“You don’t sound enthusiastic about their chances.”
Loriot shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“Well, good luck, then.” It seemed as if Loriot might need it. Savarin could see that much from Loriot’s demeanor. Loriot wasn’t the only one who could see past masks better these days.
“Much appreciated,” Loriot said, confirming Savarin’s thoughts as their horses were brought out to them. “I’ll see you later. I should be home for dinner.”
Loriot took the reins of his horse and mounted up while Savarin’s thoughts froze for a moment. Loriot would be home for dinner. Because they had a home together. Or were making one at least. Their home, with Alain, whom Savarin was going to check on before he went back to his own work.
“Savarin?” Loriot’s voice snapped him back to the present.
“Yes.” Savarin took the reins of his horse from the stablehand with a nod of thanks. “I’ll see you later. At home.”
Chapter 36
LORIOT CLOSED the book when he realized Alain had fallen asleep against him. He set it aside on the little table by the bed and slid out from under Alain’s limp body, easing Alain down against the pillow. Alain didn’t want to go to sleep without being read a story these days, which Loriot attributed to Savarin’s influence. And Alain always wanted Savarin to do the reading too, but he’d accepted Loriot as a substitute that night.
Alain didn’t wake when Loriot settled him against the pillow, which meant he was truly asleep and wouldn’t wake until morning. His son was a heavy sleeper. But just in case, his nursemaid was in the adjoining bedchamber. Loriot had been surprised when they arrived at Savarin’s seaside estate to find that Savarin had sent word to have a nursery prepared for Alain, and the suite of rooms had been decorated along the same lines as Alain’s bedchamber in the house in Jumelle. Savarin had even had a shelf full of books and toys sent out so Alain would have something to amuse himself with while they were here. They’d only been living in the same house for a couple of weeks, and Savarin already knew what would engage Alain’s interest.
And now that Alain was asleep, Loriot would have the opportunity to properly thank Savarin for his thoughtfulness.
The curtains billowed in a stronger gust of wind. The breeze had been a gentle one all day, but as the night became cooler, the wind off the water seemed to be picking up too. He crossed to the window and pulled it shut, securing the latch. He paused in pulling the curtains closed when he caught sight of a figure walking in the courtyard three stories down. Savarin, brightly lit in the moonlight, his pale blond hair gleaming. Loriot could almost believe him made of moonlight, but he’d never share his fanciful thought with Savarin.
He shut the curtains to block out the bright moonlight and left the bedchamber, pulling the door closed gently behind him. Then he went to find Savarin.
When Savarin had suggested they spend a few days at his estate, Loriot had known the place would be impressive, but he hadn’t expected its beauty. The estate had been granted to Savarin several years ago by Prince Philip’s late father for services to the crown, and at that point had included a small amount of land and a crumbling residence. It wasn’t crumbling any longer.
Loriot wondered if Prince Jeton had expected Savarin to level the existing building and start fresh, but Savarin hadn’t. He’d restored what was there already, and though Savarin said he was still working on it, it looked beautiful to Loriot. The building couldn’t be called a house. He had to term it a small castle, and it perched as if by magic on the edge of high cliffs overlooking the sea.
Perhaps it was magic that kept it stable and perfect atop the steep cliffs. With Savarin, one never knew.
Solidly built of white stone, it was square in shape except for the one round tower rising above the rest of the building, but the embellishments showed a sense of fancy, of whimsy. The decorative crenellations on roofs and towers, the graceful scrollwork carving of the balustrade that separated the walkway along the cliffs from the long drop down, the reliefs and colorful mosaics depicting figures from legend throughout the interior, all were unnecessary but all added to the beauty of the building. Inside, the castle was comfortably appointed and far cozier than an old building perched on a seaside cliff had any right to be. He didn’t know if it would feel the same when winter arrived, but knowing Savarin, it would be warm and snug. He wound his way down curving staircases and through corridors lined with eclectic artwork, likely acquired in Savarin’s travels, and lit by glowing tinted glass globes hung in stone sconces on the walls, until he found himself out in the courtyard. More by luck than anything else, really. The castle might be small, but inside it was a labyrinth.
Again, nothing he wouldn’t have expected from Savarin.
The courtyard was surrounded on two sides by the little castle, but because of the way the cliffs jutted out to form a point, it had a breathtaking view over the cliffs as well. A colonnade bordered the courtyard on three sides with benches placed at intervals in the shade of the roof and vines climbing some of the columns. Similar light globes to those used inside were placed at intervals on the columns, but they were unnecessary in the bright light of the full moon. The entire courtyard was paved in smooth stones, and in the open center under the sky was a long rectangular pool, its water clear as glass and reflecting a shimmering image of the moon.
And on the far side of the pool, leaning against one of the graceful columns, stood Savarin.
Loriot paused a moment, just to watch him. Savarin was strong and yet a bit unreal, half in moonlight, half in shadow. But then Savarin was like that—almost too handsome, powerful, but vulnerable, caring. Thoughtful enough to think of what books might interest a child the most. Opening his heart to the child because he loved the father. Loriot chuckled softly. Or perhaps Savarin had fallen in love with Alain first and then opened his heart to Loriot.
Savarin looked over his shoulder at the sound and smiled. Loriot obeyed the pull in the smile and went to him. As he stepped up close beside Savarin, he ran a hand up Savarin’s back, letting it come to rest on his shoulder, and leaned in to brush his lips over Savarin’s.
“Alain is asleep?”
“Yes, after I read to him. Tomorrow it’s your turn.”
Savarin laughed, a quiet sound on the breeze. “Still strange to think of myself as someone who reads to a child. But I like it too.”
“Good.” He turned, keeping his hand on Savarin’s shoulder, and looked out at the cliffs and sea, silvery in the moonlight when it had been vividly blue that afternoon. “It’s beautiful here.”
“Yes.”
“Though I still worry we might just fall into the sea.” He joked. Mostly. The way the little castle clung to the cliffs didn’t seem quite possible.
“Remind me not to let you see it from a boat below. You’d really feel that way.”
He turned from the view and glared at Savarin. “Savarin.”
Whatever Savarin saw in his face made him laugh again, another soft sound carried away by the wind. “Don’t worry. We won’t fall into the sea. The cliff and the castle foundations are much more stable than they look. There are even spells for added security. I checked everything—the stability of the land, the foundations, the spells—before I started rebuilding. I added some spells of my own just to make sure.”
He nodded. He wouldn’t have believed Savarin would risk himself or anyone else in a building that could actually fall into the sea at any moment, but it was reassuring to hear. “How much of it was like this when you received it?”
Savarin shrugged, a ripple of movement under Loriot’s hand but not enough to shake him off. “The bones of it were here. The building itself—the foundations, the walls and such—was in decent repair, but everything else had fallen into ruin over the years. Most of this out here, most of the interior details, were built to my specifications.”
“I like it.” Faint praise for such a beautiful place.
“I’m glad. It’s not so far from Jumelle that we c
an’t come as often as our duties allow.”
It would mostly be Loriot’s duties that could keep them away; Savarin’s own work was less tethered to a particular place most times. The castle had a workroom and a study that seemed as well-used as the ones in the house in Jumelle. Still they were less than a day’s ride from the capital here. They might manage more trips than Loriot anticipated. “I’d enjoy that. I’m sure Alain would too. I’m surprised he fell asleep. He was so excited today.”
“It must be exciting for him. I doubt he’s traveled much at his age.”
“No, he hasn’t. My sister took him to visit our parents last year. But my parents usually visit us, when they can. They like to make the trip to Jumelle anyway.” And the travel was certainly most of what caused Alain’s excitement, but Loriot thought part of it came from the time spent with Savarin. Savarin was still a novelty in Alain’s life, which made everything Savarin did a treat. That reaction would smooth out sooner or later, but until then, Alain wanted to be around Savarin all the time.
“He’ll get used to making this trip.”
Warmth rolled through Loriot as it did whenever Savarin included Alain so easily. He hadn’t expected such a thing, but he liked it, so much. Just as he liked being able to stand outside in the evening, having a conversation about Alain in low voices. It wasn’t something he’d had before, not really. Joceline had helped him raise Alain, but she wasn’t Alain’s mother, wasn’t Loriot’s spouse. Savarin was Loriot’s lover, and he seemed to be moving more comfortably into the idea of taking a parental role with Alain with little actions and words each day. Loriot was happy to see Savarin doing it and Alain responding so well. He liked that discussing his son and plans for him with Savarin was beginning to feel like everyday.
“Can he swim?” Savarin asked, pulling Loriot back to the present. It took Loriot a moment to catch up with the abrupt question.
“Alain? No, he hasn’t learned yet. I took him out to the river last year to teach him, but he didn’t care for the water.” His generally well-behaved child had screamed as if he were being murdered when Loriot tried to get him to put a foot in the water. He still had no idea why Alain had such an extreme reaction, but he’d put the whole idea away. “We can try again in the spring.”
“I can use some magic to keep him from falling in the pool until he learns. It isn’t too deep, but he wouldn’t be able to stand.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” He’d worried about Alain being in the courtyard from the moment they’d arrived and he’d seen the water there. He’d assumed they would have to watch Alain like hawks the whole time to make sure he was safe around the water. If Savarin could use a spell to eliminate the danger, it would make everything easier.
“Of course.”
Loriot couldn’t have Savarin shrugging off his thoughtfulness, because so many wouldn’t have thought. He turned Savarin to face him so Savarin could see how serious he was. “Really. Thank you.”
Savarin watched him for a moment, his gaze intense as he studied Loriot. Finally his lips curved. “You’re welcome.”
Savarin slid his arms around Loriot and leaned back against the column behind him, pulling Loriot with him. Loriot went without protest, reaching up and sinking into a kiss. The kiss ended by degrees, but Loriot didn’t move. He stayed leaning against Savarin’s warm body and looked back out to the sea, enjoying the quiet moment as much as he had the conversation.
“And what about you? Can you swim?” Savarin asked in a low murmur.
He looked up at Savarin, fully aware that his confusion must show on his face. “Yes, of course. Why?”
“So take a swim with me.”
“A swim?” He stared at the waves far below them as another stronger gust of wind swirled around them.
“Not down there.” Savarin laughed and nudged Loriot around in the opposite direction. “There.”
The pool water rippled in the moonlight. It was far closer and calmer than the sea, but that wasn’t the only problem. The night wasn’t cold, technically, but… “It’s a little chilly for a swim, isn’t it?”
“It’s not that cold, but if I did this, would it help?” Savarin gestured at the pool, something that was probably unnecessary but certainly held some drama, and steam rose from the surface of the water.
“What did you do?” Without waiting for an answer—though he wasn’t sure he really needed one—he left Savarin and went to the pool. Crouching down, he dipped his fingers into the water. His mouth dropped open when he felt how warm it was. He’d thought he was at a point where he wouldn’t be surprised by the small acts of magic but apparently not.
Footsteps drew his attention. Savarin stood beside him, and Loriot let his gaze travel Savarin’s body from shoes up and up and stuttered when Savarin started removing his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. As Loriot tried to find his voice, Savarin dropped both articles of clothing to the stones beside the pool and toed off his shoes. He finally found it when Savarin started on his breeches. “Savarin, what are you doing?”
“I would think that would be obvious.” Savarin stripped out of breeches and underclothes, discarding them with the rest of his clothing, and plunged down the stairs into the pool, dipping under the water when he reached the bottom. He resurfaced in the middle of the pool, facing Loriot, wet and glistening. “Come in with me.”
Loriot stared at him. He knew full well Savarin wasn’t thinking of an innocent swim, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted.
Savarin watched him through the steam rising from the water. He seemed to glow under the moon and the gentle obscuring veil of steam. “It’s warm. We’re alone. No one will see us. Come in and join me, Loriot.”
He could only hope Savarin was right. But his reservations weren’t stopping him. He rose and shed his clothing with more speed than grace, stopping briefly to glare at Savarin when a chuckle came from his direction. Savarin’s innocent look meant nothing, but Loriot finished undressing anyway and took the steps into the pool. The water was pleasantly warm, too warm perhaps had there been less of a chill in the air. But he luxuriated in it tonight.
He broke the surface and took in a long breath of the steamy air. And found himself enfolded in Savarin’s arms. Savarin’s lips came down on his before he had a chance to speak, and then he didn’t want to, just moaning into the kiss and wrapping his arms around Savarin in turn, letting the kiss spiral out for long moments. Then he pulled back, nipping at Savarin’s lower lip, his chin. He chuckled deep in his throat when Savarin let out a little affronted growl and placed a line of small kisses and quick bites along Savarin’s jaw.
Suddenly Savarin was propelling him through the water. He swallowed a gasp at the unexpected motion and let out a strangled noise that had Savarin laughing again. He tried to stop them, but Savarin was too quick, and his back hit the smooth side of the pool, Savarin plastering himself against Loriot from chest to knees and pressing his lips to Loriot’s again.
He groaned and clutched Savarin even closer. The heat of Savarin’s body was scorching even in the warmth of the water. Savarin was all wet skin and firm muscles and hardness pressed against Loriot’s hip. He pushed into Savarin, into the kiss, into the solidity of his body, leaner than Loriot’s own but still strong. Savarin took his own turn leaving a string of kisses and light bites along Loriot’s jaw and throat, each one sending heat flaring through Loriot anew. Gasping, he let his hands roam over Savarin’s hot, slick skin, filling his hands with it, exploring a body he’d come to know so well.
He grasped the globes of Savarin’s backside, pulling him even closer, moving against him. He groaned again, and Savarin said, “Yes, yes.”
Savarin’s voice was raspy with need, and the sound of it sent a shiver through Loriot, a bolt of urgency shooting through him. Yes. He needed this, needed Savarin. Now. He held them together, thrusting against Savarin, creating a delicious friction that had him gasping. Savarin moved too, bracing his hands on the stone on either side of Loriot
’s shoulders and pushing back. Lightning flashed through Loriot’s body leaving sparks of pleasure tingling everywhere. He wanted more.
Desperation had him moving faster, holding tighter, his fingers digging into Savarin’s flesh. They’d probably leave bruises, but Savarin wasn’t complaining. He was gasping a desperate litany of words and moans in Loriot’s ear. Loriot could barely understand the whispered words—just yes and his name and a few curses he’d never heard Savarin use. He exulted in Savarin’s loss of control, loving that he could make the perpetually controlled man break apart, but his glee couldn’t last because he was coming apart too. As much as he’d like this to last, to be able to take his time and truly decimate Savarin’s control, leaving him a desperate, begging mess, he couldn’t. It wasn’t the place for it, and he wasn’t in control enough either. Another time, another time he would do it. For now, he could only feel.
Savarin stiffened and arched against him, crying out wordlessly as he found his release. Loriot laughed and then cried out when Savarin’s teeth sank into his shoulder. The action was wholly unexpected, the sensation a shock of pure pleasure. His own release barreled through him, devastating in its intensity.
Loriot slumped and slung an arm weakly around Savarin. Only Savarin’s weight pinning him to the wall kept him from sliding beneath the warm water. Savarin still gripped the stone wall, his head resting on Loriot’s shoulder, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Loriot concentrated on the feel of Savarin against him as his own breathing slowed.
He turned his head and nuzzled at Savarin’s wet hair, a feeling of languid sweetness moving through him. It was a feeling he wouldn’t have admitted to when they began this thing between them, but then he never would have expected to be here this way with Savarin. And he wouldn’t trade it for the world now that he was. It didn’t mean he would say that to Savarin, but, then, he didn’t need to. Savarin knew, and he knew how Savarin felt too. He could feel Savarin smile against his neck, and he kept nuzzling at Savarin until he turned his head enough for Loriot to reach his lips. He placed a soft kiss there, enjoying Savarin’s sigh, echoing it with one of his own.
The Sorcerer’s Guardian Page 34