Page 58 of Enemies with an Earl
“What are you doing?”
Thorne didn’t say anything as he walked over to the willow’s trunk and slid down to the ground. He widened his legs and patted the mossy earth. “Sit.”
“What am I, a hound?”
A mischievous grin split Thorne’s face. “I can scratch you behind the ear and tell you you’re a good boy, if that’ll help.”
A bolt of lust shot through Felix, and if the widening of Thorne’s grin was any indication, he knew it, too. Felix pointed a finger at Thorne and gave him his sternest Earl of Bentley expression.
“None of that. Behave yourself.”
The man had the nerve to flutter his annoyingly long lashes innocently. But for some reason Felix wouldn’t ever understand, he found himself following Thorne’s orders and settling on the ground in front of the man.A safe distancein front of the man, careful to remain out of reach of any accidental contact.
A rumbling chuckle danced over his neck, bringing with it the faint scent of sugar and berries.
“For this to work, you’re going to need to slide back about two feet, my lord.”
“What exactly are you planning?” Felix asked without moving.
Felix didn’t trust his self-control around this man. And being here with Thorne, in this willow canopy haven, with the bubbling river outside and the birds chirping… Felix’s heart gave a hardthwumpagainst his chest. It all felt a little too like they’d stumbled into a scene meant for sweethearts.
Then an iron-like arm wrapped around his middle and heaved him backward. His back collided with Thorne’s chest, an “oomph,”bursting from him.
“That’s better.”
Felix closed his eyes against the blissful sensation of Thorne’s rumbling words vibrating against his back. But he didn’t have long to enjoy it.
“Lean forward slightly.”
Felix obeyed. Because what else was he going to do? And then Thorne’s large, thick fingers landed on shoulders and started digging into the knotted flesh. A low groan ripped from Felix, and his head dropped forward. Oh, that was heaven. Pure heaven.
Thorne’s thumbs massaged up the curve of his neck, then back down. Felix leaned into it, barely preventing a whimper. God, his neck and shoulders ached. And this? This was bliss.
“You swim often.” Thorne stated it like he knew it was a fact.
“Yes, though I’m not sure how you knew that. It’s not exactly a common pursuit.”
“I’ve spent quite a few moments admiring your body, Bentley.” His thumbs slid down and dug in just below the bone in Felix’s shoulder. “The Duke is an ardent swimmer as well. I recognize the muscular definition.”
Felix couldn’t do anything more than moan. His head sagged lower.
“What do you swim from?”
Felix stilled, his muscles going from melted to marble. Thorne gently coasted a hand up and down Felix’s neck, fingers gently toying with the hair at his nape. Felix’s eyes drifted shut.
“Easy,” Thorne whispered. “Ash tries to out-swim his guilt. Over his late wife. Over his daughter, who never was. Over how he raised his sons.”
Felix’s chest contracted. He hadn’t realized the Duke had lost his wife in childbirth, that he’d lost a daughter, too. Felix’s mother had lost a child when Felix had been thirteen. He didn’t remember much of it, but he knew it affected her so deeply she’d been sent away to a special place in Bath to recover her body and mind. Childbirth was an immense risk—to mother and child. Felix had known that, but it was the first time he’d truly seen how fragile life was. And six years later, he’d learned it again—when it had been his life on the line.
“So…is that it? Are you swimming from something?” Thorne’s fingers slowly kneaded down Felix’s upper back.
Felix wasn’t sure if it was because his guard was softening as much as his muscles, but he found his tongue loosening and his personal burdens tumbling free. “Pressure. To ensure my father’s legacy lives on. To ensure my family is protected, that their futures are secure.” He paused, his heart rate spiking before finally whispering, “Pressure to secure the Bentley line.”
Thorne’s fingers stilled for the briefest moment and then resumed their journey back up Felix’s back. “You seem a fairly competent fellow…” Thorne said, a teasing lilt to his tone. “Notwithstanding your cravat tying, of course.”
Felix snorted.
“But truthfully, as much as it pains me to admit, I’ve heard what people say about you. Everyone sings your praises, Bentley, servant and aristocrat alike. It’s one of the things that vexed me most when I was trying to hate you.”
