No matter how temptingly touchable Sebastian looked in that bed.
Wesley straightened up. As he did, he caught hisown reflection in the mirror above the marble sink. The man staring back at him was unexpected, and almost startling—color on his cheeks, lips flushed, eyes more blue than gray. In their short, stolen minute, Sebastian had even managed to muss his hair.
Wesley was used to the man in the mirror looking cold and severe. Untouchable and undesirable.
But this man in the reflection was none of those things.
He looked like someone’s lover.
Wesley looked at himself for another moment, then stood all the way up. The hell with it: he had never done what other people wanted him to and he wasn’t starting now.
He stripped off his own tailcoat and hung it along with Sebastian’s tuxedo jacket in the closet. Then he turned off the light, slipping into the bed behind Sebastian and pulling the covers over both of them. Sebastian made a soft noise, shifting into him as Wesley wrapped his arm over his waist and pulled him against him. There was nowhere near enough space for them both, but this was bliss all the same: Sebastian’s closeness finally satiating Wesley’s relentless cravings, bringing elusive peace to his mind and body.
He rested his head on the same pillow as Sebastian and let himself enjoy it.
Chapter Eight
Sebastian woke to the gray dawn coming through the porthole and Wesley’s whisper in his ear.
“I’m sneaking back to my room to dress and then breakfasting in the verandah. Take some of that powder and drink a lot of water when you wake. Trust me.”
He heard the stateroom door ease open, then close. Sebastian’s head was thick and achy already, but he buried his face under the pillow and closed his eyes again anyway, body languid from Wesley’s lingering warmth.
He woke a fuzzy amount of time later to a cold bed and a throbbing head. With a groan, he rolled over. Why had he ever thought outdrinking Wesley was a good idea?
It was only the thought of hot coffee that finally got him to leave the bed. He took Wesley’s advice and swallowed the last of the doctor’s powder with three glasses of water. He might have felt like a hungover reprobate, but he did need to appear to be a count’s son, so he pulled on a three-piece suit, smoothed his hair, grabbed a hat, and went to find coffee.
The verandah on A-deck was a bright winter garden, with ample greenery against white wicker furniture. Wesley was already at a table, his gaze on thelarge windows that framed the promenade and then the open sea beyond.
The large windows letting in lots and lots of light.
Sebastian squinted as he approached. “Good morning, Lord Fine.”
Wesley glanced his way, gaze flicking from Sebastian’s tie, which was snug in his collar, not loose as he preferred, then to his hat, which he’d pulled as low over his eyes as he could get away with. A tiny smile flitted across Wesley’s face. “Don Sebastian,” he said innocently. “I suspect you’d like some coffee.”
“Please.”
Wesley signaled for a waiter, and in short order Sebastian had a china cup of coffee that was weaker than he preferred, but sweet and milky, at least. Manners could wait; he drank half of it in one long sip. “I’m surprised you picked here for breakfast.”
“Because it’s bright and cheerful with beautiful views, and you’re more likely to find me haunting dark, windowless spaces full of smoke?” Wesley said wryly. “You’re not wrong. I’m watching for Lady Nora. She seems like the type for a brisk morning stroll.”
Wesley ordered tea and a full breakfast, while Sebastian drank a second cup of coffee and managed to stomach some toast. He was contemplating whether to try some melon when Wesley cleared his throat.
“There.”
Passing by the stern windows on the promenade was Lady Nora, dressed in an overcoat with a cloche hat. “She seems to be alone right now.” Sebastian watched her for a moment. “Should we approach her?”
“I say yes.” Wesley was getting to his feet. “She and I have met, after all. There’s no reason I shouldn’t strollon up and say hello, and introduce my exceedingly sexy and intriguing Spanish friend.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes but followed Wesley across the tiled garden and out onto the promenade. They picked a spot to lean against the railing, as if watching the sea. As Lady Nora came down the ship’s starboard side, Wesley stepped into her path.
“Lady Nora?” he said, in an affected society tone Sebastian wasn’t used to. “By Jove, itisyou. I thought I saw you last night.”
He held out a hand.
Lady Nora stopped her walk in surprise. A small furrow appeared between her brows, then smoothed away in recognition. “Lord Fine.” She took his hand. “My word. What a surprise.”
“Is it?” Wesley said smoothly, and really, that was the question, wasn’t it? “Last I heard, your itinerary was the Mediterranean. What brought you to America?”
