Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
E van examined himself in the looking glass, adjusting the embroidered lace cuffs of his crimson shirt and polishing the toes of his shoes on the back of his stockings in a way that would have had his valet tutting, had he agreed to have one. As it was, he claimed that he didn’t come home at night half the time anyway and learning a new person’s name was far too much work when it was easier to dress himself, and the palace staff accepted his explanation at face value.
He would have been insulted at people thinking he was so addlepated he couldn’t learn a valet’s name, except he’d spent years convincing them it was true. It meant nobody ever questioned him too closely when unfortunate events occurred, because who, for example, was interested in hearing from a man who couldn’t even recall the name of the woman who had mysteriously choked while sitting across from him at dinner?
And if he happened to wander into the wrong bedroom while visiting a foreign palace? Well, his reputation for absent-mindedness preceded him. It never occurred to anyone that maybe he’d been in there deliberately, rifling through drawers and taking notes. If anything, people assumed he’d been looking for a quick shag.
Which was only true some of the time.
If Evan had ever told anyone the truth about that part of his profession, they would have been surprised to learn that a lot of the time when he supposedly took someone to bed, it was an illusion. He relied on plying them with good wine until they were falling-down drunk, then telling them in great detail the next day what a marvellous time they’d had. Most people were so embarrassed at not recalling what he assured them had been the best sex of their life that they never questioned it. Plus, people were so very chatty when they were drunk. The trick was striking the balance between ‘drunk enough that I will tell you my secrets and remember nothing tomorrow’ and ‘pissed as a newt, maudlin, crying, and no use to anybody’.
Someone knocked at his bedroom door. “Come in, Captain.”
The door handle turned and Thomas entered. “How did you know it was me?”
“I guessed you’d take the excuse of escorting me to tonight’s dinner to catch up on—” He broke off when he turned from the mirror and saw Thomas properly for the first time.
Oh, Evan did love a man in uniform.
Thomas always looked good, but tonight he was particularly mouthwatering in his full dress regalia. He wore polished black boots that hugged his calves, form-fitting tan trousers, and a shirt and jacket that were stretched tight over the breadth of his barrel chest and thick biceps. Evan could practically hear the buttons creaking as they strained to contain all those muscles, and he desperately hoped they’d lose that particular battle.
He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him, and the corners of Thomas’s mouth tipped up in a hint of a smile when he asked, “Are you quite all right?”
Evan cleared his throat. “You look very…”
Delicious. Fuckable. Enticing.
“…handsome tonight, that’s all.”
Thomas’s smile widened. “Thank you. You look rather fetching yourself.”
Evan allowed himself a moment to preen. Knowing he looked amazing didn’t mean he didn’t like hearing it.
“So,” he said, turning back to the mirror—ostensibly to check his reflection, but in reality to give Thomas a better view of his arse—“the ambassador for Falsmark shows no signs of leaving even though the talks are over, so I think we can safely assume he’s involved in the plot against Leo.”
“Either that or he’s enjoying the free hospitality,” Thomas said. “Has he said or done anything else suspicious?”
“No, which makes him all the more questionable in my opinion,” Evan said. “He never drinks more than half a glass of wine at dinner, always retires early, and doesn’t dally with any of the other guests. That’s the behaviour of somebody who’s trying to remain unnoticed.”
“And yet you noticed him,” Thomas stated.
Evan turned to face him, picking up his burgundy jacket and slipping it on, then running his hands down the front to smooth any errant creases. “That’s because I’m the best at what I do. My mission tonight is to jolly the ambassador along until he agrees to drink with me, then get him tipsy enough to spill his secrets.”
He spun around, arms outstretched. “Now, do I look like a brainless fop who can only remember the location of his left bollock because it’s attached to the right?”
Thomas’s voice was rough when he replied. “Trust me, sir, in those trousers everybody knows where both your bollocks are.”
Evan beamed. He’d shimmied into his tightest black trousers with the intention of impressing the captain with his best features. It was having the desired effect if the way Thomas’s pupils had gone dark was any indication.
“Why, Captain,” he purred, “are you attracted to me?”
Thomas’s face flushed pink, and was it wrong that Evan found it delightful seeing such a big man so easily flustered?
Evan stepped closer, just to see Thomas’s reaction.
Thomas’s breathing hitched but he didn’t back away, and when Evan pressed a hand against his chest, Thomas’s thundering heartbeat told him all he needed to know. “You are attracted.” He let his mouth curve into a teasing smile. “Perhaps we could have that kiss after all?”
Thomas’s eyes closed as he tipped his head back as if praying for strength, and when he spoke his tone was more wistful than anything. “We shouldn’t. You’re the duke and I’m just a guard.”
“And the king is married to a stable hand. Besides, I’m a very attractive man. You’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity.”
That startled a laugh out of Thomas, and some of the tension drained out of his frame. “Does that actually work as a seduction technique?”
Evan shrugged. “Sometimes the best way to get people to do what you want is to tell them to do it. For example, at some point in the near future you should take me to bed and fuck me.” He gave Thomas his most winning smile. “You won’t regret it.”
Thomas’s voice was a low growl when he said, “I’m sure I won’t,” and for a second Evan’s hopes were raised, but then Thomas blew out a sharp breath and added, “but right now you’re supposed to be at dinner and I’m supposed to be guarding the door, so perhaps this is a discussion best continued later.”
Evan couldn’t decide if he was annoyed at Thomas for being so damnably sensible or encouraged by the promise contained in that one word— later. In the end he opted for encouraged. The additional flare of arousal caused by someone telling him no was a welcome surprise.
He sighed loudly and stepped back. “Fine. We’ll talk later, after I get the ambassador tipsy, take him back to his rooms, and see what I can find out.”
Thomas nodded, but his brow furrowed and his mouth was pinched into a flat line.
It took Evan a moment to identify what he was seeing—it wasn’t something he was familiar with—but then it hit him.
Thomas was jealous.
The knowledge should not have caused warmth to curl in his chest, and it definitely should not have been followed by the urge to set Thomas’s mind at rest. And yet he found himself saying, “Did you know the ambassador has five children? Personally, I’ve never quite worked out how he was able to get a wife in the first place.” He screwed up his nose. “The man looks like a frog that was hit with a shovel.”
Thomas blinked. “Wait, does that mean you don’t plan to, um…”
“Seduce him? Heavens, no. I have standards .”
The crease disappeared from Thomas’s brow, and he let out an undignified snort. “He does have a very unique look about him.”
“Frog. Shovel,” Evan repeated with a soft laugh.
He was still laughing when he opened the bedroom door—only to be confronted by the froglike features of the ambassador in question. Evan froze with Thomas directly behind him.
The ambassador blinked as he looked them up and down slowly, and it was obvious he was wondering what business the Captain of the Guard had with the Duke of Ravenport.
Well, that wouldn’t do at all. The last thing Evan needed was for the ambassador to start asking questions. Still, he hadn’t become the best spy and assassin in six kingdoms without being able to think on his feet.
He pretended he hadn’t noticed the man at all and half turned, grabbed the front of Thomas’s shirt, and tugged him down, surging forward until their mouths met in a messy kiss.
Evan was prepared for Thomas to freeze or possibly even pull back. What he wasn’t prepared for was for Thomas, after a split second of hesitation, to bring one broad hand up and cradle Evan’s face, or for him to kiss him back with such intensity that Evan quite forgot that they were meant to be putting on a show, so lost was he in the feel of Thomas’s hands on his skin. Heat and hunger spilled over when Thomas dipped his tongue into Evan’s mouth with unexpected boldness. Evan’s heart pounded and his cock throbbed in the confines of his now-too-tight trousers when Thomas ran a wide, warm palm down his spine and cupped his arse.
A breathy moan escaped him, but it was drowned out by the sound of the ambassador clearing his throat.
Thomas sighed against his lips and broke their kiss, and Evan whimpered at the loss. It took a moment for him to gather his wits before he turned to face his guest—which made it that much easier to act like the addlepated fool everyone expected him to be. “Ah,” he said, still reeling from the sheer audacity with which the captain had plundered his mouth. “Hello.”
“Your Grace,” the ambassador said in a voice that dripped with disapproval. His gaze flicked between Evan and Thomas.
Thomas simply stared straight ahead with his hands clasped behind his back, acting for all the world like their kiss had never happened and he hadn’t shaken Evan to his very core.
That smug bastard. Evan made a mental note never to play cards against him, because his poker face was second to none.
For now, though, Evan smiled brightly at the ambassador and said, “You’ve met the Captain of the Guard, I assume?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” the ambassador said.
“Neither have I yet, but I have high hopes for after dinner,” Evan said breezily through lips that still tingled.
The ambassador gave him a hard stare.
Evan stared right back before tilting his head to the side, knowing it gave him the appearance of a confused puppy. “You’re the man from Fapping, aren’t you? I’ve quite forgotten your name.”
The man’s brow creased. “Marchesi, Your Grace. Ambassador for Falsmark.”
“I knew you were something to do with an F!” Evan exclaimed. “You’ll have to pardon me. I’m hopeless with names. Now, what are you doing at my rooms, exactly?” He widened his eyes in mock horror and clapped a hand to his chest. “Oh, we didn’t have an assignation planned, did we? Only my memory really is terrible, and I find myself enthralled with the captain. I mean, look at him. He’s mouthwatering. I was helpless against his… charms. So I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel our arrangement. In fact, I think it’s best if we pretend it never existed.”
The ambassador went bright red. “I’m a married man! We don’t have an arrangement!”
“Yes, exactly like that!” Evan said, and winked.
The ambassador opened his mouth like he was about to argue, then closed it and pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders drooping in defeat. “Quite so, Your Grace.”
“Excellent. Shall we go to dinner?” Evan beamed at him and stepped out of the bedroom with Thomas by his side, then pulled the door firmly closed behind him, locking it and pocketing the key.
The ambassador had been lurking around his rooms, and Evan wanted to know why. But whatever it was, it would have to wait. It wouldn’t do to show his suspicions now.
They walked toward the dining hall and Evan kept up a string of inane chatter, babbling about whether fish pie or pigeon pie was tastier and what wine went best with both, all the while turning over the events of the afternoon and trying to work out what reason the ambassador could possibly have for sneaking into his rooms. He considered briefly that perhaps by some weird twist of fate the man had come to proposition him, and dismissed the thought with a shudder.
No, he was certain that Marchesi had other, more sinister intentions.
He just had to work out what they were.
“ Y our Grace?”
Evan startled, his inattention for once not faked. He’d been observing Thomas standing near the door and gotten distracted by the line of his calves, busy imagining running his tongue up them later tonight. “Hmm?”
“I said, are you planning on staying in Lilleforth for much longer?” Ambassador Marchesi said.
Evan blinked in feigned confusion. “Why? Am I meant to be going somewhere? I hope there’s not a carriage waiting. I’d quite like to finish my supper first.”
“No, I just meant do you have plans to travel? You’ve been in Ravenport for quite some time. Surely you’re ready to set off on another little adventure?”
Evan caught another glimpse of Thomas standing by the door in parade rest with his spine straight and his chest pushed out, the way his hands were clasped behind his back highlighting the sheer breadth of his shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Lilleforth has its attractions. I might stay and explore them further.”
He cocked a curious brow at the ambassador. It was interesting that the man was so interested in Evan’s movements, given that this was the second farewell dinner the king had thrown. A farewell dinner was normally the sign for the last few guests to pack their bags since it was considered a breach of etiquette to ask outright when someone was leaving, but Marchesi seemed oblivious.
Luckily, Evan had never cared about etiquette.
“What about you? Aren’t your obligations here fulfilled? I would have thought you’d be on your way back to Falsmark and their fine wines. Speaking of which, top up?” He lifted his glass from the table and waved it about, slopping some of the contents over his hand. “Oh, bugger.”
A serving boy darted forward with a bottle of wine and filled up his glass, and Evan downed a mouthful. “Mmmm,” he said. “This is a Falsmark red, right? The late harvest from the western river region if I’m not mistaken.”
The ambassador narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t aware you were such an expert on our wines, Your Grace.”
Oops . He’d been distracted, and forgotten he was meant to be ignorant.
“Well, I don’t know about that, but I can drink like a champion!” Evan flashed him a bright smile. “I only remember this one because I drank enough that I fell down a staircase once.” He took another swig and let the smile fall from his face. “Of course, it didn’t end as badly for me as it did for poor Calthrope. Such a dreadful business.”
“Dreadful,” the ambassador said with a sigh. Evan didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened at the mention of the dead man. He definitely knew something, and Evan was determined to get the information out of him.
“We should drink to his memory,” he said suddenly, lurching forward and waving the serving boy over. “It’s the least we can do.”
The ambassador pulled a face. “I don’t really drink.”
“Nonsense. It would be disrespectful not to mourn the loss of my friend with the finest wine, and I can’t toast him alone.” Evan gave Marchesi his best pleading look, the one that had never failed him yet. “Just half a glass?”
The ambassador hesitated but gave a terse nod. “Half a glass. I find more than that gives me a sour stomach.”
“Excellent!” Evan exclaimed and clapped Marchesi on the shoulder. He grabbed a full glass off the tray and thrust it into the man’s hand.
The ambassador eyed the glass warily.
“To Stephen,” Evan proclaimed, draining his glass and looking at the ambassador expectantly.
The ambassador took a small sip, and his expression turned pleased. He tipped his head back and emptied the glass, then gave a little hum.
“That’s the fellow!” Evan said cheerfully and nodded at the server, who filled both glasses to the brim.
The ambassador only hesitated for a moment before taking the second glass and drinking half of it in one swallow, and Evan smiled to himself. They were drinking the rarest and most potent of the Falsmark wines, and Evan had taken their server aside earlier, slipped him a handful of gold coins, and requested that their glasses remain full at all times.
He sipped his own second drink carefully. Evan often had a full glass in his hand and people assumed he was always three sheets to the wind because of it, but it was amazing how a few deft movements could spill the contents of a glass over the sides. Which was a damn shame since this particular wine was delicious, but it couldn’t be helped.
Besides, he had several bottles stashed in his room, and he was hopeful that at some time in the near future, a certain captain of the guard might be tempted into sharing a glass—among other things.
He tried to imagine what tipsy Thomas would be like and how it would taste kissing his wine-soaked mouth. For all that Thomas gave the impression of being solid and sensible, Evan was convinced that hidden beneath his staid exterior there beat the heart of a confident, skilled lover.
Just look at how he’d responded earlier .
Despite Evan pouncing on him with no warning, he hadn’t faltered. Rather, he’d taken control of the kiss as easily as breathing, and while Evan was usually the one in charge, he had rather enjoyed being swept off his feet.
He just needed Thomas to sweep him a little further—across the room and into his bed, to be precise—and he was confident he could make it happen.
The ambassador had barely finished emptying his glass when their server filled it again. Marchesi beamed at him and drank the contents without hesitating. Evan chattered mindlessly through a fourth glass, then a fifth, watching the ambassador carefully, and before long the man’s cheeks were rosy and he was wearing the smile of someone who had hit the happy, loose-lipped stage of drunkenness, which was exactly where Evan wanted him. Right now, Marchesi would tell the world and its neighbour his business without hesitation.
Evan put a hand on the ambassador’s arm. “Oh my,” he said, full of fake concern. “You look rather in your cups, Ambassador.”
Marchesi nodded, his brow creased, and let out a hiccup.
“Me too,” Evan lied, leaning in close and giving a good impression of a drunken giggle. “Do you, shall we—” He waved a hand vaguely, spilling the rest of his own wine. “—oops! I think I need to take a walk. Join me? Otherwise I’m likely to fall into the garden beds again.”
“Yes, a walk,” Marchesi said faintly, swaying gently where he sat.
Evan stood and drew the ambassador to his feet, throwing an arm over his shoulders and pulling him close, mainly to keep the man upright.
When he glanced over, he caught a shadow of displeasure passing over Thomas’s features, and something like guilt squirmed low in his gut at the thought that it might upset the captain to see him touching someone else—which was ridiculous . They weren’t even lovers yet. The most they’d shared was some harmless flirting—and one spine-melting, toe-curling kiss that had heat racing through Evan’s veins every time he thought about it.
Evan found himself removing his arm from around Marchesi’s shoulder and guiding him to the doors with a hand on his elbow instead. He was rewarded with an upward twitch of Thomas’s lip that said the gesture was appreciated—and just like that, the heavy, unpleasant feeling in his gut vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
It was lucky that Evan was playing the tipsy fool. It meant he didn’t have to hide his smile of relief.
Marchesi was currently listing hard to the left, which boded well for Evan. His original plan had been to question the man and search his rooms as quickly as possible and hopefully find out who was behind the threat to the throne.
That was still the plan, but once the ambassador was dealt with, Evan had a new plan. He was determined to find Thomas and kiss him again—and this time he’d make sure they weren’t interrupted.
As far as plans went, it was flawless—right until the ambassador drew to a halt in front of Thomas, blinking up at him owlishly. “I know you,” he proclaimed. “You’re the captain!”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.
The ambassador beamed up at him, and it might even have been amusing except the next thing out of his mouth was, “Weren’t you and the duke kissing earlier?”
His voice rang out with the too-loud confidence of a happy drunk, falling into one of those unfortunate silences that occur in public spaces, and the words echoed off the high ceiling.
There was a collective gasp as the rest of the dinner guests turned as one, craning their necks like a gaggle of particularly curious geese to look at Thomas and Evan. Evan personally thought their reaction was a bit rich given that their king had married a groom and their stablemaster was in love with another prince—although of course Mother Jones hadn’t known Vasily was royalty when he fell for him.
Evan sensed Thomas stiffening next to him and waited to see how he’d respond. Being known as the captain’s lover would give Evan an excuse to be seen with Thomas at all hours and in all locations. Nobody would look twice at the duke and his latest conquest. But more than that, imagining Thomas as his lover made warmth curl in his chest, and suddenly he was desperate to be able to pretend, even for a while, that there was someone in his life who had chosen him to share theirs.
He turned to Thomas and raised an eyebrow in silent query. It was a lot to ask, and despite their earlier conversation, Evan understood that Thomas might have changed his mind. He didn’t think he would have—the captain didn’t strike him as a man who faltered once he made a decision—but still, he prepared himself for a refusal.
But Thomas gave a tiny shrug, his eyes dancing with amusement, and something settled in Evan at the knowledge that Thomas was willing to go along with this madness. Really, he had all the hallmarks of a great spy, and Evan would be sure to tell him that later. But for now everyone was still watching, and Evan found himself unsure how to proceed.
Before he could think too hard about it, the decision was taken from him. He found himself lifted off his feet by strong arms that settled under his thighs, holding him in place, and then Thomas’s mouth was on his, kissing him with unexpected vigour.
Evan’s face heated and his heart pounded as he tangled his hands in Thomas’s hair and kissed him back. Having Thomas take charge again sent a thrill running through him, one he could easily get used to. He found himself hungry for more, and didn’t want the kiss to end. But he was aware of the stares and whispers surrounding them—and he hadn’t become the best at what he did by getting lost in the heat of the moment—so he reluctantly dragged himself away from the taste of Thomas’s lips, panting slightly, and said, “Does that answer your question, Ambassador?”
The ambassador gave a tipsy nod, eyes wide, and Evan shoved gently at Thomas’s chest. It was like massaging a rock. “I think I should take the ambassador for his walk now,” he said quietly. “I’ll find you later?”
Thomas nodded, eyes wide, and set Evan down. His cheeks were flushed, his lips were swollen, and his expression was both dazed and happy, like he wasn’t sure how he’d come to be kissing Evan but was perfectly willing to do it again given the chance.
Well, that made two of them.
Evan guided the ambassador from the room, humming cheerfully to himself. Just as soon as he had this spying business out of the way, he could spend the rest of the evening focusing on what was really important.
Seducing his captain.