Page 13 of The Cordial Bride

Fredric’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he took a step back. “I’ll come around another day when you’re not…entertaining.” With that, he turned on his heel and strode off.

Calan eyed Ian. “Did you just mark me as your territory or something?”

Ian blinked at him slowly. “Did I? How presumptuous of me. That old goat would be better suited to court your aunt than you, anyway.”

Is he jealous? The idea pleased him immensely. “I have no interest in him, although he does make excellent dairy products.” He continued walking. “Cheese and tomato sandwiches sound like a good idea. First, however, we have work to do.”

Calan hadn’t expected the villagers to be as curious as they were while they headed home. While no one was rude about it, their furtive gazes were obvious to him. He supposed the count attracted attention wherever he went simply because of his commanding size and presence. Naturally, people would wonder why the Moorcondian was accompanying him, and word would get back to Celia. He decided it didn’t matter. There was nothing shameful in what he did, and the pleasure of spending the day with the man overrode all other considerations.

When they arrived, Calan felt suddenly nervous and shy. Compared to where the count must live, Celia’s humble home could not be impressive. He headed straight for the outside door of the adjoining shed instead of entering through the house. Here, there was comfort. The scents of drying flowers filled the room, with the underlying pungency of fungi lending any earthy smell. No matter what, Calan was proud of this space. What he and his aunt achieved here was valuable to their people. He shut the door behind them and watched as Ian took a walk around the room, gazing at everything.

“This is marvelous.” Ian turned to look at him. “You know there must be a similar place on my own estate, and naturally Isabeau has a room in Truehart Manor where she works. But I’ve never actually thought to see either space before. I guess my love of farming hasn’t extended to this part of it.” He gave Calan a hungry smile. “That’s changed. I find myself suddenly fascinated.” Holding up the cheese, he asked, “Where should I put this?”

“I’ll take it.” Calan went to relieve Ian of his burden and found it being lifted out of his reach.

“I want a kiss first.”

Calan rolled his eyes. “Very well, although I’m not sure it constitutes much of a payment, given that I want it just as much.” To prove it, he stood on his toes and kissed the man.

He’d intended to make it brief, but Ian had other ideas. Before Calan knew what was happening, he was being crushed by one arm against the man’s hard chest. Ian snaked his tongue into his mouth, exploring it, as always, as if it had never been there before. By the time Ian let him go, Calan was dizzy with breathlessness.

He leaned against Ian for a moment before taking the now reachable wheel of cheese. “Having you here is a bad idea, it seems.” He put the cheese on a nearby table and headed for the storage area for what he’d gathered the previous day.

“I promise I shall behave myself from this moment on.”

Calan glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not sure I believe you. Worse, I don’t think I care.” With a chuckle, he added, “Sit over on that stool and don’t be a distraction, my lord. If you’re very good, I’ll give you a treat after lunch.” How he dared to be so bold, he couldn’t fathom. It didn’t matter anyway. Ian’s low chuckle was the reward he was looking for.

Chapter Five

Since childhood, Ian had had a hard time sitting still. It was in his nature to be active, and that meant being outside, working from sunrise to sunset. Staying in one spot for long made him antsy, and yet, as he sat on the ass-bruising stool, watching Calan work, he had never felt more content. Better yet, as he tied up bundles of flowers and ground fungi and tubers into fine granules and pastes, Calan kept up a running tutorial of what he was doing and why. He taught Ian the various uses of what he worked with, as well. It was all fascinating to him, because it was Calan who was providing the instruction. The few occasions in which Isabeau had tried to engage him on the topic of medicinals, he’d nearly been speechless in moments. This was different. Everything was. The sudden and strange turn of events in his life was unsettling, yet he felt no need to fight it anymore.

“It must have taken you a long time to learn all this from your aunt.”

Calan pressed and twisted a pestle into its mortar. “Not really. I guess I have a natural affinity to it. Most of the process and formulas are well-known, handed down by generations of healers and apothecaries. My aunt and I aren’t the only ones in Shadow Valley—or even in this village—who practice these professions, either. But I like exploring for new things and, well, the plants seem to talk to me. I look at stuff and get a sense of what it might be able to do.”

The boy shrugged as he judged his latest effort done and poured the ground material into a glass that he stoppered up and put on a shelf. “I can honestly say that if I had been given a choice to do anything with my life, this would have been it. Although, I wouldn’t have chosen to be a healer as such. I struggle with having a good bedside manner. I’m at my best here, making the things that healers can use.”

“Do you ever think of traveling outside of Shadow Valley to find new ingredients?” This was the topic he’d wanted to raise from the beginning of the day. He held his breath waiting for an answer. If Calan couldn’t conceive of leaving home, Ian’s budding plan would die on the vine.

Calan cocked his head and stared at a distant point before answering. “I have, actually. There is always something new to discover, and I can imagine the world is filled with lots of possibilities. Environment matters to plants, and Shadow Valley’s is only one kind of climate, I should think. Why do you ask? Are you offering to whisk me away to strange lands?” There was laughter in his voice.

“And what if I am?”

Calan’s expression sobered. “I don’t understand. You’re teasing me, surely.”

Ian stood and walked slowly over to the boy. “No, not this time.” He reached out to take Calan’s braid in his hand and run it across his palm. Hair had escaped during the course of Calan’s work, not surprising given how Calan tended to play with it as he considered one thing or another. The boy’s mind and body seemed to always being moving, just like with Ian himself.

We are perfect for each other.

“To be frank, darling boy, I find you irresistible. My desire grows with each encounter between us. It’s as if I can’t get enough of you.”

Calan’s breath hitched. “I, um, feel the same way. And I’m ready for you to do whatever you want with me. Past ready, actually.”

Those words, said with such naked honesty, caused Ian’s guts to tighten—with passion and surprisingly a little fear. In that moment, he knew for a certainty that he wasn’t going to offer this boy merely a bit of fun. No, Calan deserved more. “I will not mount you.”

“Oh.” The disappointment in that one word spoke volumes.

“Not yet. Not today,” Ian hurried to qualify. “When I do, it must mean something and do you honor.”

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