Page 11 of Vanquished by a Viscount (Tales from the Brotherhood #3)

Five

C harlie stared daggers at Gray’s back as the man stomped away.

He could not puzzle out anything about Gray anymore, particularly not what the man was thinking or feeling.

There had been a time when he’d been able to read Grayson like a proverbial book, but now that tome had been firmly closed and the book crammed on some dusty back shelf.

For a moment, it had seemed as though things might thaw between them, but as quickly as the ice had begun to melt, he'd gone and thrust them both into the Arctic once more.

“Go after him,” Barbara urged in a hushed whisper, going so far as to approach Charlie and push him. “He’s waiting for you.”

Charlie turned back to his sister. “I mean it, Barb,” he said in a near whisper. “I see your intentions, but not even your most valiant efforts can repair the damage that has been done between me and Hawthorne.”

“Oh, pooh,” Barbara said, brushing off Charlie’s stubbornness. “What has been broken can be mended. Now go and fetch the targets, and uff! Please do bathe before joining the rest of my guests for breakfast,” she added, wrinkling her nose and waving a hand in front of her face.

Charlie could not help but grin. Barbara was teasing him, more likely than not. Her high spirits were a balm to his jagged soul, though, so he set off after Grayson, sending her one final look of impatience.

Gray did not turn back at the sound of Charlie’s feet crunching on the gravel path, but his shoulders stiffened and his steps shortened. Charlie caught up to Gray easily, but he had nothing to say once the two of them were side by side.

When the tense silence between them went on for too long, he asked, “Is this garden shed far?”

“No,” Gray snapped.

Charlie clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists. So it would be like that between them, would it?

“There are a great many outbuildings at Hawthorne House,” he observed, unwilling to give Gray the satisfaction of remaining completely quiet as they accomplished their task. “I believe I saw a blacksmith’s forge and everything.”

“There’s a forge, a farrier, a laundry, and more,” Gray said as if the words had to be dragged from him by a team of oxen. “Hawthorne House has been a self-sustaining estate for over a hundred years.”

Charlie nodded, but if Gray was unwilling to take the conversation farther, he had no wish to push him.

And besides, Barbara had written to him in the winter, shortly after arriving at her new home, to tell him its complete history.

Hawthorne House was and always had been far more than a country estate for an aristocratic family to spend their summer holidays at.

By the time they reached the garden shed, which was far larger than Charlie anticipated it would be, Grayson seemed to have grown more frustrated instead of less.

“The footmen could have fetched these for Barbara,” he grumbled as they stepped into the dim building that smelled of dirt and grass and a hint of must.

“The footmen are occupied,” Charlie reminded him curtly, squinting to take in the shed’s interior in the dim light.

“Oh, I am certain they are quite occupied,” Gray grumbled, pushing a wheelbarrow aside so that he could forge deeper into the building.

“I am certain they are occupied polishing their buckles and sucking each other’s cocks while we add dirt on top of sweat instead of enjoying a cup of tea.

” He pushed a bundle of gardening tools aside and muttered, “Lady Barbara is a menace.”

Charlie jerked his head around to frown at Gray. “It is one thing to be out of sorts because you have been asked to attend a house party instead of having your own cock sucked by some foreign footman, but kindly do not take your salty attitude out on my sister.”

When Gray barely reacted to his words, continuing to push and shove gardening implements aside as he searched for archery targets, Charlie faced him across a pile of empty pots and went on.

“My sister has endured more than enough in her young lifetime,” he said, voice raised slightly.

“She lost her mother at a tender age and was the recipient of our father’s drunken outrage more often than not.

She has suffered far more than you have, that much is certain, and she has miraculously maintained a sweet and agreeable approach to life.

If she wishes us to retrieve targets for her, then we will retrieve targets and be grateful. ”

Gray let out a breath and sagged as if his energy had left him completely.

“I am sorry,” he said, moving a heavy rake aside far more carefully than he’d been tossing things around thus far.

“I do like Barbara. Quite a lot, actually.” He glanced reluctantly up at Charlie across the clutter in the center of the shed.

“I remember you telling me stories about how miserable her childhood was because of your father.”

Charlie sucked in a breath as he remembered the times when he’d shared his inmost secrets with Gray.

They had once whispered the most vulnerable things about themselves and their lives across the pillow in the middle of the night, hands joined between them, bodies loose and warm from lovemaking.

Those had been some of the most wonderful times of Charlie’s life, despite the sadness they’d spoken of.

“My sister has been solely my responsibility until I gave her hand to your brother six months ago,” he said. “I shall always feel primarily responsible for her happiness, though, no matter the importance Robert must have in her life.”

Gray was still for a moment, then nodded. He said nothing as they continued moving things aside to reach the targets at the back of the shed, but Charlie was convinced he had taken his words to heart.

They continued on without speaking. The shed was stuffed so full of everything from gardening implements to old furniture, dusty trunks, and broken bits of tools that Charlie suspected someone had placed them all there on purpose.

He could see three, large archery targets at the very back of the shed, but he and Gray would need to move a great deal of debris before they could retrieve them.

Barbara had planned her trap for the two of them well.

Their efforts to move things and carry others out of the shed in order to make a path to the targets took longer than Charlie would have wanted.

It also brought them into closer physical proximity once they were near to reaching their goal.

Between the work they were presently engaged in and the run earlier, Charlie could smell not only his own sweat, but the nostalgic scent of Gray’s body as well.

It was far more appealing than it should have been.

Worse still, the items closest to the targets, blocking them in, were heavy enough to require the two of them working together to move.

That meant that not only did their shoulders brush and their hips bump into each other once or twice, they seemed to reach for the same handholds on the heavy, iron tools, their hands touching and gripping each other here and there.

“I like Barbara,” Gray said once they’d moved a particularly bulky trellis to one side of the shed. “Our entire family likes her. She is a beam of sunlight to a house and home that has seen a great deal of change and transition in the last few years.”

Charlie softened, his mouth twitching into a sad smile.

Unlike the death of his own father, the Hawthorne family had been devastated by the old earl’s passing far before his time.

Charlie had only met the late Lord Felcourt a handful of times, but he’d found the man to be jovial and intelligent.

Apparently, his heart had given out suddenly, leaving Robert to become the Earl of Felcourt at only thirty.

“Barbara has an uncanny ability to see the best in everyone and to find the joy in even the darkest night,” Charlie agreed, shifting closer to Gray so that the two of them could move the final obstacle blocking the targets, half of a broken horse trough.

Gray hummed and crouched to grasp one end of the trough as Charlie took the other. “She has been good for Robert,” he said, his voice strained as they lifted the solid oak piece and shifted it to the side. “I know you do not approve of the difference in their ages?—”

“I never said I did not approve,” Charlie interrupted, though not as an argument. He simply wanted to make it clear that he was pleased with Barbara’s choice.

They set the trough down and straightened, both a bit winded. “Barbara is clever,” Gray said breathlessly, moving to lean one shoulder against the first target in the stack they’d just freed.

Charlie huffed and moved to lean against the other side of the same target, crossing his arms. “A bit too clever at times, if you ask me,” he said. “This is not the first time she has attempted to orchestrate an outcome she wishes to see.”

“What other outcomes has she orchestrated?” Gray asked, pushing a hand through his damp hair.

Charlie nearly forgot what they were talking about as he watched the rakish gesture.

He’d only ever known Gray as the wide-eyed innocent experiencing his first taste of life and pleasure.

Time had changed the man, and even Charlie had to admit that Gray wore his new self-assurance and easy manner well.

He made an excellent rake, and Charlie could imagine that he had been a favorite in Spain or Italy or wherever else he’d ventured.

And yes, he was jealous. He hated every man who had ever dared to lay a hand on his lover. May they all be cursed with some disease that wasted their balls away.

But he knew as clear as day that it was his fault Gray had run to anyone else in the first place.