The Prince's Consort (Chronicles of Tournai Book 1) Page 13

  They snuggled in bed after, exchanging more kisses and touching for the sake of touch, talking about nothing in whispers as afternoon wore into evening. He’d never had anything like it before. He and Vasco hadn’t lingered after their trysts. They tumbled each other into bed, or onto a couch, and out again just as quickly, always concerned with keeping their secret. Even those rare opportunities when they could take their time, they’d never cuddled up together. They had never talked as freely as this either.

  Vasco had been his friend, and he missed that, but Amory meant more to him than Vasco ever had. Amory was more to him, and he felt more for Amory than he had for anyone else in his life. He should be scared of that, of what he might feel and how fast it all was. But somehow he wasn’t scared. He was happy, so happy to have Amory with him. He needed to figure out how to keep Amory with him always. Easier said than done, but he would find a way.

  “Is everything all right?” Amory looked at him, dark eyes searching.

  Some of his pensive feelings must have shown on his face. He did have to think, but not right then. He only wanted to savor being with Amory. He tugged Amory closer. “Everything is wonderful.”

  “Yeah?” Amory looked skeptical, holding himself far enough away so he could see Philip’s face.

  “Definitely,” he said firmly. He dropped a kiss on Amory’s lips and brushed mussed curls off his forehead. Then he kissed Amory’s forehead, nose, lips.

  Amory pulled back a bit and watched him closely, before a sweet smile dawned on his face. “Good.”

  They emerged from their cocoon of blankets sometime later, but only to clean up and wrap themselves in dressing gowns. Amory’s was a soft emerald-green velvet that Philip had given him at his birthday, knowing the color would look beautiful against his ivory skin and auburn hair. And he’d been right. Amory seemed to glow in the rich color, and it was all Philip could do to keep from pulling him close and opening the dressing gown to see all that pale skin underneath. Knowing Amory was naked under the robe did nothing to help his self-control, but he held together what shreds of it he could.

  They ate dinner sitting among the rumpled blankets and pillows of the large bed. Eating in bed was another thing he’d never done before, never even thought of doing with Vasco, but he liked the intimacy of it with Amory. And he had to stop comparing Amory and Vasco, even if there wasn’t a comparison. It didn’t seem fair to someone who had once been his friend.

  The conversation rambled during dinner and provoked a lot of laughter. In between speaking, they fed themselves and each other bites of the simple meal. While eating a creamy custard, Amory launched into a story of some childhood mischief he and his friends had perpetrated. Even though the story included Amory’s friend Tristan, about whom Philip wasn’t sure how he felt, it still had Philip laughing almost uncontrollably imagining a much younger and more mischievous Amory.

  Amory was talking and sipping his wine, happy and beautiful in the candlelight, and making Philip happy by being there and being him. He had made the right decision asking Amory to stay all those weeks ago. He was certain of that. He leaned close to kiss Amory’s smiling lips. He kissed Amory slowly, thoroughly, and as gently as he could. Trying to express his thankfulness.

  “Was that for anything in particular?”

  “I can’t kiss my lover when I feel like it?”

  “You absolutely can.” Amory leaned toward Philip this time, kissing him, an impish look on his face. “So can I.”

  “Yes, you can.” And he would happily trade kisses with Amory for hours. “Let’s take a bath.”

  “What—together?”

  He chuckled quietly at Amory’s shocked expression.

  “Don’t laugh at me.”

  “I wasn’t.” He took Amory’s hand. “All right, I was. You looked so scandalized.”

  “I didn’t realize grown men bathe together, that’s all.” A faint pink tint colored Amory’s cheeks.

  “Well, I’ve never done it, but the tub is more than large enough for both of us, and I like the idea of it.” Hot water and Amory’s slick skin against his—what wasn’t to like? He brought Amory’s hand to his lips. “Please? You must be sore. The hot water will help.”

  Amory’s blush deepened. “A little. It’s kind of a good sore, though.”

  He smiled and kissed Amory’s fingers again. “Bath?”

  They slipped together into the large tub, which Philip had started filling with steaming water scented with chamomile bath oil while they ate. The hot water felt good, and Amory leaning back against his chest felt better. They lounged there together without talking for a long time. Philip didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. It was comfortable, as nice as the conversation had been earlier. Enough to be there together, exchanging the occasional caress or soft kiss.

  After a while, he picked up the soap and a cloth and began to leisurely wash Amory. Amory looked up at him from where he rested against Philip’s shoulder. “I can wash myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

  “Congratulations,” he teased. “Let me. I want to.”

  Amory sighed into the kiss Philip gave him, and nodded, allowing Philip to run the cloth over his body. He enjoyed the soft sounds Amory made, the little gasps and moans, as the cloth passed over sensitive spots. When he finished, Amory was more than a little aroused, but all he did was take the cloth from Philip’s hand, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

  “My turn.”

  Amory put him through the same glorious torture he’d perpetrated on Amory, but he hadn’t realized it was torture at the time. Amory’s hand guided the cloth slowly over Philip’s body, over his chest and back, down his arms and legs. Amory didn’t miss an inch of Philip’s skin, and the result had him panting and letting out little moans of his own. Amory smiled, far too pleased with himself.

  Philip pulled Amory into a kiss, and then stood to help Amory from the tub. They dried each other with the soft towels laid out for them, and Philip wrapped Amory in the velvet dressing gown. He shrugged into his own, and Amory smoothed the shoulders and tied the sash for him. He kissed Amory once more before they walked back into the bedchamber.

  The room had been tidied, and the remains of their meal taken away while they bathed. The servants were well-trained, unobtrusive, and discreet, which was one of the things that made being at Alzata so relaxing. They did their jobs well and otherwise let Philip be.

  He helped Amory out of the dressing gown before shedding his own. He draped both of them over a chair and followed Amory into bed. Amory turned to him as soon as he did, snuggling close. A flush of pure pleasure suffused Philip at the simple action. Wrapping his arms around Amory, Philip pulled him even closer. He tilted Amory’s face up and kissed him. Amory responded eagerly, as he always did. They kissed for a long while, kissing for the sake of kissing, meant to go no further. It was as good as the rest, kissing Amory, getting to sleep with Amory in his arms. His last thought as he fell asleep tangled up with Amory was that he had just what he always wanted.

  PHILIP WOKE early the next morning, realized where he was, and buried his head in the pillow. He gathered a still-sleeping Amory closer against his chest and closed his eyes again, slipping back into sleep. The next time he woke, bright sunlight was streaming in the windows, and Amory’s eyes were open. His dark gaze was sleepy, but Amory smiled when Philip looked at him.

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  He shook his head and pulled Amory close for a kiss. Amory was warm and pliant with sleep, and he molded himself to Philip. When the kiss ended, he said, “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  Their day followed the pattern set by the one before. They ate breakfast, Philip finding himself unusually hungry and Amory teasing him for it. Then they went for a ride, though a shorter one than the day before. Again, a messenger from the palace waited for them back at the house. He hated the interruption, but he knew it was necessary.

  The hour was early enough that he decided to dea
l with the paperwork and correspondence before lunch. He settled at his desk in the small study, and Amory lounged in a chair near the window, reading a book he’d chosen from the library adjacent to the study. Philip said nothing, but he liked having Amory close. He glanced up from his papers every so often to look at Amory, sitting in the sunlight, absorbed in his book.

  Amory waited patiently while Philip gave instructions to the messenger taking the paperwork back to the palace. When the messenger left, Amory asked, “Finished?”

  “Yes, finished.”

  Amory came around the desk and held out a hand for his. He pulled Philip to his feet and kissed him. “Good.”

  They ate lunch on the terrace again. Amory retrieved his sketchbook after the meal, and they strolled hand in hand through the garden and over the lawn into the shade of the woods. After a little while, Amory wandered off the path, and Philip followed. He sat on the ground next to where Amory settled with his back against a tree, and watched as Amory opened his sketchbook to a fresh page.

  Amory looked up at him. “You’re sure you aren’t going to be bored?”

  “Definitely not,” Philip replied. He laughed at the skepticism in Amory’s eyes. “Draw, Amory.”

  With an eye roll, Amory turned away, back to looking at whatever had caught his eye in that part of the woods. Soon, he began to sketch, his long, graceful fingers making quick, careful strokes with the charcoal. No, Philip wouldn’t get bored. Amory didn’t realize how much Philip enjoyed watching him. He was awed at how Amory’s art came into being under his hands. He was awed at a lot of things about Amory.

  He watched for a long time as a sketch of the woods took shape. It was cool in the dappled sun under the trees, and the scents of earth and grass and wildflowers were heavy in the air. This place was quiet and peaceful, even more so than the rest of Alzata. And no one would bother them.

  “Do you mind if I change?”

  “Hmm? Change?” Amory asked, glancing up at Philip. Amory’s eyes weren’t quite focused, his tone a little absent.

  He was almost surprised by the swell of affection he felt at seeing Amory that way. “Change into a cat for a while.”

  Comprehension dawned in Amory’s eyes. “Oh, of course not.”

  By then, Philip had used his Talent more than once in front of Amory, and he no longer worried Amory would be scared of it. In fact, Amory seemed to enjoy watching him as a cat and to be comfortable petting and cuddling him. He would use it more, but Philip would much rather be with Amory when he had hands to touch him. He pulled up his magic without another thought, using it for the only thing it was good for, and changed into a large black cat.

  He stretched and settled into his new shape. His Talent might be useless, but it was fun, and he didn’t often get the chance to indulge in it, especially not outside. He couldn’t exactly gambol about the palace gardens. He was far too large as a cat to be inconspicuous. His family had always kept their Talents a secret, and he saw no reason to change that through carelessness. But at Alzata, they had more privacy.

  Amory was smiling. He reached out a hand to Philip, and Philip nuzzled his head into it. Amory smoothed those graceful fingers over Philip’s fur for long moments, and Philip purred in pleasure at the gentle, caring touch. He would be happy curling up in Amory’s lap for more of that, happy to laze there all afternoon, but Amory was drawing, and Philip didn’t want to interrupt something Amory enjoyed. He moved closer and rubbed his head against Amory’s cheek before stepping back.

  “Draw.” As usual, the word was a growling, rumbly mess, but Amory understood him.

  “All right, for a while longer.”

  Amory turned back to his drawing, and after another moment watching, Philip turned away to wander the little clearing silently. He didn’t talk much as a cat, not that he normally had anyone to talk to since so few people knew about his Talent. His family did, and he’d used his

  Talent around them when he was younger. His father had been proud Philip’s Talent was strong, and some of his cousins had the same Talent, so they would practice together sometimes and play as cats, stalking each other through the woods. But they seldom spoke even then. Forming words was difficult, and they always came out garbled.

  He had wondered before if speaking clearly was a matter of practicing. If he spent more time speaking as a cat, maybe it would get easier. But his cousins never seemed interested in trying when they were children. No one had told him explicitly, but it seemed to be assumed they didn’t talk when they used their Talents. Since then, he had seldom changed in front of anyone and never in front of anyone he felt comfortable speaking to.

  But he found he wanted to be able to talk with Amory when he used his Talent. Amory didn’t laugh at the mangled words. Amory listened carefully so he could understand what Philip said. Amory would probably be willing to help Philip practice. He could admit to a certain amount of self-consciousness at his inability to speak clearly, but he trusted Amory enough to try.

  He looked back. Amory was still sitting against the tree, absorbed in his drawing. So no cuddling up to him, and no talking. That was all right. Amory was captivating, absorbed in his work. Philip found a sunny spot, curling up on a soft, thick patch of grass. Part of him thought the action a little too catlike, but the rest found it far too comfortable for him to deny the impulse. He watched Amory for a while before slipping into a doze.

  He woke to a gentle hand stroking over the fur on his back. Amory smiled down at him, sunlight making a nimbus of his auburn hair. “There you are.”

  He stretched, pushing into Amory’s hand. “Amory. Done drawing?”

  “Yes, for now anyway.” Amory’s gaze softened. “I shouldn’t have woken you. You looked peaceful.”

  “I’m glad you did.” He closed his eyes and let the magic in him rise up. The familiar tingling warmth washed over his body, and when he opened his eyes again, they were human eyes. “Because now I can do this.”

  He kissed Amory, loving how Amory leaned into him and made a little noise of surprise and pleasure. When Philip ended the kiss, Amory smiled. “I like that you can do that.”

  “Me too.” He moved closer, sliding his arms around Amory’s waist. “Why don’t we—what’s that?”

  Amory looked around, confused, before his gaze followed Philip’s to his sketchbook open on the grass. The page showing wasn’t the sketch Amory had been working on last Philip saw. It was a new drawing, of the woods again but the focus was a sleek black cat.

  Amory’s smile faltered a little. “It’s you.”

  “I didn’t know you were drawing me.” He carefully pulled the book closer and studied the drawing, amazed again how well Amory could capture light and shadow on the page. But it felt strange to see himself as a cat. Certainly, there were painted portraits of him at various ages hanging on the palace walls, but there were none of him as a cat. He wasn’t quite sure what to say.

  “I know I didn’t ask, but you looked so peaceful there, so beautiful. I couldn’t resist. I hope you don’t mind.” Amory looked worried as he said it, and Philip hastened to reassure him.

  “I don’t mind. It took me by surprise. No one has ever drawn me as a cat before.” He looked down at the drawing again. “I love it.”

  Amory released his breath in a long exhale, surprising Philip with the depth of his relief. “I’m glad.”

  “I did say you could draw me if you liked.” He bent his head and pressed kisses along Amory’s jaw.

  “You did.” Amory drew in a swift breath when Philip nibbled at his earlobe. “But I’m pretty sure you didn’t mean it to include when you were a cat.”

  “Mmm.” He continued kissing down Amory’s neck, smiling against his skin when Amory wrapped his arms around Philip’s neck. “Only because I didn’t think of it. You may draw me however you like.”

  Philip was pleased that Amory’s voice was a little breathless when he next spoke. “Can I draw you nude?”

  Shock flashed through him, leaving him
blinking at Amory. Amory watched him, eyes full of mischief and heat but some seriousness too. Amory kept speaking. “Nude and rumpled and sprawled in the wreck of the bed, just the way we made it yesterday. I can still see you that way in my head.”

  By the time Amory was finished there was a slight flush to his cheeks that was utterly incongruous with his words, and so endearing because of it. “You’ve gotten bold, haven’t you?”

  Amory stole a quick kiss. “You love it.”

  “I do, yes.” He stole a longer kiss, and then whispered into Amory’s ear, “Draw me that way if you like.”

  Amory shivered. “So many possibilities.”

  He laughed, loving Amory’s mischief, and kissed him hard. Amory was laughing too, as they tumbled over onto the grass, exchanging kisses.

  Chapter 8

  AMORY DIDN’T want to leave Alzata the next morning. He’d fallen in love with it, as Philip thought he would. He hoped they could take some of Alzata’s tranquility back with them.

  After the afternoon spent out on the grounds yesterday, they returned to the house and cleaned up. They ate dinner on the terrace, and once again curled together on the chaise to watch the stars before returning to their bedchamber and their bed. He blushed just thinking about what followed.

  Philip interrupted his thoughts as they walked outside to their horses. “So do you like Alzata?”

  He nodded. “Can we come back?”

  “As soon as we can get away again.” Philip took his hand. “Thank you for coming here with me. Everything… it can be a lot sometimes. Being here with you helps lighten the load.”

  Philip’s simply stated words left Amory reeling. It took him a moment to find his voice. “I’m happy I can help. Anything I can do to make things easier for you….”