Just a Little Heartache (The Brotherhood #5) - Merry Farmer Page 0,93

missed being showered with that sort of affection. He’d spent ten years hardening his heart so that he wouldn’t be hurt again, but that had been a terrible thing to do. He should have known that, in spite of his best efforts and insisting he wouldn’t fall into Blake’s arms again, he was meant to be right where he was, by Blake’s side, sweaty and satisfied.

“I suppose all of your theatrical lovers have been much better than me,” Blake said, eyes glittering and mouth swollen as he grinned. “They must have more experience.”

“Stop,” Niall warned him, twisting to his side and gathering Blake into his arms so that their overheated bodies plastered together in a dozen places. “I haven’t had that many theatrical lovers. Or any other kind of lovers either.”

“But you have had some,” Blake went on, playing with a damp piece of Niall’s hair.

“None that mattered,” Niall said, wishing parts of his past could be erased.

“Theater people are notoriously immoral,” Blake said, imitating the dowager from Lady Inglewood’s dinner party and resting his head on the pillow as he continued to gaze into Niall’s eyes and touch his face. “But I always loved theater people. One theater person in particular.”

Niall grinned, nestling closer against Blake and wedging his knee between Blake’s legs. “The theater is a wonderful world, really.”

“I would like to have some part in it,” Blake sighed. “It hasn’t seemed possible before now, but with you here, anything could happen.”

“Anything?” Niall arched one eyebrow.

“It’s not like I’ve put theater behind me entirely,” Blake went on. “Our play has lived forever in my heart. And a few years back, when a call went out from a theatrical troupe passing through Leeds, I donated several—”

He stopped short, his whole body tensing.

“What is it?” Niall lifted himself on one arm to look down at Blake.

Blake sat so fast that he nearly tossed Niall aside. His eyes went round. “I gave it away,” he said.

“Gave what away?” Suspicion grew in Niall’s gut.

Blake turned to him with a forlorn look. “The medallion. I remember now. I gave it away to the theater in Leeds. They were doing a production of Anthony and Cleopatra, and they needed Egyptian props, costumes, and set pieces. I let them come to the house to see what we had and take whatever they needed.” The dread in his eyes grew. “Niall, the medallion Ian wants is gone. It’s been gone for years.”

Niall sat up as well, hissing a curse. “What do we do?” he asked. “Do we go to Leeds to find it?”

“I….” Blake shoved a hand through his hair, shifting restlessly. “It was a traveling company. They formed in Leeds, but they had plans to travel all over England, Scotland, and Wales.”

“So the medallion could be anywhere,” Niall said, gut clenching.

“There is no possible way we’ll be able to give Ian what he wants.” Blake reached the same conclusion Niall had reached.

“He’ll have to hand over the children anyhow,” Niall insisted, resting a hand on Blake’s arm when he saw the signs of one of Blake’s anxiety spells coming over him. That didn’t seem to be enough to ward the attack off, so he drew Blake into his arms, wrapping his arms and legs around him. “We’ll think of something,” he insisted. “It’s been ten years. Ian probably doesn’t even remember what the medallion looks like. You have an entire room of Egyptian artifacts downstairs. I’m certain we can find something or fashion something that Ian will believe is the medallion he’s after.”

“I doubt it will work. Ian is too determined to ruin me,” Blake said, resting his head against the side of Niall’s for a moment.

“We’ll try anyhow,” Niall said. “We can…we can put the medallion in a box and say it’s for safekeeping. That could buy us the minutes we need to get the children away from him. Or we could find a way to send him and Annamarie a telegraph, asking for more time.”

Blake stiffened in Niall’s arms, wrenching back to stare at Niall, eyes wide. “There is no time,” he said, panic overtaking him again. “My God, why didn’t I put two and two together earlier?” He shoved a hand through his hair, then struggled away from Niall, climbing out of bed. “Lady Inglewood might have been drunk, but she tried to give us vital information, and we missed it.”

“Are you certain you’re not just flying into a panic over every little thing?” Niall climbed carefully out of the bed and