Forever Moore (Forbidden Love #2) Read online

  She smiled. “I learned from Doc.”

  Doc said his goodbyes, promising to be back in time for lunch.

  They played and talked the morning away, and even though Ansil’s technique was rusty, Thalia did not seem to mind. When there was a rustling in the hall followed by a hearty sneeze, Ansil watched as Herry lingered briefly, his gaze on Thalia. He blushed when they both turned in his direction and then bustled away.

  He leaned toward Thalia. “I think he is smitten with you.”

  “I am not certain of that.” She paused as if to consider it. “Most likely he would’ve given a hint by now; we have practically grown up in this manor together, after all. I think perhaps there might be another suited for me.”

  His heart sank as she glanced at him with glittering eyes, and he knew he needed to say something but feared disappointing his friend.

  “Thalia, any man would be happy to have your affection. You are kind, intelligent, and pretty.” She blushed and lowered her eyes. “But I… You have become my very good friend.”

  “You have become mine as well.” Her brow furrowed.

  “If I…had any interest in courting a lady, it would most certainly be someone as wonderful as you. But I do not have those sorts of notions…” He shook his head, not knowing how to say the words as fear lanced through him. If others found out, would he and his family be ostracized by the village? The royal family? Besides, he would hate to lose Thalia’s friendship as well if she thought any less of him.

  “It is okay if you are not ready, silly,” she said with a laugh. “You are currently in unusual circumstances, but once you return—”

  “It is not that at all,” he said in a frustrated tone.

  She stared at him, and his face heated, his breathing speeding up. He despised the fact that admitting he was different frightened him so. Why must it be so shameful to have other preferences? He scoffed. Because the future Duke of Ravenswood should not be a deviant!

  But perhaps Thalia would understand. She did not have to contend with impossible societal standards. “It might perhaps be difficult to comprehend…that I…”

  Suddenly her eyes widened. “Oh…I see. Do you mean to say that you prefer the company of men?”

  He cringed upon hearing those most precious words spoken aloud as his pulse thundered in his ears. “Of course not!”

  He stood up suddenly and nearly sent the chess pieces toppling to the ground. Thalia patiently waited him out as he paced the length of the solarium, his emotions warring inside his head. Until he finally slumped on the chair.

  “I know you might think less of me. I have never told another soul, and I am frightened. My family, if they…” He took a deep, gulping breath, and she reached for his hand, steadying him. “If you choose not to speak to me again, I understand. I just didn’t want you to continue to think of me as a worthy suitor.”

  It took her a long moment to respond as her face went through a series of emotions from disappointment to pity and finally landing on affection. “I did not think you a worthy suitor because you are a lord, soon to become a duke. I am only a commoner, who—”

  “Do not think such a thing,” he retorted. “You have more honor and decency than most. Birthright be damned.”

  She bowed her head, crimson dotting her cheeks and neck.

  “I do not think less of you, Ansil,” she finally said, meeting his eyes. “I’ve grown very fond of you. In case it is not already obvious, Orien has always scoffed at social expectations. We are quite a ragtag bunch out here in the forest. So disreputable,” she added with a grin, then sobered. “My father used to beat me, and everyone turned a blind eye, yet they would sneer if you favor men? I cannot make sense of it.”

  Ansil gasped…but he supposed nothing made better sense. Orien lived on the fringes and was a huntsman after all. Perhaps that meant everyone at Thornwell would not give his darkest secret another thought? Oh, to dream…

  Thalia leaned forward conspiratorially. “There was a man in my village who was known to have taken a male lover.”

  “Oh, well, I am not certain about any of that.” His flush deepened. “I would never act on any desires. I owe a duty to my family and the village, and I—”

  “Why shouldn’t you?” Her hand thumped the table, startling him. “Are you not also worthy of affection and love?”

  It grew uncomfortably quiet between them as Doc entered with lunch.

  Ansil could not stop thinking about Thalia’s question while he ate bits of bread and slurped the warm soup, so he was afraid he wasn’t much company for either of them.

  Thalia continued studying him from under her lashes, likely also mulling over their conversation. And though her knowing his darkest secret alarmed him, he was certain she would keep his confidence. Even in such unusual circumstances, she was the sort of friend he’d always wished he’d had back at the castle, where he’d been treated more like a rose under glass; he hadn’t realized until just then how lonely that’d made him feel.

  “Are you tired?” Doc finally asked. “Maybe you need to rest a bit more.”

  “Good idea,” he replied, standing from the table. “I would not want to wear myself out.”

  “Wait,” Thalia called to him near the stairwell. When he turned, she pulled him into a hug, and warmth flooded him. “I shall always remain your friend, no matter the circumstance.”

  “And you mine,” he replied, his eyes growing misty.

  “Wait right here. I have something for you,” she said, then strode down the hall. She returned a couple of minutes later, holding a book with a worn red cover. “I think you’ll quite like this selection.”

  Back in his room, he was more than curious about the book Thalia had offered him, but he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open beyond reading the interesting synopsis. He suspected he knew the reason why Thalia had lent him the book.

  He dozed off, only to be startled by a knock on the adjoining door.

  17

  Orien

  “Please enter,” Ansil called out.

  Orien opened the door, went inside, and closed it behind him. His little lord’s color had returned. He appeared better, as though he truly was on the mend, and Orien breathed out a sigh of relief. What would he have done if something had happened to Ansil on his watch? “I have come to check on you as promised.”

  “You have been gone most of the day,” Ansil noted.

  “Yes. Did you need me?” The question sounded foreign to his ears. Why would the lad need him? All Orien had done was take him from his home. To save his life…

  “I…no, but I was curious where you went. I looked out the window, but when I did, you were never there.” Ansil’s cheeks flushed that pretty pink that they did so well. “I apologize. That sounds—”

  “No,” Orien replied. “Don’t apologize for that.” The truth was, he quite enjoyed the little lord’s eyes on him. Enjoyed when they welcomed him home and sought him out. It was not something Orien had ever felt before—not from anyone. He often caught the eye of women, and even a male whore, when he had run upon them in bars or brothels he had been in on jobs. But he had never craved those eyes on him, as he realized he was beginning to do with Ansil. He had never felt them in a way that warmed his skin. He had never desired it, and to crave it with Ansil, the man he’d kidnapped…a future duke… The title tasted of bile on his tongue. He did not like nobles, and even if he did, to think of male nobility in such a deviant, uncivilized way angered him. “I should go.”

  He turned, made it to the door before Ansil stopped him. “Wait. Is that apple for me?”

  Orien had forgotten he carried it. “Yes.”

  “Please…don’t go. I would like your company, Orien.”

  Orien. His name on Ansil’s tongue made him tremble. “Very well, but not for long. I have work to do around the manor.”

  He walked over and handed him the red apple before sitting on the chair.

  “Would you like me to read to you?”
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  “No,” Orien snapped.

  Ansil shifted the book from his lap and placed it beside the bed. “What is it you do? I know you’re a…huntsman.” He looked down, his lashes dark against his pretty pale skin. “Have you killed many men?”

  Why did the question twist his gut so? It was who he had been. He could not change his past, and he’d always chosen very carefully the jobs he took. He killed those who had hurt others, those who had done evil things, but it was his goal to capture first. It always had been. He only killed when he had no other choice. “You don’t want to hear this, Little Lord.”

  “I do…please.”

  Their eyes clashed, held, and Orien saw determination in Ansil’s blue depths. He did not look away, did not back down, and Orien respected him for it. “I was a huntsman. It was what I did.”

  “Not anymore?” Ansil asked.

  “No…not anymore.”

  “Why? I look at you and I remember how afraid I was of you. I know you could hurt me, but I don’t believe you would.” Ansil paused, then said, “You care for the people of this manor as though they are your family. You took them in. You saved me, from what I do not know, but I believe you saved me, and you cared for me while I was ill. I can’t imagine you killing someone unless there was a very good reason.”

  His words nearly stole Orien’s breath. He rubbed his chest, though why, he did not know. It ached in a way that almost felt…good. Ansil saw all that in him? He trusted Orien? “Life is not as pretty as it is in your castle.”

  “Do not do that. Don’t pretend I’ve had no tragedy.”

  “I’m not. You lost your father, and I’m sorry you did, but you have always had a home, food in your belly. You will always be taken care of. I left my home when I was a boy, with my mother, whom I had to care for. I had no skills, no money, and she was sick.”

  “Influenza?” Ansil glanced toward a thick medical book on the table that Doc must’ve lent him.

  “No.” He shook his head, closed his eyes. Could not believe he was sharing this with his little lord. “She had been hurt…for years, and when she had to leave, it finally broke her mind. I chose to care for her because I loved her. It was then I met Larkin. This home was his. He saved our lives. He took us in, employed me.” Yes, he had employed Orien as a huntsman, but it had been work. “I only took jobs I believed in. Some I would anonymously deliver to whoever hired us, or to the high courts, but when I was forced, yes, I killed. They were bad men—rapists and murderers. I would do it again if it meant the safety of others.”

  He did not allow himself to look at Ansil, did not want to see the fear or disappointment in his eyes. Ansil was too pure, too innocent for the things Orien had done.

  “Still desire me to stay in this room with you, Little Lord?” He held his breath as he waited for a response. He should not care. He should leave regardless. Why did he care?

  Orien heard the bed shift, feet on the stone floor, and looked up when he saw Ansil’s legs in front of him. “Yes. I would like you to stay. You loved your mother in ways not many would. You did what you had to do to survive, and you took dangerous people off the streets. You protected Thalia and Arya. Me. You are noble, Huntsman. You are brave and kind and…”

  Orien watched as Ansil’s arm rose slowly toward his face. As his small, soft hand cupped Orien’s cheek as though he was fragile and special. His smooth fingers brushed through the hair on Orien’s face, making him gasp.

  “I apologize. I know not what came over me.”

  Ansil jerked his hand away but stopped when the word, “Wait,” leaped from Orien’s mouth.

  Ansil raised his hand again, returned it to Orien’s cheek, caressing him, touching him, making him feel. Why had he never felt this way when another had touched him? Not with the few women he’d lain with. Another man had not touched him this way, but he did not crave it the way he did with Ansil. It was just…him. And it had not begun until he’d gotten to know him, learned about him, trusted him.

  Before he knew it, Orien had raised his own hand, covered Ansil’s with it, danced his rough fingers against his skin. “I am sorry. You are soft as silk, and I am rough as leather.” He was a brute, an ogre. Was that not what Ansil had called him?

  “Please do not be sorry about that.”

  His body began to respond, his prick plump and hard. Christ, he craved the boy the way a man was supposed to crave a woman, the way he had never truly craved another. “I…think that is enough.”

  He touched Ansil’s hand until he pulled it away and Orien could not reach him anymore. He saw the bulge in his little lord’s breeches. Ansil had responded to his touch too.

  When Orien’s eyes met his, it became obvious that Ansil saw his erection and knew Orien saw his as well. He flushed, and Orien suddenly hungered for the taste of Ansil’s skin. He wondered what the juice of an apple would taste like from Ansil’s fingers.

  Ansil turned and padded back to the bed. “You lost your mother?” he asked.

  “Yes. Some years ago. Her heart gave out.” And Reginald had not cared. He had not given them a thought, nor had the earl who had taken advantage of his mother.

  “And Larkin. You lost him as well?”

  “Yes,” Orien replied. “He was a father to me. The only true one I ever had. He left me this home and an inheritance. I use it to help take care of the others.”

  “What is your job, now?” he asked.

  It was dangerous to tell him. He was giving his secrets away to his little lord, who would soon be free.

  “It is okay if you can’t say.”

  “Gaius and I…at times Dimitri and Herry as well—and Arya would like to help, but we have not crossed that bridge as of yet—we run a sort of underground operation. We help those like Arya and Thalia escape dangerous situations. We hunt down those who hurt others, and hand them over to the authorities. We do not kill them, but it is still not the most respectable work.” Orien had a contact in the system, and they handed over the men for payment.

  “You are a caretaker, Orien. You are a protector, a warrior. I do not know if there is anyone I respect more than you.”

  Those words did something to Orien, made him feel as though his insides were shifting around in his chest. As though his heart was swelling. He longed to feel the way Ansil saw him, yearned for it to be true. “I… Will you read to me, Little Lord?” It was all he could offer at the moment.

  He felt Ansil’s smile before he saw it. “I would love to. Come. Sit by me.” He patted the open side of the bed.

  For a moment, Orien almost said no, but he wanted to be close to the boy. Wanted to smell his roses-and-apple scent. Wanted to be surrounded by his softness and beauty.

  So he stood, walked over, and sat with his back against the headboard. He knew he sat awkwardly, tensely, but he could not help it.

  “It is a story about the adventures of Achilles and Patroclus.” Ansil’s cheeks pinked. “There are stories…rumors…that they cared for each other in ways men are not supposed to. It is said they had a secret love affair.”

  Orien swallowed the boulder in his throat.

  …cared for each other in ways men are not supposed to…

  …had a secret love affair…

  Orien nodded and listened as Ansil read.

  18

  Ansil

  “Cadence thinks I added just the right amount of sugar this time,” Thalia announced. Cadence winked at Ansil as she pulled another pie from the oven.

  Orien had given permission for Ansil to walk freely throughout the manor as long as he was accompanied by one of the seven residents, which usually meant Doc or Thalia. Though Gaius seemed to be a solid presence in the background, and Ansil wondered if he’d been given the order for Ansil to be under his watch. Whether that was for his safety or to make sure he didn’t escape, he didn’t know, but something had definitely changed between him and the Huntsman since the night Orien was honest with him about his past.

  “Each version is better tha
n the last,” Ansil replied, and Thalia beamed. And it was true. She was getting better at baking and had even begun helping Cadence with the dinner menu. Ansil suspected that the cook appreciated the help, as she had a tireless job. Though she never complained, only looked weary throughout the day, sometimes retiring to her room for a nap.

  Now that Ansil was freer, he could keep his eye on Cadence as well as Doc, who did not have any more fainting spells since that time in the dungeon. Ansil made sure to request frequent lunches together so he could monitor his eating. He suspected Doc knew what he was up to but did not question him.

  “This one has been cooling since early morning.” Thalia slid a slice of pie toward him on the large rectangular table, where he’d sat visiting for the last hour. “And it’s apple, your favorite.”

  Ansil set aside his pearl-handled knife he’d been using to add details to the falcon he’d carved the week before. He’d come up with the idea after spotting one at the top of the pine trees from his perch at the window.

  He enjoyed working alongside Thalia and Cadence in the kitchen and listening to them discuss all the goings-on in the manor. He’d learned how most of them had come to live with Orien. All tragic stories in one way or another, Dimitri’s especially, and it made him fond of the soft-spoken stable hand. He’d gotten no indication of how his own story fit with the others, and he still anxiously looked for clues. Doc and Thalia had been relieved to hear Ansil finally call Orien by his birth name, so either they were very careful not to spill any other secrets, or they didn’t know themselves the true reason for his captivity.

  That fact wouldn’t surprise Ansil, as Orien seemed very private, and unaware of how much the others admired him. It was as if he wore an armor to protect his heart, and it made Ansil even more curious about the little that Orien had shared about his childhood, but he did not want to push.

  It had been a few days since they’d begun reading together in the evenings. Orien was sometimes gone from dawn to dusk and looked worn by the time he entered his room. Now that Ansil had an idea of what he might be up to, he found himself worrying about the man’s safety, only to breathe out in relief when he heard Valkyrie’s hoofbeats coming from the path in the forest.