Kit and Harry by K. L. Noone

Author:K. L. Noone [Noone, K. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2019-02-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

The kitchen proved to be on the same floor, down a short hallway. Kit, upon locating it, also found a kettle and what on inspection proved to be tea leaves, old and crumpled but usable. With the help of trained Bow Street investigative skills, he figured out the modern pipes and stove—the late Earl had clearly spared no expense involving his own comfort—and tried to make water heat faster by glaring at it. Harry needed hot tea.

He rummaged through the pantry. Unearthed blackberry preserves, dried peas, and startlingly recent-looking bread and cheese. Kept an empathic ear open, listening in on the other room, the other presence.

The blizzard howled and raged and battered the world. Kit’s clothes, soggy with melting snow, left puddles on the floor.

Out in that other room, Harry was alone. Alone and in pain and cold. Because Harry had saved him. Had saved them both.

And Kit had as much as told him that he wasn’t wanted. That he wasn’t worth touching, pleasuring, caring for, even if only for a single encounter, a night, a stolen dream.

Kit had spent years thinking that dreams did not matter. Reality did.

Harry Arden looked at the world and saw ways to make it better. Not only that wild magical talent. The choice to use it. To offer himself. To smile.

Kit would have, a day ago, a lifetime ago, not believed that smile could be true. Hiding secrets. Concealment. Had to be. Didn’t it?

He knew Harry Arden. Inexplicably, far too fast, bewilderingly so: but he did. Beyond doubt.

The kettle whistled. Kit jumped.

He grumbled at it, “That isn’t helpful, thank you,” and gathered everything up and went back down the hall. “Harry?”

No reply.

“Harry. Sommersby.”

“I’m awake.” Harry pushed himself up on an elbow, slowly. He’d been lying flat on the sofa; firelight limned his hair, outlined his face. “Now you’re only using the title to bother me.”

To keep you awake. To keep you here. Smiling at me. “It’s a persuasive technique. Bother criminals until they turn themselves in. Drink this.”

“That does help. Thank you. Did you bring provisions?”

“I think some of your staff may be using this place for covert assignations. Eat something.” Harry needed energy, too. “Are you warm enough?”

“No, but it’s getting better.” Harry set down tea—no sugar; Kit had remembered—in order to rub his left temple. “The headache isn’t, but that’ll take time. I’m all right. You should sit down, too, and get warm.”

“Tell me what else you need first,” Kit said, poised.

“Nothing, I think.” Harry waved a hand at the sofa, swinging legs out of the way. “Come and join me.”

That was a summons, from an Earl’s son and sibling; Kit’s heart did an odd twist inside his chest, fluttering and beating against its cage. Harry was, after all, a gentleman, and born to it, a young golden hero.

He sat. Harry, being Harry, beamed at him and disentangled one of the blankets. “Here, you can have this. It’ll be nicer.”

It was.

Harry handed over bread, cheese, blackberry preserves. Gazed at the hunting lodge’s wide windows, at the wall of white obscurity hemming them in.

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