone tonight.
He sighed and pushed his chair back from the table, affecting a yawn. “Do you know,” he said, “watching everyone rushing about today has me quite exhausted.” He drained the glass of wine he’d been nursing and stood. “Remind me again, what was all the fuss over?”
Felix said, “The king and I are leaving tomorrow, remember?”
Evan let a look of confusion wash over him, aware that the rest of the table was watching, and gave a bright smile. “So you are! To see Vasily’s family in Koro… slova?”
Vasily gave him an encouraging nod from where he was sitting next to Felix.
“I nearly lost my left bollock to the cold there once,” Evan stated. “There was a lovely young man, and a field, and we were too busy to notice when the snow started, and—anyway, make sure you wrap up well.”
Felix did a creditable job of keeping a straight face. “My bollocks?”
“Well, all of you, but your dangly bits especially.” He gave an exaggerated shudder.
Leo burst out laughing. “Never change, Evan.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” He leaned over and stole a slice of cake from Leo’s plate and strolled out the door and up the stairs to his room.
Hehadnearly lost his left bollock in Koroslova, but it had been in a knife fight. The blade had come unnervingly close, and he would have much preferred the story about bedding a youngman in a snow-covered field to be true. He would also have much preferred to be bedding a certain muscular captain tonight, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen.
When he reached his rooms, he shrugged into a sleep shirt. The lamps were lit and a fire burned low in the hearth, yet when he climbed into bed he still shivered. He told himself it was all the talk of cold weather and snow, but deep inside he knew the truth.
He missed his big, comforting bear of a captain, pure and simple.
He tossed and turned and even climbed out of bed to stoke the fire higher, but it didn’t help, and it was a long time before he fell into a thin, uneasy sleep.
The following day was yet another flurry of activity, but by early afternoon the coaches were loaded and ready to go.
As he crossed the courtyard, Evan caught sight of Thomas leading a contingent of six guards toward the stables. He knew that Thomas would have chosen men who were all handy with a weapon, which reassured him. Not that Evan thought their fighting skills would be needed, but it was good to be prepared, and their presence would give pause to any would-be attackers on the road. Leo was as well protected as he could be—and that was without taking Felix into account.
The prince consort was a skilled fighter in his own right and fiercely protective of his husband. Evan pitied anyone who was foolish enough to threaten the king while Felix was nearby.
Still, there was an itch at the back of Evan’s skull, a voice that whispered he was missing something.
