Page 32 of The Labours of Lord Perry Cavendish

“Not now, but you know your neck gets stiff after a while, so make sure to ask for a break as soon as you feel you need it. I shall be cross if I discover you’ve been bravely withstanding discomfort unnecessarily.”

“I’ll tell you,” Perry agreed, smiling.

* * *

It was some time later, when Perry was in fact on the point of asking for a break, that there was a terrific rapping at the door of the hut.

While Jonny went to answer the door, Perry straightened up, dropping his hands to his sides and moving his neck from side to side, wincing when it gave a crack when he turned it to the left.

Jonny returned with Zander in tow.

“Well, look at you, Per!” Zander said, grinning.

In that moment, Perry saw himself through Zander's eyes—naked but for a few strips of fabric concealing his most sensitive parts and an old green curtain wound about around his shoulders—and he felt damned ridiculous.

His embarrassment made him rude. “What the bloody hell are you doing here, Zander?”

Zander only chuckled, not the least bit offended. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. Is this”—he waved at Perry's garb and quirked a brow—“your Hercules costume?”

“Shut up,” Perry muttered.

“I wasn't teasing!” Zander protested, but his eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Itishis Hercules costume,” Jonny interjected before Perry could reply. “And I’ll thank you to keep your comments about it to yourself. If you care to recall, when it was your turn, I had you in naught but a pair of sandals. And very pretty you looked too, by the way, but certainly no less exposed than Perry is now. Quite the opposite in fact.”

It was Zander’s turn to flush then and Perry’s to laugh, which he did, loudly.

Jonny tucked his hand inside Zander's elbow and drew him away. “Come and see what we’ve been working on today. It may give you a better idea of whatIsee when I look at Peregrine.”

He guided Zander over to the painting he'd been working on, and Perry followed, curious to see what Jonny had been doing.

There were two figures lightly sketched on the page, though only one of them was recognisable. The larger, standing figure on the right was clearly Perry. The outline had been washed in pale, flesh-tones, with subtly darker and lighter brushstrokes that traced in the planes of his chest, collarbones, and powerful thigh muscles. A few simple brushstrokes were all that delineated his facial features for now, but even in those quick lines, there was character.

What was it Jonny had said?

Power, grace, and humility.

Yes, Perry saw all of that in the figure on the page—in the big, powerful body and the averted, down-bent head.

The other, kneeling figure was little more than a blocked-out shape with a few lines that suggested raised arms holding something up in offering. It was a shadow form of Jonny, placed just where he’d been that first day, when he’d fussed with the mirror, trying to envision Hylas on his knees.

Just before he’d leaned forward and nuzzled his face against Jonny’s cock and asked to suck him…

“It’s beautiful,” Zander said, interrupting Perry from his wayward thoughts. Zander regarded the painting, his head canted slightly to the side. Then, as though sensing Perry’s gaze on him, he glanced over his shoulder and grinned at him. “You’re every inch the handsome hero, Per. There, I admitted it.”

It was true, Perry thought, astonished. Hewashandsome in the painting. Big and strong and masculine.

Did Perry really look like this? Or at least, was this howJonnysaw him? As he turned that thought over in his mind, Perry realised that hewantedthat to be how Jonny saw him. As a handsome hero—rather than Zander’s beef-witted friend.

Jonny turned away from the painting to face Zander. “I presume you didn’t come all the way down here just to find out what we’ve been up to. Was there something else?”

“Iwascurious to see what you were doing,” Zander said as he pulled a letter from his pocket and handed to Jonny. “But yes, this just arrived for you. It was hand-delivered. The messenger’s waiting back at the house for an answer. He’s just getting something to eat in the kitchens just now.”

Jonny’s brows drew together in puzzlement. He cracked the seal, opening the letter out and scanning the lines inside. As he read, a smile touched his lips. When he turned back to Zander, he said, “It’s from my friend, Jasper. He and Sam are on their way to Southampton—they sail for the Continent in a few days’ time. They don’t have time to come here, but they’ve booked an inn in Reading tomorrow night and asked if we want to meet them there for a last dinner. What do you think?”

“Tomorrow?” Zander said, dismayed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jonny, we won’t be able to come. Adam and I have the village fete, and we’ve promised to be there.”

Jonny’s face fell, and he glanced back down at the letter. “How far away is Reading?” he asked.