Silas’s lips. But it was a total lie, and anyway, the problem was that Darien already didn’t feel casual. “You’re too young for me.”
“Seriously? You’re going with that?” Darien eased out of bed and stalked over to him. “My first lover was fifteen years older than me. I learned a lot.” He glanced down at Silas’s trousers. “Someone doesn’t seem to think I’m too young.”
Silas, torn between arousal and irritation, intercepted Darien’s hand before it could touch his zipper. “I don’t let my dick make my decisions.” He held Darien’s wrist firmly, and stared into his brown eyes until Darien looked away and broke free.
“All right. But you don’t know what you’re missing.” Darien backed up a step, a crooked smile plastered on his face. “I’m just going in there—” He pointed at the bathroom. “—and taking care of business.”
“Right. Do that. Um, let me know if you want some lunch, afterward. I mean, whenever you’re ready.”
Darien disappeared behind the door and Silas blew out a short breath. He couldn’t tell if the tremor of Darien’s thin shoulders had meant the little bastard had been laughing at him or unhappy.
Too damned young. Keep your hands to yourself, Thornwood.
Turning abruptly, he strode out, heading for his study.
Chapter 7
By late afternoon, Darien was thoroughly bored.
He’d eventually found his suitcase in the entry closet, though it took an offhand hint from Grim of “Not far from where you left it” and a bit of logic. Dragging it upstairs, he’d rummaged through for something better to wear. No wonder Silas thinks I’m too young, when I’m dressed in plaid pants that bunch up around the ankles. I probably look like I’m twelve. Sadly, all of his own stuff smelled strongly of a small room, a smaller sink, and too much apathy to wash. He’d found one pair of wearable underwear, scrubbed his other clothes in the sink and hung them on the shower-rod to dry. The stains didn’t come out, but at least they were no longer disgusting. But he had to stick with the plaid. For now.
Lunch had been eaten in the kitchen at the same table, with a loaf of fresh bread and ham and cheese. When he’d praised the bread Silas had said, “Thank you” which was unexpected. The necromancer housewife. So many things about Silas were unexpected. Not in a bad way, though. Yet.
He’d spent the afternoon exploring the house. Silas had given permission with a wave of “Just stay out of the cellars, and don’t go outside.” The mansion was crazy, full of passages and turns, narrow stairs and dormers and turrets. It was ridiculously big for one person, and Silas clearly thought so too, because other than the bedroom suite, kitchen, and study, the rooms were nearly empty and coated with dust.
Eventually Darien got tired of tattered curtains, rugs so old he couldn’t tell what color they’d been, and echoing, creaky spaces. He went to the window of the room he was in and leaned on the sill. Outside, the sky was beginning to color with the first hint of sunset. The windowpanes were grimy, but clear enough to show the gardens below. The snow on the ground had melted to patches of white and brown, between the scraggly lines of cedar hedge— Is that a maze?
A flock of crows seemed to have found something in there. They wheeled and banked out of the sky, wings black against the deepening sunset glow. It hit him that something might get lost in a maze, unable to escape. A dog or cat, maybe, though a cat could surely climb its way out. Or a fawn, perhaps, or a small child. Crows were nasty, aggressive birds, prone to pick on anything weaker. I should go see what they found.
There was a spiral stair at the end of the hall that he’d glanced down. It was on the outside wall. There might be a door.
Carefully, his now-filthy socks silent on the treads, he circled down toward the ground floor. At the bottom, a narrow landing opened in toward the house, but there was an arched wooden door in the outer wall too. Hah, I thought so. Servants’ entrance, maybe. A house this big must’ve had a dozen servants, back in the day.
It was locked with a heavy bolt, and when he slid that back and tried the handle, the door opened. Darien leaned on it, looking out. His breath puffed in white clouds against the cold air and he shivered. But the