spent more than a quarter of an hour at the coffeehouse over the past month knows I can. My God, you are a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them.”
“I am plenty subtle. Just not with you, because you’re clearly not a man who understands nuance. I take it you aren’t interested in fucking me.”
“I’m very interested,” Kit said with a helpful gesture toward his prick as corroborating evidence. “But we’re in the middle of the woods.”
“It’s really more of a stand of trees,” Percy said, hooking a finger into the top edge of Kit’s buckskins and tugging him close again.
“Oh, well, in that case.” Kit rolled his eyes.
“You have a spider the size of a duck egg living in your stairwell. I thought you’d feel quite at home.”
“We are not fucking and then getting on horseback,” he said firmly. “I have a bed.”
Percy’s counterargument was a slow, filthy kiss as he ground against Kit.
They were interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats and carriage wheels. Kit had nearly forgotten what they were doing there in the first place. He broke the kiss, pausing with his forehead against Percy’s as they caught their breath. “Your turn,” Kit said, gesturing at the road.
Stepping away from Kit, Percy peered out toward the road. “I would step out into the road at three, two, now.”
“Very good,” Kit said. “You’re a quick study.”
That made Percy go still, made the tips of his ears turn pink. “I try,” he said lightly but not meeting Kit’s eyes. They were a few steps away from one another now, and neither of them made any attempt to close the gap.
“That was really all I wanted to show you,” Kit said. “I wanted you to see for yourself, so you can get a picture of it in your head when we plan out the next stage. The actual robbery won’t be here, of course, but somewhere nearer to Cheveril Castle.” He swallowed, and for a moment the only sound was the rustle of dry leaves in the surrounding trees and the call of a distant bird. “But the principle is the same.”
“I suppose we ought to be getting back,” Percy said, still not meeting Kit’s eyes.
Kit agreed and went to untie the horses. He glanced around for a tree stump or fallen log that he could use to mount the horse, annoyed that he hadn’t thought of that beforehand. He still wasn’t used to accounting for all the ways his abilities had changed since his injury, and was cross with himself for his lack of forethought.
“Here,” Percy said, making a cup out of his joined hands, as one would do to help a woman or a child mount a horse.
“I’m too heavy,” Kit said.
“Try me,” Percy said. And for lack of any better ideas, Kit did. He found that he wasn’t even surprised that Percy didn’t crumble under his weight. After he had a leg over the saddle, he felt Percy’s hands firmly grip his hips, steadying him. It ought to have been mortifying.
Maybe some of his thoughts showed on his face, because Percy squeezed his thigh. “Come on,” he said, mounting his horse and heading toward the road. Kit followed.
Chapter 28
The sun was setting by the time the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the coffeehouse. It hadn’t yet closed, and it occurred to Percy that they would have to wait some time before they did anything involving that bed Kit had promised.
At the table nearest the door was a face that almost made Percy break stride. It was Collins, and seeing him outside Percy’s apartments was almost like seeing him in a masked disguise.
“What on earth,” Percy started.
“Hush,” the valet hissed. “Sit.”
Percy, after gesturing for Kit to carry on without him, sat.
“Her Grace has a message,” said Collins, softly enough that Percy almost couldn’t hear him.
“I see,” Percy said slowly. No message that had to be relayed in this cloak-and-dagger fashion could possibly be good news.
“She wants you to attend the Davenport ball this evening.”
“I already sent my regrets. That’s the message?” Percy asked, baffled.
“I believe Her Grace means to deliver the message to you in person at the ball, my lord.”
“Right. Of course. I suppose that if she wrote it down like a normal person, then she’d worry that you’d be intercepted by masked brigands and have to eat the notepaper to avoid discovery. We are in a stage comedy, Collins, and I’m afraid you got dragged into it.”
“I hope my lord knows