himself off of Henry, he undid the wrist cuffs, then awkwardly dismounted and wandered over to the jug and ewer on the armoire to wash himself.
By the time he brought Henry a damp cloth and clean towel, Henry was sitting up, blinking dazedly.
“Thank you,” Henry mumbled, accepting the offerings, while Kit turned away to fetch his shirt and drawers off the floor.
Once he had his shirt and drawers back on, he found Henry’s and handed those over too. Henry blinked, seeming nonplussed. After a moment, he set the bundle of fabric down on his lap, imperfectly covering himself.
“Well,” Kit said, aiming for something close to his usual light tone. “That was… unexpected.”
He thought Henry might take his cue from that, attempt to put some distance between them, but no. Even as he went to move away from the bed, Henry reached for him, his fingers closing over Kit’s wrist, tugging him back.
“Kit,” he whispered. “I had no idea.”
Kit wasn’t sure what precisely Henry was referring to having no idea about, but one thing was clear to him—Henry felt vulnerable in this moment. He needed comfort. And so, half-reluctantly, he let Henry tug him back onto the bed. Let Henry pull him close and settle Kit’s head on his shoulder the way he used to all those years ago. Let him stroke his fingers through Kit’s hair. So familiar. So intimate. As intimate in its way as it had been for Kit to plunge his cock into Henry’s body. And arguably, more dangerous.
After a while Henry said, “That was—astonishing. I don’t think I could have done it with anyone else.”
Kit snorted.
“I mean it, Chri—sorry, Kit.”
Henry fell silent again, but Kit could practically hear him thinking, and he waited patiently for the words he knew would follow. He had learned this about Henry a long time ago—he needed to be allowed a little silence before he would say much.
At last Henry said, “I came to you in hopes of repaying you for my past mistakes. And all I’ve done is indebted myself to you more.”
Kit lifted his head and looked down at Henry, frowning. Henry’s handsome face was anxious, genuine regret in his grey eyes.
“If you think I got nothing out of what just happened, I have to doubt your sanity.” Kit gave a crooked smile. “I haven’t come that hard in years.”
Some of the tension went out of Henry’s expression and he chuckled softly.
Kit lifted himself up to a sitting position. Looking down at Henry, he said seriously, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“I asked you this before, but this time I need you to promise first, on your honour, that you will be perfectly honest in your answer.”
Henry met his gaze. “I promise, on my honour.”
“Did you offer yourself to me like this as penance?”
Henry opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, and Kit’s heart twisted painfully. Henry was having to think about this. Kit had been right to be suspicious.
When he went to move away, Henry sat up too, reaching for him, catching his arm. “Don’t look like that,” he said, frowning. “It wasn’t for penance, but—look, will you let me explain properly without bolting away?”
Kit hesitated, then settled back down. “All right. Go on.”
Henry relaxed and let go of his arm. “I’m not sure how far back to go.”
“Go back as far as you need to,” Kit suggested gently.
Henry smiled at that, for some reason. “You haven’t changed a bit, do you know that?”
“God, I hope I’ve changed a little!” Kit chuckled. “No one should be as naive as I was when you first knew me.” When Henry’s smile faded, he added, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that—”
But Henry laid gentle fingers on his lips and said softly, “Please don’t apologise. You’ve every right to say such things.”
They stared at one another for a beat, then Henry dropped his hand. “Did I ever talk to you about my father?” he asked.
“You mentioned him, from time to time,” Kit said. “He knew you preferred men. I know that much.”
Henry nodded. “He was not pleased when he discovered it, not by any means, but once he realised I would fall in line with what was expected of me, he didn’t care so very much. His primary concern was to arrange my marriage to Caroline before he died—to protect the family line.” He smiled at Kit, a little sadly. “And so I married young—as he had wanted—and dutifully produced my eldest son, George, the following year.”