“I know.” Medlock tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, almost preening.
“But I didn’t only mean what you did at Carrington, though. Thank you for the whole day.” He felt Medlock go slightly stiff under his hands. “I enjoyed being with you.”
“You’re going to make things awkward, Courtenay.”
“Yes, I damned well am, and you’re going to listen to me do it. I enjoyed spending time with you and I think you enjoyed spending time with me. If it doesn’t terribly bother you, I’d like to continue to do so. Is that acceptable?”
Medlock was silent for a moment. Courtenay heard nothing but their own breathing and the distant ringing of church bells. His chest felt tight with a suspense that was surely disproportionate to the situation.
“Is this how you usually carry on affairs?” Medlock chided. “So businesslike?”
He was going to be difficult, then. He always was, and strangely, Courtenay wouldn’t have it any other way. “There is nousuallywhere you’re concerned.” Courtenay was well out of his depths. In the past he had generally preferred warm, affectionate sorts of people. Medlock was made of ice and thorns, venom and gunpowder. It ought to be hard to get anywhere near him, let alone fall into love with Medlock. But it hadn’t been hard at all, had it? It had been as easy as breathing.
Courtenay had always thought love had to be the stuff of grand declarations. Hothouse flowers and gifts of great price, not to mention the kind of poetry Medlock would dismiss as being rife with self-indulgent sentiment. Courtenay nearly laughed at the thought of how appalled Medlock would be by any of that. Courtenay tried to think of some way to tell Medlock what he felt, what he wanted, what he yearned for, but without saying anything that would scare the man off.
Instead, he settled for taking Medlock’s chin in his hand and stroking his thumb along Medlock’s cheekbone. “Come to bed with me,” Courtenay said. “Then let’s wake up tomorrow and we’ll have pastries. You’ll fence or have tea with duchesses or do whatever it is you do. I’ll go to your sister’s house and count how many new cats she’s taken in. Then we can go for a ride in the park and dine at Simpson’s.”
“You don’t keep a horse,” Medlock said, as if that were at all the crux of the matter. But Courtenay could hear the thickness in his voice and he knew Medlock wasn’t unaffected. “You sold it to line your mother’s pockets.”
“I’ll hire one,” Courtenay said, suppressing a smile. “Then we’ll come back here, you’ll get rid of your servant, and I’ll fuck you.”
Medlock gave a sharp intake of breath. “Is that something you want?”
Courtenay pulled Medlock closer so he could feel for himself how much he wanted it. “Would that be acceptable?”
“It’s... ah. Hmm.” Medlock’s eyes were glassy, his lips parted. Watching him try to look aloof was the most arousing thing Courtenay had ever seen. “I’m not opposed. Rather, I’m amenable. What I mean to say is please do that.”
Courtenay could feel through the layers of wool and linen that separated them that Medlock was indeed far from opposed. “I’ll fuck you, then,” he murmured. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Why are we talking about this instead of you actually fucking me?”
“Because I like feeling how hard you get when I’m talking about it.” Also because he wanted to make sure Medlock would see him again, wanted to hold out the prospect of a good fucking like a sugar lick for a horse.
“I want it now.” Medlock was only a shade this side of arrogance. Courtenay loved it.
“No.” He cupped Medlock’s arse in his palms and pulled him even closer.
“Why the hell not?”
“I’m leaving something on my plate for Miss Manners.”
“You have got to be—”
“Don’t worry.” He pressed his fingers into the seam of Medlock’s breeches, tracing the cleft of his arse, just enough to give the man ideas. “I’ll bring you off before I leave.”
“I should damned well think you will.”
Courtenay pulled him close then, because there was nothing else to do with such a sharp tongue than to silence it with a kiss.
“Take off your coat,” Courtenay murmured into Julian’s neck. The rasp in his voice made Julian’s head swim with lust. It was heady, this sense of having a man like Courtenay—handsome, experienced—want him so badly. He felt intoxicated on the strength of Courtenay’s want alone.
“No,” Julian said, just to be contrary, just to keep Courtenay on the knife’s edge of desire a little longer. There was also that bothersome memory of Courtenay’s meekness the last time, and now it was all tied up with his demeanor today at Carrington Hall.
Julian would not tolerate any more of that. He would have Courtenay, he’d have his body and his pleasure, but most of all he’d have Courtenay’s words.
“I’m sure we can work around it,” Courtenay said, his gaze dragging down over Julian’s body and leaving a wake of heat behind it. “Unconventional, but hardly unheard of.”
“No.” Julian got to his feet. “If you want me to be in charge—
