Page 72 of Once a Gentleman
He could see nothing, no one else, and the voices of the servants faded into a buzz in his ears, a meaningless tumult. A cry from Mrs. Felton rose over it. His hand; they had noticed his hand, or the lack of it. Kit’s eyes flicked down. His face went white, his lips bloodless, and he let out a soft, anguished cry, swaying against the frame of the door.
Andrew couldn’t have remained where he was, away from Kit, even if his other hand had hung in the balance. He thought he might have pushed someone aside as he stepped forward, but he still couldn’t see anything but Kit’s wide, horrified eyes and pale lips.
He took Kit by the arm with his one remaining hand and steered him back into the study, the warmth of him, even through his coat sleeve, searing Andrew down to the bone. Kit was real, he washere, and Andrew shoved the door shut behind them with his foot and yanked Kit into his arms, burying his face in his hair.
He inhaled deeply, Kit’s sweetness filling his lungs and making his head spin. He could use only one hand to wrap around the nape of Kit’s neck, but he found that pressing his left forearm across his back held him against Andrew’s body as firmly as his grip would have done.
But Kit didn’t resist. For an instant he held himself stiffly, as if making up his mind—and then he slumped against Andrew’s chest, shaking with silent sobs, his face in Andrew’s shoulder and his hands gripping his coat.
“My darling,” Andrew choked out, his own eyes prickling. “My own darling. Tell me you’re mine, love, as I am yours. Forgive me. I didn’t think I had a choice. I never wanted to live without you.” The words came out so low and rough they almost didn’t sound like his own voice. “I love you.”
Kit said nothing. He only pressed himself into Andrew’s arms more insistently, holding onto Andrew’s coat as if he thought he might disappear if he loosened his grip even a fraction.
Andrew’s leg began to tremble, the strain of the journey beginning to show. He gritted his teeth and tried to keep it steady through sheer force of will, but it was no good. God, he would collapse, and Kit would see what a worthless wretch he had become. Instead of falling to the floor and taking Kit with him, he began to move, shuffling them both across the room until Andrew could fall into the armchair by the fire instead. Kit didn’t let go and Andrew would have been damned beforeheletKitgo, and he ended up sprawled across Andrew’s lap, face still hidden in his shoulder.
For long, uncountable moments, Andrew allowed himself to float in a heady, lightheaded joy he had never thought to experience again. Kit, safe and well and beloved, so perfect in the circle of Andrew’s arms—with or without two hands to hold onto him. Had he died after all? Surely not, because this would have been the Heaven provided by a merciful God, and Andrew had neither earned nor expected such consideration from any deity.
“Will you speak to me, love?” Andrew asked at last, beginning to be worried by Kit’s silence. He had stopped shaking, but he hadn’t stirred. “One word. Tell me you’re all right? I know my—my hand is a shock to you, but sweetheart, it’s not so very bad. I know you may not want me quite as much as you did, since I’m not what I was. But—”
Kit lifted his head abruptly, his eyelids red and swollen but his green eyes absolutely blazing. “Don’t!” he hissed furiously. “Don’t—don’t youdare! I’m not speaking because if I do I’ll tear you up one side and down the other for the way you—I can’t believe you, Andrew! You sent me away. Dismissed me, as if I’d been a footman who hadn’t performed his duties properly. You didn’t have a bloodychoice?”
He clutched at Andrew’s coat and shook him, or tried to anyway, and let out a sharp little sound of fury.
And then he let go with one hand, pulling it back as if he meant to strike Andrew across the face.
Which would have been well deserved, but Andrew simply didn’t have it in him, after his journey, to sit there and allow himself to be pummeled. Instead, he did what he had longed to do for night after weary night of misery and pain and regret. He wrapped his hand in Kit’s hair, tipped him back over his arm, and kissed the breath out of him. Kit tasted like honey, but he kissed Andrew back like a man possessed, nothing soft at all about the way he bit at Andrew’s lips and twined his tongue with his, and he moaned into Andrew’s mouth.
They parted at last, both panting for breath, Andrew leaning his forehead against Kit’s and holding him close. His cock had risen, pressing insistently against Kit’s deliciously round arse, nudging between his cheeks demandingly.
“I want you just as much as ever,” Kit gasped. “You bloody unbelievableidiot.”
“Is that why you stayed?” he asked hoarsely. “Because you want me as much as ever? Or because I’m an idiot?” That won him a twitch of Kit’s lovely lips, and he pressed on, a little heartened. “Because I didn’t think you loved me, certainly not enough to take on the burden that I thought I would become. I nearly lost my leg as well as my hand, Kit. And you never said you loved me. You meant to go anyway after I returned, or so you said. Why would you remain here?” A terrible thought struck him then. “Oh, God, love, did you stay because you had nowhere to go? Or no money? Darling, I instructed Robinson to ensure you would want for nothing—”
“I have my own fortune now,” Kit said, lifting his chin and glaring, the gesture so painfully familiar, so perfectly Kit, that Andrew’s heart gave an absurd squeeze—and then the meaning of Kit’s words penetrated.
“You have what?”
“One of the ships my father and I had invested in. That doomed venture that led to—everything. It returned to port, its cargo intact. The son of one of the other investors located me through Robinson and sent me my share of it.” Kit’s lips quirked. “Three thousand pounds. I don’t need my salary anymore, you see.”
He didn’t need his salary. That meant he didn’t need Andrew, not for anything more than…for the first time since he had seen Kit standing in the study door, his hopes began to coalesce into something real, something more than the immediate but temporary joy of a reunion he had never expected. Kit might have come to his arms out of relief at seeing him alive, or from the shock of the loss of Andrew’s hand. But if he had stayed when he had no pressing reason to do so? Well, then…he didn’t need Andrew at all.
And that meant he wanted him.
Perhaps even loved him.
“You don’t need me,” he said, feeling as if he repeated Kit’s words.
“I said I didn’t need mysalary.” For the first time, Kit’s voice faltered. “Do you only want me if I’m dependent upon you?”
Andrew gazed down into Kit’s eyes, so wide and bright and clear, felt him in his arms, slim and strong and lithe: everything he had ever wanted, all in one lovely, stubborn, clever man.
“I want you always,” he said. “But I’m delighted you’ve come into a fortune of your own. I won’t need to pay you anymore. Save a hundred and twenty pounds a year.”
Kit blinked at him, his mouth falling open. And then he began to laugh, shaking with it, the sound a balm to Andrew’s very soul. “I’ll pay you a hundred and twenty pounds a year for my keep,” Kit said through his laughter. “And then we’ll be even.”
Andrew’s arms tightened, and he stole another kiss…which lasted rather longer than one kiss ought to have. He broke it off, breathing hard. Bloody hell, but his cock could’ve driven nails. If he didn’t have Kit soon he might explode.
“Tell me you love me,” he growled into Kit’s ear. “Tell me you’ll never have any other.”
“You know, I promised myself I’d break your nose when you came back,” Kit panted, squirming in his lap as Andrew’s hand roamed lower, squeezing Kit’s pert arse and stroking his fingers down the crease of it. “And tell you off. At length.”
“You can do that too. Just tell me you love me first.” Andrew widened his eyes, going for a piteous look that probably appeared rather absurd given the expression of fond exasperation on Kit’s face. “Have mercy, love. I suffered for months in a Spanish fort, in pain and alone, and I thought of nothing but you, dreamed of—”
“Oh for God’s—yes, Andrew, yes, I love you, but I haven’t forgiven you, and you’re going to need to earn—”
Andrew swooped in and took his sweet mouth again, stopping whatever nonsense he meant to say. Kit loved him, helovedhim, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to earn a lifetime of it.
He would begin by kissing him until he didn’t even know his own name, and then go on from there.
