Page 53 of Thomas
Cameron blinked with wide eyes. It took him a moment to realize that the man had finally stopped talking.Holy hell.Did Wyatt do this often? If so, how did he manage breathing?
Cameron glanced over to see Thomas equally at a loss for words. His complexion was rosy in the dim and glittering light. Considering he’d been saving Cameron from painful conversations all evening, he supposed he owed Thomas one.
“Wyatt, forgive me, but perhaps you and Thomas should get reacquainted another time? Make an appointment with our estate. It might be more comfortable to talk over tea?” Cameron suspected that Thomas wouldn’t want this, but they could always refuse the request if it ever came in. Cameron refused visitation requests all the time. Like swatting away flies.
“Ah, yes, you have lots of other guests to greet—point well taken. The viscountess lectures me about this all the time, letting my mouth get carried away. She says my mouth is like a runaway horse and she feels like a rider that’s fallen out of the saddle but is still being dragged along with her foot stuck in the stirrup. I feel that’s a bit harsh, but I catch her meaning. Anyway, congratulations to you both. I look forward to talking, soon.”
When Wyatt was gone, Thomas lifted the pale fingers of his free hand to his forehead and rubbed. “I… I am very sorry about that.”
Cameron shook his head. “Follow me?” They moved through the ballroom without anyone else accosting them. Cameron led him to what he knew was a generally unused study at the end of the hallway. It was an office-style space meant for Henry’s business guests. Cameron was relieved to find it unoccupied,save for the silver moonlight shining through the two oversized bay windows.
Thomas exhaled an audible sigh as he moved to sit on the cushion set within the window. Cameron followed. Tufts of heavy snow cascaded from the night sky, which was a rich and deep shade of blue that reminded him of the fabric of Thomas’s new coat. This side of the estate faced a wall of forest, so there was nothing but black, skeletal trees laden with snow beyond the glass.
They were silent for a long moment. Thomas lay back with his eyes closed and his head resting against the ornamental wallpaper. Cameron watched the snowfall, decompressing and breathing. His attention shifted when Thomas sat up and rifled through the inner pockets of his suit jacket. When he pulled out a cigar and a matchbox, Cameron smiled.
“I saw the waitstaff were offering cigars—I didn’t know that you liked them?”
Thomas stood from the cushion and glanced around the darkened office. “I like Padróns, specifically the 1964 Anniversary Maduro. I was excited because I can’t remember the last time I had one. Would our hosts mind terribly if I smoked in here? I didn’t have them cut it though. Shit.”
“We can open the window.” Cameron pointed. “Try the desk? Henry keeps matches and cutters in the top drawers. He’s a bit of a cigar enthusiast.”
“A bit?” Thomas raised his eyebrows at this as he went over to the desk and pulled a drawer open. “Aha.” Cameron heard the distinct snip of the cutter. He turned and unlatched the window to crack it open as Thomas returned to his place beside him on the cushion. The air that blew in was cold but refreshing.
When Thomas began wrestling with the match box, Cameron said, “Let me?” Thomas handed him the box.
“They won’t mind?” Thomas asked.
Cameron took two matches from the small box, slid it closed then tilted it to the side. “Nah.” If anything, this was recompense for forcing them to attend this party in the first place.
With a swift gesture, the matches struck, the fire pulsing and breathing to life in the silent room. Cameron cupped and held the flame out as Thomas leaned toward the firelight and tilted the cigar down. Slowly, the tip glowed red, the aromatic smoke curling and dancing upward like a veil between them. After a moment, the air was scented with cinnamon, black pepper and cedar. A hint of cocoa and fresh coffee.
Thomas sat straight and began generously puffing the cigar. Cameron licked his fingertips and snuffed the twin flames.
“Merciful gods, that’s nice,” Thomas crooned. He took another healthy draw, and the smoke seeped out through his nostrils. “Would you like?” He offered the cigar, holding it between his fingertips. Wordlessly, Cameron took it and put his lips to the edge.
He closed his eyes and drew in the fumes. He held it only for a moment, to let the flavor penetrate and settle, then tilted his chin upward. Cameron formed his lips in a circular shape and blew the smoke so that it came out in rings.
“Show off,” Thomas chided, watching as Cameron took another pull, then handed it back to him.
“I have a box of these at home,” Cameron confessed. “Padróns. I don’t know if I have the 1964, but that can easily be arranged.”
Thomas shifted so that one leg was folded and resting atop the cushion, his shiny oxford crossed over his knee and his back to the wall so that he was directly facing Cameron’s side. “I had no idea you liked cigars. I haven’t seen you smoke?”
“I don’t like smoking by myself, and Lennon isn’t keen. It’s a bit like chess. No one wants to do it with me.”
Thomas lifted his chin and blew out another fragrant puff of air. “I’ll smoke with you, and play chess. If you tell me what you like, and what you want, Cameron, we can talk about it—whatever it is. I’m open to it… I am open to you.”
Cameron huffed, glancing at him from the corners of his eyes. “Wonderful. You’ll continue to pummel me at chess, then. I’m glad to hear it.”
Grinning, Thomas shook his head and took another pull. He offered the cigar to Cameron and Cameron accepted. He took a healthy mouthful, then returned it. As he breathed the smoke, he leaned back comfortably against his palms and closed his eyes, reveling in the complex flavors and the winter air breezing in from the window.
This is nice…
Everything with Thomas was nice, but the two of them tucked away at a party, smoking and talking in the ambient darkness as the snow fell outside, was a kind of perfection that Cameron had never known he needed… and very much wanted.
“You aren’t going to ask me any questions about the strange encounter we just had with Wyatt?” Thomas’s calm voice cut into the silence. Not as an accusation. More probing.
Cameron opened his eyes and turned his head, still leaning back. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. I never want to press you, Thomas.”
