8. Zeth #2
Amby swiftly crossed his arms and stood still in defiance. Maybe he didn’t like being told what to do like a dog either. It was difficult to keep the smug feeling from my face, but I managed as I thumbed a crease in my pants.
Amby couldn’t come up with something to say back. His face flushed, and that exquisite jaw tightened. Good, he was flustered. He made his way over to one of the end tables beside the settee to fiddle with the shepherdess figurine, poking at it nervously.
Then the figurine fell on the table with a jarring rattle that made us both jump. A second later, the thing’s head rolled right off the side and fell onto the carpet in sweet retribution. Oh, Amby was such a troublemaker.
“Shit,” he cursed, right as the door opened, and I never saw him move quicker than he did as he picked up the proof of his crime. He stuffed the figurine head into his pocket like a guilty little boy, and I snorted softly at witnessing the poor shepherdess’ murder.
“Tea, sirs,” a soft voice chimed in. The maid from last night stood in the doorway with a tray and full service. Finally, someone who liked me.
“Ah, Betty, do set it here,” I instructed, and waved her to the coffee table at my legs. Amby’s gaze shot to me. My familiarity with Anna’s household clearly got under his collar. After Betty set the tray down, I nodded her out and sat forward to open a little lid over the sugar. “Still two lumps?”
Amby scowled as he pulled the figurine head from his pocket and tried to place it back on the body. “I’ll wait until the lady of the house is here. We have a date.”
His stubbornness made my blood boil, so I inhaled the first twenty replies that all started with fuck you. Then I used the small tongs that sat on the tray to pinch two cubes and plunk them into the far cup before pouring tea over them. He liked his tea fucking sweet.
In my own empty cup, I splashed the tea in less gently. I liked it bitter. I wanted to taste something other than water.
Dainty biscuits sat on the tray, so I slipped two of those into my jacket pocket to give to Millie later before stuffing another into my mouth.
Chewing, I leaned back with my little saucer and cup.
They didn’t chatter with my frustration, and for that I was grateful.
I took a moment to appreciate the red roses on them, matching the settees.
Did Anna have a tea set for every room? She had at least fifteen rooms, not counting service quarters.
Did she have a room just for storing all the sets?
Did the tea set storage room have a matching tea set too?
In case you wanted to drink tea while admiring your tea sets in the damn tea set storage room.
The wealthy were absolutely ridiculous.
And Amby hovering without joining me for breakfast was really pissing me off.
My fingers tightened around the cup as I washed down the food with tea and tried to pay attention to the taste. Not Amby. Not his wayward curls. Not his angry glances.
“So, a date?” I shrugged and grabbed another biscuit.
“Funny, I have one as well. Maybe you’re here on the wrong day?
No matter, you might as well enjoy the tea while you can because you’ll hardly appear proper once Anna sees how you beheaded her poor statue.
It’s forty years old from two regions away. I bet Anna’s mother bought it. Pity.”
“Oh.” Amby nodded. “So, did you and Annabelle have a conversation about this particular statue last night? Or are you just making things up as you go?”
“Clever analysis, but no. I studied antiques. Take this—” I was glad my voice sounded calm as I held up my cup and quickly glanced at the maker’s mark.
A bear with seven stars. “This is a Blesswood from their Eaton factory before it burned down in seventy two. A kiln malfunction. You would think that tragedy raises the value. However, the market is only moderate right now. I’d estimate fetching twenty, maybe more, for a full set of Blesswood, if you gather the right buyers to auction. ”
It felt good to be talking business again.
The rattle of numbers and facts that could be categorized and notated.
It eased my frustrations while I filled with pride.
I wanted to demonstrate my learning to the very man who thought I was nothing but a thief and a dog.
Maybe if Amby understood how hard I worked while away from him, how I funneled my anger and frustrations into learning a prosperous trade… then he would see me differently.
And by the surprised expression on Amby’s face, he did appear astonished with my training. “Hm,” he started, “Does all your knowledge make it easier to pawn your loot?”
“Fuck you.”
The curse flew out quickly, and everything in me deflated. I didn’t regret the sound of my bitter anger, not for one second. Amby deserved to feel how deep his snotty insults cut. They cut to the bone.
But he didn’t stop. He walked closer to stand over me as he taunted, “Did I strike a nerve? Perhaps, you would rather I just… leave you the fuck alone.”
Before I knew what was what, the tea was gone, set aside, and I was standing in Amby’s face.
How dare he tease me with my heartfelt request. I glared down at him, happy for the new height between us as he stepped back.
But there wasn’t a single speck of remorse in Amby’s brown expression. Of course not.
Chuckling low, I leaned closer. Amby’s legs backed against the end table, making him stagger, yet his burning eyes dared me to proceed.
His will to fight sent awareness along my spine.
I shook it off because Anna’s parlor wasn’t the place for a sparring match.
Though, that fuming face had me wanting his wonderful ass under my hand.
I could grab those wonderful, prominent hips of his to spin him around, and then pull him down over my lap…
Oh, that was damn tempting. My right hand flexed before I curled it tight. No… I could use words. And a commanding voice, “I think you’re better than this disrespectful behaviour, aren’t you, Rosie?”
Fuck, I missed my name for him on my lips, and judging by the way his cheeks tinted pinker, he did too.
“Why are you cornering me like this, Mr. Washer?” Amby let out a snarky laugh and looked away. “Maybe you should just… back off?” He pushed against my chest with his fist.
I captured his hand and stood my ground.
His wide eyes snapped back to me as he tried to pull away, but I unbent his fingers with another purpose, to rescue the little porcelain statue’s head.
His hand felt warm in mine, and the calluses on his fingers surprised me, not to mention Amby’s collection of healing cuts.
Even his thumb was bruised. A stupid urge rose in me to ask what caused them, and to take that thumb into my mouth.
No, I didn’t need to be thinking like this.
Instead, I folded the tempting thumb back in and closed his empty hand, meeting his gaze again.
His chin was raised, that defiance still there.
I shouldn’t like willfulness so much. Fuck me .
“So… Here’s how this proceeds. I’ll stop swearing at you, and you’ll leave nicely. ”
Amby snatched his hand free and sneered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to take Annabelle fishing, not indulge in your little ego boost.”
“Fishing?” I snorted. It took a lot to ignore the rest of Amby’s words. “Anna very intentionally invited me to go fishing with her today. While in my bedroom last night, I might add.”
It was low, but the barb hit. Amby’s brow gathered, and he stuttered, “W-what? No… I specifically asked her yesterday during the picnic.”
I didn’t know what was going on, but Amby went to grab the porcelain head from my hand, so I jerked my arm away.
He stepped forward to wrestle it back, so I flung my fist high to keep it from him.
My four-point-five inches on him meant he couldn’t reach it without jumping or climbing me, and I dared him to do that with a challenging stare.
It was childish, I know. We used to play like this in our youth, only Amby had the advantage before, and having it now felt far too deliciously thrilling to stop.
“Zeth!” Amby huffed. “Just give me the damn head.” He jumped up to grab the piece.
I held it higher with a laugh, nudging him back. When he grabbed my arm, trying to pull it down, I dug my free hand into his curls to hold him still.
Amby gasped, a sharp intake that had me tugging his head closer by his hair until his lips touched my ear. I wanted to hear him whimper, to make him beg for mercy. Instead, he let out a few soft breaths and gripped my jacket in his hands, as if he wanted more. I felt his anger shift to need…
And fuck me for needing him too. This rough play came out of nowhere, yet it felt so right between us.
When Amby used to ask for more when we played around, maybe this was what his hints meant.
He wanted to be roughed around and shown how much I needed him, how much I wanted him, instead of passively obeying his commands.
Because he was certainly enjoying my fist in his hair, making him whimper.
“Such a hungry boy.” I tilted closer to purr into his ear, hearing my own voice coming out harsh and approving. “You don’t want me to play nice, do you?”
Amby clenched his jaw against mine for a rough second before he asked, “I don’t deserve nice, do I?”
“No.” I fisted my hand tighter, keeping him in my arms as I considered how much pain hid behind his words.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one hurting with memories and regrets.
I’d probably never know, but I knew I wanted what I could take of him in this lonely moment.
His curls were so soft and slick in my fingers, his body hot against mine, his breath desperate in my ear.
I tugged him even closer and rubbed my unshaved cheek against his.
That sharp jaw of his felt incredibly smooth, and for a moment, he gripped me tighter.