by Anne Barwell
Tomas led the way into the kitchen, pleased to see there was a pot of coffee ready to brew. All he had to do was turn on the element to heat it through. "It sounds as though the three of you spent a lot of time together. Did they mind that? Being a couple and you...." He trailed off, not sure how exactly to say what he was thinking without sounding rude.
"I believe the term is playing gooseberry." Cathal chuckled lightly, his eyes widening when he looked around the kitchen, taking in all the modern appliances of which Heidi appeared to be quite fond. "The three of us were not together in that way, if that is what you wanted to know. They were very much in love, and while we did spend time together as friends, I also made sure to give them their privacy." His tone grew wistful. "I envied what they had, and I often wondered if there was someone out there like that for me."
"Is that what you still want?" Tomas pulled the food out of his bag, debated heating it and decided against it. He reached into the cupboard and pulled out plates, using the action to hide his reaction to Cathal's comment. Was that what Cathal wanted with him? He swallowed, the thought of himself and Cathal as a couple sending warmth running through him. He'd never considered the possibility that he might find someone he'd want to settle down with.
"Yes." Cathal attempted to open the microwave to look inside. "What does this do?"
"It heats food, or you can use it to cook." Hadn't the previous occupants had one? Microwaves were not a new invention. Tomas opened it, explaining briefly how it worked. "Didn't Alice use one? You said she liked to cook."
"She liked to do things the old-fashioned way. The house never really changed much in the year or so we were here. She said she preferred to spend her money on other things." Cathal sat down at the table but didn't help himself to any of the food until Tomas had done so first. "I'm not sure it would have improved her cooking skills. She really did not possess any, but I didn't want to upset her by telling her so." He grinned suddenly. "I remember she made something she called rock cakes one day. They really were very much like their name. Christian used them for target practice, and she found out."
Tomas laughed, already biting into one of the scones. He gestured for Cathal to try whatever he liked. "These are bacon and cheese scones. They're very good." He pushed the plate toward him. "What happened?"
"She was very angry and threatened to shove the rock cakes down places that really are not repeatable in polite company." Cathal shook his head. "Christian should have known better, but he lacks tact. He tends to state his opinion, and quite loudly. They were both very stubborn and well suited in that regard."
The coffee made a gurgling noise. Tomas got up to get the cups. "A family trait, perhaps?" he couldn't help but observe.
"I'm not stubborn, and I'm not my cousin," Cathal announced, scone poised in midair between the plate and his mouth. "He used to lead me into trouble, not the other way around."
"You may have some tact," Tomas said, "but I've noticed your stubborn streak already." He poured the coffee, walked back to the table, and sat down again, handing Cathal his cup.
"If I'm stubborn, so are you." Cathal put his scone down in favor of the coffee, his fingers brushing against Tomas's, lingering slightly, when he took the cup. "This is very good," he said, sighing. "It's been too long since I've done this. I didn't realize how much I've missed it."
"You don't have kitchens and tables and use crockery where you come from?" Tomas couldn't resist the dig.
Cathal poked out his tongue. "We're quite civilized, thank you."
"Mature too, I see," observed Tomas, amused.
"On occasion, when I feel the need and depending on what company I'm keeping." Cathal sobered suddenly. "I meant it's been too long since I've done this here. I've ventured a little farther than the field since that night I met Blackthorn during the storm, but I've still had to be somewhat cautious." He took a gulp of coffee. "It's difficult to see much peering through windows. I didn't even dare to borrow books from the library in case they were missed."
"The library?" Tomas frowned. The library was in the village itself, and yet Cathal had just said that he hadn't gone farther than the field.
"This house used to have an extensive library before Donovan and Heidi moved in and turned it into an inn. Libby used to bring me books to read from it." Cathal sounded disappointed. "Is it gone?"
"I haven't seen it." Tomas shrugged. "That doesn't mean it doesn't exist, though. I could ask Donovan or Heidi about it." He hesitated. "The library in the village has an extensive collection. You might like to look through there. I could take you, if you'd like." The suggestion had been a mistake; the expression of wistful longing on Cathal's faced chased away quickly by regret showed that all too clearly. "Or if you tell me what you'd like to read, I could bring you some books."
"You'd do that for me?" Cathal's fingers tightened around his coffee cup, his knuckles white. He leaned forward in his chair, his expression intense yet at the same time looking a little lost and unsure, the mask not quite hiding what was underneath.
"Yes." Tomas spoke softly. "I won't ask you to do anything you don't want to, Cat. Not with that, not with anything. I... whatever we do has to be because we both want it."
"Equal." Cathal sighed. "That's all I want, Tomas. Someone I love who wants to spend time with me, rather than doing so because of societal expectations. I can't do that again. Once was enough."
Tomas put his own cup down with a bang. "Someone did that to you?" Bastard. It was lucky for whoever was concerned that he did not know where they lived, at least for the moment.
"Don't be angry." Cathal shivered, one finger gingerly stroking the side of his cup.
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are." Cathal studied the wood grain of the table. He bit his lip. "Different societies have different ideas of courtship. Mine has customs and rules that must be adhered to, whether I agree with them or not."
"This isn't in the past, is it? You said 'once', and then you said 'must be' like it was still happening." Tomas's voice dropped a notch in pitch, the tone very even. "Which is it?"
Cathal flinched. "I've told my family I don't want to do this. She is not the person I want, and I'm not going to perform on demand." He snorted. "She also seems to be of the opinion that I'm some submissive who will just go along with what is expected because I can't afford to have any more black marks against me."
"What will they do to you if you don't agree to this?" Tomas wondered if there was some way to follow Cathal when he left.
"I have no intention of agreeing." Cathal put his cup down, looking directly at Tomas. "I need to be with someone who loves me for myself, and I don't love her." His tone softened. "I love you."
"I want to help." Tomas pushed his chair back and stood, ignoring the scraping noise it made against the floor.
"No." Cathal shook his head. "I shouldn't have said anything." He sighed. "It would just make things worse, Tomas. Trust me." He muttered something under his breath, words that Tomas did not understand.
"But I can't just sit back and do nothing!" Tomas walked around behind Cathal's chair and put his arms around him. Cathal leaned back into the embrace. "Can't you just leave?"
"If that was an option, I would have, believe me." Cathal tilted his head and kissed Tomas softly on the lips. "Don't worry about me. I've been fighting this for a fair amount of time, and I'm not about to give in now." He smiled. "Especially not now I have someone I want to be with."
"But...." The thought of Cathal being with another person, let alone it being against his will, sent a chill through Tomas.
Cathal silenced him with another kiss. "No, Tomas. I can fight my own battles. I just want to enjoy the time we have. I will be fine, I promise you."
It was a promise Tomas was not stupid enough to think Cathal could keep. The way Tomas saw it, there were two choices. Either he could make the most of the time they had, or he could try and protect Cathal in any way he could, and that included
discovering why he couldn't stay. Actually, there was a third: a combination of the two.
"I wish I could believe that." Tomas stroked Cathal's hair. "I won't argue with you now, Cat, but I'm not forgetting this, okay? We need to sit down and see if we can figure out a way around it, even if we don't do it today."
"There isn't a way around it." Cathal gave Tomas a stubborn look that was already growing a little too familiar.
"Fine, there isn't." Tomas couldn't help but glare in return.
"Didn't you want to show me a painting?" Cathal tried to push his chair back to stand, but Tomas's position behind him prevented him from moving.
"You're changing the subject!" At least Cathal could have had the decency to be subtle about it. A bull in a china shop would have fared better.
"Yes, I am." Cathal's tone dared Tomas to argue that point with him. "So are you going to show me or not?"
"I'm not dropping this, Cat." The expression on Cathal's face was nothing less than frustrating. It was unbelievable that anyone could have ever thought he was submissive in any shape or form. They would have to be both blind and stupid.
"I know. I wouldn't expect you to." Cathal sighed. "I know you want to help, but you can't. This is one battle you cannot fight." He attempted to push his chair away from the table again, but Tomas wasn't prepared to move yet. "I don't want to argue with you, but there are situations over which you have no control. This is one of them."
It was not the right choice of words to put Tomas's mind at ease. "But you do?"
"It is my life, and I will do what I need."
That statement was no better. "Need to what? Survive? And if it doesn't work? I might not see you again." Tomas shook his head. That answer was not acceptable.
"I won't take any unnecessary risks." Cathal looked at Tomas and then the chair. "I'm leaving the table. You need to move."
"And if I don't?" Tomas had every intention of moving; he wasn't sure why he'd asked the question.
"You will." Cathal pushed the chair back hard against Tomas, who let go, stepping sideways at the same instant. Though slight of build, there was certainly nothing weak about Cathal's physique. He was much stronger than he appeared, the muscles in his arms visibly flexing through the fine cotton of his shirt when he leaned his hands against the table to steady himself after the chair suddenly flew backward.
Forcing his brain to focus and himself to stop staring, Tomas mumbled a "sorry" under his breath.
"You did that on purpose!" Cathal glared at him.
"No!" Tomas protested. "I was going to move, I just didn't expect you to do that." Truth be known, he hadn't expected Cathal to be able to do that.
Cathal's eyes narrowed. "Didn't expect or didn't think I could?"
"Umm." Tomas examined the piece of grass stuck to the toe of his boot. "I suppose all of the above isn't the answer you want?"
"Not really, no." Suddenly he was pulled close into an embrace. "We're both being rather silly, aren't we?" Cathal sounded a little sheepish. "I'm sorry, Tomas. I tend to get a little sensitive about such matters, and I shouldn't."
"No, it's okay." Tomas lowered his head so it rested on Cathal's shoulder, wanting to be held, needing the reassurance that at least for the moment Cathal was still here. "I don't want to argue with you, Cat." He took a deep breath. After asking Cathal to be honest with him, it wasn't fair not to be upfront himself. "I'm scared that if I let you go, I'll lose you and never see you again."
"I can't promise that you won't." Cathal bit his lip, his voice choked. "What I can promise is that it will not be because I don't want to be with you. If I can, I will come back to you and find you." He ran the tip of one finger down Tomas's jaw line, the touch cool against his skin, their eyes meeting when Tomas lifted his head in response. "I know it's not enough and it's not fair of me, but it is as much as I can promise at this time."
He wasn't supposed to feel this way over someone he'd just met. He had his own life to lead, and so did Cathal. They'd kissed, that was all, and yet Tomas knew that already he wanted Cathal to be a part of his life. Or at least be given the opportunity to see if he could be. That was the thing he couldn't deal with; that the choice to at least try appeared to be out of both of their hands and in the control of someone who, as far as Tomas could see, did not have Cathal's best interests at heart. Forced to be with someone he did not love, how could that be right? It just wasn't.
"At least you're being honest about this." Tomas met Cathal's gaze unflinchingly. "I know you can't about everything else." Cathal cringed at the words, but they needed to be said. "But," Tomas continued, not wanting to make excuses about something he did not like but knowing this was their truth, at least for the moment, "you are about what you can be."
"About what I can be," Cathal repeated, lowering his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm asking you to trust me, and I'm hiding things from you. I tell you I love you, and yet I'm scared you'll be angry because I can't be completely honest." He looked over Tomas's shoulder, out the window toward the field from which they'd come. "I wouldn't blame you if you did want to walk away."
"I'm not going to walk away, Cat." Tomas smiled when Cathal's attention shifted back to him. "I'm scared too, and I don't trust easily at the best of times." He held out his hand to Cathal. "We've talked enough, and this conversation is just going around in circles. Why don't I show you the painting? After all, that's what we came here to do."
"That and lunch, which was very enjoyable." Cathal took the offered hand. "You lead and I'll follow. You said it was upstairs on the second-floor landing?"
"Yes." Holding hands was something Cathal seemed to enjoy, and Tomas had to admit he did as well. When he'd written the last book he'd spent many hours savoring coffee while sitting in cafes watching people walking by. Body language between people had always told him more of a story than actually taking the time to talk to them. On the days he'd felt more morose, it had seemed that there were couples everywhere he looked, each in the other's personal space, holding hands, and kissing. He'd wondered if someone would ever want to do that with him. It was like telling the world they were together and comfortable with each other.
Just as he and Cathal were now.
"What are you thinking about?" Cathal asked, running his free hand over the wooden banister, climbing the stairs by Tomas's side rather than a step or so behind him. He seemed fascinated by everything in the inn, his eyes darting here and there, smiling at some things, frowning at others. How much had changed since he was last here?
Tomas blushed. "I like people-watching. I...." It seemed so silly putting it into words. "I used to wonder what it would be like to have someone hold my hand like this, to do what I suppose you'd call couple things."
They reached the top of the first landing, the first section of the stairs stretching below them. Cathal leaned in and kissed Tomas very slowly on the lips, threading his free hand through Tomas's hair. "I always wondered," he said a little breathlessly when they parted, "what it would be like to stand in this particular spot and kiss someone I love."
"Why here?" Now it was Tomas's turn to be curious. Not that he minded Cathal's choice of location. The inn had another two landings. Kissing on each one was something he would not mind doing in the least. In fact, he decided, he enjoyed doing this even more than holding hands.
"I walked in on Alice and Christian, er... kissing on this spot." Cathal glanced at the ceiling and back. "It was Christmas, and someone had hung some mistletoe," he pointed to a low-hanging beam, "just there, and Alice was explaining about some tradition that was very important, and Christian always was one for hands-on experience." He flushed bright red. "They were so focused on each other that they didn't realize I was there, so I backed away very quickly. I felt as though I'd walked in on a very private moment I had no right to intrude upon."
"We will have to make our own moments and traditions." Tomas brushed his hand across Cathal's cheek. This was something else he found he was enj
oying, the sensation of Cathal's skin against his own, and the way in which Cathal leaned into it almost on instinct, warmth and stubble under his fingertips. Tomas moved closer and inhaled.
"What are you doing?" Cathal laughed, the noise reminding Tomas of music he'd heard once when he'd been out in snow. It was clear and bright, yet very natural-sounding.
"Hmm." Tomas pretended to think. "Earthy with a touch of peppermint." He slowly licked a patch on Cathal's chin. "You don't taste like it, though."
"Oh." A slow grin etched its way over Cathal's lips, mischief in his eyes before he copied Tomas's actions. "Cinnamon," he announced, taking another breath and nibbling Tomas's earlobe. Tomas's breath hitched, and he let out a low moan. "With a touch of apple. Although you don't taste like apple pie."
"Do that again and we won't get as far as that painting." He could think of other, better places than the top of the stairs to make out; his bedroom was just down the hallway.
No! That thought was not helping.
"Sorry," Cathal said, not sounding in the least like he meant it.
"No, you're not." Tomas was breathing more heavily than usual. Focus. He had to focus. One more flight of stairs, and they would reach the painting they'd come to see.
Cathal answered him with another grin. "No, I suspect I'm not." He hesitated. "Do you still want to show me this painting?"
"I think it's something you need to see, yes." That pesky little voice offered several suggestions as to what other things Cathal would like to see. Tomas told it to be quiet. Cathal gave him a weird look.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. "It's on the next landing. You go first, and I'll follow." Cathal nodded and turned. Tomas knew immediately the request had been a mistake. Damn, those trousers Cathal wore looked good.