by March, Ava
“Jack.” With a smile on his face, Will opened the door fully. The scent of cooked chicken wafted from the house. “Do come in.” He had abandoned his coat and was clad in a brown waistcoat and trousers, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows exposing his forearms. “Can I take your greatcoat?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Shifting his gift from one hand to the other, Jack shrugged his coat off and handed the garment to Will, who hung it on a hook in the small vestibule. “And this is for you.” He held out The Universal Gardener and Botanist.
“You bought me a book, Jack?” Will’s smile faded as he took the proffered gift.
Jack nodded. Was Will pleased or not? He couldn’t tell. “I hope you don’t have it already.” He didn’t think he had seen a book that resembled it on the table in Will’s old room, but he could have been mistaken. “I don’t think it’s about farming though. Appears to be more about gardening. The shop in the village doesn’t have a lot of books, but I thought you might like it.”
“I do like it.” Will flipped open the book, perused a page, and his face finally lit up in the way it only did when he had a book in hand. “Most assuredly. And I don’t have it already. There’s a small garden behind the house, and I might be able to apply some of these techniques to the fields as well.”
Silence descended, broken only by the swish of pages being turned.
Jack took the moment to bask in Will’s pleasure over the gift.
Will glanced up and blinked, as if just realizing Jack was still standing before him. “Thank you for the book, Jack. It was very thoughtful of you.”
At a loss for how to respond, Jack nodded again.
“Well, come along into the kitchen, Mr. Morgan. Supper should be ready to go onto the table shortly.”
“It’s only the two of us, Will,” he said, following Will down the corridor to the kitchen in the back of the house.
“I’m well aware of that, but I decided I do like it.” Will set the book on a counter then motioned to the wooden table set with two simple white plates. “Have a seat. Coffee, wine or ale? Drake Cottage has options but not a plethora of them.”
“Drake Cottage?”
“Seemed a fitting name.”
“Indeed. Wine would be nice with the chicken—I’m assuming that’s what I smell.”
“Broiled chicken with turnips and potatoes.” Will grabbed a bottle of wine from a cupboard and poured two glasses.
“I see they made it to Hampshire.” Jack nudged his chin toward the clay pot on the windowsill above the washbasin.
“Yes, and I do believe the country agrees with them.” With a gentle hand, Will inspected one of the deep green leaves. “I think I’ll plant them in the back garden, see how they fare.”
“The country seems to agree with you, too.”
Content. That was the correct word. Will was content in a way Jack had never seen him before. Relaxed and happy, the hard, defensive edge softened. The sharp wariness gone from his eyes. Will was very clearly where he had belonged all along. A feeling Jack could well understand. London always felt closed-in, tight, the continual press of people bustling to and fro a suffocating force. While the great expanses of Hampshire moved at their own slow pace.
“Yes, I do believe it agrees with me as well.” Will grabbed a cloth, opened the oven door, and checked the chicken. “Doesn’t look quite done yet.” He consulted an open book on the counter. “I should turn it again though.”
“Have you ever broiled a chicken?”
“No, but it shouldn’t be all that difficult. The butcher prepared the chicken. All I have to do is cook it with the vegetables, and turn it often so it doesn’t burn or get smoky.” Will saw to that particular task. “I have a loaf of bread to go with the meal, though I didn’t bake it. Don’t think that is within my skill range yet.” He turned to Jack, and leaning a hip against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s occurred to me that I haven’t thanked you yet.”
“For what?”
“This house. The farm. Arranging the appointment with the duke that made it all possible. It meant a lot to me.” His gaze was locked with Jack’s. That light, comfortable feeling that had filled the quaint kitchen vanished, replaced with heavy gravity. “Thank you, Jack.”
His grip tightened on his wineglass then he forced his fingers to relax else he break the thing. “You’re welcome, but I didn’t do much.”
“Yes, you did. And I appreciate it more than I can express. But...why? Why did you ask him to sell to me?”
“I didn’t ask him explicitly for that.” Jack would never have been so bold. “I told him I had a good friend from London looking for a farm and asked if he was aware of any for sale somewhat near to the Park. He’s well connected and I thought perhaps he might know of one that would suit you.”
“But why, Jack? You had to have known His Grace owned this property, that there was a chance, however small, he would consider selling to me. Why would you take the risk of inviting a cheat into the neighborhood?”
“You told me you weren’t going to do that anymore, and you confirmed it.”
“And that was enough?”
“Yes.”
“So there was no risk?”
“Not in regards to that.”
Glancing to the floor, Will let out a sigh. Then he looked back to Jack. “Why did you specify a property somewhat near to Arrington Park?”
The knot in Jack’s gut tightened. “Is the chicken done yet?”
“No. Jack?” Will arched a brow.
He shifted in his chair. “I wanted you nearby.”
“So you could watch over me?”
Jack nodded.
“Any other reason?”
“I had left you behind too many times. I know what that feels like, and I didn’t want to do that to you again.” The pain he must have caused Will... The stark frigid shock, the feeling of being all alone in the world, left behind by the one person who was supposed to care. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry I didn’t at least try to bring you with me before.”
“You don’t need to apologize again, Jack. It’s all right. I understand, and honestly, I don’t blame you for it. And I never expected you to bring me with you. But I forgive you, if that’s what you need.” Will considered him, blue eyes sweeping over his face. “Is that all? You wanted to keep an eye on me and didn’t want to leave me behind? Were you hoping proximity would perhaps have us sharing a bed again?”
At least Will had used a kinder term than he had once before. “If you wanted...to be intimate with me again, I wouldn’t object.”
“Wouldn’t object?”
“Wrong choice of words on my part. I’d count myself very fortunate if we shared a bed again.” Then he added, before Will could begin to believe Jack’s request of the duke had been for baser reasons, “But that’s not why.”
Will didn’t ask him to clarify again. He merely held Jack’s gaze. Waited.
Jack felt his hands begin to shake. Breaking eye contact, he looked about the kitchen, anywhere but at Will.
What if Will said no? What if it wasn’t what Will wanted with him? Sharing a bed was one thing, but more? That was entirely different. But Will had told him he loved him, and Will had never said that before. It had to mean something significant. Yet what if it didn’t work out—
With a forcible mental shove, Jack pushed the worries back. He needed to stop fretting himself to the bone. In any case, he had done enough of that over the past few days.
The duke had shown him that he could have what he wanted. That it wasn’t an impossibility for someone like him. That he didn’t need to live each day of his life with a hollow ache in his chest and a longing tugging at his soul so strong at times it felt as though it could pull him to his knees. That the touch of happiness he’d had in London with Will did not have to be a mere fleeting glimpse, never to be seen again. That it could become far more.
But he would never know if that happiness could actually be his unless he asked
Will. So he needed to ask. Now.
Chapter Eighteen
There were times when trying to get something out of Jack could be akin to trying to move a damned mountain. At the moment, Will rather thought the latter would be the easier task.
It took all the effort within him, but he resisted the urge to prod again and merely waited for Jack to speak.
A furrow had affixed itself to Jack’s brow, his complexion paler than usual, as if the blood had drained from his face. The tremor gripping his arms, the short, shallow breaths. The man appeared downright...terrified.
He’d seen Jack nervous before. Recently, in fact. Awkward and evading, looking anywhere except at Will. But he’d never seen Jack—
Yes, he had.
Two decades ago. With a hand on his back, the warden had pushed the newcomer into the boys’ quarters then promptly shut the door. The tall, lanky boy with the black hair had stood there, shoulders hunched, gaze darting about the room, the threadbare blanket the parish had given him clutched to his chest. The others had paid him no mind. One more boy meant one more mouth at mealtimes. One more body to cram into the room. One more who wasn’t welcome. And Will had known how that tall boy had felt, as it hadn’t been but a handful of months since he’d been yanked from the country and shoved into the boys’ quarters himself.
I’m Will.
The boy shifted his weight. Dark eyes met Will’s. Dark eyes filled with sadness and fear and gratitude. I...I’m Jack Morgan.
There’s an empty pallet next to mine, if you need someplace to sleep.
“I didn’t want to lose you,” Jack said to the half-full wineglass in his hand.
Will pushed from the counter and pulled out the chair opposite Jack’s. The table was small, fitting with the small kitchen, narrower than it was long, and his knee bumped Jack’s as he sat down. Yet he didn’t scoot back, didn’t move his chair over. He let his knee rest against Jack’s. “And why is that?”
“I...I-I hoped perhaps you might feel inclined to continue... I don’t know exactly what we had in London, at the hotel. I don’t know how you defined it, what you thought of it. It started as friends keeping each other company but it became more. Much more. At least I believe it did. But if you’d rather we just continue our friendship, I understand. You have a new life here, and we frustrate each other at times and argue and I’ll need to take His Grace to London on occasion and it is surely trying to keep such things hidden and perhaps it would be for the best if we simply were friends.”
Will blinked then shook his head. He had heard every word from Jack’s mouth, yet he couldn’t figure out how Jack had gone from admitting he wanted to be with Will to believing they should remain only as friends. “Do you want to be with me, Jack? Because it sounds like you aren’t certain.” As if Jack had some serious doubts. But given who Jack was speaking to, Will couldn’t entirely blame him for his doubts.
“I do. I am certain. I am,” he repeated, as if trying to convince himself. “It’s just...” A wince crossed his brow, squeezing his eyes closed. “It hurt. A lot. But if you left me, too?” Jack gave his head a short shake, then he gained what appeared to be a keen interest in the cuff of his coat. “I’ve never been in a relationship with someone. I don’t know how... What if you get frustrated with me again? What if I behave like a judgmental arse again? What if we start arguing again?”
“Jack, I’m not going to cheat the neighborhood out of their homes in a game of cards.”
“I know that.” Jack dismissed Will’s point as inconsequential. “You gave me your word.”
“And I’m not him.”
That got Jack’s attention. His gaze snapped up from his cuff.
The shock, the wariness, the apprehension written all over Jack’s handsome face told Will he had guessed correctly. That frightened boy was still within Jack, and he was terrified of being abandoned again.
“I’m not him, Jack. I’m not going to leave you behind without a word, without explanation. I wouldn’t do that to you. And I would never leave you convinced that if you had been perfect, I would not have left. No one is perfect, Jack. No one. Yes, we will argue at times. There’s no way we won’t. I am certain even the happiest of couples have a disagreement from time to time. But an argument doesn’t mean the end, not if we don’t want it to be the end.” Will reached out, pulled Jack’s hand from the wineglass and held it in his. Jack’s skin was cool to the touch, half-healed abrasions marring his knuckles. Such strong hands. So capable, and so at odds with the trepidation that poured off his giant. “It doesn’t help that I tried to leave you six nights ago, does it?”
Jack shook his head.
“But even after we argued, I wouldn’t have left London without speaking to you again. It’s why I went to the coffee house and waited for you, remember? But...” Will sighed. “Even then, I wasn’t honest with you. I was going to leave because I wanted more from you, but I didn’t think you wanted more with me.”
“Really?” Jack asked, the wariness, the disbelief, firmly in place.
“Yes, really. When you stopped me outside the coffee house, I decided I needed to tell you. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t understand why I was so angry with you at the time. I was to blame for that. I should have been honest with you. Should have told you how I felt long before then. And I was going to finally tell you when we reached my room and then you’d know why I did not believe it wise for us to stay in contact with each other. But I came home to a bit of a distraction.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Will yanked back the sarcastic comment before it could form on his tongue. Deflection would get him nowhere. Honesty—that’s what Jack deserved. What they needed if they had a hope in hell of making a relationship last. “No one likes to invite rejection, and I was certain that’s what I’d be doing if I told you how I felt. I couldn’t see a place for me in your life. Couldn’t see how you’d want me there. Every time you’d leave to return to your duties here, it felt like I wasn’t good enough for you to want to stay with me. And after the time we spent together, the thought of having to endure that again...”
“So you left before I could leave you again.”
Will nodded. Then he shrugged. “I admitted as such that night.”
“Yes. You did. And it gave me a lot to think about. Quite a lot. Made me realize...” Jack let out a heavy exhale, the air trembling. “Made me realize I didn’t want to lose you. If your savings had not been stolen, if you had told me then how you felt, I would have made it clear I wanted you in my life. Why do you think I was so determined to find you? I love you.”
Will’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes closing of their own volition. He had suspected—he knew—Jack loved him. He’d felt Jack’s love in all the man had done for him of late. But to actually hear the words from Jack’s lips?
“Say it again,” he whispered.
“I love you,” Jack said, his deep voice rumbling around Will, wrapping around him.
It was as if his soul sighed in gratitude, in thanks, for what it had always yearned for. The empty hole in his chest finally filled.
“No one has ever said that to me before,” he admitted. Never once in his life. Not once in all his twenty-six years.
A large hand covered Will’s that was still holding one of Jack’s. “No one but you has ever said it to me.”
A chuckle tickled Will’s throat. He opened his eyes, met Jack’s gaze. “We are quite the pair, you and I.”
The very beginning of a smile touched the edge of Jack’s mouth. “Indeed.”
Silence fell between them. It wasn’t a bad sort of silence. It actually felt quite nice. Yet there was still something hanging in the air. A denseness. A worry coming from Jack.
Will could never erase Jack’s past. Never change it for him. If Will could, he would, but that would be impossible. The best he could do was to try to ease Jack’s worry.
“Jack, I can’t predict what will happen in ten years or twenty. I don
’t know what the future holds. But if the choice is all mine? I’d still be with you in ten years, twenty years, fifty years. You’re who I want to be with. Who I’ve always wanted.”
A touch of a furrow wrinkled Jack’s poor abused brow.
“Yes, Jack. Who I’ve always wanted.” He gave Jack’s hand a squeeze. “I don’t want any misunderstandings between us. I do believe we’ve had enough of those. I’ve never been in a relationship with another before either.” While he’d been with other men, he had never had a lover, never had someone who cared about him. Until Jack. “But we can figure it out as we go along. Make our own rules, so to speak. I love you. I want to be with you and only you. No one else. Is that what you want as well?”
Jack nodded. “Yes, Will. That’s what I want.” The touch of worry, of disbelief, left his brow. He leaned forward, raw conviction filling his dark eyes. “I want to be with you,” he said, low yet strong. All uncertainty long gone. “Only you, Will. No one else.”
Will felt himself leaning forward, breaching the short distance separating them, drawn to Jack. Pulled by the strength of him, by the strength of Jack’s love.
Their breaths mingled. Jack tilted his head slightly to one side. Ready and willing. Black lashes drifted down, as Jack gave himself over to Will.
To have such a man not only want to be with him, but to also have such trust in him...
For a long moment, Will was struck motionless. By awe, by wonder, by the most intense gratitude.
He would never let Jack down. Never. Never prove Jack’s trust, Jack’s love, misplaced.
Then he brushed his lips across Jack’s. Felt Jack’s soft sigh bathe his cheek. Lips pressed against lips, the kiss was sweet and chaste. Quiet. Sealing their forever in a certainty nothing could break.
“Will you stay the night with me?” Will asked in a whisper. “You can leave anytime you need to in the morning.”
Jack tipped his chin down. Ever his bashful giant. He gave Will’s hand a squeeze. “Yes. I’d like that.”
A blush warmed Jack’s cheeks. Damnation. Will’s thoughts took an immediate turn toward lascivious. But now was not the time for that. First, he needed to feed Jack. He’d invited him to supper, after all.