burden to be under.
Danny gave a wry smile. “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as that. Although it’s true his drinking started after Da died, from what I hear. But I reckon he’d have to have been worrying just what I might be saying to you about the whole business. It’ll not have gone unnoticed, how much time you’ve been spending with me since my fall.”
Oh. That, then, was why Standish hadn’t walked in without knocking. Philip felt a sudden surge of affection for his household staff and their quiet acceptance of his ways, mingled with a touch of mortification that he’d apparently been so obvious. Not that he’d ever flaunted anything, God forbid. “I suppose now you’ll tell me the whole village knows I’m a—well, you know.”
“No. Leastways, I never heard a whisper of it.” Suddenly Danny laughed. “Word in the village is you’re not quite right in the head!”
Philip’s feelings must have shown upon his face, and Danny quickly sobered, his hand once more making comforting passes over Philip’s hair. “Word in the village is wrong,” he said firmly. “Anyone’d turn a mite strange, shut up in this big house alone for so long.”
“Such a wretched business, living,” Philip murmured. “Sometimes I wonder how any of us manages to survive it. So many pains, and so many ways it can end.”
“That’s why you’ve got to live your life while you have it, like Mr. Dickens says. No sense wasting your days worrying about what’s past and what might yet be. I don’t reckon the good Lord put us on this earth as a punishment. He meant us to live our lives to the full.” Danny’s voice, so soft and calm, could make Philip believe that anything was possible.
“You know, you’re a lot like Robert, in some ways,” Philip found himself saying, and then he cursed himself. God, what an awful thing to say, comparing a present… friend to a former one.
But Danny smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Can’t say you’re much like any lover I’ve ever had, but then, I don’t reckon I’ve ever been so quickly drawn to another man. Nor never really loved another, neither,” he added, his voice soft.
Philip marveled at the way he could speak so easily of such things. “Have you had many lovers?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Danny shook his head slowly. “I wouldn’t say so. And as I said, none like you.” He laughed again suddenly, a wry expression on his face. “And here’s me with my leg in plaster and my ribs all cracked, not able to do a damned thing about it now I’ve found you.”
Philip felt his insides shiver. “You could let me do everything,” he suggested hesitantly. Instead of scaring him, the surprised, hungry look upon Danny’s face seemed to inflame Philip’s own desire. Slowly, he leaned forward for another kiss. Conscious of Danny’s ribs, Philip tried to shift so that none of his weight would fall on the injured man, but it proved tricky while sitting by his side. Propriety be damned, indeed , he thought, and carefully scrambled further onto the bed so that he straddled Danny’s hips.
The look of shocked delight upon Danny’s features at this maneuver was ample compensation for the slightly sick feeling his own daring occasioned Philip.
Leaning forward and resting his weight upon his hands at either side of Danny’s face, Philip bent down to kiss him once more.
It was as if he had unleashed a tiger. Heedless of his own hurts, Danny pulled him closer and ground their hips together fiercely. Philip felt his body respond “at every pore with instant fires.” He bit back a laugh, or perhaps a sob, at the notion. Robert, oh Robert, I think you’re going to have to leave me on my own for this , he thought, and fancied he saw Robert smiling at him in that fond, mocking way of his. His heart singing, Philip renewed the kiss, but lips, he found, were not enough. He needed to taste Danny all over, to know him intimately. To feel him, flesh to
Danny gave a wry smile. “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as that. Although it’s true his drinking started after Da died, from what I hear. But I reckon he’d have to have been worrying just what I might be saying to you about the whole business. It’ll not have gone unnoticed, how much time you’ve been spending with me since my fall.”
Oh. That, then, was why Standish hadn’t walked in without knocking. Philip felt a sudden surge of affection for his household staff and their quiet acceptance of his ways, mingled with a touch of mortification that he’d apparently been so obvious. Not that he’d ever flaunted anything, God forbid. “I suppose now you’ll tell me the whole village knows I’m a—well, you know.”
“No. Leastways, I never heard a whisper of it.” Suddenly Danny laughed. “Word in the village is you’re not quite right in the head!”
Philip’s feelings must have shown upon his face, and Danny quickly sobered, his hand once more making comforting passes over Philip’s hair. “Word in the village is wrong,” he said firmly. “Anyone’d turn a mite strange, shut up in this big house alone for so long.”
“Such a wretched business, living,” Philip murmured. “Sometimes I wonder how any of us manages to survive it. So many pains, and so many ways it can end.”
“That’s why you’ve got to live your life while you have it, like Mr. Dickens says. No sense wasting your days worrying about what’s past and what might yet be. I don’t reckon the good Lord put us on this earth as a punishment. He meant us to live our lives to the full.” Danny’s voice, so soft and calm, could make Philip believe that anything was possible.
“You know, you’re a lot like Robert, in some ways,” Philip found himself saying, and then he cursed himself. God, what an awful thing to say, comparing a present… friend to a former one.
But Danny smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Can’t say you’re much like any lover I’ve ever had, but then, I don’t reckon I’ve ever been so quickly drawn to another man. Nor never really loved another, neither,” he added, his voice soft.
Philip marveled at the way he could speak so easily of such things. “Have you had many lovers?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Danny shook his head slowly. “I wouldn’t say so. And as I said, none like you.” He laughed again suddenly, a wry expression on his face. “And here’s me with my leg in plaster and my ribs all cracked, not able to do a damned thing about it now I’ve found you.”
Philip felt his insides shiver. “You could let me do everything,” he suggested hesitantly. Instead of scaring him, the surprised, hungry look upon Danny’s face seemed to inflame Philip’s own desire. Slowly, he leaned forward for another kiss. Conscious of Danny’s ribs, Philip tried to shift so that none of his weight would fall on the injured man, but it proved tricky while sitting by his side. Propriety be damned, indeed , he thought, and carefully scrambled further onto the bed so that he straddled Danny’s hips.
The look of shocked delight upon Danny’s features at this maneuver was ample compensation for the slightly sick feeling his own daring occasioned Philip.
Leaning forward and resting his weight upon his hands at either side of Danny’s face, Philip bent down to kiss him once more.
It was as if he had unleashed a tiger. Heedless of his own hurts, Danny pulled him closer and ground their hips together fiercely. Philip felt his body respond “at every pore with instant fires.” He bit back a laugh, or perhaps a sob, at the notion. Robert, oh Robert, I think you’re going to have to leave me on my own for this , he thought, and fancied he saw Robert smiling at him in that fond, mocking way of his. His heart singing, Philip renewed the kiss, but lips, he found, were not enough. He needed to taste Danny all over, to know him intimately. To feel him, flesh to
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