Page 77 of A Gathering Storm
“And even now, I’m being a selfish idiot, behaving like this over my brother who died a whole year ago when you’ve just lost your grandfather tonight.” He shook his head miserably.
“It’s all right,” Nick said gently. “Godfrey wasn’t my family. This is different.”
“Nicholas—”
“No,really,” Nick insisted. “I know what it is to lose someone you love. It was different with Godfrey. I can’t say I loved him, and I’m quite sure he didn’t love me. I think the reason he asked for me tonight was because he felt, well, connected to me. The same way he felt connected to the Roscarrock land maybe.”
“It couldn’t just have been that,” Ward said. “He already has a legitimate grandson to carry on his name. I’m sure he must have loved you, Nicholas.”
Nick gave a small smile, oddly touched by that attempt at reassurance. “No, it’s just that Harry’s nothing like Godfrey, whereas I— Well, he probably thought I was cut from his cloth, at least as far as the land’s concerned. That’s a sort of connection, but it isn’t love.”
“Isn’t it?” Ward whispered. “Then what is?”
Nick turned over the hand that lay beneath Ward’s so that they were palm to palm. He spread his fingers, sliding them into the spaces between Ward’s, and Ward gripped him back. He couldn’t breathe, never mind speak, but at last he managed a breathless, “Don’t you know? Don’t you feel it?”
Ward stared at him, his throat working. He whispered, “Nicholas—”
“I love you, Ward.”
Ward’s eyes glittered in the darkness. He said hoarsely, “Don’t say that if you’re only going to leave again.”
“I’m not,” Nick whispered and leaned in, using his free hand to grasp Ward round the back of his neck and yank him close, pressing their mouths together.
They crouched there, on the wooden platform in that great chasm in the ground, with the rain pouring down on top of them, freezing, shivering, sodden, and kissing, and Nick was so intensely happy in that instant that his heart hurt with it, as though it couldn’t quite hold all the love inside him. He clutched Ward closer, deepening the kiss, and Ward groaned into his mouth.
Eventually Ward broke the kiss, pulling back to stare into Nick’s eyes. “You must know already that I love you.”
“I knew no such thing,” Nick said, smiling foolishly, unable to hide his pleasure at that declaration.
“Well, I do,” Ward assured him, and though his voice was little more than a croak, his words were the sweetest Nick thought he had ever heard. At some stage, Ward’s ruined voice had become so dearly familiar to him, he didn’t notice its ugliness anymore.
“Come home with me,” Ward said. “I want you in my bed.”
“God, yes.” Nick longed to be naked with Ward again, skin to skin. To lose himself in the private cocoon they made with their bodies.
“And this time,” Ward said, “you’re staying.”
“Yes,” Nick agreed eagerly, kissing up the line of Ward’s jaw. “This time I’ll stay all night.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Ward pressed Nick back, and Nick blinked at the loss of contact.
“What?”
“I don’t just want you to stay one night,” Ward continued. “I want you with me always, Nicholas.”
Nick stared at him. There were a hundred reasons he could give Ward right now as to why that couldn’t be. But if he started enumerating them, this would end before it had even begun, and he couldn’t let that happen.
What was he to do? Jump over the edge and hope for the best? Trust he wouldn’t perish on the rocks? There were so many rocks. But there was also Ward.
“All right,” he said, rain dripping down his face. “For always.”
Varhak Manor was solid and square, modern and defiant against the wild Cornish sky. Pipp must have been watching for them—he opened the front door before they even reached it, searching Ward’s face with his careful gaze as Ward and Nicholas removed their sodden coats and hats.
Ward offered Pipp a small smile, and Pipp’s tense expression eased.
“Do you require any refreshments, sir? I can have a tray made up.”
Ward glanced at Nicholas, who shook his head. “No, thank you, Pipp. Just some brandy perhaps. We’re both soaked through.”