Page 39 of A Gathering Storm
“Yes,” Ward said, suddenly unable to look his servant in the eye. “You may take yourself off for the night now, Pipp. I can see Mr. Hearn out when he’s ready to go.”
Pipp replied, “If I may be so bold, sir, it’s rather late. If it’s more convenient, I could have one of the guest rooms made up for—”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Pipp.” That was Nicholas, turning away from the bookshelf to quickly interrupt. “I’ll only be here another hour or so.”
Another hour or so?
Ward felt a stab of disappointment. That wasn’t much time at all.
“Of course, sir,” Pipp murmured, inclining his head at Nicholas. He tucked his tray under his arm and left.
And finally, they were alone.
Nicholas moved slowly towards Ward, a tentative smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as Ward stepped forward to meet him, heart thudding with anticipation, only to halt when the click of nails on the wooden floor made them both glance downwards. No, they weren’t alone quite yet—Master Snowflake was still with them. The dog gazed worshipfully up at Nicholas, big head canted to one side.
Nicholas sent Ward an apologetic look. “I need to settle him down somewhere first. Where can I put him?”
“How about in here? Will he be all right if he knows you’re just next door?”
Nicholas thought about that. “I think he’ll be fine if I make him a little bed up, like the one he has at home. Would that be all right?”
“Of course. What do you need?”
“Do you have an old blanket, or maybe some rags?”
“I’m sure I can find something along those lines. Follow me.” He went to the door that connected the study to the bedchamber, beckoning Nicholas to follow him. “This is where I sleep,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Nicholas, whose eyes were wide as he took in the opulence of the large bed dominating the room.
“You could sleep ten in that bed,” Nicholas joked weakly, seeming unable to take his eyes off it.
Ward chuckled and opened up the linen chest at the foot of the bed, pulling out a soft woollen blanket of palest blue, trimmed with ivory satin. He handed it to Nicholas. “Will this do?”
Nicholas stared at it, seeming appalled. “I can’t let a dog sleep on this.”
Ward waved that off. “It’s fine. I never use it—I’m always too hot in bed. Besides, it can be laundered if he makes a mess on it.”
“But it’s—”
“Nicholas,please,” Ward interrupted, his already harsh voice even rougher than usual. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
Nicholas stared at him, his expression taken aback. Then his lips twitched and he nodded. “All right. Just give me a minute.”
Ward watched from the doorway as Nicholas made a little nest in the study with the blue blanket and coaxed Snowflake over. Snowflake approached, sniffed the blanket cautiously, then eventually stepped inside, circling three times before he settled himself down. For a few minutes, Nicholas sat with his dog, hunkered on the floor beside him, petting his ears and broad, round head. Slowly, Snowflake seemed to relax, resting his head on his paws and closing his single, rheumy eye.
When Nicholas finally stood again, the dog was far from asleep, his eye immediately popping open to gaze at his owner pleadingly, as though begging him to stay. But after Nicholas soothed him again with more of those low murmurs and petting, he finally put his head back down, though he kept his watchful gaze on Nicholas as he and Ward tiptoed out of the study and entered the bedchamber, closing the door behind them.
“Will he be all right shut in there?” Ward asked.
“He should be fine,” Nicholas replied with a smile. “So long as he knows where I am. Thank you for being so patient.” After a moment, he added, “And for saving him. I didn’t say that before, did I? I was too busy telling you how foolish you’d been.”
“That’s all right,” Ward said. “You were quite right, I daresay. I just . . . didn’t think how dangerous it was.”
“You must never do anything like that again,” Nicholas said seriously. “It was ridiculously brave, but my heart wouldn’t be able to take it. Christ, if you’d fallen—” He shivered visibly.
Their gazes locked. There was just the smallest distance between them now, yet somehow that space seemed endless to Ward, and he couldn’t think how to broach it. He was grateful, therefore, when Nicholas spoke, his voice low and somewhat tentative.
“What do you want to do?”
It felt like a huge question. A huge, undulating, unanswerable question. How to articulate all the things he wanted from Nicholas? All the things he’d been thinking about for weeks now. But Nicholas wasn’t talking about that—he was talking about something specific and measurable. Something that could be fitted into anhour or so. Perhaps only onehour or soever.