Page 20 of Duke for the Summer

“Oh, yeah. I think the son and Augusto have a thing.”

“A thing?” Jacopo stood up, stretching. He felt his back pop. “What does this mean, ‘a thing?’”

“They’re totally hooking up. All of their private fencing sessions? All those ‘hunting trips?’”

Jacopo felt his face catch on fire. “You’re crazy,” he stuttered. He was leaning over Nate’s shoulder now, looking at the laptop. He cleared his throat, trying to regain control over his thoughts. “And here, look. You’ve spelleddraughtwrong. It’s not like the draft of a book.”

“You’d think I would know.” He felt Nate’s body tense, and was suddenly aware of how close they were. “I speak English.”

Indignance rose in Jacopo’s chest. “Oh, and what do I speak? Nonsense? And I have actually studied the English. So really, I would say that I’m more of an expert than–”

Nate turned slightly, his ear nearly grazing Jacopo’s lips. Jacopo imagined licking it, imagined pressing a kiss to the soft skin right behind his earlobe. He sucked in a breath.

“Jacopo,” Nate said. There was a smile teasing at his mouth. “Are you fucking with me?”

Notwithyou. But I would like–I would like–

There was a knock on the door, and they both startled.

“I’ll get it,” Jacopo said, heart pounding. He added, “Fix your spelling.”

*

“Nate!” Gracie came bustling into the room. There wasa heavy-looking basket in her arms. She thudded it onto the table, right on top of Jacopo’s papers, before wrapping Nate in a vigorous hug. “The whole town has heard about your knee.” She pulled back to hold him at arm’s length and shake him by the shoulders. “What were you thinking? You need to look out for yourself. And right before your sister’s visit! How will we show her around if you can’t walk, Nate?”

“Uh. Sorry.” Nate snapped the laptop closed, his cheeks hot.

Gracie made an exasperated gesture and scolded him in Italian. “I brought you some cookies, from mama. Oh, and we went to the pharmacy in Palermo and got you a–what is it? A sleeve of compressing?” She began haphazardly unpacking items from the basket. “And here some bread, and sardines–Zia Grazia says sardines are good for your constitution but I’m not sure I believe her–oh no, Zio Beppe stuck one of his healing tonics in here, too–I wouldn’t drink it if I were you–”

“Gracie.” Jacopo was staring at the mess on the table, the lines of his body tense.

Gracie rolled her eyes. “I hope this one has been taking care of you,” she said. “You haven’t been too bored, have you?”

“No.” He hadn’t been bored at all. “Jacopo is interesting to talk to.”

“Huh.” Gracie crossed her arms. Jacopo leaned against the kitchen counter, looking like he wanted to disappear into it. “Well, I brought cards, just in case. We could playscopa.”

“It’s fine,” Jacopo said. He grabbed his messenger bag from a hook next to the door. “I need to go, anyway.”

“You don’t want to play?” Nate asked. He didn’t want him to go. The air in the room had changed abruptly, the coziness and the sizzling sense of–something–gone as if Jacopo had opened a window.

“It’s better with two people. And I need to go to themarket. And get food for the cats.”

Nate tried his best to learnscopa,a game with its own colorful deck and a Byzantine set of rules, but despite Gracie’s patient explanations, there was just too much math and, to be honest, he was too distracted, still thinking about Jacopo leaning over his shoulder, his voice low and almost teasing, about Jacopo’s hand on his leg, fingers stroking his calf. After about thirty minutes of staring at the pretty cards and not absorbing anything Gracie said, he gave up, heaved himself off the bed, and limped over to the cabinet where he knew Jacopo kept the wine.

“Don’t tell him, by the way,” Nate said over his shoulder, as he struggled with the corkscrew.

“That we’re drinking his wine?”

“No, that I’m walking around. I’m supposed to stay in bed.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gracie said. “He worries too much.”

“I know.” Nate settled back onto the bed, taking a long sip from his glass. Thank God for wine. He needed something to soothe the rawness of his nerves now that exercise was off the table. “And there are, like, pallets of cat food in the castle cellar. I saw them. He didn’t need to leave.”

“I don’t think he wants to hang out with me,” Gracie said. She started stacking the cards, putting them back into the box. “He’s not really–how do you say it? A people’s person?”

“I don’t get it.” Gracie was fun, and smart, and Nate was discovering that Jacopo was, too. He thought about his translations, the papers he had taken such care to preserve and transcribe. Would anyone have ever even known, if Nate hadn’t badgered him about it? He had a feeling that there was so much locked away inside Jacopo, waiting to be discovered.

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