Finn
Theron stared at him, his chest heaving, eyes blazing. He thought he'd won.
The arrogant bastard.
Finn's mind was frozen. His lips were bruised and swollen. A hot, coiling shame twisted in his gut. His body had responded to the man who killed his brother. It made him want to claw his skin off.
He had to get out. Now.
He pulled the torn edges of his shirt together, keeping his eyes down, letting his damp, messy hair fall across his face. He was playing the part of a startled virgin, overwhelmed and beautifully ruined.
He could feel Theron's hunger. He wanted to finish what he'd started. Right here.
"Your Grace," Finn whispered, forcing a tremor into his voice. It wasn't entirely fake. "I… should go."
He didn't wait for a reply. He sidestepped the Duke and walked out of the library. He could feel Theron's burning gaze on his back, a predator watching its prey limp away.
The second his bedroom door clicked shut behind him, he shattered.
He stumbled to the washbasin, rage and shame choking him. He scrubbed at his mouth, his lips, trying to scrape the feel of Theron Ashworth off his skin. Useless. He could still feel the brutal kiss, the possessive grip. He could still taste the goddamn whiskey on his tongue.
"Fuckin' bastard," he snarled at his reflection. His face was a wreck.
He wasn't just just going to ruin the Duke for Daniel anymore. He was going to annihilate him for this. For this shame. For this contamination.
The next afternoon, Finn sat in a chair, his ankle propped on a stool as he read to Julian who was sitting on the floor beside him.
"…and so the knight, though gravely wounded, lifted his sword and faced the dragon, for the honor of his king and the safety of the princess," Finn read in the cultured, calm voice of Peregrine Vale.
"Was he scared?" Julian asked, his voice full of awe.
"Of course," Finn said, his gaze drifting out the window. "Bravery isn't the absence of fear, Julian. It's acting in spite of it."
Julian reached up and placed his hand on Finn's arm. "You were brave," he said, his eyes shining. "When you saved me in the woods."
Every ounce of him wanted to recoil, to snatch his arm away from Julian's simple trust.
He looked down at the top of his head, at his tousled blond hair. When this was all over, Theron wouldn't just lose his title and his fortune. He would lose this. He would have to look into Julian's eyes and see his own ruin reflected there.
The shame inside Finn didn't soften. It didn't turn to guilt. It twisted and hardened into something cold and sharp.
* * *
Theron
Theron spent the day after the encounter with Vale hiding in his study, the memory of the kiss playing on a loop in his head. The taste of Vale's mouth. The feel of it yielding under his. The sight of Vale's flushed face, his eyes wide and dazed.
He was a brute. A monster.
He had attacked a man in his house and taken what he wanted.
He should send him away.
It was the only honorable thing to do. Pack him off, write him a fat check and pretend this never happened. Banish the temptation.
But the thought of never seeing that beautiful, infuriating face again, of things going back to the way they were… it was unbearable.
He poured another glass of whiskey, his hand shaking so badly the liquor sloshed over the rim of the glass. He was choosing damnation. He knew it. And he didn't give a damn.
There was a sharp knock on the study door. Before he could answer, it opened. Mrs. Albright stood there, with Barrow right behind her.
"Your Grace," she said, her voice clipped. "We must have a word."
He threw back the whiskey. "I'm not in the mood."
"This is about the tutor," she said, marching into the room. Barrow shut the door behind them.
"I wrote to his last employer, the vicar in Sussex," she began, her hands clasped in front of her. "Over a week has passed. There has been no reply. A man of the cloth is rarely so discourteous as to ignore an inquiry regarding a former associate."
Theron waved a dismissive hand, turning his back to them. "The post is unreliable."
"Furthermore," she pressed on, undeterred, "Mr. Barrow has noted… inconsistencies."
Theron's jaw tightened. He glanced at the butler. Barrow met his gaze, his expression unreadable but steady.
"The tutor speaks of his time in university," Barrow said. "But when I mentioned Professor White, my cousin, a tenured fellow in Classics for twenty years, Mr. Vale seemed not to recognize the name. A curious oversight for a supposed scholar of his interests."
"He is forgetful," Theron snapped.
"The man's a fraud, Your Grace," Mrs. Albright said, her voice rising. "He's a danger to this house. To you. To Julian."
Theron replayed the scene in the library. The feel of Vale's body against his. The choked gasp when Theron had pinned him to the wall. The way those eyes had stared up at him, wide with shock and desire. Could a con man fake that? Could anyone fake that look of being beautifully, completely undone?
He thought of Julian. The genuine laughter he'd heard from him. The way he lit up when Vale was near. An act? All of it?
No. It was impossible.
"You are overstepping," Theron said, his voice dangerously low. He turned to face them. "Your concerns are noted. And they are dismissed. Peregrine Vale saved my nephew's life. Your paranoia is an insult to him and to me. You will not speak of this again. Am I understood?"
Albright looked like she'd swallowed acid. Barrow just gave a small, stiff nod.
"Yes, Your Grace.
* * *
Night fell. The house went quiet. The staff retreated to their quarters.
Theron didn't go to the library. Instead, he prowled the dark, silent halls, his head in turmoil. He was right outside his bedroom door, about to go in, when he saw him.
Down the hall, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was Vale. He was in his shirtsleeves, his hair a soft, chaotic mess in the moonlight. He looked like a beautiful, tragic ghost.
He was just… standing there. Waiting.
It was an invitation. And Theron was done fighting.
He strode down the hall, his boots heavy on the floorboards. He stopped directly in front of Vale. Vale didn't flinch. He just lifted his chin, watching him steadily.
Theron grabbed his hand and pulled him into his room.