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“If Uncle Jesse will teach me,” she said with a wide grin.
Emory looked at him expectantly. Jesse smiled, propping his head on his hand. “Sure. I can do that.”
He yawned again and Dimity followed suit.
“Yes indeed,” Emory said, standing and gently moving the easel into the corner. “I think it is time for bed.”
“But you’ll be up for ages yet, Daddy,” Dimity complained, just the edge of a whine in her voice.
“We’ve discussed this before, haven’t we, Dimity?” he said, his voice firm. “Tonight was a special night. But just because I’m awake all night doesn’t mean you can be. Little girls need their sleep.”
“Uncle Jesse,” she pleaded, even though her eyes were drooping, “you tell him.”
“Dad’s rules, Dim,” he said, standing. “It’s been a long night for all of us.”
“Okay,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “If you’re going to bed too?” She peeped at Jesse from under her curls.
He glanced at Emory. He was smiling. A low heat was starting to smolder in his eyes. “Sure,” he said, though his blood had started to race. “My bedtime, too.”
“Okay then,” Dimity said, fetching Bunny Bella from where she had been set in an armchair to watch the proceedings. Dimity held her hand out to Emory. “Bedtime.”
Emory took his daughter’s hand and led her to the door. Jesse stood, stretching and moved to follow. Emory paused at the doorway.
“Have another drink,” he said in a low voice, that dark fire sparking in his eyes. “I haven’t given you your Christmas present yet.”
Jesse was instantly awake. He swallowed, nodded. “Sure.”
Emory leaned in and brushed his lips along his jaw. “I won’t be long,” he whispered in his ear, then turned and took his daughter toward the stairs.
Jesse went to the drinks counter and poured a brandy. He downed it, enjoying the burn in his throat and poured another. He sipped, surveying the room. The carols still wafted in the air. The scent of the fire, the candles and the greenery wove among the sounds like golden threads. He searched for the fear from earlier, for the anger, the confusion. But that now lay beyond a curtain of contentment that Jesse wasn’t sure he understood—just like he wasn’t sure he could handle the sparking electric storm building in his abdomen at the memory of Emory’s expression before he left the room.
By the time he returned, Jesse was on a third brandy and the alcohol was starting to burn in his veins. Emory had removed his tie and jacket and unbuttoned his collar. His eyes were glowing with dark fire. He gazed at Jesse and slowly put his hands in his pockets.
“I would like to show you just how truly grateful I am.”
All Jesse could manage in reply was a noise in the affirmative. Emory drifted forward. Jesse clutched his glass tight. Emory took the glass from his hand and set it aside. His face was close. Jesse could smell his whiskey-scented breath.
“Shall we retreat to the study?”
Jesse remembered the large sofa before the fire and nodded dumbly. Emory preceded him through. The roaring fire was the only light source in the room. It sent shadows dancing over the walls, the furniture and Emory himself. Jesse’s blood rushed as Emory held out his hand with a suggestive smile.
Jesse ignored the hand and threw his arms around Emory, pressing himself against his muscled torso and kissing him. Emory opened his mouth to Jesse’s searching tongue. Jesse drank in the taste, wine and moorland heather, running his hands up his back and growing painfully hard.
“You must slow down,” Emory said, taking a firm hold of Jesse’s arms and pushing him back. “Or you’ll be spent long before I’m done with you.”
Jesse fought air into his lungs. “Tell me what you’re gonna do.”
Emory’s blue-black eyes glinted in the firelight.
“Two rules,” he murmured as Jesse stood there, aching and hard, his mouth dry and longing to kiss again. “No talking. No using your hands.Break either rule,” Emory said, leaning close and speaking against the hollow in Jesse’s throat, “and you will be punished. Understand? You may answer.”
“Yes,” Jesse rasped, grappling at Emory’s shirt. But Emory took him by the wrists and guided his arms back down by his sides.
“No hands, Jesse…not until I say.” He straightened and looked him in the eye. “You want this, don’t you? Want me?”
Jesse nodded frantically, desperate to rip the clothes from Emory’s body. But he held still, not blinking, not looking away.
“Then you shall have me,” Emory whispered. “It will be different to what you’re used to—and it will take time. But I think it will be worth it.”
