Poison by Megan Derr Page B

slowly let Ailill go. "I suppose I shall wait for you to return then, unless you would like assistance? If you can have assistance?"
    "Oh—I hadn't thought about it. It's ... well, it's not as if you haven't dealt with similar matters before. And they appointed me precisely to gain an outside perspective. If you really want to spend part of your trip here investigating a murder with me, by all means."
    Ivan smiled slow and hot, gray eyes burning. "As long as it's only part of visit. I have very firm plans for the other parts of my plan."
    "I should hope so," Ailill said, and was not certain who initiated the next kiss, but did not particularly care. He cared for nothing save the way Ivan's mouth burned and consumed, the hot hands that slid over his body as if they had never forgotten the shape of it.
    They needed to be going. There was work to do. But Ailill could not make those thoughts take hold, could not do anything except hold tightly and keep kissing Ivan. Only the burning need to do more, to strip them both and go until they collapsed from exhaustion, finally forced him back. "Come on," he said, drawing a ragged breath and clearing his throat. "I need to pack. We're going to be gone several days."
    "If you have a footman to spare, I'll send him to collect my things from my lodgings. I have not yet unpacked, so it should be quick enough. By the time he returns, we'll likely be ready to go."
    Ailill nodded. "I'll send the footman to you." He fled the room before they wound up fucking on the floor and caught Gautier in the hallway. "Find someone to fetch his grace's belongings; his grace will tell you where."
    "Yes, your grace," Gautier replied. Ailill smiled in thanks, then raced up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. Only that morning he had been wondering why he would need such a large room, or such a large bed. Looking at the bed in question, he had ideas aplenty. Filthy, exhausting, utterly marvelous ideas that did not help his cock go down.
    Andre was bustling around the room, gathering and packing far more than Ailill would have thought to include. He paused as he caught sight of Ailill. "Nearly done, your grace. Was there anything in particular you wanted included?"
    "I'm sure if I can think of it, you've already packed it," Ailill said. "I've a guest. He is joining me on my journey, but is having his belongings brought here. See they find space with mine here. He's from Pozhar, so see to it that someone procures food and drink he would favor for when we return."
    Andre bowed. "Of course, your grace. Is there anything else?"
    "No, I don't think so. Thank you for having everything ready so quickly. I would not manage being a duke without you." He smiled briefly, gave the room a last look over, lingering longingly on the bed, and then turned and went back downstairs.
    Ivan was waiting in the front hall, looking at the various decorations on the wall. "I'm impressed with all that you managed to acquire in your travels," he said, pointing to a painting of Zhar Ptitsa. "I remember stealing a number of paintings by this artist. They're not cheap. That was back in my early days."
    "I see," Ailill said. "I wonder if I bought it from one of the men who paid you to steal it. Have your things been delivered?"
    "Yes," Ivan said. "I kept one case and left the rest here."
    Ailill nodded. "Did none of your team come with you?"
    "No, I left them behind to attend the estate. I told them I was perfectly capable of traveling alone. I'm not sure they believed me, but they listened."
    "I'm surprised they did," Ailill said with a laugh. "A pity, I would have liked to see them again. They were good men, your team."
    Ivan smiled and reached up to rub his thumb over Ailill's lips, then bent to kiss him again briefly. "They said to tell you hello. Shall we be off then, your grace?"
    "If we must," Ailill said with a sigh and led the way outside. The servants finished loading everything onto the back of the carriage, then bowed as