Page 28 of The Thief’s Lord (Catkin Trilogy #3)

Gareth

A s promised, Dorset wasn’t placed in either a dank cell or the lonely tower.

That being said, the narrow guest room that he had been placed, with its barred windows and heavy oak door, wasn’t the most cheerful of places.

It was a bare room with a single narrow bed, an equally narrow window, and only room enough for a table, two chairs, and a single-doored wardrobe.

No fireplace. No cast-iron stove. I shivered a little as I stepped through the door.

Dorset who had curled up on the bed and pulled the thick, blue wool blanket around him looked up.

He bounced off the bed and instantly rushed to my side, clinging to me.

My arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace, and I was content to rest my cheek against the top of his head and enjoy the rush of his scent filling the air.

He’s here. He’s safe. He’s mine. Those thoughts whirled about in my head over and over again as the truth finally settled into my bones.

For the past few hours, I’d been so swept off my feet with wrapping up the matter of the Lord Morne and his allies, I had not been able to really sit and consider the matter.

Now that the Morne family had been dealt with and the Rimefrost Night Blades subdued, I was finally able to breath and enjoy the moment, enjoy the dreams I now harbored of the future.

Waking up to find Dorset snuggling me in the morning. Taking Dorset to all of my favorite childhood haunts in Baywaters. Going fishing and sailing and hunting together. Working together on undercover missions. Working together… My grip on him tightened even further.

“Hmph.” Dorset grunted into my shoulder and mumbled something.

“Sorry. What?”

“I can’t breathe!” Dorset popped his head back and pulled away. He grinned. “I suppose that since I’m now in your clutches, you won’t ever let me go.”

I smirked at him, mentally promising him to never, ever let him go.

Certainly, on occasion, he’d leave my sight.

We were both independent toms who had our own interests, but if he thought he was about to elude my attentions, he had another think coming.

At the sight of my passionate look, Dorset blushed and held up his shackle-free wrists.

“Oh!” He said with mock surprise. “I’ve freed myself! You can’t catch me!”

Contrary to expectations, Dorset pounced on me instead of breaking fully away.

I was forced to pivot, blocking a glancing blow to the back.

My fingers caught his elbow, latched onto his arm, pulled him off his spin, and then captured him about the waist. He threw himself back, kicking his legs.

I laughed. He was laughing too—a rich, rolling sound that caught at my heart.

I wanted to hear it again, but I also wanted to assure myself—assure him—of the truth.

I focused on his arms, allowing him to fall and then catching him at the wrists.

Now that he was caught, I savored the feel of him.

Our bodies pressed against each other. His heaving chest against my own.

I was taller than him, but I didn’t force him to rise up on his toes too much.

Just enough to keep him off-balance. Dorset swore lightly, but there were laughter lines crinkling the edges of his eyes, which now sparkled like glimmering emeralds.

Tugging on him lightly, I hustled him onto the narrow bed, pinned him down, and rewarded his good behavior with a bruising kiss.

Dorset purred and arched against me, grinding his hard cock against my own.

I groaned into his mouth and then delved into the inviting moistness of his lips.

Our tongues battled. This was a game where no one truly lost or won.

Then, with a sigh, I eased back and took a deep breath. Dorset’s freckles were now faint against his beet red face. A flaming flush of desire nearly as brilliant as his hair. I smiled at the sight of those pouty, swollen lips. My thumb brushed along them.

“I don’t want to do it here,” I said. “I want to make love to you properly, Dorset.”

“Make love?” Dorset snorted a little.

“I know. I’m an old-fashioned tom—“

“A romantic is what you are.”

“That too.”

Dorset twined his fingers with mine. Fingers that were now free of blood and grime, I noticed. We had both been afforded some time to clean up after our battle in the courtyard. I wondered if Dorset would regret what had happened.

“A bronze for your thoughts,” Dorset said softly.

“I was wondering… about how you felt after today, after what happened.”

I stared down at him as he shifted a little to lay his head back on his arm. For a moment, his gaze wandered, tracing the window and the opposite, very bare wall, until it returned to meet my own.

“If you had asked me a year ago if I’d be lying here in your arms, a King’s Blade,” he said slowly, “I’d think you were talking absolute nonsense.

And yet… It feels right. How can I regret this?

” His fingers squeezed mine gently. “I am no longer alone. I’ve been given a chance. For that, I am grateful.”

“You killed a tom, though,” I said. “You’d never—“

“I did what I had to.” Dorset sighed, and a momentary look of grief crossed his face. “Today, families lost their fathers and brothers and uncles, but they made their choices. We made ours. We can only endeavor to work hard so that it won’t happen again.”

“I like that.”

“Me too.” His gaze met mine, now clouded with concern. “And you? How about you, Gareth?”

The quiet question caught me off guard. After all, no one had really bothered to ask me how I felt about what happened.

There were some questions asking after my general health—from Aileen and my valet.

That was about it. No one in Rimefrost considered that Gareth, the mysterious Duke of Baywaters, might feel sorrow or worry.

Perhaps Landis, if he had time. Or Hugh, if he wasn’t taken up with supporting Alan.

But here was Dorset, asking after me as a true mate ought. Not like my past lovers and mates who had only taken and never given back. It wasn’t eternal prying either as some of my siblings were wont to do. It was a question from the heart.

Gods. I love Dorset so much. I somehow managed to refrain myself from smothering him in kisses.

Instead, I let him see all of the conflicting emotions within me—sadness and relief, regret and happiness.

Today, we lost Blades and guards from our ranks.

Traitorous and loyal toms had died today, but Dorset is right.

We can not blame ourselves. Through our deeds and actions will our vows be shown.

“I will survive another day. Ordinarily, it would hurt see so much loss, but with you at my side…” I tilted my head thoughtfully as I mused aloud. “I feel that I have gained much more than I have lost.”

“It won’t be entirely over though,” he said. “There are Night Blades still out there.”

“We’ll face them together.”

Dorset smiled. “You will teach me how to wield my blades like you do?”

“If you wish.” He added, “And how to read and write as well. I haven’t forgotten that.”

Dorset growled and tried to wrestle me off him in put-on protest. I laughed, pinned him down, and silenced his protests with another kiss.

When we parted for breath later, Dorset allowed me to cuddle him on the bed as we talked about our plans for the future.

After a couple weeks of time spent at the castle, Dorset would be sent to Baywaters under guard.

At my estate, he would be expected to train for the King’s Blades.

Various tutors would be provided to ensure that he had a well-rounded education.

One day , I thought, he will be my right-handed tom. The King’s Second Blade.

It was hard to believe. After years of loss, I had found love again.

For so long, I hadn’t truly allowed myself to feel.

Maybe that’s what all of my subsequent partners felt: that subconscious withholding.

Today, however, I was ready to accept love again.

When I shared my thoughts with Dorset, the younger tom nodded wisely.

“I understand that as well,” he admitted.

Dorset shifted in my arms to turn, laying his head on my thick bicep. His fingers rose to fiddle with my buttons playfully. I arched an eyebrow and tutted. Dorset pouted and sighed, and then he sobered up a little.

“My mother left. My father left. And no one would help me. I wandered alone for so long until Shade and Mourn found me. Even then, I felt… alone. I knew that they would kill me in a heartbeat. If I wasn’t good enough, if I held them back, I would be gone.

I was so afraid.” Dorset sighed. “I didn’t think that things like family and friends and-and love would be real.

” His voice ended on a scratchy note. He blinked and gulped a little, voice shaky with repressed emotion.

“I thought it was just… an illusion. But it’s real. It’s real.”

“It’s real,” I told him. I told myself. “What we have is real—and it will be whatever we want it to be.”

“I can’t wait to see what happens,” Dorset said.

“Neither can I,” I said, drawing him into a tight embrace once again. “Neither can I.”