Just a Little Heartache (The Brotherhood #5) - Merry Farmer Page 0,22

out of his chair and paced across the room to fetch his script. “If that’s what you want to do,” he said, rising slowly, then pushing his chair in.

“Do you have a copy of the script?” Blake asked, retrieving his and flipping through its dog-eared pages.

Niall grinned. “I wrote it. I know it by heart.”

“All of it?” Blake’s expression brightened as he and Niall met in the center of the room in front of a comfortable-looking sofa with spindly tables at each end.

“All of it,” Niall laughed. “Although, to be fair, that’s probably also because I’ve been directing the production myself and starring in it as well.”

“Do you have ambitions of being a director once you make your scintillating debut on the London stage?” Blake asked mischievously.

“Not if I can help it,” Niall answered. “I’m much better suited to squirreling myself away in a tidy flat, scribbling and bringing new ideas and new worlds to life.”

“If anybody can do it, you can.”

Blake stopped rifling through his script for a moment and let his shoulders drop as he smiled at Niall. There was an unmistakable fondness between them, a camaraderie that Niall had never experienced with anyone. Blake was wildly different from him in so many ways. He was a sun to Niall’s moon. He was exuberance and charm, whereas Niall was cleverness and ambition. But underneath that, Niall felt as though somehow their souls matched.

Blake cleared his throat, then said, “Where do you want to start?” in a rough voice.

Niall shrugged, pretending the electric charge between them wasn’t about to set the room on fire. “Wherever you feel you need the most rehearsing.”

Blake nodded, grinned, and took a small step back, focusing on the script again. “I’m good with memorization, so I think I have most of it down already. Of course, since I started at the beginning, I’m less certain about the end.”

“Then let’s work on the final scene,” Niall said.

“Right.” Blake nodded, leafing through to the back of the script. “Perfect. Siegfried has vanquished his rivals and won Greta’s admiration.”

“My heart rejoices to be the bride of such a valiant and noble prince,” Niall recited the line, raising the timbre of his voice for the woman’s part.

“And mine to be a bridegroom as well as a prince now,” Blake said, speaking the line first, then checking the page to make certain he’d said it right. He inched closer to Niall. The spark between them seemed to grow. At least, until Blake cleared his throat and rocked back to deliver the next line. “Reinhold, I was wrong to censure you for stealing a bride for me.” He pointed to the spot where Ian would have been standing if they were on a stage. “You will be showered with riches and honors for your part in this.”

“And you will have my eternal gratitude,” Niall said, studying Blake carefully. He was still anxious, still restless.

He moved closer to Niall, lowering his script and gazing deep into Niall’s eyes as he said, “Come, my darling. Let us celebrate our union instead of denying it. Let all the kingdom celebrate with us.”

Niall’s breath caught in his chest. If ever there were a way to prove definitively how Blake felt about him, this was it. He thanked God that his earlier self had written the next bit of the play the way he had, then recited, “My lord and my master,” then took a huge stride forward that brought him right up against Blake.

The action of the script called for a kiss. Heart in his throat, Niall obeyed his own stage direction to the letter. He clasped either side of Blake’s face and slanted his mouth over Blake’s with all the daring he could muster.

For one, terrifying moment, Niall thought everything he’d guessed about Blake was dead wrong. Blake went rigid, sucking in a breath as Niall kissed him with the full force of the desire that had been building in him since the moment he’d first clapped eyes on him. He felt a shudder run through Blake, heard his script drop to the floor. Blake’s lips were soft beneath his, but remained firmly closed.

Niall pulled back, shame burning in his cheeks and disappointment feeling like it would grind him to a pulp. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, letting his hands drop. “I—”

Before he could get another word out, Blake sucked in a sharp breath and launched toward him. He clasped the sides of Niall’s head and brought his mouth crashing over his in

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