| Family
Affairs from
Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade
Copyright
© 2005 Diana Gabaldon, Lord John and the Brotherhood of the
Blade. All rights reserved.
“I
think a gentleman conducts his affairs with kindness and with honor,” Lord
John said, at last. “That being so, if the recipient is a woman, or a man--does
it matter so much?”
Percy
gave a short laugh.
“Kindness and honor? That’s all well--but
what of love?”
Grey valued love--and feared it--too greatly to make
idle protestations. “You
cannot compel love,” he said finally, “nor summon it at will. Still
less,” he added ruefully, “can you dismiss it.” He glanced up at
Percy, who was looking down, tracing patterns on the counterpane with a fingertip.
“I think you are not in love with me, though, are you?”
Percy
smiled a little, not looking up. Not disagreeing, either.
“Cannot
dismiss it,” he echoed. “Who was he? Or is he?”
“Is.”
Grey felt a sudden jolt of the heart, at the speaking of that single word. Something
at once joyful and terrible; the admission was irrevocable.
Percy was
looking up at him now, brown eyes bright with interest.
“It is--I
mean, he--you need not worry. There is no possibility of anything between us,”
Grey blurted, and bit his tongue, to keep back the sudden impulse to tell everything,
only for the momentary thrill of speaking of Jamie Fraser. He was wiser than that,
though, and kept the words bottled tight in his throat.
“Oh. He’s
not...?” Percy’s gaze flicked momentarily over Grey’s nakedness,
then returned to his face.
“No.”
It was late in the
day; light skimmed across the room from the high attic windows, striking the dark
burnished mass of Percy’s curling hair, painting the lines of his face in
chiaroscuro, but leaving his body in the dimness of shadow.
“Is
friendship and sincere liking not enough for you?” He was careful to avoid
any tone of pettishness or accusation, making the question merely one of honest
inquiry. Percy heard this, and smiled, lopsidedly, but with answering honesty.
“No.” He stretched out a hand and ran it up Grey’s bare arm,
over the curve of his shoulder and down the slope of his breast, where he spread
his palm flat over the nipple--and took a sudden grip of the flesh there, fingers
digging into the muscle. “Add
that, though...” he said softly, “and I think it will suffice.” |
