Chapter Thirteen
J em was not skilled in the art of inspiring jealousy.
His confidence waxed and waned. At the moment, he was sure there was no chance Cador favored him and that letting himself believe it was possible was a fool’s game. The best he could hope for was companionable friendship until the harvest and their return to the mainland that felt so very far away.
Oh, how he missed Santo and his parents. He even missed Pasco and Locryn, gods help him. Sitting by the hearth, Jem laughed to himself, imagining the gods he didn’t believe in granting some sort of mercy. Perhaps the god of water would carry him home on a massive wave.
His chuckle died as the cottage door opened with a gust of frigid air, the weather still not resembling what Jem knew of spring even a little.
At least it wasn’t snowing again. Cador clomped inside, grunting a greeting to Jem before fetching a tankard of ale and gulping from it, mud and slush tracked across the stone floor.
Nostrils flaring, Jem pressed his lips together. Would it kill the man to take off his boots by the door? Jem managed it without difficulty. He said nothing, though. The past week, he and Cador had spoken little, a new, nameless uneasiness between them.
Jem had gone for his lessons each day, staying until late afternoon to tell stories to an ever-growing group of children. They gathered at his feet and gazed up at him with avid faces that were sometimes smeared with dirt.
Several parents had lurked, creeping closer by the day to hear the stories. One woman now sat right down with the children, and she gave Jem encouraging smiles.
Austol had told everyone to bring their own cups for tea since he didn’t have enough to go around. The next day, two women began bringing the crunchy, slightly bitter ginger cookies Ergh seemed to favor.
But Cador hadn’t appeared in the barn again and had said nothing about Jem’s hours there. He hadn’t asked how Jem had gotten on with his lessons and certainly hadn’t expressed any jealousy. Austol had to be mistaken.
Derwa fussed, and Jem crawled to the crate. On his hands and knees, he peeked in and murmured some nonsense words of comfort as she blinked up at him, her eyes open fully now. It had taken longer than he expected, but her development mimicked the dillywigs’ closely enough.
He topped up the water dish in the corner of the crate from the pitcher he kept nearby and registered the strangely weighty silence in the cottage.
Still on his hands and knees, Jem looked up to find Cador watching him from the middle of the room, callused hands frozen at the neck of his fur-topped cloak, as if he’d been about to remove it.
“What?” Jem asked.
Shaking himself, Cador spun away, wrenching off the cloak. “Nothing,” he muttered.
Jem’s belly flip-flopped. Hmm. That look on Cador’s face… Austol had said he knew desire when he saw it. Was that what it looked like? Did Cador want Jem on his hands and knees?
And that was an enticing prospect that had Jem’s cock swelling.
He shuffled back to his furs. He’d taken to wearing his soft, clingy breeches and silk shirts inside the cottage, saving the leather and rough tunics for outdoors.
His breeches hid nothing, so he snuggled back under the furs and opened his book.
“What’s that?” Cador asked after a time. He sat at the table, drinking more ale. A candle flickered by him, casting light in that corner of the cottage.
“A book.”
Cador’s tone was flinty. “Yes, I see that.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were familiar with them given there’s not one to be found here.”
“I have better things to do than laze about reading. If we didn’t hunt, our people would starve.”
It was a fair point. Jem said nothing.
Cador muttered under his breath. Then, sharply, he asked, “Where did you get it?”
“Austol. He has wonderful books.” In truth, they were either dry-as-dust morality tales about the gods or children’s stories on the same subject, but Austol had lent him a few of the clerics’ books and assured him Cador likely wouldn’t approve.
“Does he,” Cador ground out before gulping more ale.
Jem kept his tone chipper. “He does! And he showed me how to control a horse today. I’m quite comfortable sitting atop Nessa now, so we rode her together.
He taught me how to apply pressure the right way with my legs.
He sat right against me. With his thighs pressing mine, I could really feel it.
” Jem parroted the words Austol had told him to say.
Cador shoved back his chair so violently it toppled with a crash on the stone, making Jem jump. Standing, his chest rising and falling rapidly, Cador opened and closed his mouth. Finally, he gritted out, “Good. Soon you won’t need lessons.”
With that, he stalked out of the cottage, the door thudding shut in his wake. Jem grinned. Perhaps Austol was onto something after all.
*
How many times would Jem have to clean the floor in a single week?
He’d come in shivering from his riding lesson, the wind bitter despite all the promises that true spring would arrive any moment.
Once again, Cador had tracked in mud. On some days, he returned home for a midday meal before hunting again, and his boot marks told the tale.
The mess didn’t seem to bother him a whit, but Jem couldn’t relax until it was clean.
Grumbling, Jem filled buckets from the well and put them on the smoldering fire to warm. He mopped the floor, which at least kept him warm until he was ready to strip off, fill the tub, bank the fire, and settle in to soak.
He didn’t mind having to curl up in the too-small tub, closing his eyes and listening to the fresh kindling crackle in the fireplace. Derwa chirped contentedly. She’d need a proper aviary shortly, or else she’d have to learn to fly outside and take her chances.
Too soon, the water cooled, and Jem snuggled into his robe, wishing it was thicker. Grunting, he shoved the tub back toward its corner. If he was to be mopping the floors constantly, Cador and his muscles could empty the tub.
Said muscles played on Jem’s mind as he settled on the toasty furs before the fireplace.
He idly toyed with his damp nipples. It had been an age since he’d been able to pleasure himself.
He’d worked his body harder than ever before with all the riding, his muscles sore and stronger.
He needed release, and with Cador out on the hunt…
Why not?
Smiling to himself, Jem practically skipped over to his trunk to fetch his candle and vial of scented oil. He removed the stopper, inhaling the gentle rose perfume, a clean smell with only a hint of perfect sweetness. It was one of the luxuries Neuvella had perfected.
He thought of his mother’s tension over Ebrenn’s rising oil prices that would impact Neuvella’s industry of scented oils and perfumes.
He really had taken for granted all the wonderful little comforts of home.
After tipping a drop onto his fingertips and rubbing them together, he inhaled the delicate fragrance and vowed to appreciate such gifts more.
On his back in front of the fire with the furs soft beneath him, Jem opened his robe, slipping his arms out so he was unencumbered. He left the candle and oil beside him for now, first merely running his water-wrinkled fingers over his body, the fire’s warmth delicious on his bare skin.
What would Cador think if he discovered him like this?
Jem moaned softly, spreading his thighs. He oiled his hands and reached down to fondle his stiffening cock and heavy bollocks. Caressing the sensitive skin leading to his hole, he pressed and explored, stroking his shaft slowly with his other hand. His eyes drifted shut.
He imagined he was back in the safety of his chamber at home, the door securely bolted.
Touching himself, he relived his favorite fantasies of displaying himself for a burly soldier or woodsman or one of the marauding pirates from Morvoren’s adventures.
Imagined a fierce man hard for him, watching as Jem worked his body, as he fucked himself with the candle, stretching his arse wonderfully.
Mmm. He reached blindly for the candle—and an icy gust of air spread gooseflesh over him. His eyes flew open to find Cador filling the doorway, his lips parted, snow whirling in around him. His gaze lowered to Jem’s splayed thighs and hard prick in his grasp.
For endless moments, they were both frozen in place, Jem holding his breath. Cador snapped his jaw shut. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and he seemed to be waging a war within himself.
Finally, Cador twisted his mouth into a smirk. “Don’t let me interrupt.” His voice was hoarse.
Jem snatched back his hand and rolled onto his knees, yanking a fur over his lap. “You—you’re supposed to—”
With a shrug that looked anything but careless, Cador kicked the door shut with a thud. “It’s snowing now, and the wind is up. No visibility. We’ll hunt tomorrow.” He hung his fur cloak. “You must have to pleasure yourself often since no one else will.”
“I—I—that’s none of your concern! So what if I do?” Jem’s face burned. Gods, it was humiliating to be caught so very exposed.
“So nothing. As I said, don’t let me interrupt.” Cador’s gaze dropped to the candle on the furs. His dark brows shot up. “Well, well. I wouldn’t expect such play from someone of your…delicacy.”
Jem’s whole body clenched, his heart pounding with an angry surge of defiance. He lifted his chin. “I’m not delicate.”
“It seems not.” Still in his damn boots, Cador sauntered over to the table as Jem sat back on his heels, his cock throbbing under his fur, the fire hot at his back.
Jem’s breath was harsh and quick and too loud in the stillness. “I am not delicate!” He bunched his hands in the fur. He’d have torn it apart if it wasn’t so sturdy. “I breach myself often.”
“Do you?” Cador sounded bored, although his body was a wall of tension, his fingers twitching anxiously. He had the manner of a man playing a role.